“Yeah, Mom? What if the choice isn’t up to me? What then?”
Giving birth to the preordained Moonchild or Maitreya or whatever they’re calling my baby isn’t really a choice, is it? Is she really even mine? It’s arrogant of me to try and claim this child like property; even if I am her mother. The truth is she’s not just my baby. She’s the world’s baby.
Is this how Mary felt, I wonder?
I’ve been training for this since I was thirteen. Ten years of rituals and ceremonies had all lead to one moment: the night that The Archon came down from the heavens and chose me over all the other girls. It was the happiest, and scariest, night of my life. The Archon, with eyes of flame and skin so cold it hurt to touch him, made me a woman, and a mother that night. My parents were so proud as they watched with tears in their eyes…
I was being silly. My child’s birth will be the dawn of the new Æon; the old world destroyed and a better one risen in it’s place.
I shouldn’t feel afraid. I should feel honored.