The delivery room stank of copper and something sweeter—something that made Elias Crane's stomach turn in ways his medical training had never prepared him for. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting intermittent shadows across the sterile tiles that were no longer sterile, no longer white.
"Doctor Crane," the voice whispered from the speakers embedded in the walls, honey-smooth and terrible. "The trial begins."
Elias adjusted his latex gloves, the rubber squeaking against his sweating palms. Three months since the Old Gods had torn reality apart, three months since he'd chosen the Path of Rebirth—not out of faith, but out of necessity. The Womb Eternal demanded servants, and servants who hesitated became offerings.
The woman on the delivery table wasn't entirely human anymore. Her belly, swollen to an impossible size, pulsed with veins that glowed a sickly green beneath her translucent skin. Her eyes had rolled back, showing only whites that occasionally flickered with symbols that hurt to look at directly.
"She's been in labor for six hours," announced the trial overseer, a tall figure in surgical scrubs whose face was obscured by a mask that seemed to shift and writhe. "The child is... eager."
Elias picked up the scalpel from the instrument tray. Not a normal scalpel—this one was curved, serrated, with a handle carved from what looked like fossilized bone. The Midwife's Knife, they called it. Standard equipment for a Rebirth Cleric.
He'd been a real doctor once. Before the Arrival. Before the sky had cracked open and let the Old Gods spill through like blood from a wound. Before choosing between worship and annihilation had become the only choice left.
"The readings are accelerating," the overseer continued, consulting a tablet that displayed waveforms in colors that shouldn't exist. "Neural activity is off the charts. Both subjects are responding to divine influence."
Elias approached the table. The woman's breathing was shallow, rapid. Her skin felt cold and clammy, but underneath, something warm writhed. Something that definitely wasn't human.
"What do you see, Doctor?" The overseer's voice carried the weight of judgment. This was a test, and Elias knew there was only one correct answer.
"I see a vessel," he said, his voice steady despite the revulsion crawling up his throat. "A sacred vessel carrying the Womb Eternal's gift."
The lie came easily. It had to. His talent for deception was the only thing keeping him alive in this twisted new world where faith was currency and doubt was death.
The woman's eyes suddenly snapped open, focusing on him with impossible clarity. Her mouth moved, forming words in a language that predated human speech. The symbols beneath her skin flared brighter.
"The child speaks," the overseer said with what might have been approval. "Through the mother's flesh, it speaks. What does it say?"
Elias leaned closer, pretending to listen to the alien syllables spilling from her lips. In reality, he was calculating. The trial required a successful "birth," but what emerged couldn't be allowed to survive. The Womb Eternal's children were abominations that would consume everything in their path if given the chance.
"It says..." Elias paused, his mind racing. "It says it hungers for the light of this world."
The overseer nodded. "Then feed it light, Doctor. Feed it light, and then ensure it doesn't grow too hungry."
Elias raised the Midwife's Knife. The blade seemed to pulse with its own heartbeat, eager for the work ahead. The woman's eyes widened, and for a moment, he saw fear there—real, human fear beneath the divine possession.
I'm sorry, he thought, then made the first cut.
The skin parted like wet paper, revealing not blood but a cascade of luminescent fluid that pooled on the floor and began to move with purpose. The thing inside writhed, partially visible through the widening incision—too many limbs, too many eyes, a mouth that opened onto depths that shouldn't exist.
"Beautiful," the overseer whispered. "The Womb Eternal's work is beautiful."
Elias continued cutting, following the ritual pattern he'd been taught. Circle, cross, spiral inward. The woman's screams had stopped; she was either unconscious or beyond pain. The thing inside was emerging, slithering into the world with wet, eager sounds.
It was the size of a newborn but shaped like a nightmare. Its skin was translucent, showing the alien architecture of its internal organs. When it opened its eyes—all six of them—they reflected light in ways that made Elias's vision swim.
"The birth is complete," the overseer announced. "Now comes the mercy."
The creature mewled, a sound like wind through broken glass. It was trying to speak, and Elias realized with horror that it was learning English just by hearing it. In minutes, it would be fluent. In hours, it would be something far worse than merely intelligent.
He raised the knife again, but this time he hesitated. The creature looked up at him with those impossible eyes, and for a moment, he saw something almost like innocence there. It didn't know what it was, didn't understand the horror of its existence.
"Doctor," the overseer's voice carried a warning. "The Womb Eternal's mercy is swift. Do not keep the child waiting."
Elias brought the knife down.
The creature's death cry shattered two of the fluorescent bulbs. The luminescent fluid on the floor began to smoke and dissipate. The woman on the table exhaled once, long and final, then lay still.
"Trial complete," the overseer said, making notes on the impossible tablet. "Assessment: Adequate. The vessel was properly prepared, the birth successfully facilitated, and the mercy appropriately dispensed. Doctor Crane, you have earned the Womb Eternal's favor."
Elias felt the familiar tingle of divine acknowledgment, the system's way of confirming his successful completion of the trial. Experience gained, faith points awarded, another step up the endless ladder of ascension.
He stripped off his gloves and washed his hands in the sink, watching the water run pink, then clear. In the mirror above the basin, his reflection looked tired, older. The face of a man who'd made too many compromises and told too many lies.
"Your next assignment will be delivered within the hour," the overseer informed him. "The Womb Eternal is pleased with your service."
Elias nodded, not trusting his voice. He'd passed the trial, earned his keep for another day. But the taste of bile in his mouth reminded him of what he'd really become—not a doctor, not a healer, but a midwife to monsters.
As he left the delivery room, he wondered how many more trials he could endure before the lies stopped coming so easily. How many more times he could pretend to serve gods he despised while plotting their downfall from within.
The answer, he suspected, was as many as it took to survive.