Islinda's scream tore through the silence of the chamber, raw and guttural, as though it could pierce through the walls of reality itself. Her voice grew rough and strained as the nightmare unfolded in front of her disbelieving eyes. She looked down, horrified, as her swollen belly began to ripple violently. Panic seized her, and she tried to claw at the sheets, but the pain immobilized her.
Then it happened. A grotesque tearing sound filled the room, and Islinda watched in horror as her stomach burst open, the child forcing its way out. Her insides seemed to unravel, and the agony was beyond anything she had ever imagined. Blood and fluids poured out as the creature—a red, slippery thing—slipped from her torn body and fell to the side, emitting a shrill, ear-piercing cry. The baby's skin glistened wetly, still tethered to Islinda by the umbilical cord.
