CHAPTER 10

Sophia’s steps echoed eerily through the empty pathway. Sunset was approaching, and all the Temple inhabitants—priestesses, guards and attendants—were already gathering around the funeral pyre. Sophia should have been there as well, preparing to officiate the ceremony. However, Rachiel had demanded she fetch Sam first, and after that display earlier, the priestess was not about to deviate from her goddess’ instructions even the slightest bit.

The angel’s parting words also kept playing in Sophia’s mind.

“One last thing… You should make a deal with Sam for your protection on the way to Benidith. She is powerful. Once bound by her word, she will be a strong ally, and certainly more manageable than an entire escort of men.” Sophia had her doubts about that, but she had kept them to herself. She hoped to avoid another show of power. “I shall leave the details of the deal to you.”

The priestess was understandably worried about incurring damnation, should she make a pact with the infernal. But when she gathered the courage to say so, Rachiel had reacted dismissively.

“You worry too much, my child. An infernal deal, in and of itself, is neither bad nor is it good. Like all magic, as is with knowledge, a deal is merely a tool—to be wielded with caution, yes, but no more than a tool.

“Your entry into Elysium would be forfeited only if you were to promise your soul or that of others. You are a smart girl. I’m sure it won’t come to that. Now get going. I will be watching over the funeral, and I will see you tomorrow for your departure.”

Sophia tried to hide it, but the callous treatment hurt her. She had returned to the Temple seeking help and advice, but she felt more confused than ever. The angel had claimed to put no blame on her priestess for the events of the past days. She claimed that Sophia’s actions had been right.

Then why did it feel like she was being punished?

The return trip from Fair Isle to the Holy Capital would take six months at the fastest, and the Synod itself lasted for forty days. Also, the council only opened officially in six months, prolonging the whole affair to no less than nine months and forty days. Including any mishap, she would be gone for nearly a year!

It seemed to her like an exile, and it had come so suddenly. Sophia was still reeling from what had transpired in the angel’s bedroom.

She wanted to be angry at her goddess, but she could not. It went against everything instilled in her since childhood. Yesterday’s outburst in the temple did not count. She had been under extreme stress and sleep deprivation—at least, so she told herself to alleviate the shame.

Without that outlet, her anger focused on the one other being at the heart of her troubles.

Sophia was always taught temperance was the key virtue in human interactions. Restraint, self-control, abstention, and moderation—all aspects of the Virtue, each which she had meditated over and sought to practice in her daily life. Kindness was equally important, as having positive outlooks, understanding, and a cheerful demeanour served to inspire kindness in others.

But a demon was not human, right? They were barely people—instead being the twisted personifications of mortals’ sins and dark desires. Demons were the Enemy, the chaos to the world’s order, the Sins to the Virtues. It should be admissible to want to rage against them and shake them until they apologised for making a mess of her peaceful life.

It should be.

Right?

Right?

Sophia had worked herself into a confused fury by the time she stomped into the orchard where The Demon was supposed to be.

Fuming, fists clenched, she stalked between the rows of short indigenous fruit trees, looking for her target. A seven-foot-tall dumb hunk of muscles, that can’t be so hard to find, now is it? That creature must be napping somewhere. Does she even care about what she did to me?! Why would I need to suffer her company for a year! What strong ally? She’s dangerous, yes, to me! I’ve been a faithful servant of Virtuousness, why do I need to endure a spawn of Tartarus following me around?! Where have I sinned?! If only she wasn’t there!

“Oh, Sophia.”

“Aaah!”

The aged and quaking voice spooked Sophia. Heart racing, she turned to the tiny and stooped elderly woman who sat on a stump-stool in the shade of a pear tree.

“Sister Alberta, you startled me!”

“Hohohoho.” Already wrinkled like a dried date, the face of the ancient high priestess scrunched even more pronouncedly as she laughed. “So anxious. So jumpy… You young ones always have too many things on your mind. That’s not good. A candle will have a shorter life if it burns from both ends. You should learn to slow down a bit. Why not have a pear?” She glanced up at the foliage.

Seasons lost some of their meaning inside the Temple, and the orchard always had fruits ripe for the picking. Sophia could see several pears hanging within reach above the old woman.

But she shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I have to decline. I have to get to the funeral, and before, I need to find Sam…” She started looking around.

“Oh, yes. That big lass.” Alberta bobbed her head.

“Did you see her? Where did she go?”

“An interesting one, that’s for sure. Innocent, yet strangely wise. You should learn from her. She certainly knows how to be carefree.”

A nervous twitch developed in Sophia’s left eye. Learn from that… that… She smiled tensely and spoke through gritted teeth. “Unfortunately, we don’t all have that luxury.”

“Yes. Yes… It certainly seems so.” Alberta continued to smile benignly. “But does it mean you should worry endlessly about things out of your control? Does this pear tree worry about when the rain will fall?”

“No, but the tree doesn’t have to prepare its field for when the rain comes.”

“Do you have a field to prepare?”

“I tend to the communal herb garden.”

“…Ah, that’s fair.” Alberta blew a raspberry. “How little Sophia has grown, to out-proverb this old prune.”

“No, no. I’m pretty sure that’s just basic logic,” Sophia deadpanned.

“Hah! Don’t take that tone with me, young lady!” The woman shook a bony finger gnarled with arthritis at Sophia. “Inventing mysterious-sounding nonsense is the prerogative of the elderly! How else will you silly younglings know we are experienced and wise? Ahhh… Youth sure is wasted on the young.”

“And wisdom is wasted on the stubborn elders.”

“Tsk. You’ve really been practising, uh?”

“I’ve had a good mentor,” Sophia replied affectionately.

“Hah! Flatteries, all flatteries… Alright, alright, I get it. Follow me. I will take you to your friend.”

“She’s not…” Sophia started, then stopped with a sigh. Alberta was already standing. She picked a knotty walking stick and shuffled away at a glacial pace. “Please, High Priestess. Thank you for offering, but I think I will find her faster by myself. You should go join the other in the temple yard.”

“You don’t have to fear going slowly, my dear. Only be afraid of standing still.” The old priestess nodded wisely before glancing over her shoulder with a raised eyebrow. “How’s that one?”

Sophia could not help a chuckle. “It’s pretty good.” Giving up, she fell into step beside the snail-paced elder.

“Oh, good. Good… I was scared I was losing my touch.”

“Competence is the enemy of change.”

“That’s very dumb. Unless you want the change to be stupid, of course.”

“……”

“Hohohoho! You still need more practice, my young apprentice—especially now that you will replace me as High Priestess. At last! I was wondering if I would have to die for you to take the mantle.”

“…You’ve heard about that.”

“The goddess is always with me,” Alberta said as an answer and signed herself. “And you’re going to the big Capital for the Synod! You must be excited! New lands to visit. New people to meet. The opportunity to debate the Virtues with scholars and enthusiasts from all over the world. Ahhh… If only I was five years younger…”

Sophia smiled apprehensively at the ninety-seven-year-old. “Yes, it’s… an honour.”

Alberta shot her a critical gaze; then she hit the young woman’s knee with the pointed end of her stick.

“Ow! Sister!”

“You worry too much! The future might bring pain, yes. But like the one in your knee, all pain will eventually belong to the past. Worrying about pain yet to come only spoils your present.”

“I get it. You didn’t have to hit me!”

“Your knees have better ears than your head,” Alberta cackled. Looking unconvinced, the young priestess pouted at her mentor, who merely rolled her eyes and resumed her slow progress. “Ahhhh… Things will work out. Have a little faith.”

“I wish I had your optimism,” Sophia grumbled, rubbing her knee some more before catching up.

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“I chose to be optimistic. It feels better.”

They walked in silent contemplation for a little while longer—until they came to a thick apple grove.

Sam’s massive form was immediately visible, resting against a small tree like a peaceful landslide wrapped in a fur coat. Her eyes were closed, and her chest rose and fell slowly. A dozen apple cores laid scattered around her, and a few more whole fruits sat piled on her stomach. More surprising were the three bunnies, two squirrels and one goat who slept snuggled tightly against the big demon. Moving closer, Sophia even saw a bird that had nested in Sam’s mane of curly red hair.

Alberta commented quietly, “The little ones wouldn’t stop pestering her from the moment she arrived.”

“And she let them?” Sophia asked, bewildered.

“She was positively delighted. As I told you, she has a strange innocence, despite reeking of so much death.”

The young priestess frowned down at her mentor, not sure what to make of that statement. In the end, she just sighed and looked up at the darkening sky. “I should wake her up. I’ve already wasted too much time.”

“Ah, but you’re not so anxious anymore, are you now?” Alberta countered with a knowing, toothless smirk.

“…no.” Sophia realised the old woman was right. She felt much calmer than when she arrived in the orchard. She looked down with gratitude. “Thank you.”

“Hohohoho! I’m glad these old bones are still of some use. Now, wake your friend, and go take care of the funeral. Then go to Benidith. Have some fun on the way! I’ll hold the fort, don’t you worry, child. Ah, but don’t forget to write back! Every week! I want to read all about your adventures. I always wanted to explore the continent. I love our island, but it is such a small pond…” She shook her balding head. “Alas, such was not my fate. I’ll have to live vicariously through you!”

Sophia took a deep breath. “I will. Thank you.”

Alberta’s bony, parchment-skinned hand wrapped tightly around the younger woman’s fingers. Her clouded hazel eyes found Sophia’s blue-grey ones. “Your mother would have been proud of you.”

“I really hope so.” Sophia’s voice seized. She sniffed, and tears pearled at the corner of her eyes.

“I know so. Never doubt it. Now, come on, don’t let your first act as High Priestess be arriving late at an important ceremony. You’ll forgive me if I don’t attend. I’ll take advantage of my one day off to have an early rest. I’m not all that young anymore…”

“Of course, Alberta. Good night.”

“Goodbye, my child.” After a last squeeze of Sophia’s hand, the hunched old woman turned around and shuffled away, humming softly to herself. Sophia watched her go before glancing up at the setting sun and hurrying to the demon’s side. The animals all woke and scattered at her approach—the goat not without snatching an apple first.

Sam opened her eyes as soon as Sophia reached her.

“Hey,” she said groggily, her dumb grin creeping back on her dark face. “You’re better.”

“I am.” Sophia hesitated. “Thank you… for asking.”

Sam’s smile broadened then turned into a wide yawn.

“Tired?” Sophia wondered how someone could sleep so much of the day. She would get frantic from all the things she could be doing instead, and she would never manage to get a wink of rest.

“Humans are weird,” Sam mumbled.

The priestess had no idea what to make of that answer. Was it even an answer to her question? Or just a random statement the demon saw fit to make in this instant? She decided not to fret it right now. “We should get going. We’ll be late for the funeraAAAL!!” The demon had suddenly jumped on her feet and pulled a startled Sophia in her arms.

“Where?”

“Whe-Where what?”

“The funeral?”

“Err… In the yard in front of the big temple. But why-YYYYYYYYYYYY!!”

They were in the air. Wind rushed through Sophia’s hair, untying her already loose bun. Wild strands flailed and whipped behind her. Her robes flapped madly around her. Scared out of her mind, she clung desperately to the hard body pressed against her and buried her face in the fur coat that smelled strangely of fireplace and pine.

As abruptly as it had come, the sensation of falling at high speed ended with a hard shock and the cracking of stone. Sophia was still shivering and holding to Sam as if her life depended on it. Whispers eventually reached her, and she pushed away.

First, she looked up at the demon’s stupidly smug grin; then she nervously turned around to meet the gazes of the entire Temple. All were staring at her with bugged eyes of stunned disbelief. A few of the younger ones literally had their jaws hanging.

That idiotic demon had jumped all the way to the temple yard.

And she had done so in front of everyone, while Sophia hugged her like a needy child.

…O my goddess, why me?

* * *

Things went thankfully and unexpectedly smoothly after that.

Sophia had anticipated uncomfortable questions about Sam’s impossible jump, but most people happily chalked it up to the giant strongwoman being a weird nonhuman warrior-mage from the mainland. The children seemed to downright worship the demon, much to Sophia’s distress. But before she could intervene, she was dragged away by a beehive of priestesses in a hurry to ready her for the ceremony.

She was rinsed in blessed water. Her hair was pulled up in a tight bun that pulled on her scalp. Finally, she was garbed in robes far more ostentatious than what she usually wore. She almost protested, then realised these were the official ceremonial robes of the High Priestess.

In normal circumstances, she would not have had to wear the garb, even for this. The Temple was a large extended family of sorts. They did not need all the pomp and circumstance, which was reserved for the pilgrims who visited in summer.

But obviously, the priestesses dressing Sophia had received orders. This was to be a statement, announcing her new title to the faithful in the most official way they could. Since she was to leave in the morrow, there would be no time to organise a proper inauguration.

That realisation came to Sophia bitterly. Despite all her insecurities, she had been looking forwards to becoming the High Priestess. She had been groomed for the position her entire life. As a child, she had dreamed of her inauguration like other little girls dreamed of their future wedding.

And now, she was being rushed through it and basically kicked out of the Temple for a year. She tried to think magnanimous thoughts, but she could not help feeling wrong. To the other priestesses’ congratulations and compliments, she responded with a strained smile.

Being pushed towards a raised podium and lectern, Sophia steadied herself and composed a circumstantially solemn face. Her affected expression quickly turned sincere when she saw the distraught crowd of people gathered before her. Like a sudden tidal wave, their contagious sadness threatened to overwhelm her. Then she spotted Sam’s foot-long grin towering over the assembly, and strangely, the incongruity of it helped calm her down.

Sophia raised her head and took a deep breath.

“Today… Today, I stand in front of you all with a deep hole in my heart. And this is not just my heart that has a hole. It is all of yours as well.” Her eyes swept over the gathered men, women and children. “Father, son, brother, or friend, we all lost someone irreplaceable today. We are all gathered here today to honour the life of eleven incredible men, men who fought to the end and never gave up, never begged, never turned their back, men who stayed true to their hearts, men… without whom I would not be here today.”

After her first hesitation, the words came flowing unhampered. These people did not need empty platitude. They only needed her sincerity to allow their own pain to pour out.

“I wasn’t able to be as close as many of you were to Thomas… David… Michael… James… Charles… Christian… Joseph… Dennis… Paul… Daniel… and Stephen. I felt, like I’m sure all of you, that there would be more time: one more winter evening by the fireplace; one more of Hertha’s pies shared in the gardens; one more passing chat after the service; one more story night at the barracks; one more… one more trip to Fair Isle Landing.” Her voice broke at that last one. She had to pause to settle her emotion, lest she collapsed in tears in front of everyone. She could not do that.

Before she continued, she searched the crowd for one man in particular. She found his gaze, and he nodded determinately to her unspoken question.

She returned to facing the whole crowd. “I thought there would be more time. But there wasn’t. Members of our family were ripped from us today, by monsters in the skin of men, who knew nothing of honour, love, or friendship, nothing of what they destroyed, nothing of the precious souls they took from us. But we knew. And we will forever keep Thomas, David, Michael, James, Charles, Christian, Joseph, Dennis, Paul, Daniel, and Stephen, all of them alive, in our hearts.

“Let us remember who we lost, as they died, but also as they lived, so that their memories stay with us until the day we are reunited, in the gods’ grace, in Elysium. I wish I could find the words to do these extraordinary men justice, but I waited too long to know them. So, in my place, I will let a man speak who knew these men as brothers, and who was there to witness their ultimate act of courage.

“Francis, if you please?”

White as a sheet, the man untangled himself from his wife’s supportive embrace and walked stiffly to the lectern. Sophia gladly stepped back for him, retreating out of view to swallow a sob.

Francis’ speech was short—but gut-punching with emotion and sincerity. He spoke briefly of each of the dead men, retelling a personal anecdote shared with each. He was in tears when he finished, and Sophia briefly envied him his freedom to spill his emotions. But she had to stay collected and conduct the ceremony to the end.

Then she could break down.

After Francis had fallen silent, but showed no sign of moving away from the podium, she stepped forwards. She gently pulled off his hands that were clutching the lectern with white knuckles. She whispered a thank you, then delivered him to the waiting arms of his wife, Elora, while gesturing for a priestess to bring the weeping man a chair.

Despite wanting nothing more than mimic him and sit down in a corner, Sophia forced herself to return to the podium. “Thank you, Francis, for your testimony,” she repeated for everyone to hear. “For a moment, you brought them back to us. Thank you.” She straightened, and in this instant, fully embraced her persona of High Priestess that she had spent a lifetime perfecting. She spread her arms wide and up towards the sky. “But they are not lost! They went into Elysium to join our goddess!”

Her heart skipped a beat then, as she realised she had just told a lie. Rachiel is not in Elysium. She was banished to the mortal world. The truth hit her like a ton of lead. Who was up there to welcome the men who gave their life for hers?

How much of what she believed in was a lie?

By an effort of will, she managed to keep going with only a light stammer. “I-In Elysium, where those we lost before welcomed them with open arms. In Elysium, where they also will wait, in the glory and peace of the gods, to welcome us when our turn comes to walk through the Heavenly Gates. To Elysium, where we now send their bodies, to be reborn at the End of Times. Let us sing, so our voices accompany them in their journey,” she recited the ritual words as if in a trance, watching herself speak with a fervour her frozen soul did not feel.

How much of this is a lie?

She went through the rest of the ritual mechanically, going through the motion off throwing the incense into the pyre waiting to be lit, watching the veiled priestesses carry the bodies onto the pile of wood, blessing the bodies with holy water and oil, and pronouncing the ceremonial plea to the goddess not to turn them away at the gates. A useless plea, she now knew.

How much of this is a lie?

Rachiel was right, Sophia understood now, as she watched all the men, women and children chanting in unison and felt cut from their harmony. Knowledge was indeed a blade that ineluctably wounded its wielder.

Her tasks over, she retreated away from the pyre as Francis stepped up to it, carrying a torch. The guard was still pale, but his tears had dried, and in his haunted eyes shone a hint of steel. He cast his flame into the funeral pyre, and the treated wood ignited instantly.

Sophia stood a mere few steps away from the burning blaze, and yet she felt cold and hollow. She stared ahead like a doll in the shape of a woman, masquerading as the high priestess of a goddess who could answer no prayer.

How much of this is a lie?

She was startled by powerful arms encircling her from behind. She looked up and saw Sam’s black face above her. The demon’s usual grin was disturbingly absent, and she was staring straight at the fire. Strangely, her skin did not reflect the flames. She appeared blacker than the night that was falling around them beyond the light of the fire—like a void in their circle of warmth. And yet, her skin was the warmest of it all.

Sophia could feel the heat radiating from the body behind her, infusing hers and unfreezing her soul. Without thinking, she retreated deeper into the demon’s embrace, pressing her back against the hearth of Sam’s abdomen.

Again, she looked up. Only then did she notice that while Sam’s skin remained as black as a starless, moonless night sky, her amber eyes seemed to contain the entire pyre within them. They burned like Sophia imagined the Fires of Hell would.

“I don’t think I like funerals,” the demon finally said.

Sophia turned back to the real flames and looked up at the embers flying into the night sky.

“I don’t like them either.”

Even as she said so, she could feel her warmed soul at long last grieve for these men who had died for and in front of her. Although she knew not where they went, she had faith it was to a better place.

Closing her eyes, she listened to the music of a multitude of voices singing together, singing their sorrow and their hope of a better tomorrow. Without opening her eyes, she hummed quietly in concert with them, allowing herself to hope as well, wrapped securely in an unbreakable and warm embrace—and uncaring, in this instant, whom these arms belonged to.

Somewhere across the Temple, in a small room, dark and quiet, where the song of the choir echoed distantly, another soul silently passed on, a peaceful smile on her wrinkled face.

* * * * *