-Anti- Cosmo's POV-

I don't know exactly what time it was, I mean... I was so confused. The grey sky, brightening with the rising sun, showered us both with rain. And we were running. It wasn't clear to me, it was a dream. You couldn't fathom the pain I was going through, all I truly remember of that morning was rain and pain, running and light.

I think Anti-Wanda was guiding me. "Hurry, we gotta get there before Jorgen changes his mind!" she screamed, pulling me harder.

And then it hit me: I was trying to get to Timothy's home, where Cosmo, Wanda, Poof, Timothy, Jorgen, and the new child, Astrid, were waiting. We were going to have our own child once again, and Jorgen was going to, in a way, give it life. Inside me. Dutifully I would carry the baby for six months, five days, and two hours. It was custom. But why were we running?

"Anti-Wanda, why exactly are we running?"

"'Cause our wings don't work, it's a early Fairy Clipse!"

"Oh," I said, still in a pain-induced-stupor. I was in tremendous pain because it was attempting to bring itself into existence, and I had no magic in me to fulfill its desire, so it was painfully draining my energy. My legs were beginning to lock up, and Anti-Wanda decided to carry me.

When we got there, I was near passing out. Anti-Wanda set me on the floor, and I sat there, immobile, trying my best to stay awake.

I felt Jorgen's gaze locked on me, his disapproval. "Puny Anti-Fairy," he began, "Are you ready for your baby to begin its journey?"

I tried to answer, but my mouth wouldn't move. All that came out was a small moan.

Jorgen lifted his larger-then-life wand and aimed it at me. Why is he doing it now? He has no-

Energy surged through my body. I heard the blast of his wand, and I felt hot and unimaginably cold at the same time. I felt dizzy, and the room began to swirl. The pain in my abdomen faded.

And in a moment, I felt fine. "Jorgen..?" I asked, wondering if I could talk.

"Ah, you survived."

All of a sudden, all I wanted to do was sleep. I was too tired to do anything else, and I sensed Anti-Wanda knew. "Uh, I think he wanna's go home," she said, holding me up.

I meekly nodded. Now, I knew, the baby needed me to rest, so it could begin the first and hardest step of development: Being more then a blasted spirit inside me.