In that summer of the beast’s birth, another child came into the world…but when this child took her first breath, it was not to cry but to sing, and when she did, the skies opened and the rains began to fall, putting an end to the long drought at last.
Leigh Bardugo, The Severed Moon (A Year-Long Journal of Magic)
The folk said that she was a miracle. It was never a coincidence, my friend. Both, the beast and miraculous child were born on the very same trail of constellation. They were fated to narrate a story, fated to be an eye opener for those who seek truth beneath clouded mist. Like the stars itself were born by the death of supernova then only they breathed life into gloomy night sky. They were lightened for humans to learn and treasure the beauty of life For the essence of life dwelled between creation and destruction. The folks spoke of the destruction brought upon them by the beast. How they were so afraid when the moon rose higher and each night filled with fear it could be their last. How the chaos erupted when the beast awoke from its long slumber and began hunting for despair and misery. Despite all, hope crumbled seemed to stitch threads by threads. It was faith they held on, believing that ruination came along with salvation. They started to talk more of the creation moulded by this miraculous child. How they were so grateful when the sun shone and each morning filled with joy to continue the day. How the peace fabricated when the child laughed and flowers bloomed as if to hear the tune. But little that they knew, in life there was death and in death there was life. Til the child had her hand scarlet soaked with the beast’s blood and had the balance tipped off, they became much wiser. The folk had brought doom upon themselves.
Ae Astra 