"Fate itself will unravel if the babe within you is born. The Celestial you love"—the voice held a mocking tone—"will die. Your planet will die. Galaxies will fall. The very nature of time will cease to exist."
Her lips were unfrozen.
She gasped. "What—what do I—do?"
The shadow swept nearer to her, reaching for her stomach.
"Sacrifice yourself, and they all will live. This is the only way you can save him and the babe within you. Die or condemn the future of everyone for your selfish wants."
The shadow dissipated.
Vesperin dropped to the ground, cradling her stomach.She was pregnant.
That was the first night she missed going to the meadow.
She triedto pretend like everything was okay, but could not manage it. When Atlas tried to touch her, she shied away. She lay in bed, holding her flat stomach and imagining the life growing within—pregnant. She had never been allowed to dream of something like this before. And now it was stolen from her.
She couldn’t look Atlas in the eye without feeling like she was killing him for her selfishness. It began to eat at her.
Atlas was always at the meadow in the evenings and nights, so she went during the day, pulled by an invisible force. Her satchel banged against her hip with each step.
She felt untethered from her body.
She sat heavily beneath the willow tree, vision blurring as she pulled free a simple shearing knife from within. It was heavy in her hands.
That shadowed voice followed her, a hand reaching from the ground.
"It is the only way," said the shadow.
The blade trembled in her hand. She leaned back against the tree. "He will—he will live?"
"Yes."
"And my b-baby?" It felt odd to claim it, that she was growing a life.
"The babe’s existence will not end."
She cupped her stomach. Her voice trembled as she whispered to the life within her, "If I don’t, you will die. But if I do, you both will live."
She faced the blade toward her chest. She could not hurt her stomach. But her heart…
"Forgive me," she said into the soft midday light of the meadow.
A part of her screamed silently.
No—
She drove the blade into her heart. It took effort. But a force pressed against the hilt, aiding her, as it slid inside her easily. She felt it puncture her heart, and it beat weakly before giving out entirely.
The force against the blade bled away as blood bloomed on her gown.
She sagged against the base of the willow tree.
Eyes fluttering as everything grew blurry, and she knew nothing but darkness.
Atlas walkedinto the meadow as the sun dipped below the horizon, just as he always did.
He felt strange, uneasy.
