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At this point in time that hair was matted and wet with sweat. She cried out in agony, her breath coming in ragged gasps. A much smaller figure, bearing the same curved horns, emerged from the shadows to bring the struggling girl some cool water and a cold piece of cloth laid gently across her forehead.

All throughout the night, the two figures huddled close together. A third being, a beautiful creature of power and light, hovered nearby, washing both girls in a golden aura of strength and comfort.

Her time growing near, the moans and howls turned to an agonizing scream as the pains began coming harder and closer together. The struggling girl rose from the floor to her haunches and arched her back, feeling compelled to stop fighting the pain and work with the urges to push that it sent stabbing into the core of her being. She bore down, cried loudly, and collapsed for a moment onto the shoulder of her tiny sister who was ever at her side. Another scream and a huge flood of fluid splashed to the floor.

“First, born of water,” the small one chanted, softly.

The tall female lurched forward to grip her sister tightly, and shattered the night with a piercing howl, unlike any heard this side of Hell. The glowing creature, standing nearby, turned to face the wall, for he knew he could not look upon this moment.

The small female felt a presence within her mind, and knew her mother was struggling to communicate with her. She closed her eyes and entered a trance-like state for a brief moment.

I know you can no more destroy this helpless being than I could have you. But there comes a great evil following this one. She will be the child of her father, and nothing of her mother. Beware, my child. The oracle does not lie. Unspeakable evil shall follow this child from this day forward.

Another howling scream, and the statuesque girl arched her back, and bore down hard, as the tiny face of her firstborn emerged in a rush of her own red blood. The sister stretched out her hands to cradle the small head, as the new mother collapsed backwards, arching her back in one final mighty push. The small form twisted, and slipped fully out into the air, still bound to her mother by a thick cord.

“She shall be called Naimah,” the exhausted mother whispered, breathlessly.

“Naimah,” her sister intoned, nodding, as she quickly tied off the cord at two points, and brought a sharp knife to bear, severing it neatly between the bindings. At that moment, the earth trembled, and the air crackled with an uncomfortable prickle of electric energy.

Weakened by the struggle, the tall girl lay back, gasping for breath, with tears stinging her eyes as she looked upon the face of her newborn for the first time. Her sister gripped the child by the ankles, lifting her high into the air, and administered a sharp slap to her tiny bottom. The baby sputtered, and let forth a sharp howl.

“Is he here?” the mother asked, her voice quavering.

“No, my sister. He will not show his face here, this night. He knows better.” She shook her head and nodded towards the Guardian, still facing the dark corner of the room. She bathed the now silent infant in the warm basin of water and wrapped her in cloth cut from her own robe. Gently, she laid the quiet child in her sisters arms.

“It is finished,” she told him. She swore she could see him shudder as he turned to face her and viewed, for the first time, the cursed babe lying motionless in her sister's arms. This child was conceived not of love nor passion, but of evil and terror. The babe opened her eyes, and looked up at the Guardian. As he looked into the total blackness he saw there, he felt a sense of pain for the choices the young mother would soon be forced to make. The child looked back into his eyes with a look of calm confidence, and a wicked understanding well beyond her very young age. He felt the insurmountable urge to weep as he absorbed the significance of the child's knowing gaze.

The mother reached out her arms, took the child to her breast, and again, the earth shuddered beneath them. She parted her lips, and called out to the Creator, but He would not answer her. She then realized that there was no hope for redemption for this, her firstborn child. She thought back to that fateful night, the night she'd thought she'd breathed her last upon this wicked planet, and remembered the vicious attack that resulted in her carrying the child of a prince of evil. Looking down into the glittering, endless pools of blackness that were her daughter's eyes, she wept.

The exhausted mother slept, the small demon-child laid at her breast. Her sister watched them both, thankful that her sister had survived the rigors of giving birth, and wondering at the tiny, helpless form that was the embodiment of malice and evil. What should have been a moment of celebration and joy was covered with a pall of sadness mixed with fear, as they all knew from this moment forward they would all live to bear the consequences of this terrible moment.