When the three moons all in a line stand so they all seem as one, one wish shall be bestowed upon the watcher.
That is the core of the old legend passed down in my village, the story itself is so old that only a fragment of it is remembered till this day by the village elders but my grandmother always told it to me on the eve of no moons. I used to love that story, as a child I often wished I could see that happen and use my wish to get me and my family a better life, that we'd be rich, living in luxury without worries. Then reality hit me, my life was destroyed and I learned that wishes are for kids and irrelevant in the real life. But every time the moons are hiding my thoughts stray to my childhood, when every moon cycle started I always looked forward to the end when grandma told me old stories and legends of our village, I still remember all of them though I try to forget them as well as the times when I heard them without success. Now a days I miss those times, we may have been poor, we lived in a declining village and often had very little food from scarce harvests and bad weather but we had good lives still, love and happiness filled our lives. Now I had nothing left.
Sitting alone in my own elegant chambers I keep to the large balcony where I can stare at the moons, wishing for my past life to be real again, in this cold world of money and power I miss the days when I was poor and hungry, at least it was better than this golden cage. I am free to wander the grounds but it isn't befitting for a lady to walk outside, besides what would I do outside? Look at the market, admire scenery I can never really take in fully anymore or maybe I should talk to people as normal is, but who would talk to a slave of the Emperor, a concubine.
I know I have turned bitter and resentful, but who wouldn't. Your village raided in war, everyone killed before your eyes and then you are taken as a slave to the very person who is responsible. The one who started the war died in battle shortly after I was captured which is my slight source of happiness, and while his son indeed has started to put an end to the war his father started he can't erase the sins commited and so far no slaves are released, no concubines are yet given a choice of freely staying.
I wear silk and fabrics so beautiful I never dreamed of it, gold silver, jewells, all are free for me to wear whenever I want, I can eat as much as I want of the best food yet I wonder what it all is worth, often as I sit on my balcony watching the three moons I ponder over just going to the railing, leaning over it and just let me fall, end my suffering. But something has always kept me from jumping, I don't know what exactly but it is powerful enough to hinder me. What's worse is, my herbs are failing me, I can feel the life in me growing and while I try to recent it, to hate it, my love for my unborn child grows for every day that passes. Soon I'm afraid people will notice and when my child is born they'll take it away from me, I've seen it before, mothers crying for their babies as the midwife carries it off. I don't know where. No one does, but it can't be to a good home, I've lost too much hope in the good of the world to believe in anything else than that our children are killed, murdered before they can really live.
The night is approaching slowly now, tonight the three moons should be full, for a long time I have been avoiding the night sky, trying to forget my past to make my life easier, but tonight I really need the strength drawn from the moons. My fear of loosing my little child before seeing it, before feeling the weight in my arms or hear it live is already choking me, draining me of power. I need courage to hold out, but for what reason I wonder?
The moons are late, they should already be glowing brightly in the sky, I know the night sky as well as any schoolar yet I can only see one, the largest moon. Confounded I rise from my cusions, staring closely at the moon. I've been wrong it isn't just one moon, it is three, the smallest closest to me, the middle and lastly the largest moon hides the other two unless you look closely. Stunned at first I stare as in trance, my grandmother wasn't just repeating stories and fairytales, they were all true, the moons did line up at times.
A smile spread in my face as I admired the sight, then the legend hit me, what if that as well were true? Why shouldn't it if now the moons lined up then the rest of the legend should follow suite and be true as well. I'm too old to believe in fairytales, I shouldn't get my hopes up, I should just go to bed. But something held me still, like I was glued to the floor, what if continued to ring through my mind. What if, what if, what if. Giving up, I sighed, promising myself to not get my hopes up.
I wish for my child to live, to grow up and be happy. Whatever happens to me my child deserves a life even if I'm not in it.
