"Mak?"

Jumping at the sound of her name, Mak pulled her eyes from the simple bowl of grain and fish growing cold in her hands. Lectures had already broken for the midday meal. She sat on a stone bench outside, the dappled shade of an oak-leaf parasol providing cooling relief from the sun's heat. The meticulously tended landscape of the Temple's grounds sprawled around her, with pebbled walkways threading between clustered trees and raised flower beds. The occasional breeze rustled the treetops, startling nesting birds into a chorus of chirps.

Watchful black eyes stared at her.

"I’m sorry, Lee. I think I am just tired today. What did you motion?"

Lee pushed a few stray black strands of hair behind her ear, piercing Mak with a searching look.

"Did you have another nightmare?"

Mak sighed. "It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it. Just sign that again for me?"

Ever since arriving at the Temple, coated in sweat and burning with foolishness, Mak had been wrestling with a constant hum of anxiety in her chest. Though she had previously confided to Lee about her recent string of night terrors, Mak’s acute embarrassment over running away from quite literally nothing left her wanting desperately to push the memory to a dark corner of her mind to fade.

Lee remained silent. Her arms crossed with a huff. Wooden bangles on her wrists clicked at Mak reprovingly.

"Lee, I promise I am okay. I was up early this morning, that’s all."

"And yet, you were late to the morning prayer. Very late."

"Lee…"

"Wait, did you sneak off with Jin again? Is that why you’re so out of it today?"

"Lee!" Mak coughed on a mouthful of food.

"You sad thing. You still have not told him, huh? Let me guess, you two just walked around aimlessly to talk, like you’re still ten years old."

"I will have you know that I am so close to getting up and walking away from this conversation. Please, for the love of the Blind Gods, let me eat in peace."

"Mmmhmmm, you avoiding this is the very reason why Jin doesn’t know that you see him more than…"

Mak stood, feigning an escape. Lee snatched her arm to jerk her back down.

"Fine! Have your way, coward. Don’t blame me if you end up alone for the rest of your miserable life. So, I was asking - before you decided to completely ignore me - where do you want to meet tomorrow? I’ll be attending the morning prayers, but I am free after, and I am not sure when Som is planning to get us all together."

"I’ll see you at the Temple. Mother is forcing me to attend this year. I can’t duck out anymore." Mak massaged her brow with a groan. "I hate this."

Oh, please, cry a river. It’s about time. Honestly, I can’t believe it took this long for her to put her foot down. I am just the daughter of a simple disciple, yet I have been dragged by my ears to Temple for every blessed occasion. Meanwhile, you, of all people, have been able to wriggle out of every ceremony to instead run wild like some heretic."

"Gosh, you really know how to cheer up a friend, Lee."

Lee sniffed haughtily. "Just because I tell you how it is doesn’t mean I don’t sympathize. Prayer can be a bit much and I struggle to understand why we do what we do. Selfishly, though, I am happy to have you finally suffer along with me."

Suddenly, a shadow cast over them, and in turning toward the figure, Mak saw Lee’s lips press into a thin line.

"I’d be careful saying those types of things around here, Lee," gestured a girl, fine-featured and porcelain. Slender hands gracefully shaped her words.

Ignoring the cold wash of distaste in her mouth, Mak replied impassively, "She didn’t mean it that way, Wen."

"I’m sure she didn’t." Delicate pink lips split into a smile, baring white teeth.

Without invitation, Wen sat herself next to Mak. Irritation flared up; her physical proximity was a repellant so intense that Mak fought the urge to shift away.

"Mak, I couldn’t help but notice you motioned about attending prayer tomorrow. I am so happy to see that you are finally deciding to follow in your mother’s footsteps."

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

"I’m just attending prayer; that’s all, Wen."

"Ah, I see. Well, all the same, I look forward to seeing you there. I take it that we will meet up with my brother and Jin later for their usual foolishness. I so look forward to it. It will be fun, that is, so long as no one gets sick again this year. Last year was quite embarrassing."

Heat raced through Mak’s veins, flushing her cheeks and ears crimson, as the barb pricked. She bit her lip, searching for a stinging retort but finding none. Mak felt a tug on her arm and saw that Wen had abruptly stood up, thunderous.

"Wen, you will have to excuse us. Disciple Jun had asked us to help distribute the pamphlets for our next lecture when we finished our meal. We really should go now."

Again, those pink lips pulled back in a chilly, polite smile.

"See you tomorrow."

Lee’s grip tightened as they marched away from the still-seated Wen.

"When you finish crying that river, let me know. I’ll throw her into it. I can’t stand her."

"She’s going to be your sister-in-law, you know."

"Don’t remind me."

***

Evening prayers concluded the day’s lectures, and all students queued into neat rows before entering the prayer room. As always, Mak situated herself behind Lee, strategically hiding her wiry form behind her friend’s taller, softer, more mature profile. Lee threw her an annoyed look. Mak responded by rolling her eyes and pinwheeling her hand for Lee to move up as the line shifted forward.

Moccasined footfalls fell mutely in the cavernous room as each line shuffled inside. Woolen mats were placed in rows parallel to a raised stage where three women sat. Each was wrapped in precious white cloth robes. The woman in the center was adorned in a red pearl headdress, an intricate web masking her face - the Hahesom. Behind them, a backdrop of painted glass depicted a grand dogwood with its flowering branches reaching up towards the chapel’s ceiling and fingering out to cover the breadth of the room. Drawn within its trunk, a towering figure with multiple eyeless faces glowed, haloed in the afternoon sun.

The heavy veil of incense and candlewick ash, ticklish and irritating, prompted Mak to rub her eyes as she knelt on a nearby square. Sitting like this, Lee blocked Mak’s view of the stage.

Perfect. I don’t need her staring at me. Mak grumbled internally.

A drum boomed, reverberating and resonating in the chest before rippling into emptiness. All present bowed their heads. Mak peeked over Lee’s bent profile to watch the Hahesom, her mother unrecognizable behind the crimson mask.

Supported by the two beside her, Mak’s mother rose and began chanting the evening prayer. Spoken word, an ancient magic now foreign to all but the Hahesom, sang out from underneath the beaded veil, echoing harmoniously with itself in the stoney rafters.

Shifting back behind Lee, Mak closed her eyes and, for the first time in a while, earnestly prayed.

***

The fire at the hearth spat a fleck of red-hot charcoal, landing near Mak. She blackened it with a satisfying stomp of her foot.

Stew bubbled and gurgled in a dark pot hung low over crackling wood. A small cooking tin, sealed and buried under smoking coals, filled the hut with the smell of bread. Mouthwatering morsels of rabbit seasoned the soup’s base of root vegetables with a rich, savory gravy. Dinner was almost ready.

Occasionally, glancing at the door, Mak rocked back and forth on her heels, waiting for dinner to finish cooking. Waiting for her mother to come home. As the Hahesom, Mak’s mother led the Temple and its disciples. Late nights were expected. Visions came at a price.

Once, as a child, Mak crawled into her mother’s lap and asked if she was able to see people’s future – if she saw Mak’s future. Her mother had paused, staring long and hard at the ground before softly stroking Mak’s hair.

"My dove, I cannot and do not ask the Blind Gods to show me what is to come, what is to be, and what is destined. I am offered glimpses of their Will and must stitch together its meaning. My role is to guide our people on how best to please Them." Her words formed from the soft and delicate gestures of her hands, accented by the loss of her index fingers. They were payment to the Blind Gods for flashes of their omniscience.

Mak had pouted, unsatisfied with this answer. Her mother, in turn, laughed brightly and squeezed Mak in a loving hug.

"Fret not, darling. I am here. You are here. Breathe in this air. Feel this earth. The Blind Gods may tug us along according to their design, but you control your experience. Continue to be here, be present, and you will find no need to worry about tomorrow."

If only you followed your own words, mother, thought Mak bitterly. Foreknowledge was a weathering element, like running water over stone.

There was a creak at the door, and Mak turned to see her mother step into their home. Relieved of her headdress and robes, the Hahesom still carried with her an air of authority. Long locks of brown hair were swept back in a tight, neat bun. Dark, intelligent, and sharp eyes noted every detail and movement. Lips that rarely moved outside of the Temple cut a thin line in her mother’s angular face.

"Daughter." The Hahesom signed in greeting. Suddenly, Mak felt the few feet between them stretch into a mile.

Mak stiffly nodded in reply. With a stick, she swept away the dying coals from the top of the cooking tin, pried off the lid, and assessed the bread. It was done enough. Scooping two ladlesful of steaming soup into clay bowls, Mak served the Hahesom and herself. She extracted the loaf to tear off a crumbly chunk, using it as a spoon to shove food into her mouth.

"You woke up early," her mother motioned, her eyes fixated on Mak.

"I couldn’t sleep."

"I see."

They continued to eat in silence, and when finished, her mother gathered the dirty wares to wash in a nearby basin of water.

The combination of a belly filled with warm food and loaded silence had Mak eager to curl up under her covers. Poking the fire one last time with a stick, she tossed it into the fire, stood, and began to change out of her clothes into her nightwear.

Her mother, having finished with the dishes, returned to the hearth.

"Goodnight, mother."

A pause.

"Goodnight, my child."

Mak slipped into her sleeping pelts, forcing her eyes closed. Forcing her mind to dam up the incessant waves of words she wanted to express. Forcing the knot in her stomach to untangle.

Blessedly, exhaustion swallowed her in a deep, dreamless sleep.

Sometimes, the Blind Gods do answer prayers.