Fauna could not believe the words that had just left her mouth.
If someone had told the Fauna of the past—the pure, devoted healer, the Battle Angel who had sworn her life to sanctity and maternal love—that one day she would stand before her own son and explain in detail, that the only way to save him was through repeated, intimate exchanges of bodily fluids...
...she would have branded that future self a succubus.
She would have called herself depraved, corrupt, a monster wearing her face.
She would have tried to purge the vision with holy fire.
And the funny thing is that Fauna was actually used to telling horrible information to others.
Throughout her long life as a doctor, she had delivered the most devastating news imaginable.
Terminal diagnoses.
Battlefield casualties.
The death of spouses, parents, children.
The worst of all—looking into the eyes of a hopeful pregnant woman and telling her the heartbeat of her baby had stopped.
