If there’s one thing people of this ancient town know, it is premature deaths. Not because many died so young, but because they had a way to bring them back. That was the magic of the town. Anyone who died young had another chance at life, but each bloodline could ask the land only once.
So the morning his wife birthed twins in silence, the only wailing coming from her, he walked into the room, afraid. He did not know how to comfort her. The babies lay between them, holding hands, stiff as clay.
He went to his wife, knelt beside her on the make-shift cot and pulled her into his embrace as she mourned.
The only clear thing is that they would lose a child today. They didn’t know which one.
The midwife spoke from across the room, where she wiped the babies down.
“One is male, one is female.”
She did not say congratulations.
“You must go backwards into the cave with the child you wish to save and let the land do the rest. You must go immediately.”
“Give me the girl,” he said.
Girls had value. When they came of age, they could bring a fortune in marriage. Sons inherited names, but daughters… Daughters paid debts.
The man did not voice his reasons aloud, but his wife knew. The midwife knew.
She picked the girl while whispering chants and incantations, wrapped her in cloth and handed her to him.
“I will be back,” he said, setting off.
As he left, the wife seemed to snap out of her grief.
“Give me my son.”
“You’re still bleeding, you can’t go.”
“I must go. If he gets to the cave first, my daughter lives. And she will live the life I have lived. I cannot bear it. But the boy… He will challenge him. He will only grow stronger.”
“Okay, but you are weak. Give him to me. I know another road”, the midwife said.
The woman kissed her son, handed him over and passed out. Exhausted.
Hours later, she woke up to the squealing baby boy and a husband who had his hands around the midwife’s throat.
“How is he alive?!” he screamed into her face, his fingers tightening.
His fury unleashed.
