And she cried out to the heavens as pain tore across her body. The midwife hurried to make sure no complications followed the process. Her assistant fervently wiped and cooled the hurting mother. "Push! Yes, that's it!" the old woman urged as she finally caught sight of the newborn.
Her husband stood by the window, arms folded and, like his wife, his gaze cast skyward. The night sky was calm and the infinite darkness spilled out across the land, the moon resting center, so full and bright. Finally, he was going to be a father. For a moment all trace of worry vanished. Love overflowed in him. He would raise his child well. To think that even when it seemed like the whole world was against them, against their union, their pairing, when all the world seemed against their love, they persevered and their love blossomed into something greater than they had expected. He thought of when he first met his wife. And then he smiled.
It was a feint cry, but still a good sign. The child was well. The old woman glanced back at her patient. She was asleep now, but notably breathing. All turned smoothly. She cradled the babe in her aged hands and wrapped the delicate young creature in a blanket. "A boy." She whispered in the mother's ear. "Congratulations, Kaya. You're a mother now." She was about to get up and head for the child's father when the babe suddenly cried and shrieked a wail of genuine pain.
He whispered his thanks to his ancestors. Truly, he was blessed. A son, just what he asked for. He was to turn back and sit by wife when he saw something amiss. There, all of the joy and sanity fled from him. The moon was bleeding, as if a fine blade had cut right through it. "No…!"
The midwife stood puzzled. Why was the child weeping? "Maro!" she called to the father, who still standing by the window. Perhaps he didn't hear her, she surmised, and went closer. "Maro!" she called again, but the man still did not move. Worried and irritated, she rushed to his side and demanded his full attention. "Maro! Your child, he—" But he dared to still not face her. Curious as to what kept him so preoccupied for him to even go lengths ignoring the cries of his son, she went to see for herself what the fuss was about. And she felt her knees weaken to a degree far worse than what age had wrought. The babe's cries grew louder and more pained, and it broke the midwife's heart that the young one was far beyond her help. She held onto the child tightly, and could only pray that he made it through the nightmare.
Maro was speechless. He had no idea fate could be so treacherous. His son did not deserve such a destiny! He begged the spirits to take him instead, to let him be the one to suffer instead. He trembled. He knelt. Sorrow welled up in his eyes. Rage and fear danced the circle of madness in his head. "No! You cannot do this! He's a child! You cannot do this!" Yet deep inside he knew he was on a hopeless course. He heard his wife awaken behind him. She asked what was going on. She wouldn't understand, he knew well enough. She was not born of dragons. And he envied that innocence. He turned to face her. And she beheld his tears.
