Age 16
Today they told me the truth of why I was born.
Not riddles. Not whispers. Plain.
I am the vessel. My blood is the loom.
And through me, she is meant to come...
the Final Weave, the daughter who would end the old pattern
and begin a new one, with every sister bound to her will.
They said she will silence the matron's word,
break every other clan,
and weave the galaxy in her image.
No man will rule, no clan will rise, no thread will escape her braid.
All magick will fall until only hers remains.
The way they spoke… it was worship.
But their eyes were hungry.
I think they want her not as daughter, but as cage for us all.
A weapon, not a child.
An end, not a beginning.
They say I should be proud.
That this is glory, to carry her.
But I do not feel proud. I feel hollow.
Like I was never meant to be myself,
only the shadow before someone else's dawn.
If I am only a vessel, then what is left of me?
And if she ever comes, what will be left of anyone else?
— Orryn, Age 16
