A gleaming star fell down the night you were born.
Beyond the bedroom window, no light was seen. A heavy storm, void of even the courtesy of lightning, engulfed the air around, a thick black fog. It was a darkness that seemed to engulf all light, the bedside candles seeming dimmed and ineffective. To have to birth a child under these black omens… I had never felt more terror.
Your mother’s screams too seemed stifled by the encroaching shadow. Henesy has worked a medic and seen to deliverance of newborns before, but even his unbreakable calm seemed tested by the stubborn nature of the situation.
“I can’t do it!” your mother sounded, in an awful, bloody shriek. I’m no invincible hero, my love, I have my weaknesses; all that I could do that night was pray. I made my way to the window, incapable of watching further. I merely stared into the black, listening as my wife cried, and Henesy begged.
At least, peering into what must have been the void itself, I glimpsed light. Small at first, it grew, and grew. A star, I realized. Breaking the dense horror that surrounded, it continued to grow. It took not much longer to grasp its true nature. The star was not merely growing, it was moving. Falling. Coming.
There was silence. I was speechless, my wife and servant surely the same behind me, watching this glory unfold. I could hear nothing, and soon, see nothing, blinded by the radiance.
I turned away from the window. The darkness in the room had faced, entirely. Your mother lay still upon the bed, Henesy back against a wall, and between them… A being of pure light: Naaru. I had never seen anything so breathtaking. I had never heard anything like the song in my mind, which seemed to speak to me.
“The darkness cowers from the purest of Light. A life leaves this world today, passing into the ever-enlightened beyond. Her sacrifice comes not in vain, her life-force, her love, her Light, she has passed down. The mother comes to my blessing, and my blessing goes to the daughter. This girl is born, an incarnation of the Light. Many blessings shall she bring, much darkness shall she vanquish. She shall be the hero this world needs.”
Your mother was suddenly upon a chariot of gold, which appeared to have manifested around her. She looked not passed as the Naaru had spoken, but rather, she was smiling. She gave the brightest and most genuine of smiles, ascending up through what was once the ceiling. There was no room any longer, I noticed, merely an infinite expansion of blissful Light.
All was simple again, in the blink of an eye. Your mother no longer upon the bed, nor in this world; You no longer within your mother, but in my arms.
The song came to my mind, one final time. “This girl is born an incarnation of the Light.”
Amanda Whitechapel had surely heard this tale a thousand times as a girl. Henesy, the family's loyal servant, had explained, upon question, that the actual events of that night had involved much more blood and pain, and that the tale was merely a fable, encouraging that all people live and do as if they were this child, as if they were the very incarnation of the Light. It was indeed by this that Amanda strove, though, she could not help but wonder… How much was true?
It was true that she had shown great aptitude for the channeling of the Light, no priest or priestess stating otherwise, most merely in awe. Her father, Bartus Whitechapel, had been a Paladin, before laying down his hammer for a safer life, as not to risk his daughter losing both of her parents. Her mother, Saradine Malloy, had been a devout follower of the Light, meeting her husband in the cathedral. She was born of a holy love; it only made sense that she should inherit such grace.
Her answers could be found in duty. Serving the Light as she knew she could, by whatever means did so in the greatest degree. She lived for happiness, devotion, and efficiency in both aspects. The path ahead was surely not to be simple, but it would achieve what she desired.
Her first step would be to find the right allies.
