Nethira’s mother kissed her cheek and said that they would meet up inside the temple. They parted ways at the corner where Nethira promised to meet Ismara so they could walk together. She pulled uncomfortably at the ceremonial robes she was required to wear. Layers of black cotton laid neatly together to create a simple dress. In the Tilliana Temple, there was no distinction between priest and practitioner like there was in most of the other temples. When you chose to devote yourself to the Mother of Magick you chose to live the rest of your life as a student amongst her ranks. All worshippers of Tillia were welcomed into the inner sanctum of the marble stone palace just as a priest or priestess was. So on holidays like this, every Brother and Sister would proudly don the uniform.

“Nethira!” She heard the sweet chime of Ismara’s voice as she trotted up. The blue tones of Ismara’s nicest dress looked lovely against to the neat braid she’d done her hair into. This sort of apparel was much more common amongst festive city folk than Nethira’s bleak attire.

“Wow! Are these your Shadow Woman clothes? I’ve never seen them before,” Ismara said, walking in a curious circle, poking at the layers of fabric like a street cat looking for bits of food. “All of the worshippers wear them,” Nethira said with a small huff. “But it’s so hot. Too much black for this time of year,” She grumbled.

Ismara laughed a little, hooking her arm around Nethira’s so they could begin their trip towards the city center. “At least you look nice. Maybe you’ll find a husband today too!” She said with a little laugh, nudging Nethira.

“I don’t want a husband,” Nethira retorted.

“Awww, but Net, how are our children supposed to grow up and get married if you don’t find a husband!” She pouted.

Nethira nearly spit out her laughter. “What? When did we decide our children were getting married?” These were her favorite moments with Ismara. She lived such a fantastical life. She believed anything she put her heart to would come true, even if it involved other people.

“Just now! I’ve decided that’s how we’ll keep in touch!” She grinned, holding her friends arm tighter.

As they walked and laughed, the buildings slowly rose into the sky, transforming from little wooden stalls to stone buildings, growing taller and more lovely as they made their way towards the center of the city. Soon they found themselves in the wealthy district, sprawling manors of white stone and colored glass, but even these homes were nothing compared to the center of the city.

Crossing through the threshold was like taking a step through a portal into a fairytale land. The palaces of the Gods scraped at the sky, rising high towards the clouds. Each more beautiful than the last. Glistening marble embellished with the finest stone and etched with gold and precious jewels. The Pillars outside the temples had been adorned with flowers and ribbons, holding small trinkets in thanks to their holy protectors. The streets were filled with the essences of merriment. Stalls sold delicious snacks and handmade trinkets. Street performers littered corners and awed children with their music and tricks. People, from the most wealthy politician to the poorest beggar mingled together as equals beneath the gaze of the gods.

“I love Marilies! This is my favorite festival!” Ismara cooed in excitement, stopping to look at one of the stalls selling little beaded hairpins. “Me too,” Nethira said, giving a tug on her arm to keep her from getting distracted. Ismara would play with trinkets for hours if left unattended.

Before them was one of the grander temples. It stood out against the others, made of black marble and adorned with fresh herbs and ribbons of red and green. Not far past the front stairs leading up to the large silver offering bowl were ornate iron gates, protected by priests of the temple. Only a few people who weren’t dressed in the ceremonial attire were walking up to place small offerings in the main collection bowl. These were people who had not chosen Tillia as their patron, but people who instead hoped for small blessings from her.

Not long after approaching, Ismara pulled away. “Come meet me outside of Fidta’s temple when you’re done! I’ll wait for you over there,” She said, kissing her friends cheek. Nethira didn’t take offense to Ismara’s reluctance to hang around outside the temple. The young woman had chosen to walk amongst the shadows. She couldn’t be upset when others were scared of what lurked in the dark.

She bid farewell to her friend and ascended the stone staircase, slowly approaching the iron gate. This was the first time she’d come to the temple without being directly accompanied by her mother.

“Blessings of the Night to you, little Sister,” one of the priestesses guarding the gate said. Nethira inclined her head in a small greeting in return. After the two stood there for a moment, the woman gave her a patient smile. “Is this your first time visiting, Little Sister?” She asked. “My first time alone,” Nethira answered.

“Ahah, don’t worry, entering is quite easy. Do you see all those red ropes hanging from the door?” The priestess asked, pointing behind her. “All you have to do is whisper your name to it, and untie one. If you are a Sister, the door will open for you,” She explained.

Nethira felt a tremble creep up her spine. “I haven’t performed my first spell yet,” She muttered. She’d helped her mother with things like charms and fortune telling, but she hadn’t tried anything on her own.

“Don’t worry little Sister, this is hardly a spell. You’ll be fine,” She assured, ushering her over to the thin red ropes that were strung along the ironwork of the gate. With careful hands she took one of the ropes in her hands, holding it close to her lips. “Nethira Tilliana,” She whispered to it, before pulling the knot gingerly apart. She heard a sudden creek as the door opened for her. The priestess gave her a reassuring smile. “Go on little Sister,” She said.

This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

When Nethira entered the temple the iron gate closed behind her. The building was dark despite the time of day. There weren’t any skylights to let in the sun. Torches hung every few feet and large brazier sat in the center of the rooms. It was quiet in the Temple, even if they were only a few strides away from the gate. It wasn’t a crushing silence though. It was comforting and welcoming. The hall was filled with the scent of burning herbs and incense. She could pick out a few. Sage for cleansing and sweet grass for protection.

“Nethira, you made it.”

Nethira heard the welcoming call of her mother as she entered the main hall. Her mother came from the shadows, the black fabric fluttering around her as she glided across the floor. “Mother!” Nethira felt warmth fill her as she trotted to meet her. “Have you already given Tillia your offering?” Nethira asked.

“I have,” She smiled. “I think she will quite enjoy the spell I wrote for her.”

“Let me go give mine! And then we can go meet Father and Na!” Nethira insisted, pulling a small, leather-bound book out from her robes. She was eager to enjoy the festival. Even though the atmosphere of the temple was relaxing, she wanted to be a part of the excitement outside.

“Before you do, there are a few people I would like you to meet.” Her mother’s voice shouldn’t have changed. The tone was the same, her pitch and candor were the same, and yet somehow those words seemed foreboding. “Meet people?” She asked curiously, taking her mother’s arm. Noh simply nodded, guiding her to the room she’d just come out of.

The room seemed pitch black until it didn’t. It was a strange sensation, entering into a room that was otherwise lightless and emerging through the curtain of darkness to be met with the brightness of a well-lit torch. The room looked to be a private study of sorts. Three others sat in chairs, perhaps waiting for her. Nethira recognized one of the men. The sharp-eyed priest who often walked her mother home when she stayed late. The other two were unfamiliar to her. A relaxed and beautiful woman, and a man with hair the color of a fire’s flame. All three of them gave her an uncomfortable amount of attention when she entered the room.

The flame-haired man gave her a loose smile. “Is this your daughter, Noh? The one you mentioned?” He asked. She nodded, wrapping her arm around Nethira’s shoulders and pulling her forward. “Nethira, I’d like your to meet the Temple’s inner circle,” She said, smiling. Now Nethira was wracked with confusion. The Inner circle was the temples governing body. The members who could speak to and interpret the goddess’s commands. In this city, the governing bodies of the temples were practically the land’s Lords. Out of the hundreds of members of the temple why were they associated with her mother, a simple fortune teller?

“It’s lovely to meet you, Little Sister,” The woman said, inclining her head a bit in greeting. “My name is Ror, I am the Right hand of Tillia. This is Shannon, he is her Left hand. Has your mother explained the Hands to you yet?” she inquired. It was quite obvious that the group was trying to be as unimposing as possible in front of the girl, but somehow she was left shaking nervously nonetheless.

Nethira nodded a little in response. “The Hands work together to interpret the oracles delivered by Tillia,” She said.

“That’s quite the simplified answer, Noh,” The Left hand, Shannon said to her mother. Tillia felt a flash of shame at the idea that her answer wasn’t good enough. She tried to catch her mother’s eyes to give her a silent apology, but she didn’t seem bothered. Sweetly, she just smiled it off.

“She is still studying, I wasn’t expecting to find myself in this position,” Her mother answered. Shannon let out a disappointed sigh, but the sharp-eyed priest interrupted him.

“Elder Brother, please do not be difficult,” He said. “Allow me to explain a little more in depth. The Left and Right hand are Tillia’s most trusted servants. They act as counterbalances for each other so that one single person doesn’t have the power to solely interpret her will. They act to guide the Temple together.” He said.

“Sometimes we’ll hear her voice directly, though it’s been a very long time since either of us have,” Ror said.

“O-oh! It’s very nice to meet you, Elder Brother and Elder sister. I-I’m sorry I didn’t know,” She said, bowing to her elders. Nethira had no idea she was speaking with such important people. She had shown such disrespect to the leaders of their temple!

“She’s so much more respectful than you, Noh,” Shannon commented with a small grin. “She’s such a good girl, isn’t she. I don’t know where she gets it from. Certainly not me or her father.”

Confusion forced Nethira to peek her head up again to look at the group. None of them seemed upset by what she’d said. She was still a young student, she didn’t spend much time around more seasoned priests and priestesses. She knew from her brother that the other temples were quite rigid about the structure between the masses. Maybe this was another example of how Temple Tilliana was different.

“Nethira, We wanted to meet you to ask a favor of you,” Ror said, standing up and walking over to the girl. She put her hands warmly on her shoulders. She felt a physical warmth spiral from her shoulders down her body, relaxing her muscles. Nethira looked up to her meeting her eyes. She must’ve just used some sort of spell on her.

“A favor?” Nethira asked curiously. What sort of favor could the servants of Tillia ask of her? Ror nodded. “We’d like you to make a secluded offering, on your own.”

Maybe it was because her head was feeling like it was wrapped in cotton all of the sudden, but Nethira’s confusion wasn’t dispelled. “I don’t understand…” she muttered.

The three priests and her Mother talked her in circles. They kept repeating things like she was going to be doing something special, that this was going to be a huge favor to the Temple, that nothing was happening. They contradicted themselves saying that she was both in a special and mundane situation, being asked to pray to Tillia on her own.

Nethira was left in the dark. The poor girl was being pulled to and fro like a small boat at sea. All she could do was nod along with the four adults. She held onto the small book she was going to use for her offering.

Moments later she found herself in the cleared out sanctuary. She’d never seen the room the grand offering hall emptied out. Unlike many temples, they didn’t have a statue of their goddess. She was to represent knowledge and understanding, and that could not be captured in physical form. Instead, there were three vases placed neatly on a stone altar filled with an arrangement of ceremonial flowers, and in front of them the bronze basin that she was to use to put the offering in.

The door shut behind her, leaving her alone in the dimly lit room. All she could hear was her own heart beating in her ears and the click of her sandals against the stone floor. The cloth of the black robes swept around her like the flickering shadows as she approached the basin. Nethira placed the small, leather-bound book in the bowl and took the torch that hung beside it, placing it inside the bowl to light the offering.

As the flame kissed the binding of the book a strong wind whipped through the closed, windowless room. Every torch was snuffed out, and darkness befell her surroundings.