A luxurious home, the title of baron, a sizable area of land to rule, supporting parents, a beautiful wife and a child on the way. What more could a man wish for? If Thomas were to be asked to describe his life in one word, he would have picked "perfect".

As he arrived to the castle yard, he left the servants to deal with his horse and the fat boar he had killed on the hunt and headed to the top floor of the central tower. The entire floor comprised of one room, mostly empty except for a solid stone slab – some might have called it an altar -, on which had been laid a large bronze bowl surrounded by four candles.

"Father, wait!" he called out to the older man who was just lighting the last candle. "I also have an offering to the Old Man of the Mountain."

The man gave him a fatherly smile. He was by no means too old to take care of ruling the land himself, but ever since a small pack of treestalkers - small, furry humanoids that looked like starved, dirty rats and hunted anything warm-blooded by jumping down from cliffs or more commonly tree branches - had surprised him and taken a solid bite on his leg, he had found it hard to walk without a cane and near impossible to ride. So after struggling with the fact for closer to a month, trying to fulfill his duties, he had reluctantly given up his title to his son and accepted retirement. And admittedly Thomas was doing a fine job of it, perhaps even better than he had in his youth. "What did you catch, my boy?" he asked.

"A boar for us." He dug out a small winged body from the sack he had brought along. "And an imp for the Old Man."

"Fine catch, indeed," his father praised him. "A horned one too. I'm sure he will be pleased."

"So am I." Thomas placed the body in the bowl next to the small bottle of some blueish concoction, no doubt some kind of fiend blood or expensive herbal oil, and lit the last candle. For a moment everything was quiet. Then the bowl started vibrating with a faint humming sound. And then the candles went out, leaving only the lantern on the floor as light source, and the contents disappeared.

Thomas picked up the lantern from the floor, glad that their offerings had been accepted. He was already about to head back downstairs, but stopped as he heard a quiet, yet grating voice in his head. "Baron..." it whispered, "I require a baby not yet born. Human or animal, the race does not matter."

Thomas nodded. "As you wish, my lord."

At least an animal embryo would suffice. But even if it had not, he would have scoured his barony for a suitable mother and cut the baby out if he had to. That was the pact his ancestors had made with the Old Man. A land of their own to rule in exchange for answering to every wish of the Dark Lord. It was a land ridden with monsters, like nearly every other area in this world, but it was their own. The men here were strong, armed with the runes bestowed by the Old Man of the Mountain, and could hold their own against the monsters. If someone could not...well, they had deserved their fate.

"How is Elena?" he turned to his father to ask.

"Oh, she's been feeling a little under the weather, but your mother said that it's normal. And since she gave birth to you, I believe she knows what she's talking about."

"That's good. Please tell Elena I have one more command from the Old Man to fulfill and then I'll be right by her side."

Meanwhile, Elena was lying on her bed and clutching her stomach, her mother-in-law gently wiping the sweat from her brow.

"My dear, everything will be alright," she cooed. "You don't need to worry."

"Katrina..." She gasped as another kick hit her from the inside. But at the same time a huge sense of relief washed over her. The baby was kicking. The baby was alive. The movements had gotten so infrequent lately. "Something is wrong. I just know it."

"Hush, child. Only a month more and your son will be out in the world."

"Would you please call the midwife? Please."

"Surely the baby isn't being born yet? It's way too early."

"No." Elena shook her head. "No. I just want her to check. To ease away this feeling of dread."

The midwife confirmed that there was nothing apparent wrong with her. The pregnancy was progressing exactly as it should. Her other words came as a surprise. Elena was carrying not one, but two children in her womb.

Thomas was ecstatic to hear that, but Elena herself still could not shake the fear eating into her heart. Something...just wasn't right.

~*~*~

Almost exactly a month later Elena went into labor. The midwife and Katrina firmly shooed Thomas out, insisting that the childbirth was not something men should be present for. With nothing he could do for his wife, the only thing he did was pace nervously in the hallway. He could hear her screaming in pain. And yet...Damn, he felt so powerless.

The Old Man. Maybe he could do something for her, if he just let him know the next baron in line was being born. Usually the baby was presented only after birth, but...he had to do something.

Thomas hurried to the offerings room and cut a shallow line across his own palm. Then he let some of his blood drip into the bronze bowl. After hastily wrapping a piece of cloth around his hand he lit the candles. "Old Man of the Mountain! My heir, your future servant, is being born. Please! My wife is suffering. I beg you, help her!"

For a long while nothing happened. The candles did not go out.

Then he heard the grating voice again. "There will be no heir..."

"What do you mean by no heir?"

There was no response. Thomas's blood ran cold with terror. The babies...Elena had worried that something was wrong, but he had attributed it to the anxiety of first pregnancy. Could she...have been right?

He dashed back towards his chambers and pushed the door open. His mother and the servant girls looked at him, but nobody told him to get out. The midwife was holding a small bundle on her arms, and there was an old man leaning over Elena. Thomas quickly realized he was their family physician.

"What...is happening?" his voice trembled as he asked.

His mother shook her head, tears flowing from her eyes. "My son...I'm so sorry."

"Elena!" He ran to her bedside. The sheets and the thin gown she wore were all stained in blood. Her eyes were closed and she lay still. Too still. Way too still...

"I'm sorry, my lord," the physician spoke. "She didn't make it."

He looked at the midwife, blinking back his own tears. "What about the babies?"

She shook her head. "One was stillborn."

"And the other?!"

She slowly parted the cloth covering the bundle on her arms. Inside was a tiny, wrinkly newborn with sandy hair. A boy. And on his face...like a bad omen, the right half of his face was almost completely colored dark crimson.

"It can't be washed away, m'lord."

There will be no heir... The Old Man's words rang again inside his head. Two babies instead of one they had thought to be the case. One dead while still inside his mother's womb. The mother dead giving birth to such...creature.

"Throw it away. Burn it or leave it to the monsters for all I care."

"But m'lord, this is your son-" the midwife started.

"That monster is not my son! It is a changeling sent by wicked spirits to destroy my family." He turned away sharply, not able to look at the tiny bundle. "Get rid of it. Now."

~*~*~

'Get rid of it.' That had been her lord's orders. As a midwife she was no stranger to what really happened to unwanted babies, although commoners did not burden her with the responsibility. The men took their sons and daughters to the forest and left there on their own. Most could not deliver the killing blow, even if it had been an act of mercy. If the babies were lucky, something came along quickly to snap their necks. If not, they starved or froze to death.

It was getting dark. She'd better hurry, before the baby's wails would bring monsters upon her. The rune carved on her flesh when she had become a woman and entered the Old Man's protection was not fool-proof. If it stroke the Old Man's fancy, mortals were on their own.

"That child..."

She jumped, her heart racing, at the sudden voice. But much to her relief it was only a human – or some other civilized race – she had come across. A hood covered her head, and thorns adorned her wrists.

"What do you want, Outcast?" she spat out.

"The child. You are going to abandon him, right?"

"Yes."

The woman held out a handful of gold coins. "I'll buy him."

Well, the baron had not said -how- to get rid of the baby. This woman might as well have waited until she was gone and taken the baby then, so she was not about to refuse the payment.

Quickly the midwife pocketed the money and held the bundle to the other woman. "Take him far away. The baron doesn't want to ever see him again."

"I will." The woman gently caressed the baby's cheek. The crying stopped instantly. "Far, far away."

She watched as black thorns slowly appeared on the chubby wrists. The trade was complete. This child now belonged to the Viscount.