Rachel gasped as she was overshadowed by a fallen angel. Her soul dissolved, mingling with one of dark fire and rock. They separated, but she was left changed.
“The baby is too big!” yelled the midwife. “There is no way you can push out something of that size!”
Rachel gritted her teeth. “Then cut it out.”
Hot blood splashed the lavish desert tent’s cushioned interior as a wicked sharp hunting knife bit into bulging, deformed taut belly, rending thick layers of bloody membranes in twain. From the deep fissure rose a being with wings hard as stone. Son. Destroyer. Nephilim.