Approximately 9 months later…

The entire empire was holding its breath. Rumors were swirling that the Empress had gone into labor. People young and old cried tears of joy, llama herders left the fields to celebrate, scribes put down their quail feathered pens, merchants closed their shops. Everyone wanted to pay homage to the royal baby. The citizens' festive mood was in stark contrast to the bleak atmosphere of the palace. The public was unaware of the gravity of the situation. The Empress wasn't doing well. Months back she had contracted a bad case of smallpox's from one of the invaders. The pregnancy was also taking its toll on her. The Empress looked gauntly thin even with child. She was in no shape to deliver a baby.

Now that the due date had come, she was ready to end her suffering. She whispered goodbye to her husband, Cuntur, and with her dying breaths she brought her daughter into this world. The little girl would one day be known throughout the lands. Her name will live on in infamy. Her name will become a synonym to shame. It will cause people throughout the empire to become scared beyond all reason. This little girl will grow up to be the bane of her nation. She will one day be referred to as the dreaded Yzma.