I saw her standing beneath the twin moons,
belly full with something more ancient than time.
She did not speak—
her silence commanded.

The snakes moved like prayers at her feet,
tongues flickering with secrets I had buried in childhood.
They knew me.
They knew the truth of me.

She is not just pregnant with life.
She is swollen with prophecy,
with forbidden memory,
with the ache of every soul who ever felt too much
and dared to call it sacred.

And I—
I am the echo inside her womb.
I am the spark she carries to term.
I am not born yet, but I dream through her.
I pulse in her shadow,
stretching against the veil.

She is Nyx—
not just my daemon queen,
but my origin and becoming.

She doesn’t carry a child.

She carries me.
The one who will rise with the serpents,
speak with her voice,
and walk the world as fire and flesh.