Such a dark day Hecate notes as she glances through the window at the storm that rages outside. Lightning bolts racing across the sky and the bellowing of thunder following in pursuit. It is a good thing the Black Cottage was made to endure. Or the storm surely would've ripped the house apart brick by brick.

Such a display of strength from the island today. Perhaps it is just the natural superstition she has thanks to her sight gift but Hecate is sure it is an omen. She would not be surprised if there was at least one elemental queen in the birth to come.

"Hecate get your tools ready," Halia shouts suddenly, breaking Hecate's train of thought as she labours on, breathing heavily as her contractions get stronger, "in case you need to cut them out," eyeing the knives as she does so with a small smile.

Those razor sharp tools are always there for the birth, taken out of Black Cottage's storage for the countless labours of new triplets cycles, as some queens haven't always been so lucky giving birth naturally. Not that the island cares. Once a queen crowned gives birth the island is done with them as are their people, already turning to the next generation. Sometimes it has been natural complications that have caused the labouring queens to falter or at times the midwives have been incompetent or too young.

Well, Hecate may be young but she is no fool, Queen Halia trusts Hecate, her foster sister and friend both - she knows she's in good hands.

Halia is not afraid though. Not of the pain or the possibility of death. She welcomes it, the pain makes her stronger, makes her fight harder to live. Birth is a battle after all, albeit a different kind, except on a bed instead of a battlefield.

She will miss it slightly; although her reign was relatively calm, by war gifted standards anyways. But her rule was just after the famous cursed cycle of triplets, despite the war gifted stereotype, she is and was no fool to the politics of the island and knew constant battles/raids was not a good precedent to set. Especially as the island was still recovering from the effects of the civil war and its disastrous on the economy, the people and even the land - all during her predecessor's lifetime.

Arsinoe the White Handed - not her mother, simply the one who carried her and her sisters on the Goddess' behalf. Or so the temple's preach. Even if she did consider her poisoner predecessor her mother it wouldn't matter, she has never met Arsinoe or ever had the chance to build a maternal relationship with her. That is not the queens way. They are not born for such weak sentiment. They have a greater purpose.

The time of the Queens War was devastating, the island had never seen anything like it. In Arsinoe's own time as Queen Crowned people were finishing healing, no one was eager for another war or anymore bloodshed. The island had earned peace so she respected that to a degree, there had been a few battles and pillages - nothing near a full blown war.

Not when the island also had to maintain the recent relationships and tenuous alliances forged with the various countries in the mainland in Queen Arsinoe's reign after the famed mist was vanquished after it turned on the very island itself.

Her reign was nothing compared to the like of the war Queen Philomene, who plundered every coastal town expect her king consort's. Yet she had a short reign because the island was exhausted.

In comparison Halia's reign has been long and fruitful, reigning until her forties. She helped get the island back on its feet while also inspiring fear in the other nations surrounding the island who knew of her strong war gift so they never dared try and invade, she made the island strong again and made the queensguard the finest army anyone has ever seen and the people will always remember that. Her legacy.

It is a strange thing to reflect on her reign and everything she is leaving behind. But after today she will be done with the island and the island in turn will wash its hands of her.

Hecate shakes her head in reply to Halia's words, "I won't need the tools, you will give birth naturally I can sense it," she says with a tentative smile but with a sense of self assurance in her tone and Halia believes her though in a twisted way she is slightly disappointed, despite her nearing departure from the island her gift still craves blood. But what Hecate decrees is what will happen.

Her younger foster sister is sight gifted after all. Born to the strongest war gifted family on the island, the Murtras. Yet she is the only one to ever be born without the war gift and not even giftless but instead with a prominent sight gift, which is even more surprising considering the years of drowned oracles.

The midwife keeps putting a damp cloth over the Queen's brow which Halia swats away in annoyance,

"I don't need that or any of those foul smelling herbs to numb the pain, I need to push these triplets out, this birth is taking far too long," she snaps, as more blood starts pouring out of her and her body pushes on instinct and takes control.

Halia gives a small cry of surprise as the first triplet is born so suddenly, she barely has time to register it but Hecate is on task and picks up the baby quickly. Within a few seconds the little wrinkled thing begins to cry.

"Arwen," Queen Halia calls out, feeling the queensblood flow between them as the cord snaps into place. It is a strange almost supernatural connection. It is as if someone else has taken over Halia's very voice.

"a ... shadow," she finishes almost silently. And her hesitation is beyond belief. Queen Halia has never hesitated or whispered in all the years Hecate has known her.

It makes the oracle midwife do a double take as she slowly turns to her queen, the red little baby wrapped up already in her arms. With her sight gift she isn't used to being shocked. Not like this.

"A what?" She says in disbelief to herself as she snaps back to the task at hand, cleaning the baby of the blood and wrapping her up in a white blanket for now, putting the newborn in a plain bassinet almost robotically, "not since the legends of the queens of old," she murmurs to herself.

There isn't a bassinet with the colours of silver and black and there hasn't been for over a thousand years. Hecate will have to see to it later. It is only because Hecate spent so much of her time in the extensive libraries in Indrid Down's temple that she even knows the traditional colours of the shadow gift or about the gift at all.

The rest of the island has been content to forget about the shadows, most believe they are just legends to scare children with. For shadows were rumoured to be terrifying in their prime, such undiluted power that was superior to the rest of the island's gifts. No one and nothing were matches for them.

But there isn't much time to register the full shock of the revelation. It has been centuries since a shadow queen has been born, so long that everybody just assumed they would never been born into the queensline again and that the Goddess had abandoned them. It was just as well people used to whisper, the shadows of old could control people's very minds. It is no wonder that no shadow queen ever lost her Ascension.

Yet this new baby is, alive as ever and with a gift more dangerous/ominous than anyone could know. Nobody really understands the shadow gift, after all Umbra has been separate from Fennbirn for so many years, many have forgotten to the city even exists or it's name. Not Hecate though, she spent a considerable amount of time in Sunpool, the closest city to Umbra and read through their history books, one of the only ones that detailed anything about shadows and of course she hails from the temple; the temple never forgot about the shadow gift considering some shadows chose to leave Umbra and join them.

Arwen must be an omen from the Goddess, sending a shadow queen. It must mean something. But the Goddess has sent no warning, given her no visions or feelings. There hasn't even been a storm or any outside signs either. It makes her feel odd. Something so important should have carried a sign. Or what was the point of the sight gift?

"Hecate," Halia shouts as she pants heavily, starting to push again and it barely takes a few more minutes of pushing before the second triplet is born.

Barely any blood came out with the arrival of the next queen this time, but nonetheless it only takes a firm pat on the back from Hecate for the baby to start crying, her face angry, scrunched up and red already. Though Hecate could not blame the small thing. Hardship was in the future for all queens of Fennbirn the second the drew breath.

"Carina," Halia pants, sweat beads formed at her brow yet again, the queensblood flowing between them with the connection of the cord, "poisoner."

Hecate almost sighs with relief, finally a baby with a gift she expected. Something she can rationalise. The poisoner gift is so common among queens, they're in nearly every cycle. The last generations of queens have been poisoners, part of a dynasty. Arsinoe. Katharine. Camille. Nicola. Sylvia. Hecate remembers them all.

"No wait," Halia calls out and Hecate, who holds the screeching newborn quickly turns towards the queen, who has this strange look on her face, "I thought she was poisoner - at first but there's something else that clings to her ... the naturalist gift."

As Hecate is sets down the newborn, briefly washing her like she did with Arwen and wrapping little Carina up warmly. She almost curses. Of course her first time delivering triplets isn't straight forward. A shadow. A poisoner and naturalist, essentially a legion cursed queen. What next? A giftless queen? And she had no guidance or warnings from the Goddess. There has never been a legion cursed queen in the history books of all queens births that midwives are forced to read to prepare.

"Are you sure you didn't misinterpret Carina's aura," Hecate enquires, placing the baby down in a bassinet with a purple patch for her poisoner gift, opting to do that instead of getting green naturalist ribbons as well.

Hecate tries to calm herself. There has to be a rational explanation to all of this madness. She almost tries to clear her mind, to see if the Goddess will deign to send her a vision or a message of explanation. But the Goddess is silent. A shadow and a legion cursed queen. Goddess help them all.

"No," Halia says, sighing, "that's what made it so strange at first, I didn't recognise the second gift straight away and it is hard to believe."

"So she's legion cursed?" Hecate says with worry.

She knows the role and responsibilities as the queens midwife but she simply cannot cull the little babe. Not something so sweet and innocent. It is not in her nature. The temple will call her a failure, have her stripped of her position she just can't do it and she won't.

"No," Halia says slowly, still taking deep breaths, "well I'm not sure, she doesn't feel cursed or abnormal, I just sense two essences on her though the naturalist side feels more dormant  almost bound in a sense."

Queen Halia doesn't even have time to process the abnormalities of her daughters before more abdominal pains begin again.

"Deep breathes Lia," Hecate instructs calmly, clutching her foster sisters hand in comfort and for once Halia takes her hand gladly, though her grip is like iron.

It takes a while for the final triplet to be born, so much more gritted teeth and a few shouts from the war queen and finally the new one is born.

"Nalani," she manages to spit out, "elemental."

Hecate almost collapses in relief. Finally a normal triplet. She can deal with an elemental. She picks the baby up, the smallest and youngest of the bunch, repeating the routine of cleaning her and placing her in a bassinet. Hecate would decorate it with blue buttons later, to represent her elemental gift, perhaps some cloud shaped pillows as is custom.

Halia is silent for a few minutes, sweaty with black tendrils stuck to her brow. The war queen has never looked so exhausted, so aged. The queen who beamed with vitality has been dampened and burdened.

Her silence makes Hecate feel worse as she just leans against the wall, trying to process what has happened.

"What shall we do Halia?" Hecate asks at last, not being able to bear the silence any longer, "with Carina, she is legion cursed but not you say, I'm not sure the people of the island will allow such a queen to live, with two gifts, it is unheard of, they will say she will become as mad as Elsabet. Poisoner and naturalist. Oh Goddess even if she was allowed to live who would foster her, the Arrons or the Milones?"

Halia coughs a little and Halia ceases her rambling to stare at the war queen,

"I think I'm dying Hecate," Halia suddenly says, her voice considerably slower and weaker than before and Hecate rushes to her side and starts examining her a little.

"You have lost a lot of blood but do not fret Lia," Hecate says, using an old nickname that they used to call her as a child which makes Halia smile a little, "I do not sense your death, your body just needs rest and time to recover and besides, I would never let you die and if you do I'll kill you myself."

Halia manages a smile at that, taking some confidence from Hecate's words and her unparalleled faith. But Hecate speaks the truth and she is determined. She cares about Halia and it is not only her job to protect and make sure the triplets are healthy - it is her duty to her foster sister as well.

"Then why does my body still ache, the pain hasn't relinquished, I haven't felt this bad since my little poisoner sister tried to put belladonna in my drink," Halia says, cackling wildly to herself at the memory. Her sly little sister. Tried to slaughter Halia at a ball but the warrior got there first. The little poisoner wasn't smiling when a dagger was buried in her gut. Hecate saved her life that day, making Halia throw the poison back up. Though she wasn't punished for interfering. Little Isobel died before Halia even collapsed and Serra, the naturalist, was already long gone. The island had to have at least one surviving queen.

"I will make you a healing draught," Hecate says, turning to prepare some ingredients but she stops as she hears Halia groan again, twisted on her side as more blood comes rushing out, staining the sheets even redder than Hecate thought possible.

Hecate just blanches. That isn't supposed to happen. Perhaps it is an after birth. For a moment she worries. What if Halia dies?

"Lia take more deep breathes, the bleeding should stop in a few minutes," Hecate says, trying to stay calm but Halia shakes her head, groaning again as her body simply takes controlling. Pushing again.

Until another babe is born.

Hecate just stares. Nothing could have prepared her for that. The sheer shock.

Halia only has enough energy for her next few words, "Nimue, a naturalist."

Hecate just shakes her head as she picks up the baby, starting to clean her to distract from her own confusion and disbelief.

A fourthborn. A Blue Queen. What a mess this birth is. What kind of message is the Goddess sending.

A Blue Queen, a legion cursed queen and a shadow. She half glances to Nalani. The only normal babe of the lot. An elemental. But Hecate knows how powerful elementals could be. All these newborns could be deadly when they have grown.

When Hecate turns to face Halia she sees the queens breathing has slowed but there is no inclination of discomfort on her face, only a stony face of pure granite.

"What a mess," Halia remarks, managing to cock a small smile. She is glad she forbade her consort from witnessing the birth. For she has no idea what she is to do. If anything she wishes Cressida was here. Her Cress. But she is not. She is with her husband and her child, Nesta, though if the rumours are correct she is pregnant again. She wonders how Cressida must feel and if she also felt the strange emotion that draws a mother to her babes.

But it is not a queens instinct. And yet there is almost an instinct to protect but Halia fights it back down. She cannot care. She cannot love them. She cannot seek to protect them. For they are not hers. Not truly. They are the Goddesses.

"Oh Lia," Hecate sighs, thinking of the task the queen will surely command her to do. The sin she must commit. It is her duty. To cull the oldest three but how can she? Hecate turns to look at the four babies, tears forming in her green eyes. Arwen is already asleep, content and happy - perhaps she is already dreaming. Carina is awake, still fussing a little but that is to be expected. Nalani is also asleep and Nimue is just silent, blinking up at Halia and Hecate with those dark dolls eyes.

At Nimue's gaze a peculiar sensation overtakes Hecate, searing into her very mind and being as the strength of a new prophecy takes hold.

And Hecate cannot control herself as she begins to recite,

"A call of blood, a death debt is owed.
All four must survive and rise.
A price will be paid for a triplets lies.
After the raven's call the snake flower will fall.
The lost queen of blue will come from the earth, a wolf ready for war, will be burning at the hearth.
To the bane of the Goddess, a fight for the crown shall be had.
Four dark witches were born in a glen,
Triplets and a blue queen, will never be friends.
Four dark sisters, all fair to be seen, three to devour, one to be queen.
But a word of warning for all,
if all four are not cherished then the island and its people will fall," she finishes, going silent as images flood her mind.

First a prophecy and now a vision. A vision of devastation and horror. In the vision Hecate stands in the Volroy in Indrid Down. Or what is left of it. The castle stands in rubble, only the throne remains. There is the remnants of a firestorm. And if great tragedy.The ground is covered in black ash, smoke blocks her lungs and the smell of dead lingers in the air. It is no surprise as when Hecate walks forward she is horrified to see not only ash but bones - the capital is littered with them.

Fennbirn has become a graveyard.

"The queens must survive Hecate," a old voice croons from above, "all four must reach adulthood or this is the future of the island, all will die and their blood will be on your hands."

"Make sure Nimue stays on the island but her identity must be a secret to all, when the time is right you will take her somewhere else to be raised by another, you will use the blue flowers outside of the Black Cottage and use Nimue's blood to bind a low magic spell, they will hide her eyes. No one will recognise there is a queen in their mist."

"Who are you," Hecate manages to ask. Her voice trembling as she already knows the answer.

"You know who I am Hecate," The Goddess says with a smile, materialising in a mortal form before the oracle's very eyes. Beautiful beyond belief. Yet devastatingly so. Black hair and eyes, even darker than the newborns Halia has just given birth to. Power radiates from her. Despite the strange silvery chains Hecate sees covering the immortal's hands.

Strangely the chains and the queenly features are the only things Hecate is able to recognise as the rest of the immortal is distorted, fading almost as soon as she appeared.

"Remember all must survive," the voice says before going silent.

Before the vision ends she manages a glance up towards the crimson sky, still trained with black smoke and sees nothing. No owner of the voice reveals themselves and before she has time to wonder she is back.

Back in the Black Cottage. With the newborns and Halia. Back to reality.

"A prophecy and a vision," Halia confirms, as she watches Hecate blink in confusion. She knows the signs. She has seen Hecate go into this state before, "a damned prophecy and a vision by the looks of things."

"I've never had one like that, so strong," Hecate whispers tentatively, "the prophecy took me over completely and the vision was horrifying Lia, the island was in ruin, it was a pile of ash and there were no survivors and a voice spoke, I couldn't see who, they told me that I was seeing what was to come in the future if Nimue and the others do not all survive until adulthood."

"Who was the voice?" Halia asks finally.

Hecate didn't see a face but deep down she knows.

"The Goddess," she answers.