Phil gradually slowed down.

  First a step.

  Then another.

  Then he stopped completely.

  The pteroseruses rushed to him at once. The group of seruses standing around the enormous bubble turned and now stared intently inside.

  Phil stepped off the treadmill heavily. His legs were giving way. He was holding himself upright — but barely.

  The male serus in the white coat approached quickly, along with a woman.

  I recognized her.

  Dr. Albright.

  The same one who had visited Phil at home. Calm. Attentive. Now she looked composed — but tense.

  They took Phil under the arms and carefully guided him toward the bowl.

  The blue substance inside it began to boil.

  Everything around us came alive. The pteroseruses moved faster.

  One of them carried in a large transparent bag. Inside was something light green. Alive. Like enormous caterpillars — long, dense, glistening.

  They were poured into the bowl.

  The caterpillars instantly spread across the bottom, as if they knew exactly what to do. They clung to one another, interlocking, forming a dense living layer.

  Phil, still in his enormous red trousers and short shirt, slowly sat down into the churning blue mass.

  Then lay back.

  The seruses gently shifted several of the caterpillars beneath his head, like a pillow.

  He looked exhausted. Almost sleepy. His eyes were half closed.

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  The bulge on the right side of his abdomen had grown even larger.

  The skin was stretched so tight it hurt to look at. It seemed one more second — and it would split open.

  “Poor Phil…” Lia whispered.

  Jo-Jo tightened his grip on her hand.

  “Will it hurt?” he asked quietly.

  I looked at Alexander too.

  He stood beside me. His hand brushed mine — not demonstratively, but as if it were necessary for both of us.

  “No,” he said calmly. “He’ll be almost asleep when it happens.”

  A pause.

  “You’ll see for yourselves.”

  “Can we go closer?” Lia asked.

  “No,” Alexander replied gently. “Not inside. But you can stay here. This is a safe zone.”

  The fliiruses intensified their ringing. It rose higher, brighter — yet did not pierce the ears. The air filled with a sweet scent that made the head spin slightly.

  Suddenly two female pteroseruses hurried toward Alexander.

  Their wings were spread wide — white, tense. They moved sharply, almost anxiously.

  One of them whispered something rapidly to him — urgent, unmistakably shaken.

  I couldn’t catch the words.

  But Alexander’s face changed.

  He quickly moved inside the bubble.

  The space parted before him without resistance — as if recognizing his right to enter. The membrane became nearly transparent, pliant, and he stepped inside without turning back.

  We froze outside.

  He approached Gunya and spoke quickly, restrained. Their voices did not reach us — only tense expressions, rapid nods.

  Gunya crouched beside Phil.

  With one hand she touched the blue substance.

  The boiling immediately softened.

  Not completely — but as if someone had lowered the flame beneath a pot.

  Phil lay with his eyes closed.

  His face relaxed.

  He truly looked asleep.

  Gunya slowly examined the massive swelling on the right side of his abdomen. Carefully. Professionally.

  Then she placed her palm on the other side and began to palpate gently. Slowly. Fluidly.

  The substance barely rippled.

  Gunya froze.

  Then withdrew her hand.

  And with one sharp motion restored the boiling.

  The mass churned again, stronger.

  Gunya stood abruptly, looked around, and signaled everyone inside the bubble.

  They gathered around her instantly in a tight circle. They spoke quickly. By their movements alone it was clear — something had gone wrong.

  A second later three pteroseruses straightened sharply. Their white wings unfurled simultaneously. Without a word they shot upward, pierced the inner membrane of the bubble, and vanished at astonishing speed.

  The air vibrated long after they were gone.

  Gunya returned to Phil.

  Phil lay motionless.

  Alexander stepped out of the bubble.

  He went straight to the seruses. They began speaking. From their faces it was obvious — they were shocked.

  Only then did Alexander return to us.

  “What happened?” Lia and I asked almost at once.

  Bridget, who had been sleeping on Lia’s lap, woke up.

  Alexander stared somewhere above our heads, as if listening to something only the seruses could hear.

  “The ancient Lactimol…” he began slowly. “Released his final spine.”

  I froze.

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means he completed the cycle of pain,” Alexander said quietly.

  “He was unconscious — but suddenly, without waking, he spoke in the ancient language of the Lactimols,” Alexander continued, visibly shaken.

  “He said:

  The time to give birth has come.

  And the mother of the Lactimol shall bear her Firstborn,

  and he will protect the blue planet from the stone creatures.

  And the mother shall bear the second Lactimol,

  and he will save the living, revive the dead.

  So it shall be.”

  Jo-Jo looked at Phil, lying in the blue substance.

  “Is that… about Phil?” His voice trembled.

  Alexander nodded.

  Slowly.

  “Yes.”

  He looked at me.

  His gaze was no longer merely serious.

  There was something else in it. Awareness of scale.

  “These will not be single birth.”

  I felt everything inside me turn cold.

  “Two?” I whispered.

  Alexander did not answer immediately.

  He looked at the bubble.

  At Phil.

  “Yes,” he said at last. “Two Lactimols.”