Author’s Note: This was going to be the prologue to a series where Tess was raised with the other three, but yeah…big surprise, I never got around to writing it.

It is his first conscious memory–a compulsion he does not even understand, commanding him to push at the protective warmth that surrounds him. His hands flail out slowly, applying pressure to the thin membrane. It resists and he panics, suddenly terrified of the only safety he has ever known. He doesn’t understand this emotion, fear. He doesn’t understand emotions at all. All he understands is that he must get out, so he strains at the membrane.

Finally, it breaks, spilling something cold and intangible into his cocoon. Again reacting purely on the silent command in his mind, he opens his mouth and gulps in his first breath of air.

Little by little, he becomes aware of his body, still following instinct’s wordless instructions–it’s just as well that they are wordless, for right now he knows no words, does not even know what words are. The hands that freed him continue to pull at the membrane, tearing it wider. Finally it is wide enough for him to put one of the feet he has just discovered through the opening. The foot touches a strange surface–hard and unyielding, with tiny specks of sensation irritating the sole. He will later learn it is called dirt.

His silent guide whispers that if he opens his eyes, the darkness will go away. One hand reaches up to his face and swipes the slime away, then he tentatively parts the lids and stares in amazement at the sight that meets him. He has never seen rocks or dirt before, or a girl, but instinctively he knows what they all are, though he still has no words to name them.

He steps towards her, and they touch hands, communicating without sound or language. This is his sister, the guide whispers. His blood.

A sound draws their attention to a third pod, like the two that are now torn. There is a shape inside it too, also trying to escape. But this one beats at the membrane instead of just straining it, his fists violent and demanding.

The boy and girl standing in the chamber look at each other, understanding again. This is the warrior.

Finally the pod yields and another boy bursts forth. He is taller, with wary eyes. The girl reaches out her other hand towards him, but he hesitates, hovering at some distance distrustfully.

Even though it is not in the second boy’s nature to trust easily, the first knows, it still hurts the girl that he does not join them.

For a while, they linger, studying each other, becoming acquainted with their eyes and hands, discovering themselves and their as-yet-limited new world. There is one more pod in the rock chamber, but it is not straining. It rests quietly as if it had not heard the silent command that woke them.

The first boy steps towards it, studying the shape that can be seen through the translucent membrane. She is a girl, with wispy blonde curls floating around her peaceful face in the jelly that enwombs her. Looking at her, he knows that if she does not wake, he will spend the rest of his life searching for her and never truly find her. For if he leaves this chamber without her, the bond between them will be broken forever.

Still she doesn’t stir.

The compulsion changes now–they have been born, now they must leave their sandstone nursery and venture out into the world that waits for them.

Still the fourth doesn’t stir.

He has no understanding of death, does not know that he has died before. But suddenly he is frightened again, as he was when he struggled to escape the pod. Frightened of her stillness and the nameless thing it might mean. Frightened of parting from her. Frightened of waiting for her and disobeying the call to go.

The third, the warrior, is becoming impatient. He has received his orders, and will obey them. If the first waits, he will lose his right hand. If he does not, he will lose…he cannot comprehend what he will lose, or what the cost will be.

So he steps away, towards the entrance of the cave. The other two follow.

Destiny holds its breath.

But then his sister hesitates, her steps slow. She looks at them both, and the voice of her eyes is the command of a princess that men will love to obey. Wait for her.

They wait.