The first child was born without a heartbeat.
Lena stood in the healer's tent, watching the still form of the infant. Its eyes were open—clear, aware, far too aware for a newborn. Its chest didn't rise. Its heart didn't beat. But it was alive. It was watching her.
The healer stepped back, her hands shaking. "I don't understand. There's no pulse. No breath. But it's... looking at me."
Lena knelt beside the child. Its eyes followed her movement. It reached for her with a tiny hand, its fingers curling around hers. A jolt went through her. Not pain. Recognition.
"Who are you?" she whispered.
The child didn't answer. But Lena felt it—a consciousness, old and vast, pressing against the edges of her mind. It was familiar. She had felt it before, in the darkness of the unwoven spaces, in the
