There was nothing. No light or sound, she simply floated. Then a voice rang out.

  The realm embraced by ours

  The first broken by the second offered

  The third it shall be tested

  For there will not be a fourth

  Realms collide, worlds merge

  Here be our pledge

  Our right to the world

  The wrong wrought by mother

  Father who was blind

  Burn in our Skills this tenet

  Through life is given to all little does it take

  Through death it takes all what is owed

  Through thunder it waxes and balances

  Through shadow it wanes and cleanses

  Through fire it purifies

  Through earth it refines

  Through water it ebbs

  Through wind it seeks

  All passes through metal

  Be it good or bad

  For metal keeps none

  For they need not

  They have the love of father

  Celestials have wrought and stolen

  Ours no longer, Mondus mourns

  For cleansing no more

  As they are now one

  With who we now be

  The words were measured, like a poem, almost melodic. Around her the world became lit with a strange amber tint. It was warm and there were sounds, but they were muffled and felt far away. She attempted to move her limbs but her body felt slow and heavy, it took a moment for her to realize she was floating in what seemed to be water. Her lungs expanded and contracted but there was no sensation of air entering and exiting her body. That should have made her panic, but she didn't feel the burning in her chest that normally accompanied being unable to breathe.

  Then the pressure started, like the press of several bodies in a tight space. She felt dull thumps against her body, as if being kicked. Although she couldn't see them it felt like there were several other people trapped in this small space. The press of what she assumed were people around her grew more agitated, as they kicked and pushed. The distant sounds grew louder, more frantic. It was voices, she realized, and it sounded like they were yelling.

  Was something wrong? Where were they? She attempted to move again, but when she extended her arms she felt resistance, like a thin barrier surrounding her. Whatever the barrier was made of was strong and stretched as she pushed against it. Fighting harder, the muffled voices grew louder, she pressed with all the strength she could muster and the barrier finally broke. Water surged around her and the voices reached a fever pitch, they yelled and one in particular seemed to cause the world around her to vibrate with its intensity.

  Her body twisted and she couldn't tell up from down as her body moved. Then she felt the pressure, it was like a vice grip pressing down on her and the voices somehow grew even louder. There were no words just a garbled mess of shouting and screams. Her bones felt like putty as the press on her body grew more intense, it was too much and she was certain she was going to pop like a grape. Then there was light.

  It was oppressive, painfully bright and she was blinded. Her body writhed as air struck her skin, it felt sharp and cold, and before she could think of how to react her back was struck. Three loud slaps rang out making her flinch as fluid was violently expelled from her lungs. She coughed, took her first full breath and she screamed. It wasn't a conscious choice, but the sudden overstimulation from the light, to the sound, to the pain in her back was all just too much and her body felt like it had to do something.

  But the scream that came from her lips sounded foreign. It was high pitched, a little raspy and sounded nothing like her. Blinking, her eyes finally adjusted to the light, and she found herself face to face with a monster. It was humanoid, with ochre skin and a pair of tusks protruding from the lower part of their mouth like a boar. The creature was also massive, cradling her easily in one hand, she flailed in panic and let out another gurgling cry.

  The creature wrinkled its nose at her and spoke. While she could hear the words clearly, the language was strange, almost guttural and filled with sharp phonetics. It wasn't clear if the aggressive tone was a byproduct of the how the words were pronounced, or if this strange person was genuinely upset. Another voice responded, softer but assertive, it came from behind her and she attempted to turn to locate its source but her body wouldn't cooperate.

  Why was she so weak? Between being unable to move and how much larger the giant was she felt as helpless as a baby. The word stuck, bouncing around in her mind. Baby. Rebirth. She had been reborn, literally, as a baby. Did that mean she was one of these weird creatures? Her attention was drawn back to the monster holding her.

  The giant glared down at her, then let out a grunt before it turned, taking a few steps to the side. She managed to catch sight of what appeared to be a wooden wash bucket before she was dipped inside. To her surprise the contents of the bucket was not water, while still liquid it was murky and dark with a rust colored tint to it. The creature quickly dipped her twice into the buckets contents, dabbed her with a cloth that felt like coarse fur before grabbing a long piece of linen and proceeding to wrap her up tightly.

  Once firmly restrained she was placed in a large woven basket located on the ground nearby. She struggled against the wrap a few times, but it was like fighting against a straight jacket. Deciding not to waist her energy she took in her surroundings instead. Lying on her back the first thing she noticed was the ceiling, wood lattice work held up a large cloth or tarp that seemed to served as the roof. Were they in a tent of some sort?

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  In the center of the roof was a large hole, due to the lack of light streaming in, she assumed it was either covered or dark out. There were two wood beams on either side of the hole, likely acting as support structures. Straining her neck and managing to roll ever so slightly she saw the floor was a mixture of decorative rugs and fur pelts. The walls were similar to the roof, lattice and some sort of cloth or tarp that curved. There was a healthy collection of wooden furniture, stools, tables, chests of drawers all in deep reds and earth tones with what looked like bronze filigree decorating it.

  Examining the furniture she saw the giant who had held her a moment ago. No longer afraid of being eaten, she saw they appeared to be an older woman with a stocky build, hair in a simple French braid and dressed in a dark brown deel with her sleeves rolled up. The angry woman knelt in front of what looked like a couch; ornate wooden panels lined the front, and it had a high back that supported a plush mat with a small mound of pillows atop it. Seated on it was a woman.

  She had similar odd characteristics as the first woman, but she was slimmer and had sharper features. Dark red hair was woven into several small plats on the side of her head that wove into a larger braid that hung between her shoulder blades. Most notably she was heavily pregnant, her breathing was labored and the simple robe she wore was soaked in sweat. The gruff older woman, who seemed to be some sort of midwife, ladled water into her mouth and said a few words.

  The pregnant woman wiped her mouth and gave a curt sounding reply before looking at the basket. It was only for a minute, but the two of them locked eyes. The woman had cat like pupils with bright golden irises, the expression her entrancing eyes held was unreadable. There was a strange stirring of emotion in her chest she couldn't quite define, some instinctual need to call out to her. She was looking at her mother. It was an easy conclusion to come to, but she had felt it more then thought of it.

  The shared moment ended as the golden eyed woman turned back to the midwife, saying something in the strange language. She listened intently as the two spoke, trying to read their tone and expressions, maybe pick out a repeated word or two. But they spoke quickly and it was almost impossible to keep up. The pregnant woman cried out as the midwife barked a few words, flitting between checking her stomach to rummaging around in a collection of tools next to her. This went on for maybe fifteen minutes then she heard a gurgling cry.

  She watched as the midwife turned to the basin, tiny infant in one hand, washed and wrapped them then placed the baby in the basket beside her. They gurgled and managed to run their head so they were face to face. The two of them stared at one another; the newborn did not have the same burnt yellow skin as the women, it was more of a pale green. Was that what she looked like? Was that normal for their species? The child didn't have tusks either but those would likely grow in with age so it was possible the skin would change as well.

  Neither of them cried out, the pair simply stared at one another. She wasn't sure, but there seemed to be a mischievous glint in the babies eyes that felt somewhat familiar. The child then wiggled and strained against the swaddle, and much to her surprise just managed to get one fist free. It was an impressive feat given how tightly the midwife had wrapped them. Her sibling started mouthing at their exposed hand.

  Sibling. It was a strange thought, but they obviously had the same mother so that made them family. Family, the word made her chest ache, she had a family somewhere far away from here. She couldn't remember their faces or their names but she knew they were out there. Did they miss her? For some reason a part of her doubted it.

  Her attention returned to the midwife and the woman, her mother, who appeared to still be in labor. Were they triplets? The midwife ran back and forth, fetching buckets of water, blankets and bottles filled with various colored liquids. She watched them, the midwife's expression was stony, focused on the task at hand and examined their mother. The midwife spoke but slower this time, her tone sounded serious, and the stair she fixed the golden eyed woman with could bore through metal. Their mother gave a clipped reply.

  This appeared to upset the midwife, who raised her voice as she stood, the harsh sounds of their language was even more biting. The woman gestured wildly with her arms and was now clearly shouting. She approached the basket and stared down at the two of them, the look on her face was clear. Unabashed disgust. Turning to the nearby table she scooped up a bottle with a strange green liquid, it was sickly color with an almost gray tint to it. The bottle was thrust at the laboring woman, the midwife's words were urgent, almost desperate sounding.

  Was something wrong? Maybe she was trying to give her some sort of medicine? But their mother made no move to take the bottle, instead fixing the midwife with a glare that almost radiated heat from the intensity of it. The older woman shoved the bottle at her once more, voice angry and rising in volume. This time their mother slapped it away sending it to the floor, the glass must have been heavy as it simply rolled out of sight instead of shattering.

  A heated exchange was had between the two women, both angry and shouting, the midwife kept gesturing at the basket. Were they arguing about them? Why? A midwife was supposed to help a woman deliver, so she assumed the only time they would get angry is if the mother was doing something to endanger herself or the baby. But the two of them were healthy as far as she could tell, and while their mother was still in labor she otherwise appeared fine, at least she had enough energy to argue.

  Was the third baby in distress? Neither of them looked worried, just angry. She thought back to the look the midwife had given them, the clear derision on her face. What had made her look at them like that? While she didn't know what was normal for this race her sibling appeared perfectly fine, not deformed or sickly as far as she could tell. There was no accounting for herself but she felt fairly confident nothing was wrong with her either. So what was the reason?

  The argument halted as their mother let out a cry of pain and the midwife quickly examined her. Whatever the issue was it appeared forgotten for the time being as she went back to work, guiding the laboring woman and fetching her towels and something to drink. Despite them no longer arguing there was an undeniable tension in the air. She watched as the midwife alternated examining their mothers stomach, dabbing at her brow with a cloth and fetching various tools. Finally with another gurgling cry filed the space.

  As before the new baby was dipped in the strange liquid, wrapped and placed in the basket. Their new addition looked almost indistinguishable from the first. Except the expression this one had was akin to a permanent scowl. If the entire situation wasn't so insane she likely would have laughed at the odd juxtaposition of such a face on a tiny newborn. As she stared at them the infants scowled appeared to deepen and they began to cry. It was a jarring sound so close and felt like needles were being jammed into her ears.

  Her jaw clenched, then unclenched, as she attempted to grind together teeth that weren't there. The crying just got louder and more high-pitched, it was becoming unbearable. Judging by the look on her other siblings face they were in a similar situation. She watched as their brow furrowed and lip quivered, then they opened their mouth and screamed. Now that the shrieking had doubled in volume and intensity the sound felt like a physical force, it was a pair of pick axes slamming against her eardrums. It was overwhelming and she couldn't take it anymore, she wanted to scream, so she opened her mouth and did just that.

  With all three of them crying they had become a cacophony, impossible to ignore. The midwife growled and left their mothers side, retreating to a table where the sound of clinking glass and metal on wood was heard. The stocky woman was likely at the table for only five minutes, but it felt like five hours, once done she turned and stomped over to the basket. Her wide face greeted them, a scowl plain to see and just as intimidating as before. She reached out a massive hand, picking up the baby that started this. They attempted to squirm in the midwifes grasp but were still held tightly by the wrap.

  With her other hand she produced a small bronze pot with a short spout on the side and forced it into the shrieking infants mouth. There was a pause in the screaming, then the baby greedily swallowed the contents of the pot. Once they were finished she took the spout out of the babies mouth, gave them a few firm pats on the back and once they let out a small burp, placed them back in the basket. The now quiet child fell asleep almost instantly. She watched as the stern faced woman repeated the process with the other infant, then finally reached out for her.

  It wasn't a surprise when the spout of the little pot was forced into her mouth, what did surprise her was the taste. The liquid was oddly sweet, warm and aromatic, like warm milk and honey. Some base instinct took over as she guzzled down the brew without a second thought. As she drank her body was flooded with warmth and she felt calm, every anxiety and discomfort faded away and she felt completely relaxed. Her eyelids grew heavy and she could feel them start to droop as she went from chugging the liquid to slowly sipping at it.

  The spout was pulled away but she was too relaxed to protest the loss of the tasty drink. A few sharp strikes to her back dislodged an air bubble from her stomach and she was placed in the basket once more. She could hear the two women exchanging words once again, and she tried to turn her head to watch them, but her body wouldn't listen. Attempts to follow their conversation also failed as everything grew muffled and dark, her eyes kept sliding shut no matter how hard she tried to keep them open. She had to listen, to observe, to learn whatever she could. But her attempts were futile as her eyes slid close for the last time as sleep took her.