When Priya awoke, she was alone.

Everything hurt; her head especially.

Her hands were no longer bound, but her right shoulder was twisted, hanging loose from its socket.

She gagged, her tongue pushing against the rag that was still stuffed in her mouth. Reaching in, she pulled it out. Her throat clenched and nausea overcame her. Priya leaned over, retching next to the cool coals of what remained of last night’s fire.

Pushing herself upright with her good arm, Priya grimaced, crying out in pain causing her broken lip to split open, a copper taste filling her mouth.

Leaning into the ground, Priya pushed her shoulder back into the socket until it popped. She cried out at the suddenness of pain and as feeling rushed back into her fingers. She massaged her shoulder and flexed her hand.

She felt dirty. She felt unclean.

She felt violated and abused.

The inside of her legs hurt. Reaching down between them, Priya felt something wet and sticky, and when she brought her hand back into view, she saw blood on her fingertips. Her trousers were ripped and laying crumpled on the floor near the fire. Priya picked them up, shook them out, and gingerly put them back on.

Shakily, she pushed herself up. First kneeling on the floor. Pausing, trying to gather her strength. Then, rocking back onto her heels, she stood. The room swayed and she pushed out her hands to steady herself.

When the world stopped moving, Priya looked up through the opening in the roof. It was daylight. How late in the day it was, she did not know.

Priya’s cloak lay nearby as well as her satchel of medicines. She slid the cloak over her clothes, thankful for the warmth, and slipped her satchel over her shoulder. Opening the satchel, she reach inside, feeling the jar that held The Mother’s medicine. She breathed a sigh of relief.

Her other senses were beginning to come back to her and she could hear the village buzzing about outside. Above all of the noise, she could hear Cleric Ingolf above the fray, calling out the village’s sins and their need for repentance.

Anger brewed within her. She could feel his hands upon her again and she hated him for what he had done to her. While he spoke of God and holiness, he was not of Eusou and not a holy man. He was the darkness she had seen in her vision. He was the terror that rolled across Terra burning everything in its path.

But she was stronger than he.

Eusou was stronger.

The Mother was, as well.

Pushing the bearskin away from the entrance, Priya stumbled out of the House of Eusou. She raised a hand, warding off the bright light of the sun that only made her head feel worse.

“Cleric Ingolf!” she roared.

Rounding the corner of the sacred space, she saw him, standing in the middle of the village, elevated on a small platform, surrounded by four of his armed men. The men’s bows were held at the ready, an arrow held to the string, and several more planted in the ground in front of them.

“Ingolf!” Priya called again, her voice cracking. She spat blood onto the ground.

Cleric Ingolf saw her stumbling toward him. “See? See!” he called, gesturing towards her. “This is where your sin has led you!”

Priya must have made a horrible sight, because many of the villagers, ones she had grown up and had tended to over the past several months, gasped, backing away from her, covering their mouths in shock.

Anissa and Gal ran to her. Priya stumbled into them, her knees buckling. She couldn’t speak, but she screamed, pointing a shaking finger at the man who had violated her.

“Behold!” the cleric cried out. “Behold the judgment of the Lord!”

“What happened?” Anissa whispered. Her eyes took in Priya’s bloodied mouth, the cuts on her face, the torn clothing. It was answer enough, but still she pleaded with Priya. “Tell me.”

“You have been led astray,” Cleric Ingolf said, pointing to Priya. “There are those amongst you who have led you away from the one true God. This one seems so pure and sweet but is nothing but a temptress and charlatan. A whore! A sinner of the filthiest kind!”

Priya could see Kuji, Aiden and Samuel gathered on the far edge of the village center near Artamos’ house. Where was Arcas? They were not armed, but Kuji was watching her, leaning over to Aiden and Samuel whispering to them. Aiden ducked into the butcher’s house and Samuel looped around it heading to his house.

Artamos, Josif, and Aaron were on the far southern side of the village center. Their arms were crossed, watching the cleric. They did not trust his words, that much was clear. Aaron caught Priya’s eye and his brows arched in concern. Then his eyes shifted away from hers and Priya followed his gaze.

There, next to the cold fire, lay a bound and gagged Tohki. Her hair was plastered to her forehead by a stream of dried blood that trailed down her face and her neck.

“Tohki!” Priya cried out, trying to pull herself out of her mother’s grip. But Anissa’s grip was firm.

Tohki stirred, lifting her head slightly. Her eyes found Priya’s and she offered her a weak smile.

“Only God can heal,” Cleric Ingolf intoned. “Only he, through his ministers, can heal. These women have deceived you, working their magic and magic of the land upon you.”

“Let me go, Mamae,” Priya pleaded. “Please. Mamae, please.” She fell to her knees, Tohki’s name a whisper on her lips.

“I will make this very simple for you to understand,” the cleric said. “Repent of your ways. Renounce the magic of these healers. Renounce The Mother. Bow to the one true God. Swear allegiance to the Imperial Master. And you will be saved. You will come with us across the mountains and join us in the ancient cities. There you will work to atone for your sins and the sins of your ancestors. Only then will you be free.”

Artamos raised his voice. “That is not our way. You have no jurisdiction here. This is our land, our homes.”

A wicked smile stretched across Cleric Ingolf’s face, making him look like a wolf; a hungry wolf who has just found his next dinner. “This land is not your land. These homes are not your homes. This land is the Imperial Master who speaks on behalf of God. And it is by his decree that we are here.”

Aaron spoke next, his voice shaking. “And what if we refuse?”

The cleric paused, turning his gaze so that it passed over every man, woman and child gathered. “Then you will die.”

Priya finally twisted out of her mother’s arms and ran to Tohki.

At the sudden movement, one of the four men raised his bow at Priya.

Aaron ran towards her, his hands raised defensively, shielding his daughter.

The man lowered his bow, stepping back into his place in front of the cleric.

Rolling Tohki over, Priya rested her head in her lap. She brushed the hair from the Crone’s eyes and pulled the gag from her mouth. “I’m here, Tohki. I’m here.”

Tohki’s voice was strained. “It’s alright, child. It will be alright.”

Priya began to pull at the ropes that bound Tohki’s hands.

“Stop!” cried Cleric Ingolf. “Do not release her. If you do, I will have my men fire upon you and you will die.”

“She didn’t do anything wrong!” Priya screamed at him. “She is just an old crone.”

“She is a witch!” Cleric Ingolf spat. “As are you.”

“She is no witch and neither am I. We are healers. That is all we are.” Priya hung her head, rubbing Tohki’s hands.

“You are not healers!” Cleric Ingolf roared. “You corrupt with your tricks and your wickedness. You are unworthy of God’s love, both of heaven and of earth. You have surrounded yourself with sin and have become slaves of worldly pleasures. But I am here to save you. I am here to lead you back to God’s Light. Renounce your sins. Renounce your worldly ways. Turn back! Turn back!”

“Leave us!” Artamos called. “We welcomed you here with open arms; full of Eusou’s love. You have spat on our hospitality, vomiting it out like a sick dog, and we rescind our welcome.”

Cleric Ingolf raised his hand, twisting his fingers in the air, and one of the men pulled back his bow and let loose.

The arrow thudded into Artamos’ thick chest. He gasped, looking at the protruding arrow. Raising a hand, he touched the feathers and his knees gave out. Without uttering a word, he fell to the side, wheezing out a final breath.

“Artamos!” Gal screamed, running to him.

A second arrow was fired and Gal fell still on top of her partner.

People screamed, running forward. More arrows shot forward, dropping them in their tracks.

The dogs of the village ran forward, snapping and baring their teeth. But they had never known violence like this, except for the hungry wolf they would occasionally chase off. And they were quickly shot down before they could reach the archers.

Aiden and Samuel appeared from behind nearby houses with spears in hand, running forward, leaning back as if to throw, but the cleric’s men were too fast and too deadly with their aim. An arrow ripped through Aiden’s throat. He dropped his spear, stumbling as he clutched his throat, trying to stem the tide of blood that ran down his front. Samuel was shot in the leg, causing him to trip and fall. As a second arrow took him in the center of his forehead, he failed to rise.

Kuji was behind them. He leaned back, launching his spear with all of his might. It took one of the archers in the chest, sending him catapulting back, knocking the cleric off his pedestal. Several arrows thudded into Kuji’s chest and he fell, his eyes glazed over before he hit the ground.

“Stop it! Stop it!” Priya screamed. She used her body to shelter Tohki and she felt her father’s arms wrapped around her, protecting her. But his body shuddered, his arms growing loose, and then he slid off of her. “Papai!” she called, but she didn’t dare lift her head to look.

But then, all was quiet.

The screams of terror at the sudden bloodshed turned to wails of mourning.

Lifting her head, Priya saw Aaron laying on the ground next to her, an arrow embedded in his back, close to his spine.

All around her the people she had grown up with and had known and loved were dying or laid dead. But there was no time to mourn.

Hearing a moan near her, Priya turned to see Tahel with an arrow in his thigh. Tahel’s hands were wrapped around his leg, holding it, but not doing much to help stop the bleeding.

Pryia looked to the cleric and his men. They were crouched, in a defensive position, with arrows nocked and ready to fire again, with several more sticking into the dirt in front of them.

She moved to Tahel slowly, her hands raised.

“Tahel, it will be alright,” she whispered.

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Tahel nodded, whimpering.

Examining the arrow, she saw that it was thankfully in the meat of his thigh and not embedded in the bone. It wasn't deep and bleeding was minimal so it hadn’t hit an artery. “This is going to hurt,” she whispered. Grasping the arrow, she slowly pulled it out, making sure she didn’t twist it. Tahel bit his lip, but didn’t scream. Reaching for her satchel, she moved it to her front.

Looking up, she saw one of the cleric’s men watching her. It was the same one who had held her down while Ingolf had his way with her. Her stomach turned at the thought, but she pushed it down, letting it feed her anger instead. “I am trying to help him, you fool!” Priya reached into her satchel, removing a bandage and several calendula flowers, holding them up for the man to see that she wasn’t armed. She packed the flowers into the wound before wrapping it tightly, tucking the edge of the bandage underneath the wrap to hold it in place.

Cleric Ingolf had found his footing again, standing up and brushing the dirt and brush that clung to his once pristine black robes. He pointed furiously at Priya. “Don’t let that whore work her magic!”

Priya heard the creak of a bowstring being pulled taut, but she ignored it. Standing up, she glared at Ingolf, daring him to order his men to shoot her through. But he didn’t.

The bloodshed was centered in front of the cleric’s podium. Anissa was safe. She was holding the hands of Damon and Thekla who were trying to go to their fallen brothers, Aiden and Samuel. Josif was off to the otherside of the village center, holding his youngest, Ami in his arms. Galia knelt crying over the fallen forms of her mother and father.

Nearly everyone that had moved against the cleric and his men were dead where they laid.

Asa hung on by a thread, resting with her back against one of the buildings, her legs spread out in front of her. One hand clutched the arrow embedded in her stomach, her blacksmith apron black with blood, while the other held firmly the handle of her ax.

Priya knelt by her, inspecting her wound.

“I cannot feel my legs, Priya,” Asa whispered through clenched teeth.

Priya lifted Asa’s blacksmith apron and saw that the blood had pooled beneath her. She was bleeding out fast. “I am sorry, Asa. I do not know how to fix this.”

Asa gripped Priya’s arm, pleading with her eyes. “Do not waste your time with me. Give me something so I can pass peacefully. That is all I ask.”

Priya reached into her satchel and pulled out a stoppered glass vial. It held a thick white viscous that was harvested from seed pods before they bloomed into vibrant yellow flowers. Tohki warned against its use. Only enough to coat the tip of a needle was to be used when someone was in pain. Priya held the vial up to Asa’s mouth and let several drops fall into her mouth.

“Thank you,” Asa said. “May Eusou bless you.”

“May The Mother welcome you into her arms,” Priya replied.

Priya sat with her until her eyes closed and her breath stilled.

Who was left? Priya stood surveying the village center. Twelve lay dead, her father among them. Josif survived with his daughters and two of his younger sons. Anissa and Galia.

But where was Arcas?

Where was her dear friend?

Where was the one that she loved?

“Arcas?” she called, her voice breaking. “Arcas!”

And then she saw him, down the footpath, coming out of the woods. Even at this distance she could see him smile; that wonderful golden smile. Slung over his shoulder were several rabbits and in his hand he held a bow.

As knowing crossed his face, Arcas dropped the rabbits onto the dirt and began to run towards the village as Ulan and Viggo stepped out of the trees behind him.

Priya runs to him, waving her arms. She points to the forest, shouting, “Run! Run!”

But Arcas sees her. He sees her torn clothes, the blood on her face and cloak and knows. He knows that something terrible has happened and he runs. And as he runs, he nocks an arrow, holding it against the string. He sees the cleric yelling, screaming and spitting, as he points at Priya, urging his men to stop her. He sees the bows raised and he looses his own. The arrow streaks past Priya, pointed towards the cleric, tearing a red, bloody line across Ingolf’s cheek.

Something catches his shoulder, pushing him forward, unbalanced. Arcas rights himself and continues to run. He reaches behind him and feels the protruding wood of an arrow in the meat of his shoulder. Momentary confusion crosses his mind. Who shot him from behind? Was it Ulan? Or Viggo? Moments ago they were laughing and teasing each other. Why would they shoot him? But his thoughts are stopped when two more arrows punch him through the front, hitting his breast and stomach.

Arcas falls to his knees as Priya reaches him, catching him before he hits the ground. She cries out his name and to Arcas it is the most beautiful sound he has ever heard.

The arrows are sharp and ugly. They should not be in Arcas. Not one so young and pure. He did not deserve to be cut down at a distance by cowards. He deserved a death fitting of his heart and soul.

Priya touches his wounds, unsure how to stop the bleeding. There is so much blood.

“Arcas! Arcas!” she cries, brushing his hair from his face.

He clutches her hand in his own. “I am sorry, Priya. I am sorry I was not there to protect you.”

“Hush now,” Priya said, her tears falling onto Arcas’ chest, disappearing in the spreading blood. “What happened happened. They would have killed you then if you had stayed.”

Arcas’ breath shuddered. He licked his lips, a trickle of blood escaping, sliding down his cheek. “I am glad I came to you those months ago,” he said slowly, his words measured. “I am glad you told me not to end my life. And I am happy for the help you gave me. It is much better, dying in your arms instead of dying alone.”

“You’re not going to die, Arcas. I will find a way to save you.”

“Priya,” he whispered. “Priya, Priya. I can hear Eusou calling me. I can feel The Mother’s arms holding me just as you hold me now. It is my time. And I am ready.”

“I love you, Arcas.”

“And I you, Priya.”

Arcas’ eyes closed and he breathed his last.

Priya cried. Her heartrending screams broke the silence that spread through the village.

Rough arms grabbed her, dragging her away from Arcas’ corpse. She fought like an animal, trying to tear herself from Ulan and Viggo’s arms, but it was useless.

They threw her at Cleric Ingolf’s feet. He grabbed her by the hair, dragging her upright.

“Do you see?” The cleric gestured cruelly to the bloodshed in the village. His eyes were wide and bloodshot. The deep cut from Arcas’ arrow made him look insane. “This is what your paganish has wrought upon your people!”

Priya spat in his face.

Ingolf laughed, wiping the globule from his cheek. Rounding on her, he smashed his closed fist into the side of her face. Lights exploded in her eyes and she stumbled back dazed.

“If you move, I will have my men kill everyone else here. Do you understand? I will kill everyone and I will curse their remains so that they will never meet God, but will rest forever in the burning pits. Do you understand?”

Trembling, Priya nodded her head.

“Good,” Cleric Ingolf said, smiling. He turned to address the survivors. “I came to you with open arms. I came to you to save you and to welcome you into the warm embrace of God. And this is how you repay me? You could have come peacefully through the mountains with us and lived in the riches of the cities beyond. But you are hateful, vile creatures who do not know the love of God. An example must be made of you. You will not bow before your God, so I will break you so that you will learn to bend.”

He signaled to his men and they began to move through the village center, stacking wood from their winter stores against the Spring Pole, a solitary tree that stood in the village center. In another moon’s passage there the village would have gathered to celebrate the winter’s passing and their gardens’ new life. Strings were hung from the top and the boys and girls, many of which lay dead, would spin and dance while they sang. There, around a symbol of life, they stacked the wood. There, only a few yards away from where they had feasted together the night before.

Cleric Ingolf pointed a crooked finger at Priya. “This girl. This whore is mine.” Priya tried to run, but he grabbed her by the wrist holding her tight. “I claim this girl. I claim her for God.”

“She is not yours to claim!” Anissa called, her fists balled at her side.

By the decree of the Imperial Master, no woman shall be left to their own devices once they have come of age. This one has been learning and practicing magic,” he pointed at Priya. “She thinks she can commune with your gods. She has channeled the evil one’s lies for too long. She must be cowed and saved. Through the power invested in me, I claim her and her soul.”

“No.” Josif’s voice rang out through the vale. “You cannot claim what has already been claimed.”

“What do you mean?” the cleric snarled.

Josif set down Ami and released Thekla’s hand, stepping forward. “I am her husband and she is my wife.”

“Is this true?” Ignolf asked Priya.

Priya froze, her eyes wide, looking at Josif’s kind face, trying to understand what he was offering her.

But Galia, sweet Galia, saved her. “Aye, cleric, it is true.”

“Her?” the cleric gestured at Priya, a look of disgust spreading across his face. “This whore is yours?” Josif nodded. “This whore, who climbed into my bed last night? Who spread herself before me?”

Priya bit back in fear as Ingolf’s words made real the horrors of the night before. Feeling Ingolf’s hand on her arm turned her stomach. “I did not and you know it. You spread false lies. You say you speak with the voice of God, but you speak with the voice of darkness instead.”

“She lies,” Cleric Ingolf said. “She has lied to you before about her medicines. She lies to you now.”

Josif shook his head. “Priya is my wife, but she is no whore.” He gritted his teeth, snarling at the wolf that stood before him. “You took her from me. You beat her and from the looks of her, you raped her.”

Wrenching her arm, Cleric Ingolf threw her to the ground. “Very well.” He raised his voice to those that remained. “But someone will burn tonight.” His eyes fell on Tohki’s bound form.

Ulan and Viggo went to her, grabbing her under her arms and lifted her up from the ground. Her toes scraped the dirt, trying to find purchase. When they did, she steadied herself, straightened her back, and looked at Ingolf.

Where Priya expected to see hatred and vengeance, only love remained.

Love poured out of Tohki as the two men hoisted her over the pile of wood. They bound her hands over her head to the Spring Pole, just like Eusou.

Tohki glowed with love. She surged. It poured out of her like the wind; strong enough to tear through the vale, uprooting trees and men.

But it did not uproot Cleric Ingolf.

He stood firm. His back straight, his chin held high in defiance of Tohki’s love.

It was in that love that Priya saw Tohki’s stillness grow until it fully enveloped her. Eusou, sitting in the seat of Tohki’s soul, which filled every piece of her, looked out through Tohki’s eyes and loved everything he witnessed.

Walking to the smolder cook fire a few paces away, Cleric Ingolf bent down. He pulled a long piece of wood out of the fire, its tip still glowing with last night’s fire. Slowly he walked to the pile of logs that surrounded the Spring Pole and he shoved his burning stick into the base of the woodpile.

For a moment nothing happened. Then thin wisps of smoke began to curl up, growing larger and larger.

Galia cried out in terror for what was to come. Anissa grabbed her, turning her face away.

Josif watched in silence. Holding his daughters’ heads, he buried their faces into his cloak so they would not see.

Tohki held her head high and showed no fear. Only love.

When Cleric Ingolf turned away, Tohki called after him, her voice strong and firm. “Look at me! I was sent from the Power. I was sent from Eusou! I was sent from the one whom you call God. Look at me! Hear me! See me! Witness me!” The cleric finally turned to face her, his eyes full of malice and hate. “I am the first and last. I am the honored and the despised. I am the whore and the holy one. I am the wife and the virgin bride. I am the bride and the bridegroom. I am the mother and the daughter. I was the barren one and the one with many children. I am the midwife and the one who cannot give birth. I am the mother, sister, daughter, father, brother, son of all. I am those who came before and I am all those who came before me. And I love. I love. I love. I love. I love. I love.”

Her voice died out, drifting in the quiet wind that moved through the village.

And in that stillness, Tohki raised her voice and began to sing.

Eusou, what can I say about my soul

that you don't already know?

What can I tell you about my heart

that you don't already know?

I am not the one who is lost.

I am the lost one who is found.

I am not the one who is hidden.

I am the hidden one who is revealed.

Her song was a song to Eusou and it rose and soared as the flames around her grew.

The rose says that I love you,

Because I do not possess you.

I love you because I am poor,

And I am not rich.

It is beautiful to love you in a world without love.

There is more meaning in the smile of a rose

Than in the sea, and in the nightingale's song

The rose is like a star that has fallen.

The rose is like the heart that has fallen to earth.

And it loves. The rose that is a heart, loves.

I love. I love. I love. I love. I love. I love. I love.

When the flames reached her robe, her song, her cry of love, broke off.

Tohki did not scream or cry out.

And through it all, her eyes never left Priya’s.

The eyes of Love.

The eyes of Eusou.

When Tohki’s physical form no longer contained her spirit, Viggo, Ulan and the other men grabbed pieces of wood from the fire and walked about the village setting the various structures ablaze.

No one moved.

No one tried to stop them.

It was inevitable.

Priya had seen this happen in her dreams.

The fire burned through everything Priya had ever known and loved.

Tohki’s hovel went up quickly. All the work. All the herbs. All the medicine they had made and stored. All the knowledge contained within those four walls. Gone.

Priya’s heart cried out when the House of Eusou collapsed under the hungry fire.

One of the men walked down the path to Aaron and Anissa’s farm and set it on fire. Priya could hear the animals calling inside their barn, their voices raised in panic.

Through the crackling fire, the smell of burning wood and flesh, through it all, Priya could still hear Tohki’s song echoing throughout the vale.

I love. I love. I love. I love. I love. I love. I love.

I love. I love. I love. I love. I love. I love. I love.