The grand estate of the Duke and Duchess of Evershade was alive with joy on the day of the twins' birth. Nobles flocked to the estate to celebrate the arrival of the Duke's heirs, and every servant worked tirelessly to prepare for the occasion.

The twins entered the world moments apart. The elder, Isabella, let out a strong, melodious cry that filled the room with hope and delight. Her golden hair shimmered even under the dim light of the birthing room, and her large blue eyes seemed to glow.

Then came Anna. She was smaller, quieter, her cries weak. Her dark hair clung to her tiny, trembling frame, and her gray eyes were dull, absorbing the light instead of reflecting it.

The midwife held both infants as the Duke and Duchess leaned forward eagerly. But before they could hold their children, the air grew heavy, charged with an unearthly energy. A brilliant golden light burst into the room, blinding everyone momentarily.

When the light dimmed, a towering figure stood in its place—the God of Life, draped in flowing robes of radiant gold. His very presence made the air sing with warmth and power.

The Duke and Duchess fell to their knees, their eyes wide with awe. The midwife held Isabella higher, presenting her to the divine being.

The God's expression softened as he gazed upon Isabella. He extended a hand, cradling the infant in his glowing palm.

"This child," he proclaimed, his voice deep and resonant, "is a blessing to all creation. She will bring peace to the broken, heal the wounds of the world, and usher in an era of balance and harmony."

The room erupted into joyous cries. The Duke and Duchess wept with pride, their hearts overflowing with love for their perfect child.

But then the God turned his gaze to Anna.

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The celebration stilled. The God's benevolent smile faded, replaced by a shadow of doubt and disdain. He moved toward Anna, who lay in a crude wooden bassinet pushed to the corner of the room, as if she had already been forgotten.

The midwife hesitated, clearly reluctant, before holding Anna out to him. Her hands shook not from fear for Anna, but because she wanted to avoid upsetting the God.

Anna, her tiny hands reaching out, smiled gleefully at the radiant figure.

The God did not smile back. He tilted his head, his expression growing darker as he stared at the infant. A faint hum, almost like the wail of distant winds, filled the room.

"I sense... something wrong," the God said, his voice heavy with suspicion.

The Duke and Duchess exchanged uneasy glances.

"This one...," the God muttered, his eyes narrowing. He leaned closer, his gaze piercing as if trying to see into Anna's very soul.

Underneath Anna's swaddling clothes, hidden from view, her body began to convulse. Tiny scratches, invisible to the eye, began forming on her fragile skin. Her body was beginning its first healing—the creatures of the world, small and suffering, were unknowingly being restored by her presence.

Anna's tiny face scrunched up in pain, and then she let out a wail—a piercing, desperate cry that shook the walls.

"What is this?" the God said, his voice hardening.

Anna's cry grew louder, her tiny fists trembling as her body convulsed again. Her cries were innocent but unrelenting.

On the other side of the room, Isabella's perfect little face twitched, her lower lip quivering. Tears welled up in her bright blue eyes as if she were about to burst into tears herself. The crowd gasped.

"She's upsetting her!" the Duchess cried. "She's upsetting Isabella!"

The God's expression twisted into anger.

"This child..." His voice was thunderous now. "She is a blight. A disturbance to the purity of this world."

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Before the Duke or Duchess could respond, another presence descended into the room. The air shimmered as a second divine being appeared—a goddess cloaked in robes of silvery blue. Her expression was severe, her eyes sharp and merciless as she stepped forward.

The Goddess of Order.

"Her cries are disrupting the balance," the goddess said coldly, her gaze locking onto Anna.

The midwife, sensing the tension, quickly stepped away, her hands trembling not out of compassion but fear of being blamed. "Do as you will," she muttered, averting her gaze. She didn't even glance at Anna again.

The goddess reached out with an ethereal hand, her fingers glimmering like ice, and landed a hard slap across Anna's tiny face.

The room gasped in collective horror as the sound echoed.

The force of the blow knocked Anna unconscious. Her small body went limp, her cries silenced. But the scratches beneath her clothes deepened, more flesh wounds appearing as her unconscious body continued to heal the animals and creatures beyond the estate's walls.

"She is dangerous," the goddess said, her tone like a blade. "Keep her hidden, keep her silent, or she will bring ruin upon us all."

The God of Life nodded in agreement, his earlier warmth now replaced with indifference. "Let her live, if you must. But mark my words—this child will bring nothing but sorrow."

And with that, the gods disappeared, leaving the room colder and darker than before.

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The Duke and Duchess stared at Anna's limp form with a mixture of fear and disgust.

"She's cursed," the Duchess whispered. "We cannot let her ruin Isabella's destiny."

"She'll stay," the Duke said after a long pause, his voice low and begrudging. "But she will be kept out of sight. Out of mind."

The midwife did not protest. She scooped up Anna's limp body with mechanical indifference and carried her back to the small, dusty room that would serve as her prison. She didn't bother to lay her gently on the rough mattress, simply placing her down and leaving without a word.

As the midwife closed the door, she muttered to herself, "Thank the gods I don't have to deal with that one anymore."

Anna's tiny body stirred weakly in the dark, her fists curling in pain as more scratches formed under her clothes. Alone and unnoticed, her gray eyes fluttered open, reflecting nothing but shadows.