Dead leaves blanketed the ground, the naked trees casting their black tendrils for shadows upon it. Within a small camp and fur tent, a casual man beheld his wife's labor, pulling her through with birthing two children. Behind him was a group of others donning red robes, waiting in silence. When the woman finished, she fell into an unconscious state, but the men did not pay any attention to her.
"Rest, my dear. Rest." He cleaned and held the children, wrapped in bloodied cloth. The young son screamed, its first cries echoing throughout the frigid woodland. However, the daughter remained silent. It was an abnormal reaction, but the father seemed to smile as if it was the most perfect sign.
Glancing at one in scarlet, a man shrouding himself with mystery and a hood, the father noticed a hand held out. It was not for the taking, in the palm instead a small onyx crystal. He placed the children onto a blanket and grabbed the item. He turned to his gentle daughter, so peaceful in her state t