Miranda absentmindedly presses a single key of the piano over and over. I barely notice; the two of us have been practicing for about an hour, but we have both drifted into deep thought. I sit with my hands twisted through my hair and my teeth gritted. I have to kill something or I'll be considered a failure, the fallen prophet unable to live up to the expectations of his destiny. I don't even have time to be pissed at the damn gender thing!

“Say, Lorelei,” Miranda whispers. “About the chosen by God thing. Do you believe me?”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. She doesn't seem too phased about the whole murder aspect. It's all about fulfilling her own goals.

“Were you chosen by god?” I ask.

Miranda folds her arms. “Yes, I was.”

What she's saying is just so… different from what we're used to. But she's my closest friend. Would she really lie to me?

“Yes,” I say back but I'm not entirely sure that I'm telling the truth.

“Then…” She slowly slides her hand off the piano and turns to me. Her deep brown eyes flash with determination. “We should work together to change this place.”

I look down. I'm the Luminous One. I'm supposed to be a prophet, yet, all my visions of Apollo are damn horny ones. I'm not out here having God-given revelations like she apparently is. I'm supposed to be the one who will apparently lead this place, but I have no knowledge like she does. Is it really me? Is she the one who is meant to be in charge?

I hesitate. I just don't have the passion like she does.

“You wouldn't have to do much,” she adds. “If you want, you can just be the face of it. I'll do everything else behind the scenes.”

Ah. So she wants to use my status to bypass her own unpopularity.

“I hate to burst your bubble but I'm not popular," I say. "People say they like me because I'm the Luminous One, but they don't really. They don't like the way I dress.”

Girls are supposed to wear a dress and a veil. I wear a shirt, trousers, and keep my hair uncovered. Miranda doesn't wear the veil either but I think they've realised that is a losing battle. I catch more flack about it than she does.

“I think you could be, Lorelei. You just have to have more confidence. “

I sigh. I don't believe her. “I'll think about it,” I say. Another lie. I genuinely hope she never brings it up again— what wishful thinking that is. I didn't even want the whole Luminous One thing, but now that it's potentially being stolen, I suddenly am crushed by the weight of expectations upon me.

I think of my parents. Unlike the rest of the church, I was never orphaned. When they found out a child with the ability to create light was prophesied by the Helioist Church, they sold me into an environment where my God-given gifts could flourish — or that was the excuse anyway. I have been told that they are proud of me for what I am, yet I never see them. Would I be letting them down if I were merely to give up? Should I even care about the opinions of those who sold their own child anyway?

I change the subject. “Say, Miranda. Did you really… you know….” My cheeks go pink. She waits for me to respond. Dear God, I hope she does not make me say the word. I make a circle gesture with my hand and raise my eyebrows, begging she catches on.

“Well…” Miranda starts playing with her hair and her cheeks turn pink. “I, uh, you know…”

I scream.

“Lorelei, I've not said anything?"

I hide my face behind my hands. “No, no more!”

I thought I could handle this but I can't!

“Lorelei, look at me,” Miranda says.

I peep my eyes between the cracks in my fingers. We catch eyes.

“Sex.”

I let out another mortified squeal, crossing my spread fingers to mimic the shape of a sun with my hands across my chest.

Miranda laughs at me.

“Knock it off!” I wail. I get on my knees, grabbing her leg whilst nearly sobbing. “Please!” I beg, shaking her. “Promise me you won't do it again!”

“Hell no!” she spits, kicking me away. “I'm not getting it once then stopping when I know what I'm missing out on!”

I latch onto her leg once more. “Miranda, how do you know you're not being tested?” I plead.

She blinks. I can see she didn't think of that.

When she doesn't speak, I continue.

“Miranda, Apollo just likes to cause problems on purpose! He's probably telling you sex is okay for the sheer drama it will cause! Immortals can get very bored!”

The church doesn't like to talk about Apollo's general personality but what you CAN piece together from the forbidden section of the library depicts a very chaotic person. I think it says a lot about the guy that his personality is considered "forbidden knowledge."

Miranda's temples twitch. “Oi, shouldn't you have a little more faith in your God? Don't speak of him like that!” she snaps.

“You remember the assembly we had where we were warned not to approach him should he show himself to us!” I cry.

I don't know why they tell us this, but it has to be bad that a religion would have to warn its followers about interacting with its God.

Miranda folds her arms. “Lorelei, we had something special, okay?” She looks me dead in the eye as if daring me to challenge the truth of her statement.

I glower at her and get up. I can hear the finality in her tone.

“So, who is your damn boyfriend anyway?” I snap. My brow twitches; just the thought of some guy with his hands all over her pisses me off for some reason. She's risking so much for him. God, he better be good enough for her, I swear!

“Uh… that's a secret,” she mumbles.

My mouth falls open. “First you don't listen to your friend and then you deny me the juicy gossip?!”

“Lorelei, I have good reason to hide it, okay! I don't want you to lose respect for him!”

I put my hands on my hips. I want to say something but the sound of a commotion distracts me; from outside the doors, I hear a lot of skidding and yelling.

“Ic, get in the damn doors!” I hear a man hissing through what sounds like a large amount of shoving. The doors burst open and two figures come crashing through, leaking in moonlight behind them.

I freeze. Instantly, my blood turns to ice. The larger of the two. His skin — it glows. Dazzling white light rips from his form. His complexion is so pale it is nearly luminous; as the great wooden doors creak shut the shadows enveloping the floor grow and the light steadily fades. The moment they slam shut the luminosity dilutes.

My heart freezes. I'd recognise that glowing in moonlight anywhere even though I've never seen it in person before. So many times it has haunted my dreams.

That is a Lupine.

My hand digs into Miranda's shoulder as I stand there, petrified. For a moment, so is she. The Lupine sniffs and his eyes grow wide; he huddles up into a ball at his surroundings. He looks suspiciously distressed.

Miranda leaps into action, somehow even having the wits to act before me.

She turns, bolting to alert the higher-ups but, suddenly, the smaller of the men strikes like a viper to grab her wrist. My soul leaves my body as a gun is pointed at her head. He loads the machine; the sound crackles like bones.

Miranda is suddenly statuesque, all the blood having drained from her face.

“Hurt my damn dog and I'll blow your brains out,” he warns.

Miranda's breath quivers and she stumbles over her tongue. I ache with anxiety each moment she does not respond; eventually, she swallows then nods. It seems even Miranda gets nervous when a gun is pointed at her head.

He lowers his gun. I want to heave a sigh of relief but I can't relax with that damn…thing around. I want to look at it some more as I've never seen one up close, but I've heard eye-contact is a sign of challenge among wolves.

I examine the man instead. He has a wild looking appearance with long, unruly brown hair and a black eyepatch. A single lit cigarette hangs from his lips which he slowly takes a drag off. He blows the air out in a perfect ringlet into Miranda's face.

“All right, I heard you,” she urges shakily. “Just put the gun down!”

He drowns his cigarette right upon the broken statue of Apollo himself and my mouth falls open.

“Name's Rex and this is my dog, Icarus,” he states in a gruff sounding voice. His words are slightly slurred. “Please do not get it confused. I am Rex and the dog's name is Icarus. I'm a freelance wolf hunter here because I heard you got a little wolf problem.”

Getting to the church itself is no easy feat. It requires a trek through Lupine territory and is miles away from civilization. Him getting here is a testament of his strength, but all I see is a slightly smelly drunk man.

Before I can get a question in further Rex proudly declares that he is ransacking the communion wine. He grabs the Lupine by the wrist and leads it behind him. I notice it carries a cane that hobbles on the ground.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Me and Miranda are left looking at each other wondering what the Hell that was about.

******

I end up going to bed early after all the rehearsals, so I don't hear much about the Lupine that has infiltrated the church. I fall into a deep slumber.

Later that night, a silky little flutter of music caresses my ears. As I open my eyes a scenic sunset slowly dilutes into view. My heart leaps into my mouth — it's Apollo. He sits below an apple tree with his golden waves melting into the harp he rests his head upon. Lazily, he plucks at the strings and I lean forward; his hands flow like a river and the way they glide over the instrument makes the strings glow with melody. Never have I heard something so rhapsodic — he's definitely the god of music, alright. The sound is purely stunning and he looks incredibly whimsical playing it, like something out of a painting.

I step forward. Slowly, his eyes open, somewhat dazed as if awakening from a dream — I get the feeling he was as lost in the music as I. His eyes flicker up and down me and our gazes snag; the orange ring around his pupils sends heat oozing through his iris and a little smirk tugs at his lips. He beckons me closer with a curl of his finger. My heart soars.

I can't help myself even though I've been warned not to approach him. He's too alluring. Very suddenly, I am aware of heat rising over my skin.

Wordlessly, I sit next to him with my legs folded. It is then Apollo edges closer to me; I can feel the warmth of his aura swirling against my skin. I lick my lips as I steal constant glances from the corner of my eye. Everything about him reminds me of honey. From the warm glisten of his eyes to the sun-kissed hue of his skin that looks as though it would taste so sensually sweet.

I break out in hives. Oh God. Why am I imagining how he tastes?!

“Lorelei,” he whispers.

I freeze. I wasn't aware of how nice my name would sound on his tongue — it sounds like a musical note by itself. I have forgotten whatever I was thinking about. I realise I haven't responded.

“Uh, hi,” I say.

Ugh! You're speaking to your God and all you have to say is hi?!

I rub my hands against my knees, sweating. There's so much I want to ask him! Thank God he isn't shirtless this time or I'd never be able to stop thinking about his…

Oh my God! Don't think about him shirtless, don't think about him shirtless!

I hide my face behind my hands. It's too late. I am thinking of him shirtless.

Apollo emits a chuckle. He was definitely laughing at me but attempts to mask it with a cough.

“Lorelei," he says. He started off by sounding like he was about to say something serious but cuts off at the sight of me spontaneously combusting. His eyes glint with mischief. He raises his hand and wriggles his fingers, very slowly walking his hand towards mine.

"You better watch out," he says in a voice that sounds completely serious. "If you do not move swiftly, I will be touching you. You should move if you don't want that to happen."

I start chewing on my nails. Would it be bad if he touches me? My eyes laser focus on the hand edging slowly towards me. Is it like a gateway drug? Will one touch lead me astray? Will my God be offended if I say no?

"Lorelei," Apollo states urgently. "A boy is about to touch you!"

I feel as though I'm screaming in slow motion as a single dastardly finger makes its way towards mine. Oh God, oh God, oh God!

"Boop," Apollo says, prodding my finger.

I open one eye. That's it?

"Lorelei," Apollo says. A lilting chuckle vibrates through his chest. He puts one arm around my shoulder and squeezes firmly. Heat gushes through me; I feel such strength in his grip that my heart nearly somersaults out my mouth. His hand slides down my back with a trail of pleasantness, lingering a moment before leaving me. I swoon so hard it feels as though my soul is floating away from my body. "You can relax. I'm not going to punish you for thinking certain things or feeling certain ways."

My sigh is deep. All my life, I've been told unnecessary touching is wrong. Is it really okay?

Apollo stares at me. His stare grows pointed, a rugged note snagging in his chest as he speaks. "Who told you that I would?"

Just your whole religion, I think.

I look at him. His face betrays no hints at his mood but I can see sheer distaste blazing in his eyes.

I say nothing, deciding I don't want to set a pissed-off God on someone.

Apollos lips tighten as I hang my head.

"Here," Apollo says, saving the conversation from the awkward silence that follows. "I will play you a song to help you relax."

"Really?" I whisper, eyes lighting up.

"What kind of music do you like?"

"I only know hymns."

"No," Apollo instantly. "No worship. I'd like to know you as an equal."

My eyes flicker away. "Sorry."

Wait. Did he just say he wanted me as an equal?

Apollo drifts his fingers under my chin and tilts up my head. I freeze, blushing. Every pore on my skin explodes with desire.

"You also needn't apologise," he says gently.

My heart hammers as I look into his eyes, finding they are even more hypnotic up close. I notice his eyelashes are brown. Tiny specks of gold dust their way across his iris like stars. I get a little mesmerised and find myself nodding away at how pretty he is.

"Good boy," he whispers.

Wow. Why did I like it when he called me a good boy so much?

Apollo smiles. It's a beautiful beam like a ray of sunshine. "Do you have a favourite instrument?"

"What can you play?"

"All of them."

"Actually, stick with the harp please."

He nods and readies his hand. He plays me a twinkling little song. The notes dozily pitter-patter and my heart melts away just listening to it. Lost in the music, I cannot help but release a little tune. Apollo's eyes widen as I hum to myself; I feel his shining aura grow warmer as I harmonise to his song. A smile melts through his eyes and he strums with a bounce in his hands. As it turns out, we sound really nice together. I could have never dreamed something as unsightly as myself could mingle so flawlessly with something as perfect as he.

The music fades away and we sit in a content silence for a moment. I let the notes wash over me.

“Can you sing?” I ask.

I'm really into my singing. It's one of the few hobbies of mine that the church actually approves of. I want to hear his voice. It sounds so sensational when he talks that it must be even more so when singing.

Apollo proudly touches his chest. “I'm the God of music. Of course I can sing.”

“Will you?”

“Hmmm.” Apollo arches an eyebrow. “How bold of you to ask for such a blessing.”

I prod my fingers together. “S-sorry.”

Apollo smugly raises his head. “For you, I will concur, but you'll have to do something for me.”

“Anything,” I gush.

Apollo begins to play his harp and the music carries me away. He sucks in a breath and parts his lips. My heart races; he looks so beautiful with the sunlight twinkling like a halo about his head that goosebumps quiver upon my skin. His lips slowly part and I find myself admiring how full they are, breathlessly awaiting what stunning blessing is about to part from his lips.

He sings.

My eyes widen. Dear God, I didn't know someone could sound so…. so… utterly ghastly! Apollo's singing sounds like two yodeling cats tearing each other apart. Infact, I'm actually impressed that someone with such a pleasant talking voice could sound so horrendous! I hide my cringe with a nod of my head to the beat. I try to focus on the clashingly beautiful sounds of his fingers opposed to the ear-bleeding sound of his voice.

He finishes. Oh thank God for that. He gives a pompous flick of his hair.

“Pretty impressive, huh,” Apollo says smugly.

“Yes, m'lord."

Well, he looks pleased anyway. He seems like he had fun and that's all that matters.

“Um…” I change the subject quickly before he sniffs out I'm lying. “We're having a ceremony for you in the church. WIll you be coming?”

“No,” Apollo says quickly.

I can't really hide my disappointment. Why wouldn't he turn up for a ceremony in his worship?

“But I was going to sing for you…” I cover my hand over my mouth. Damn, I shouldn't have talked back to him like that…

Apollo looks away. “Are you asking me to come?”

Can I do that?

I ball my fists with determination. I decide to just blurt out the question lest I hever have the strength to do so again. “Will you?”

Apollo strums a few notes on his harp. “For you, I will.”

Elation flutters through me but I'm also incredibly confused. Why? Why me? Why is he being so nice to me?

I frown. Given how strict our rules are, this isn't the oppressive God I imagined of our religion at all.

“Apollo do you… love your followers?”

“No,” he says instantly.

My heart sinks. He looks at me.

“But…” Apollo puts down his harp. I jump as the tip of his index finger drifts across mine. He doesn't instigate anything further but keeps stroking my hand. I drum my other hand — I'm a goddamn mess from such a simple action. My heart nearly frolics within my chest.

“...I love you, Lorelei.”

I freeze, trying to process what I heard. My stomach leaps with excitement; my God just told me he loves me. My queer self has longed all my life for that validation.

Then the words “your god is a liar” flash in my mind.

I plummet back to reality.

“Why?” I ask in utter disbelief.

Apollo slowly drifts his fingers over mine and I die a little inside from how large and lusciously soft his hands are – it is like being caressed by silk. Goosebumps slowly prickle down my neck.

“I was the first from the realm of the Gods to ever feel love and sexual desire,' he replies. "I learned it from Mother Nature herself as I lay dormant in the Earth. The emotion soon spread like a disease to the other Gods and I was accused of bringing mortal sin to the Gods.” Apollo's voice drops to a whisper. “Not only that…”

My heart grows wings as his fingers intertwine with mine.

“...But I am also bisexual. In other words, I know what it's like to be different. My point is that if it's okay for me to be like this, then it's absolutely okay for you. That is what I wanted to tell you."

I bite my lip. My world is spinning. A rambunctious heart is sending sparkling-feeling blood roaring in my ears.

Apollo tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear and glances at my lips. "I really respect you for being brave enough to be yourself in the tough situation you're in." He leans in. His whisper drifts down my neck in a luscious caress. "You're the exact kind of person I want leading my religion."

My chest heaves. I want to snatch my hand away as he squeezes. I realise then that none of this is real. My God telling me that he loves me then even saying that he is the same as me? This is all I've wanted to hear all my life.

“Is this a dream?” I ask.

It has to be. This is not the vengeful God I have feared my whole life.

Apollo's eyebrows knit with concern. “If I tell you it's not a dream will you be afraid of being your true self around me?”

“Yes,” I admit.

“Then…” Apollos hands wisp up my arm. His fingers drift up my chin to force me to look at him. I catch his eyes, speckled with gold like a supernova in his iris, and all my thoughts leave as a breathless gasp. I watch each lilting syllable form almost hypnotically from his lips. “It's a dream. And as a dream you can do whatever you want to me without consequences.”

His whisper stirs my heart into a frenzy. My perfect God. My perfect God who says he loves me and who I love in return and always will love unconditionally — how his painful beauty aches my heart. I love him. I want to show him that I love him. But when I wake I will be ravaged with desire. Perhaps I will even feel the drive to slip my hands between my legs. I can't take that risk.

This is a test. He is testing my faith. It makes sense – he is the only image of the male body I have to base my desire on after seeing him depicted in art. It makes sense he'd use himself.

I clench my eyes shut and snatch myself away. No. I must remain strong!

I get on my knees, begging for forgiveness and clasp my hands together. “No, I will love you through song and prayer!”

“Damn, what a fucking loser,” Apollo says.

Huh?!

I wince. I open one eye. Apollo stands, towering over me. He folds his arms. Dare I say I think I've pissed off the Sun God.

Although the church doesn't like to speak of it, I've always known that Apollo has relationships and… whatever that means that goes with that. He's immortal. He doesn't need to worry about things like sin and the afterlife. I've read about his lovers in the forbidden section of the library, but no male ones were listed. Never did I expect he'd come for one of his followers like this. From his reaction, I realise he might have genuinely wanted it.

Apollo begins to fade. I don't think he's used to being told no.

“Wait!” I cry. “Why? Why me? Why am I the Luminous One?”

"I told you, Lorelei," he says. "It's because I love you."

I freeze. I don't think I'll ever get used to hearing that.

Apollo vanishes from sight.

My eyes burst open and I bury my face into my arm.

I am contaminated by warm, glowing desire.