She could feel it. That something was not right in the very core of her darkly refined figure and it caused her to break from her late night walk through the forest. Though she loved the seclusion amidst the deepest of shadows and the strange calls into the humid air, she could not birth her children here, it was not to be their home.

And so she started away from the confines of the dismal woodland at this late hour and began jogging quickly back to her hellish abode in the depths of the grotto. It was where Samil would likely be lingering in the darkness for her return and the inevitable time in which she will bear him a single child of his own blood and one of Enderly. She cannot say that she delights in Samil’s gloomy demeanor about her relationship with the silver-eyed casanova and yet she does nothing to quell those emotions that rise up in him each time he smells the contender upon her fur. Perhaps she just wants it all and will take nothing into consideration when doing so; such is the greed and lust that grips tightly around the fallen angel’s heart.

With her brisk pace, she was capable of making to the caverns in time for her first contraction to hit hard, causing her to whimper lightly in pain and pause in her movement to catch a breath. It was no wonder why she has not had offspring before now, she growls inwardly as she bears the onslaught before moving forward and into the welcoming darkness of the labyrinth. It is here that she will make their home and here that her little plagues will thrive and develop into beautiful terrors upon Moladion. This thought alone drives her forward mentally as she endures a duller pain that now radiates from her abdomen. If this were the worst of it then she would be well off.

She moves as quickly as she can navigate through the crevices and into the catacomb that has branched off from one of the tunnels, her pitch form blending seamlessly with the inky darkness that engulfs her, and without a moment to spare she is settling within the den as another sequence of pain moves through her and the instinctual urge to bring life to her first child sends her body into doing what needs to be done. Her head is laid upon the cool, rock surface as she pushes the first born out and moves to snap the only remaining tie to her from the girl before swiping her tongue across the tiny form over and over again until she is satisfied with her cleaning. The pup is large and has caused minor tearing on her escape from the womb, but it does little to deter Naamah from dragging the blood soaked valkyrie to her side so that she may make room for the second to be born.

Little time is given for her to relish in the beauty that cloaks her eldest daughter before her younger sister is moving to make her break for freedom and within a few long moments, the smallest of the two is brought forth and is snipped and cleaned just as her sister had been. It is now, when she brings the final child to her side, that she is capable of looking them over carefully to admire the sheer wonder of it all. She, this wicked, foul demoness, had been capable of bringing such purity and unadulterated beauty into the world. It’s really a shame that she must corrupt them.

Her first girl; so beautiful in her small patches of auburn and white that remind her so much of her hellish king as she suckles vigorously at her teat. And the smaller of the pair; stunning in the faint gold and auburn markings that are so reminiscent of Naamah’s own ancient lineage. They are miracles.. and for a short moment a look of innocent wonder washes over the devilish bitch as she watches them.