Unbreakable

Once upon a time…something completely extraordinary happened.

The young woman screamed out in pain. She could feel the pain all over her body. Head, feet, back, but it was abdomen that was the main source of her pain. It was where a series of brutal, long contractions went off over and over again, going on for so long she almost couldn't remember a time when she wasn't in pain.

"It's alright, dear." To her left, a cloth bathed in cool water was pressed against her brow, wiping away the sweat. To her right, an elderly priestess stood beside her, taking careful note of her condition, speaking in a gentle tone.

"It…" It almost pained her to speak. She spoke in between short breathes. "Hurts."

The priestess nodded, understandingly. "Keep in mind. Each pain brings the child closer into the world."

May the good gods of Mars help me, the young Martian woman, screaming as another ripple of pain shot through her.

She glanced up at her husband. He leaned against the wall, nearly hidden from sight by a crowd of commotion and women in front of her. His posture was straight, hands crossed behind his back, perfectly attentive to what was going on. Yet he hadn't said a word. She couldn't make out his expression. Was he as anxious as she was? Impatient?

She sent him a small smile, one he didn't return.

"Is it time?" he asked, the question meant for the priestess.

"Yes. By the contradictions, it seems the baby is eager to come out," the priestess lifted the expected mother's chin up. "When I say push, I need you to push as hard you can. Understand?"

Her head jerked in a movement that was a close intimation of nodding. Waves of contractions were riding on her, stronger and brutal than before. But beneath the pain, she felt something that was different. The deep need. The need to push, to bring her new baby into the world was all that came to her mind, and she was overwhelmed by the deep-rooted intensity.

Once the priestess and the midwife positioned themselves, she grabbed hold on another's hand and pushed. The pain was so much, her body almost failed. It was so close to shutting down, due to not the only the pain, but the gradual exhaustion eating away at her. She forced herself to go beyond it, to push it out of her way, and muster all the energy she had into pushing.

How long she pushed, she had no idea. All she knew was her screaming was getting louder and louder each passing second, echoing throughout the halls. It was the priestess's words of encouragement that forced her to keep going, to keep pushing.

"One more push," the priestess said. "One more and the child will be out."

"I can see the head!" the midwife cried excitedly.

"Do not fail, K'inoa." Those were the first words her husband said directly to her, looking her right in the eye for the first time since she had been in labor for the past one hundred and twenty hours. His eyes were fierce and firm.

The time was now, she could feel it. The overwhelming need came on stronger than ever, and she could something-her baby-trying to come out. All her child needed was a push. Ignoring the blackness forming around the corners of her vision, she gritted her teeth, grabbed the poor nurses' hands, and pushed.

And pushed. And pushed.

"I see something!" She was somehow able to hear the old woman's voice clearly over her screaming. Or maybe her hearing was off, and her mind, suffering from sheer exhaustion, was playing tricks on her. "Keep going."

Her teeth were gritted so tightly, her molars were cracking under the pressure. She could taste blood filling in her mind. Still, she gave one final push, using every bit of energy she had within herself, feeling her baby finally slipping out of her.

"GREAT MERCY!"

She was startled by the scream, and was stunned by the sudden silence casted over the room. No one was speaking, no one was moving. She opened her mouth to ask what happened, what became of her child, but something was wrong.

She couldn't speak. Her breath was caught in between her dry throat, her neck trapped in a tight, suffocating grip. She couldn't breathe. She tried to call out to someone, but her breathing only worsened as her heart throbbed painfully in her chest, as if someone held it in a tight fist, slowly squeezing it.

My baby, she thought, frantic. She needed to know what happened. Was the baby okay? Did she or he live? She was trying desperately to stay conscious, trying so hard not to give into the pain, but it was too much.

My baby. Her mind swept into the blackness.

She didn't know how long she slept. Could have been a few minutes, maybe hours. Maybe even days. All she knew was something gone terribly wrong. One moment, she was pushing her child out, bringing life to the infant. The next, she was suffering through a double dosage of the worst pain she ever felt in her life.

Glancing around the room, she was stunned to see huge, widen-gaps cracked between the walls, running down the walls and up to the ceilings, walls said to be blessed with protection from any kind of threat. The air was pulsing with the aftermath of power, such strong power it left her cold and shaken. She was the only one in the room. Where were the mid-wives? Where was the priestess? Her husband?

Just then, as if he were summoned, he entered the room. She couldn't suppress her horrifed gasp as he stepped closer, and saw his face.

The right side of his once-handsome face was scarred from the hairline to the neck by five thick, vivid red lines. One line pulled down the corner of his left eye, another twisted at the right side of his mouth into a permanent-looking grimace.

J'aames, she thought.

He made no response to her shock, his face a perfectly calm mask. In his arms, he carried a bundle wrapped in yellow blankets.

The bundle looked so small, and wasn't moving. Fear paralyzed her, twisting her heart.

The baby.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, blurring her vision. Her words were choked up with her strong sobs that shook her body, despite her efforts to calm herself down. It was as if the more she tried to try them, the more she wept.

Please, she said, her words mixed in with her quiet sobs. "Tell me the baby…isn't…"

He just shook his head slowly and walked over to her. He didn't touch her, didn't comfort her. He stayed silent as she cried, letting her have a moment. When she quieted her sobs into silent tears, he said "A power surge of some sort went off and spread all throughout the planet. In one instance, minds were twisted in pain, bodies shocked, and hearts tightened by a strong grip."

Including the council, he continued on silently. They felt it most of all.

Her pain was temporality forgotten, being overshadowed by her shock. She recalled the pain she felt. Her mind being played with, and burning in pain. Her heart being crushed. She assumed she was the only one who felt the pains.

"How?" The word slipped from her mouth.

Not saying a word, her husband placed the still bundle on her lap, and then pushed the blanket away.

K'iona gasped softly.

Her baby wasn't a baby. They were twins, identical twins. Twin daughters still as statues, heads titled toward each other. With no heartbeat and pulse in their tiny bodies.

"How-"

"They were the cause of the surge," he explained. "In a single breath, they nearly brought Mars down to its' knees. Then fallen to this suspended state."

Impossible.

K'iona looked down at the small creatures resting on her lap. She couldn't help but admire their beauty. They looked so beautiful, so precious, and so helpless. It was hard to imagine such powers were caused by something so small. Her hand slowly reached down to touch one's cheek.

But before her finger could make contact, a suddenly pulse went off, as quiet as a whisper yet as powerful as thunder, shocking the mother like lightning bolts. She yelped out in pain, pulling her hand back. Trying to ignore the pain, she turned to her daughters.

Energy sprouted from their fingertips. Their fingers twitched for a moment or two, the movements done extremely slowly, before they moved. Their tiny hands then slowly reached out for one another, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, fingers entwined. Their hands clasped each other tightly, as if they couldn't bear to be apart. At the joint of their hands, incredible power suddenly exploded, flowing through their bodies, which glowed in bright, magnificent colors, forming a barrier around them. The ground trembled beneath their feet, the gaps widening as the planet suffered through the powerful quaking. The mother could feel the pain coming back, almost in an instant being suffocated as her poor heart went through the slow torment. As the pulses continued in a rapid pace, the more power went off and the brighter their bodies glowed.

The pulses then stopped, dying down into quiet thumps. The husband's somber face broke into pure shock; the mother couldn't tear her eyes away.

Cracks began slashing across the barrier, like slashes from an assistant's dagger. Slash, slash, slash, they continued to produce, spreading across the barrier. With so many cracks around it, the barrier weakened, shattered into bits, and flew away like powder.

A second went, then another, and another. Finally, the twins opened their eyes at the same time, revealing a rich shade of hazel eyes that were wide-set, giving off such innocence as power pulsed through their veins.

Once upon a time, something extraordinary happened.

For the time in over one million years, in Mars' history, twin sisters were born.

Their powers had no limit and were incredible. It could easily bring beauty and creation as well as destruction and chaos.

Their strength was mighty. One could easily rock an entire nation alone, but together, chaos would spread in every planet, throughout the galaxy.

Their bond was a wonder. One knew the other's thoughts before she even knew it. One could feel her sister's pain and anguish as if it were her own. One couldn't be without the other.

Their bond was incredibly, utterly unbreakable.