The night of Jane and Alec's mortal birth.

Simivisonios, 22 of May, prior to 800 A.D.

Lady Aefre

I had three unborn children bleed out from my womb before this. Therefore when my belly swelled out a fourth time, I grew more eager. Yet, I grew even more cautious about how much of my heart was involved. As a mother-in-waiting for so long, I of course feared preparing another burying ceremony for my offspring.

This very night was made to be my official delivery date. And even if I was lying there screeching to the gods for comfort within a nest of my own natural fluids, I focused on the fact that I was finally bringing a child into life's great circle.

My private pair of midwives, Rosa and Muriel, scurried about the cabin's chamber, attempting to fulfill their responsibilities as well as they were able to do so. After all, birthing a successor was rarely considered a tranquil event.

"Lady Aefre?" I managed to pick up one of them speaking over the blood rushing to my ears. Her hands were upon my bent knees again soon. "I can see a fair head. Ye must stay with us a little longer."

I nodded meekly, as the her fellow midwife dabbed my brow dry, brushing my scarlet curls back. I was not ready to admit defeat to the perilous sting just yet. I would look into the eyes of the child who I so deeply yearned for.

But, as I gave the final push, I felt a spark of unseen power wash over me. And then, my child was free.

Fresh young cries filled the room.

"It is a daughter, Milady." Rosa said eventually. Beyond the haze clouding my vision, I watched her wash off and encase my little love inside a quilt she had at the ready.

My overwhelming joy, however—was suddenly severed when Muriel bending beside me, let out a sharp gasp.

"Wha...what is it?" I panted heavily. Panic gradually intertwined itself with the fatigue already haunting my form. "Does my daughter live?"

Muriel's voice quivered, informing me swiftly, "It is not her, Milady... It appears as if you are not yet finished." She pressed her palm against my side.

I blinked. "Why?"

Now Rosa returned from the rocking cradle in sheer curiosity, sounding equally apprehensive. "Another child is coming!"

Another? Another newborn?

How could I have known this?

Was it possible, that I was birthing doubles?

I instantly recalled on my childhood—on my own mother mentioning her twin had perished shortly after their birth. Also her mother, my grand ancestor, was also a twin. But Mother neglected to say anything more. I saw the heartbreak reflect within her gaze each time I would build the courage to ask. Clearly, Mother had not wished for me to learn a hidden truth. Though I also was not as daft as most men pegged me to be. My bloodline gained knowledge of certain manuscripts they would never dream of touching. Nevertheless, this would explain as to why my middle had matured wider than usual. None of the additional village maidens with child seemed to match my size. My husband merely dismissed this detail and assumed I had been eating too extravagantly. He desired no unwanted attention more than he deemed necessary.

Surely this sort of news was bound to stir up whispers of doppelgängers, of prowling devils across these hills.

Although, my current time to was becoming strained. The double of my new daughter was pending as well, screaming, pleading to be reunited with their sister.

The three of us had no alternative option but to carry on. Ultimately, my body was about to shut down then; I could sense it. A woman would be fortunate enough to survive her labor once in a day—regardless, two deliveries, one ensuing another during a single night, was rather chancy.

So after the second spark of energy surged through me, I collapsed. Barely alive.

My children across the room now wailed in unison.

I turned my throbbing head on the rabbit fur head rest, towards the open window, away from Rosa and Muriel's umpiring, muddled stares.

And there is where I spotted it—the omen vividly waiting for me, amid the blazing stars—as if it was a portrait painted for me alone.

The pattern called Gemini was the last thing I had seen before my surroundings went utterly dark.

The Anglo-Saxon name Aefre means forever.