Constance moved through the days like a ghost. She loved Jaiden,how could she not? But every time she looked into his newborn eyes, she felt something else there.
Guilt?
Grief?
Or something darker?
Then, on a cold evening as she rocked Jaiden in her arms, the room shifted. The walls grew dim, the air chilled, and the air smelled of earth and old flowers.
The old woman stood by the crib, smiling faintly.
"You mourn him," she said.
Constance turned, throat dry. "Why are you here again?"
"Because he is not finished."
Constance clutched Jaiden tighter. "I buried him. He's gone."
"No," the woman whispered. "He was cast out. His brother drove him from the womb, but he will return. And when he does, you must choose to carry him again."
"I can't," she whispered.
"You will. While you still nurse this one…" She nodded at Jaiden. "You will feel the stir again. And this time, he will come alone."
Constance fell to her knees, trembling.
"You mean… I'll get pregnant again? Immediately?"
The old woman only smiled.
"Some souls are promised. Some debts must be paid.
He will return, Constance.
And with him… the past."