The Moon's Wisdom

The echoing landscape of emptiness was something easy to spot. It was in the movement in how we walked and talked. It was in the sway of our heads when another one was dragged away. It was the void-like arrogance taken, the high road abandoned by our innocents.

Of course, an army was built. And a war had been fought. Of course, babies became soldiers before scholarship could educate them. Brutes before their brains had developed.

That was the thing about my people. It took one rumor. One story. Before all hell broke loose. Before every single person ran to their side of the fight. Divisions were created. Factions broke every sacred tie.

And yet legend still remained.

Two that would be born. And once met, one would be destined to rule.

There was one good thing about the legend, however, it was specific.

Born under a crescent moon on the same dry night. And instead of weeping, they’d come to the world with a laugh. A pretty audition that would mimic the song of birds on an early morning day.

So during the dry season every year, the Queen would order every mother to go to her castle. They’d give birth in her presence. And in her hand would be a long dagger she’d use to slice the vocal chord of whichever child dared come to the world in a pleasant state.

A bloody war had just ended. Queen Sentzi had just established peace. Her armor stained with a million souls. She’d be damned to allow a single child take that from her.

She was sure to be damned though. Because on that fateful night when the children were born. And the singing echoed in their laughter. And her blade touched the base of the baby boy’s neck, did she falter. His gaze on hers, she rushed to the little girl who had yet to move. And her hand shook once more.

Both sets of parents had their eyes closed. Tears trickled down their faces and nothing but anguish existed in their form as they held each other.

The ruthless queen had finally been tempered by time.

A large clang as the dagger fell drove one of the mother’s to look upwards at the Queen in surprise.

“Separate them. The boy remains here in chains. I don’t care where the girl goes, but a soldier follows. As long as you value their lives, they will never meet.” Queen Sentzi walked away, her heart heavy with grief.

“You allow them life?” The father of the baby girl asked, his voice bathed with fatigue.

“I allow them time until I am strong enough to end it.”