Under the cloak of night, the sapphire moon cast its glow upon the eerie Gravesville cemetery. Swirling red smoke arose amidst the tombstones, conjuring what seemed to be a door. As the smoke dissipated, mysterious markings and symbols emerged on the door, written in ancient languages long forgotten to the modern world.
With every trace of smoke gone, the door became vividly clear. Its knobs turned open, revealing a hazy image of a world only mentioned in sacred texts – rivers of blood, clouds ablaze, trees lined with limbs instead of leaves, and monstrous creatures roaming this forsaken land. Upon closer inspection, it was evident these creatures were chasing something – or rather, someone. A man and a woman dressed in black suits ran towards the door amidst a vicious battle against these horrid beings.
The man's arms had no flesh; instead, they were composed of dark bones complementing his bone-adorned blade. The woman wielded a bow and arrow devoid of any bones. As the pair ran closer to the door, entangled in battle with their demonic pursuers, the creatures began gaining ground.
Realizing this, the man halted abruptly and faced his enemies head-on. The woman understood his intentions, hesitating before he shouted at her to hurry towards the shrinking doorway. She protested until he gestured towards her womb—her pregnant state now visible—and pleaded for her escape before it was too late. Reluctantly, she resumed her run to safety.
As she neared the portal, one monster darted past the others, lunging at her with alarming speed. Time seemed to slow: her desperate sprint, the man locked in combat, the fate of their unborn child precariously hanging by a thread.
Eyes shut tight with determination, the man whispered ancient words and hurled his dark bone blade. Time snapped back into place. The creature leaped at the woman as she crossed the threshold; the blade struck true, impaling the beast mid-air. The man smiled his final, tearful grin before being consumed by the throng of darkness.
In the desolate cemetery, the creature died atop the woman, its lifeless hands clutching her throat. The blackbone blade had pierced both the monster and the unborn child it sought to protect. As the door dissolved into smoke, the woman drew a single, shallow breath; she lived. Trembling, she realized her child was coming into this world.
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Beneath the cemetery's stillness, an elderly woman knelt before a gravestone. The name "Marshall" was etched deeply into its surface, glinting faintly under the moonlight. She pressed her hands together, murmuring a quiet prayer, her white coat brushing against the dirt.
"Another year without you," she whispered, her voice trembling. "But I feel you here. I always do."
A sudden, piercing cry broke the solemnity, jolting her from her thoughts. The sound was unmistakable—a baby. Rising to her feet, she followed the desperate wails, clutching the lapels of her coat as she hurried toward the source.
When she arrived, the sight before her would have sent most into panic: a lifeless woman in a black suit, her neck torn and blood pooling beneath her; a newborn infant nestled against her body, wailing with startling strength. But the woman didn't panic. Decades of experience steadied her hands as she immediately assessed the scene.
She crouched beside the infant, pulling gloves and a mask from the inner pocket of her coat. "Shh, little one," she murmured, her voice firm yet soothing. Gently, she lifted the baby, inspecting him for injuries. His tiny limbs flailed in protest, his cries filling the air.
"You're strong," she whispered, her professional demeanor faltering for a moment as her heart ached for the child's loss. Wrapping the baby in a spare blanket she carried for emergencies, she reached for her phone and dialed an ambulance, calmly relaying the situation.
As she held the child close, a strange sensation washed over her—a pull, inexplicable yet undeniable. For a moment, the world faded to black. She was floating, suspended in an infinite void. In that darkness, the pull intensified, tethering her to the infant in her arms. She felt his presence like a flame, drawing her closer.
Her breath hitched as the void receded, leaving her kneeling once more in the cemetery. The baby's cries softened, his small hands clutching the edge of her coat. A sense of purpose settled over her.
---
As the medics arrived at the scene, their sharp eyes scanned the eerie surroundings. One of them approached the elderly woman standing composedly near the lifeless body, her white coat faintly gleaming under the dim moonlight.
"Dr. Marshel, can you tell us what happened here?" the lead medic asked, his tone steady but cautious.
Dr. Marshel adjusted her glasses and gestured toward the scene. "I was nearby when I heard a cry. I found her here, already deceased, and the child…" She glanced down at the newborn cradled securely in her arms. "The child was beneath her. I did what I could to stabilize him until you arrived."
Another medic nodded and signaled the team to begin their work on the body. In the meantime, a pair of police cruisers pulled up, red and blue lights painting the gravestones in an unsettling glow.
Officer Harts, a tall man with a calm yet attentive demeanor, stepped out of his vehicle. His sharp gaze softened when he recognized Dr. Marshel. Approaching her, he tipped his hat lightly.
"Dr. Marshel," he greeted, his voice warm but tinged with concern. "I'd say it's good timing you were here for this strange incident, but…" He hesitated, clearly mindful of the reason for her presence. "I know why you were here tonight."
Dr. Marshel gave a faint nod, her face revealing no outward emotion, though her hands tightened slightly around the baby.
"I was paying my respects," she replied quietly.
Officer Harts met her gaze with genuine sympathy. "I'm sorry, truly." His voice dropped to a more personal tone, one of familiarity. "Marshall was a good man. I know this must still be hard for you."
"Thank you," she said simply, offering a small but resolute nod.
Harts extended his hand, and she shook it briefly, her grip firm despite the heaviness of the moment. "We'll handle things from here. Go with the medics, and take care of yourself."
As the medics arrived at the scene, their sharp eyes scanned the eerie surroundings. One of them approached the elderly woman standing composedly near the lifeless body, her white coat faintly gleaming under the dim moonlight.
"Dr. Marshel, can you tell us what happened here?" the lead medic asked, his tone steady but cautious.
Dr. Marshel adjusted her glasses and gestured toward the scene. "I was nearby when I heard a cry. I found her here, already deceased, and the child…" She glanced down at the newborn cradled securely in her arms. "The child was beneath her. I did what I could to stabilize him until you arrived."
Another medic nodded and signaled the team to begin their work on the body. In the meantime, a pair of police cruisers pulled up, red and blue lights painting the gravestones in an unsettling glow.
Officer Harts, a tall man with a calm yet attentive demeanor, stepped out of his vehicle. His sharp gaze softened when he recognized Dr. Marshel. Approaching her, he tipped his hat lightly.
"Dr. Marshel," he greeted, his voice warm but tinged with concern. "I'd say it's good timing you were here for this strange incident, but…" He hesitated, clearly mindful of the reason for her presence. "I know why you were here tonight."
Dr. Marshel gave a faint nod, her face revealing no outward emotion, though her hands tightened slightly around the baby.
"I was paying my respects," she replied quietly.
Officer Harts met her gaze with genuine sympathy. "I'm sorry, truly." His voice dropped to a more personal tone, one of familiarity. "Marshall was a good man. I know this must still be hard for you."
"Thank you," she said simply, offering a small but resolute nod.
Harts extended his hand, and she shook it briefly, her grip firm despite the heaviness of the moment. "We'll handle things from here. Go with the medics, and take care of yourself."
With that, Dr. Marshel stepped away from the officer and approached the medics preparing to transport the infant. She climbed into the ambulance, cradling the baby close. The vehicle's interior lights illuminated the baby's face as he gazed up at her, his cries subsiding into quiet coos.
Dr. Marshel studied him intently, her fingers brushing against his tiny fist. "You've been through so much already," she murmured. "But you're safe now. I'll make sure of it."
As the ambulance rumbled toward the hospital, she held the child close, her thoughts drifting to the strange pull she'd felt in the cemetery. Whatever force had brought this baby into her life, she couldn't ignore its weight.
"You'll need a name," she whispered.
The baby's small fingers wrapped around hers, and for the first time that night, Dr. Marshel allowed herself a faint smile.
"I'll call you.....Clay."