Rain pounded relentlessly against the thick canopy of the ancient forest, each drop echoing like a thousand tiny drums. Thunder cracked overhead, splitting the sky with jagged streaks of lightning that illuminated the twisted branches like ghostly fingers. The wind howled through the trees, carrying the scent of wet earth and despair.
Through the dark, tangled woods, two figures stumbled and sprinted, their feet sinking into the thick mud, every step a battle. The man's breath came in ragged gasps as he supported the woman, who was pale and trembling, clutching her swollen belly with desperate determination.
"We're almost there!" he urged, voice strained. "Just a little further — you can make it!"
She swayed, her hand pressed against a nearby tree to keep from falling. Her eyes flickered with pain and fear. "I… I don't know if I can," she whispered. "The pain… it's… unbearable…"
A sudden sharp cry tore from her lips. "My water — it broke!"
He looked down and saw the dark stain spreading on the forest floor beneath her. Panic flashed in his eyes. "No… no, not now! What do I do?"
She gripped his arm tightly, teeth clenched against the agony wracking her body. "Listen to me, please. After the baby comes… I won't be able to go any further. I won't survive this night."
He shook his head fiercely. "You'll live. I swear it. You have to."
Her eyes, heavy with pain and fading strength, searched his face. "Promise me you'll protect our child. Run. Don't stop. No matter what."
He swallowed hard, his throat tight with unshed tears. "I promise," he whispered, voice breaking.
Lightning flashed again, casting long shadows over their soaked, trembling forms. She collapsed to the wet ground, clutching him as the first cries of new life pierced the storm. The baby's tiny wails echoed, fragile and fierce against the roaring night.
A faint, tired smile touched her lips. "Tomora… your name…"
Her hand slipped from his grasp, limp and cold.
A cry of heartbreak burst from the man's chest as the world seemed to still for a moment — the storm, the pursuit, all fading beneath the crushing weight of loss.
But there was no time.
From the dark woods emerged the Black-Iron Agents — silent hunters cloaked in midnight black, their masked faces reflecting the flickering lightning. Their blades gleamed like shards of night as they closed in, relentless and merciless.
"Move!" a voice hissed.
Clutching the newborn tightly against his chest, the man rose, legs shaking but will unbroken. He sprinted into the darkness, rain washing away tears as the distant footsteps of his pursuers echoed closer.
Every breath was a fight. Every heartbeat a drum of survival.
Above him, the storm raged on — wild, unforgiving — as a father ran for the life of his child, carrying hope itself into the endless night.