Converged Fates

The light at the end of the tunnel has always been nothing but a mere myth to me. A myth that I never believed in, nor thought anyone could believe in. It was too ridiculous for me to actually believe.

People would wake up from their sleep, drenched in cold sweat, and start yelling about the light at the end of the tunnel and how they saw it guide them towards the afterlife.

I never even believed in the light at the end of the tunnel, let alone heaven, hell, or the afterlife. In my eyes, those are just things made up by some old drunk fool and weren't real.

Yet, here I am, standing in a nearly limitless void with a piercing white light in front of me. It made me feel comfortable and warm, but it also filled me with a sense of insecurity, doubt, and fear.

Am I really dead?

If I am dead, then how did I die?

Did someone assassinate me in my sleep?

Did I finally reach the end of my seemingly long life?

Did I finally lose a fight for the first time in what feels like forever?

Could I even accept death after everything I did to conquer it?

I don't remember anything aside from going to sleep in my room. Not like it mattered. Since it doesn't look like I'm waking up any time soon, I might as well go along with it.

It felt like this trip towards the light took forever. I was expecting to see a bunch of naked, winged babies singing an angelic hymn, beckoning me towards what I hoped would be hell.

While most would want to go to heaven, I didn't believe myself to be worthy of resting eternally and blissfully. After everything I've done, how could I accept resting? I've harmed so many people for my own well being, which is something I haven't realized I never even had.

A red blur enveloped my vision as multiple foreign sounds assaulted my ears. I tried to say something- anything- but all I heard was a feeble cry of what sounded like an infant.

The muffled voices gradually became clearer, and I could finally hear something. "Congratulations Sir and Madam, she's a healthy girl."

'Healthy girl?! Then that means, the light at the end of the tunnel is the light coming into a vag-' I stopped my chaotic thought process and assessed my situation.

First of all, I understood the language, so that's a very good sign. Quickly deciding on a plan of action, I fought to open my eyes, which slowly and painfully opened. I blinked a few times as my eyes were bombarded with different colors and shapes.

I blinked quite a few times to help my infant eyes adjust to the light. The first thing I saw was the doctor. He had an ugly face and long greyish hair and a long grey beard that almost looked like a head of its own.

His eyes stared at me through glass thick enough to be considered bullet-proof. Glancing around without turning my head, I noticed we weren't in a hospital, nor was the wannabe doctor wearing a doctor's gown.

'How bad of a fake can you be?'

I looked around and saw my mother staring at me with tear filled eyes. I took a few more seconds to study her, and I thought I was staring at an angel. She was a lovely young woman, with a gentle and kind aura. Her auburn hair, brown eyes, long eyelashes, and perky nose made me want nothing more than to cling to her.

I struggled to look away from my mother and turned to the right, barely being able to make out who I guess was my father. He looked at me with teary eyes and a grin.

"Hi little Artha, I'm your daddy, can you say dada?" He grinned idiotically at me. I could see my mother and the supposed doctor roll their eyes at my father.

"Honey, she was just born." My mother scoffed.

I looked at my father, and I could see why my mother was attracted to him. Aside from the few loose screws he seemed to have by expecting a newborn to say something, he looked like a charismatic man with a cleanly shaven square jaw line that complimented his looks.

With his ashy brown hair, which looked like he was trimming, and his strong and fierce eyebrows that extended like swords to meet in a V shape. Despite that, his deep blue eyes carried a gentleness that made it clear he was my father.

"Hmmm, she isn't crying. I thought newborns were supposed to cry when they are born, doctor." My mother's concerned voice made me feel light headed.

Without saying anything, the wannabe doctor pulled out a towel, and rubbed my body roughly using it, making me subconsciously cry as my parents just watched with wide eyes. After I started crying, the demon placed the towel down and nodded in satisfaction.

'Just you wait, I'll have your head on a plate.' I thought to myself in anger.

"W-What was that?" My mother stammered.

"Sorry about that, Ms. Leywin." The demon lowered his head slightly and started explaining. "Some newborns need to have their bodies cleaned more thoroughly to get them to breathe. For a newborn, a cry is like their first breath."

"Is that so?" My father mused, his body glowing with a tinge of silver.

I wasn't sure why my father was glowing like that, or why everything here seems old, but at this point, I frankly didn't care. The demonic doctor walked to my father and gently placed me in his arms.

"Please continue resting for a couple of days, Ms. Leywin." He lowered his head in a shallow bow before turning to my father. "And let me know if anything happens to Artha, Mr. Leywin."

"Thank you." My mother muttered before turning to me as the doctor quietly walked through the door.