The two infants still lay motionless, soaked in their own blood, barely clinging to life. An hour had passed since the horrors took place, and not even a glimmer of hope had pierced the gloom. They showed no signs of survival.
Fifteen more minutes ticked by when a man dressed in deep black—clearly a blacksmith, judging by the soot on his hands and the wear on his clothes—passed nearby. A foul stench hit his nose.
"What is that awful smell?" he muttered, wrinkling his nose. "Must be a dead animal... Eh, guess I'll check it out."
He followed the stench, covering his nose with one hand. As he drew closer, he stopped dead in his tracks, frozen by the ghastly sight before him.
"What in God's name...?" he stammered, his voice trembling. "What monster would do this to two newborns? They can't be more than a few hours old... What do I do? They look dead. Do I run, or try to help? But there's nothing to save!"
Just then, the blind infant moved—just slightly, fingers twitching. The man's eyes widened.
"He's alive! He's actually alive!" he exclaimed. "I have to save him. I can't leave him here!"
With shaky hands, the blacksmith crouched beside the child and gently scooped him up, settling him carefully on his lap. Tearing a strip from his worn tunic, he wrapped it around the baby's damaged eye with trembling care.
Cradling the infant, the man stood.
"I'm sorry for the other one," he whispered. "I can't save him. But this one still has a chance."
He broke into a sprint, baby pressed to his chest. Within minutes, rooftops appeared on the horizon—sturdy homes of a peaceful, well-off tribe.
As he entered the village, curious glances followed him. He didn't stop. Sweat poured down his face as he reached a house marked by a sign: Healer.
Holding the child in one arm, he pounded on the door with the other. When there was no response, he took a step back and kicked the door open.
"Akana!" he shouted. "Where are you? Emergency! Please!"
A woman ran out, alarmed.
"Maru, the blacksmith? I was treating someone! What's going on? Who is that child?"
"There's no time!" Maru said, pushing past her.
She followed him into the treatment room. Maru laid the infant gently on a small bed.
"Please, Akana—save him. I know you can."
"I'll do my best," she said, eyes sharp with focus. "But he's starving. He won't make it without milk. Go! Get Shireen—the wet nurse. Quickly!"
Without a word, Maru bolted out again.
Akana immediately began cleaning the baby's wounds. She disinfected the injured eye, applied cotton and light bandages, then turned her attention to his umbilical cord, cutting and treating it with swift precision.
Moments later, Maru returned with Shireen. Her eyes filled with tears at the sight of the wounded infant.
"Oh… the poor thing."
She sat down and offered her breast, but the baby didn't respond. Akana leaned in, placing a hand on his tiny neck and chest.
No heartbeat.
"I'm afraid… he's gone," she said solemnly.
Maru broke down, tears falling.
"I failed... I couldn't save another life..."
But suddenly, something stirred. A strange whisper filled the room, echoing faintly in the child's mind:
You're not dying now… hhhahaHA!
And then—the infant screamed.
He writhed and kicked, drawing startled gasps from the adults around him. Shireen hurried to him, offering her breast again. This time, he latched on, nursing greedily.
An hour later, with calm restored, Maru turned to the women.
"Thank you both—truly."
Akana smiled gently.
"No, Maru. You're the one to thank. You brought him here. You saved him."
Shireen, watching the now-sleeping child, said softly,
"He's beautiful when he sleeps... But so sad that he'll live his life blind."
The scene then shifts—back to the second twin.
Still lying in blood and dirt, seemingly lifeless.
A dark figure loomed beside him and whispered:
"Your brother lives… and so shall you. Don't worry—your time is coming."