Blood of the moon Queen

The woman had flatlined at 3:08 a.m. “No pulse. No respiratory effort. Time of death, three-oh-eight,” Dr. Issa said without looking up. The machines were still humming, printing flat lines, flashing silent alarms. Selaria Cress lay on the delivery table, skin gray and cold, lips parted in a half-formed scream. A sheet had already been pulled over her legs. Nurse Talia stood in the corner, motionless, her eyes glued to the monitors. “But… she was talking a moment ago. She said the baby was coming. I heard her.” “She went into cardiac arrest mid-labor. There was nothing we could do,” Dr. Issa replied, sterile and sharp. He tossed his gloves into the bin and turned away. “Someone alert the family.” The room was heavy with silence. No one moved. Then Selaria’s abdomen shifted. Not a twitch. A ripple,like something was moving inside her. “What the hell?” Talia whispered. Dr. Issa stopped mid step. Two of the nurses shared a look. One, Nurse Rina, stepped forward calmly and placed her gloved hands back on the woman’s belly. “It’s just postmortem nerves,” she said softly, too softly. The movement came again harder this time. The lights above flickered. The fetal monitor, unplugged minutes ago, suddenly crackled back to life. Talia backed away. “She’s dead. This isn’t supposed to happen.” A faint cry echoed across the room. A baby’s cry. Nurse Rina didn’t even flinch. “Scalpel.” “What? Are we… we’re delivering it?” Talia stammered. Dr. Issa met her eyes cold, calm, unreadable. “We finish what we started.” Rina made the incision cleanly. Within seconds, the baby slid free, slick with blood and strange silence. No pushing, no labor, no pulse from the mother just breath. Just life. Unnatural and undeniable. The child screamed. Talia gasped. The baby’s chest rose and fell steadily, and her skin shimmered faintly under the hospital lights. Her eyes opened silver, bright like mirrors in moonlight. “She has the mark,” Rina said. She pulled down the cloth and revealed a small crescent birthmark glowing above the infant’s heart. Talia took a step back. “What mark? What are you talking about? This… this isn’t normal. We have to report this” “No,” Dr. Issa snapped. “You’ll do nothing.” Talia’s voice cracked. “But this isn’t right she’s breathing. She wasn’t supposed to be born, not like this. Not from a dead woman.” “She was never meant to be found,” Rina said, wrapping the child in black linen already waiting on the tray. “You knew?” Talia’s voice rose, trembling. “You all knew this could happen?” Dr. Issa walked over to the baby, stared down at her quietly, then turned to Talia with a strange calmness. “You’re young. You’ll learn. Some things are older than hospitals. Older than laws. This is not your story to tell.” “What do we do with her?” Rina asked. “We send her where they won’t look. She grows up with no name, no truth. Just a life.” “And the mother?” someone asked quietly. “Cremate her. Burn the files. Erase the footage.” They all moved in eerie coordination. Talia stood frozen in place. By sunrise, the child was gone. Records deleted. Room reassigned. Cameras offline. Only one nurse would remember the girl with silver eyes. The baby that cried long after her mother died. And far above the city, beneath the pale clouds, the moon shimmered faintly. Watching.