Unique

Prologue - The Birth of a Blessing

The moon was shining high up in the sky, casting a soft silver glow across the village. Crickets chirped in the quiet night, their rhythm steady and comforting. But amidst the peaceful sounds of nature, the sharp cries of a newborn infant echoed, piercing through the stillness.

Inside a modest yet well-decorated hut, Amaela lay exhausted but overjoyed on her birthing bed. Her breathing was heavy, but her face was radiant with joy as she gazed at the tiny life in her arms. A small, fragile baby with a tuft of white hair that shimmered even in the dim light. The village Priestess, a wise old woman draped in ceremonial robes, stood by Amaela’s side, her wrinkled face filled with awe.

“He is a Carrier,” the Priestess murmured, her voice barely louder than a whisper, yet full of reverence. "How can this be? A Carrier has not been born in a thousand years. The Goddess herself must have sent him."

Amaela’s eyes widened in amazement. She stroked the baby’s hair gently, overwhelmed with emotion. “A Carrier?” she repeated, her voice trembling. “But… but how? Such a child hasn’t been seen for generations.”

The Priestess nodded solemnly, leaning closer to inspect the baby. “Yes, a child born with both male and female essences. A miracle. His female reproductive organs are more dominant, meaning he can bear children… but not father them. This is a sign. A blessing from the Goddess.”

Tears of joy flowed freely down Amaela’s cheeks. “Carrier or not, he is still my son,” she said, her voice filled with fierce love. “After all these years of heartache, the Goddess has finally heard my prayers.”

Just then, the heavy footsteps of High Chief Kennan echoed outside the hut. He rushed inside, his face etched with worry as he heard the infant's cries. "Amaela! Is everything alright?" His deep voice filled the room, full of concern. “How are my wife and child?”

Amaela beamed at him, her face glowing with maternal pride. “The Goddess has blessed us with a son, my husband.”

Kennan hurried to her side, his eyes falling upon the tiny bundle in Amaela’s arms. His expression softened as he saw his child for the first time. He reached out, gently lifting his newborn son into his strong arms. But as he examined the baby, his brow furrowed. “What… what is this?” he asked, his voice shaking slightly as he noticed the unusual appearance of the infant’s genitals. “Why does he look like this?”

The Priestess stepped forward, her hands raised in a gesture of calm. “He is a Carrier, High Chief,” she explained, her tone reverent. “A child touched by the Goddess herself. Such children are rare… but they have always been regarded as sacred. It is a great honor.”

Kennan blinked, stunned. He had heard the ancient tales of Carriers, but they had always seemed like distant myths—stories from a time long past. “But I thought Carriers were extinct,” he murmured, still trying to process the Priestess’ words. “How… how could the Goddess give us such a child? A child who is different, who—” he hesitated, his voice dropping lower, “—who will not be able to take over from me.”

Amaela, still lying on the bed, reached out and touched her husband’s arm, her eyes blazing with determination. “He is our son, Kennan,” she said firmly. “Carrier or not, he was given to us by the Goddess. Do not question the gift we have been given.”

Kennan’s gaze softened as he looked at his wife, then back down at their son. His heart, which had been full of doubt moments ago, now swelled with love and protectiveness. “You are right, Amaela,” he said finally, nodding. “The Goddess has blessed us, and I will love him as I would any other child.” He gently placed a kiss on his son's forehead, whispering, “He is ours.”

The Priestess smiled, her old eyes twinkling with approval. “He will grow to be a symbol of unity,” she said, her voice full of conviction. “He will bring blessings not just to your family, but to the entire tribe.”

Amaela nodded, tears still glistening in her eyes. “He shall be called Daoyi,” she whispered. “A name that means ‘blessing.’ For that is what he is.”

Kennan held his son close, his once troubled heart now at peace. “Daoyi,” he echoed, the name rolling off his tongue like a prayer. “Our blessing.”

As the moon continued to shine high above, the village slept peacefully, unaware of the extraordinary child who had just been born among them. But soon, they would all know Daoyi's name, and the legend of the Carrier would be reborn.