The slightly smaller and feminine figure who was next in line reach out and unceremoniously pulled the next card from the center of the table. The hand tilted the card to a thirty degree angle, as if teasing the others about what the surface held.

Sunshine spilled over the land like a refreshing golden syrup. Birds started chirping with the first signs of a new day, the dew that clung to the bright green grass and leaves of the trees slowly began to evaporate. Somewhere in a small glade surrounded by forest sat a cute little cabin from which a single tendril of smoke rose out of the chimney.

The cabin was made of richly coloured logs. In the glade was a pile of chopped wood and an axe that had been thrust into a tree stump on which the logs were cut. A drying rack held a pulled deer skin that was being prepared to be made into new clothes for a new addition to the family that called this quaint spot home. On the other side of the cabin was a small garden where peppers, potatoes, various squash and beans as well as fruits were growing plentifully. The garden was surrounded by a razor wire fence and a few snare traps to keep the forest critters out.

The cabins door was simple and unadorned and boasted no special ornamentation or welcome mat. It was a simple door that had no locking mechanism. It only required a slight push to open and had you pushed on it you would have walked in, on a normal day, to a small family household. The fireplace would be glowing with a warm golden flicker and a woman with long brown hair and wearing a comfortable day dress would be seated in a simple rocking chair by the fire. Her belly would be pushed out well beyond a reasonable size and very round. In the kitchen would be a black haired well built man wearing a deer skin pants and a cloth shirt. He would be preparing a meal for he and his love out of fresh greens, a newly captured rabbit and some of the few spices the home held.

However, this was not a normal day. The peaceful glade was twisted with terrible screams of pain and low grunting noises. Inside the cabin you would have found blood. The woman would be laying on a bench beside the fire, her legs spread and supported on two stools. The man would be facing the gaping maw talking to her with encouragement and support all the while awaiting the inevitable. She would be the source of the screams and blood would be pouring from her core. This would continue for a long time, with only brief intervals in which she would pause her screaming to breathe and the man would say she was almost done her task. She would curse and continue the grunting and pushing as well as the screaming and bleeding.

Suddenly there would be silence and the man would raise from his crouched position and in his arms he would be holding a babe. He smiles and brings the child to his exhausted love and shows her his lovely shimmering purple eyes. Her face is transfixed with horror and her husband with confusion. He would ask her why she is so afraid of her son and she would demand the child buried. She would then cough once and her flesh would pale. The husband would back away from her holding the child protectively, there would be a babies giggle.

Then a spark, just the tiniest of electrical charges as the child's warped mind would cause the electrons in the air to line up perfectly and the little bit of laughter enough to cause a slight ripple in space that would ignite the line and the spark quickly became a bolt then an arc. The electrical storm follows, filling the cabin with great bolts of blue fire. They strike the cabins and the bear pelt rug. They ignite the curtains and destroy the walls. A great bolt falls to strike the mother. She is not there, there is but a wisp of smoke where her weakened body once lay. The father is dazed, the child becomes frantic. It screams and screeches. Fire bursts from it's mouth as it wails. The father runs from the place, the child wrapped in his arms. On his way past he grabs the deer pelt and warps the child in it as he runs. To where he knows not, he just runs.

* * *

Then you would wake up -- were this your dream. It is not yours but the woman it belongs to opens her eyes slowly. The dream is one that has haunted her since that day the memory was burned into her brain. Since the moment she birthed the Tainted One and the moment her very flesh and blood decreed her death. She had saved herself with the energy she had left after child birth - a complication the demon child would not have foreseen. It had made bringing it to life a difficult arduous task, but she was stronger than it had imagined.

She rolled out of the bed and made her way out of the inn. There was no use in staying put too long for the child would now be turning seven this day and would be on the hunt for her still. She would have to find and destroy her son before he found and destroyed her -- the fate of the world depended on it.

On the card was written two words in what can only be described as crispy lettering:

Orchid Lilly

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