L.

Pieces had begun falling into place as she gazed at the sundial

That slowly shifted towards dusk; its shadows falling further

And further. Her plan’s details in accord, her mind in fervour.

All the lore she needed to obtain, she did with grace compile

For her northward traverse. This truly was the perfect night,

Almost poetic in nature! Ríona’s thoughts revelled in spite.

The event of the evening: Inauguration of the juvenile

Demigoddess. This ritual would make that price worthwhile.

LI.

As she leaned on the railing of the brick faced balcony,

Her senses observed the preparations of the whole ordeal:

The clanging of servants as they shaped the grounds so they would appeal

To all who’d attend her tribe’s apogee – this grand ceremony!

But inside, there rampaged a fire full of elation, yet ‘twas a bitter

Mirth of vast hesitancy. She had to trust her mind’s vigour

Henceforth, but luck’s proprietor tugged at her vanity;

Or so she hoped, holding onto her ace of amnesty.

LII.

Tracing through the stories of the goddess, she noted a man

Who would certainly know how to answer her deepest query;

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

For he likewise was a demigod – a kin-in-kind. Yet leery

Was he; careful one has to be with those of foreign clan!

But she knew, if there ever was one, it’d be him who’d have prod

At the question so close to her heart. “How does a demigod

Become free of the spirit guest?” Time was short as it ran

Without delay. She must find him if there’s to be hope in her plan!

LIII.

With her lore-learning she had begun to uncover talents

None other had ever spoken of before. Through adept perception,

She noticed the influx of traits which were not under her own direction.

They bled and seeped into her as foreign travellers who sought imbalance

Alas oft came with lavish bounty. So too was now her misty

Mind, mysterious even to those of a highly thrifty

Humour and causing languor to all who’d wish to sink their talons

Into her supple soul. Thus, such trance was the fruit of one’s habits.

LIV.

This occasion she deemed as truly sweet, a perfect crime.

With Aurianne in her brief cocoon, all that remained was to wait

And yet the mist of her mind tugged at the sides of her pate,

Demanding ever more fixation; putting more pressure on time.

If she could hold just a while longer, she’d reap the crops that were sown

So many years ago, where the roots of the goddess’ tales were now grown.

That web of lies, though tangled, now a passageway begrime

With unsafe truths, but a path still. A journey of a lifetime!