PRELUDE

A child’s innocence is its only redeeming quality. How wonderful it must be to know nothing about war and crimes born of mistrust. It’s laughable, almost, that each child is born with a purpose, and – not knowing what their purpose is – they could quite possibly either save the world or ruin it just a little more. I suppose that a child’s innocence may not really be redeeming at all, but rather… Quite destructive.

But all children grow up sooner or later.

The hour is late, and the house of Odin, after hours of panic and chaos, has finally grown quiet. The Lady sleeps next to her newly born daughter, the firs – and quite possibly only – child to the supposedly infertile Lady. We of the household naturally rejoice with our rulers, but something about the new child sets my mind on edge.

The child’s spirit animal has been revealed at birth, and so by rite, a hawk has been given to her as her guardian. The symbol of protection still rests on her forehead, and her blankets of white do even more to protect her on this night. But it is not the circumstances around the child that cause my unrest, but rather the child herself.

I cannot say that I am the only one of the household to feel this way. The child’s midwife seemed to hold the child at an arm’s length; her eyes were weary the entire time. She seemed relieved – happy, even – to hand the child over to me for the protection and purification ritual. On her way out of the room, I could hear her mumbling something under her breath: “So the Cycle has begun.”

This cannot be – or rather, I cannot fathom the possibility. While I will begrudgingly admit that the myth of the Cycle involves the ruling family, there are important parts missing – where is the boy with eyes that hold death? Where are the beasts that follow him?

The hour has grown later still, and I must rest my hand as well as my mind. I suppose my questions will go unanswered tonight.

May the power of the Three bless us all, so mote it be.

By the hand of Thoth, High Shaman