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❝ pl... please save me. ❞

the dying woman whispered lowly, the crimson pool around her, hot against the fresh snow.

a hand was over her tummy, as she caressed it with shaking, bloody fingers.

her lips trembled as she thought of her fate and light in front of her eyes seemed to get dimmer by each passing moment.

❝ pl... please. m—my child ❞

she begged, hoping that if there was a diety, may they listen to her. her breaths were more strained now, life and blood draining out like the sand in an inverted hourglass.

lucky enough, there was someone.

𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡 ; 𝙮.𝙠Where stories live. Discover now