Midwife, aborted - Page 25. The page opens with a wide nighttime view of an ordinary city made up of two- and three-story buildings. Fires burn in the streets and between rooftops in the foreground, their orange light flickering through thick smoke. In the distance, a single large complex dominates the skyline — a broad structure with a smooth, curved roof that stands intact amid the chaos. From the center of its roof, a brilliant column of yellow-white light shoots straight into the sky, piercing the clouds and illuminating the haze below.

As the sequence continues, flashes of light burst across different city blocks while fragments of radio chatter overlay the visuals — commanders calling for reinforcements, reporting losses, trying to maintain order. The perspective shifts between low street-level views and wide aerial sweeps, returning to the curved-roof building where the unwavering beam continues to climb into the clouds. The structure itself remains unharmed, solid and radiant at the center of the turmoil.

In the lower portion of the page, the scene transitions indoors to a quiet warehouse space. Stacks of crates and industrial materials fill the dimly lit room. Amid these shadows, the masked midwife Angie sits, her knees drawn up to chin, arms clutching legs as she stares forward. Pale blue light from the tall windows falls across her smooth white mask and form-fitting suit, reflecting faintly off the cluttered surfaces around her. The setting feels deserted — a forgotten storage floor serving as a shelter.

The closing panel moves in close to Angie’s face. Her mask is smooth and expressionless, but her turquoise eyes glimmer with awareness and fatigue. She breaks the silence uttering “Angie. My name is Angie…” The words are soft yet resolute — a fragile act of identity and self-recognition.

This is the final page of the Midwife, aborted chapter.