The Omam is one of four sacred places on my world. This is my fourth journey here to the place that birthed all our ancestors, and hopefully I will make a hundred more such journeys. My body is battered and broken so surviving this is difficult but I am confident that I, like my ancestors, and even myself before me, will persevere. I have arrived at the last mountain peak and as I reach the top of the trail, I can see the Tree of Birth in the valley below. It is a beautiful expanse of white and yellow leaves with dozens of wide trunks securing it to the valley floor. The scent of its blossoms, no longer blocked by the mountain range I just crossed, assails me and I am reminded of my previous childhoods. In the ritual of my people, I kneel at the first sight of it and ask for the blessings of my fathers. The guardians greet me as I chant. One, at first, approaches me. He is twice my height with a strong upper body and thick forearms with claws as big as my chest. He walks slowly on all six legs and paces before me until my chanting is finished. When I am done, he approaches. His heavily armed jaw flexes as he verifies my scent. I reveal my abdomen to him and he examines the pigmentation and the swelling that signifies I carry my new vessel. Another guardian approaches. They exchange snorts and grunts and the second one examines me as well. Soon they are satisfied that I am Omam-Tol, carrying new life, and escort me into the valley. I have made the final leg of my journey and eventually reach the Omam grove. My guardians give me one last look and disappear into the surrounding foliage.
The Omam spreads out before me and I walk among the trunks for a while feeling for the place where I will make my transition. Hanging in the trees in their own cocoons, are other Omam-Tols who have made the journey themselves and are in various stages of metamorphosis. I pay my respects as I pass them and eventually find a place among them. I leap up into the pale yellow branches and excrete the masheef that will be my own cocoon for the next two years. I form the base and attach it to the branch and secure myself to it. I meticulously spin the masheef about my body until only my head remains visible from the outside. I feel my vessel begin to move within me and I know it’s time. I complete the cocoon and am protected within. Over the next few days, my brow heats up and the pain settles in. For a while I writhe as my abdomen burns and finally splits open. My new body, a miniaturized version of myself emerges, and the pain subsides. I cannot see it for the darkness within the cocoon is complete but instinctively I know every contour of my new body. I take the vessel into my arms and as I feel the cocoon constrict around us as the birthing fluid solidifies the silk, we slowly drift off into the sleep of new beginnings.
Over the next two years, my vessel will receive my consciousness and feed off of my old body; consuming my old life for my new life. When the metamorphosis is complete, I, in my new vessel, will emerge from the cocoon and begin life in the new body carrying with me the wisdom of my own past.
I am an Ancient. I am a Forefather. I am an immortal.
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