The night Lilith was born, winter storms raged in the midst of spring.
Windows closed. Curtains drawn. Ally Keller writhed in pain on the damp sheets. The midwife clutched Ally’s ankles.
“This time it’s coming.”
After the contraction, the very last one, her life would change. Mar- cus, Ally thought. She wanted to cry out his name.
Marcus couldn’t answer her. He was far away. The only contact they had now was the occasional letter. Ally had started to forget his scent.
Even his face had faded into darkness for a moment. She looked down at herself on the bed as though she were some other woman, as though the body in labor wasn’t her own.
“Marcus,” she said aloud, her mind increasingly restless.
After everything they’d been through together, after all they’d said and shared, Marcus had become a shadow to her. Their child would grow up without a father. Perhaps her father had never really wanted her after all. Perhaps this was always meant to be her daughter’s destiny.
What right did she have to interfere?











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