Sala had more than her fair share of work, but the case of the daughter stuck heavily in her mind. She wanted to do more than just stamp paper for the prayer to be officiated. She also wanted to see what the followers of Noxifer looked like after all these years. So, she sent the attendants to make sure that Solaris would be safe while she was gone before leaving the abode and descending to the earth.
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She landed near the village where the devotees lived. The moss of the earth cushioned her feet, and the air welcomed her devoutly, but she knew well that it would be foolish to go out onto the earth as a woman with such fanciful attire. She then assumed the form of an old lady, hunched and lanky. Around her, she took clothes made of rags and dusted them with the earth beneath her shaky feet. She combed her lanky fingers through her hair, deciding whether she should cover it with the rags. She decided against it and began wandering towards the village.
“Not enough,” she mused, picking up a fallen branch from a tree to use as a stave. Much to her annoyance, her office carried on, and the branch flowered. She plucked off each of the flowers, letting them fall to the earth, but more sprung up in their place.
“Curse you, you stu-” she stopped when the wood recoiled in her hand and withered away. She bit the inside of her cheek, staring at the branch with a new-found amusement.
“All things are one, I suppose,” she chuckled half-heartedly, before carrying on towards the village. Sala crept towards the perimeter when she fell still. Her brow furrowed in apprehension. She sighed, moving her aching bones to the back of a home, she slumped onto the stairs and thought over the issue. Something bothered her, but she couldn’t figure it out. She felt like she was intruding and going against her office.
She sat down on a slab near one of the smaller houses and stared out into the forest that unfolded below her. Sala jumped when she heard a lady nearby with a basket. The lady, entirely unaware of Sala’s presence, put down a basket of laundry, which she studiously hung up on the railings of her home. She left back into the building, and Sala had a wonderful idea. She inched forward, crawling close to the floor, and stole the basket from the railing. The deity snapped off a piece of her branch and breathed over it. It sprouted bright flowers, which she then took off and deposited into the basket. This continued until Sala had a basket of fragrant flowers with which she could finally complete her disguise. A sigh left her chapped lips as she thought over the days that she and Ava would play hide-and-seek, using such forms to their advantage. Groaning, she got up and settled against her staff, basket in hand, and wandered towards the house of Noctifer’s hidden devotees.
The house was small—not too small by village standards. Sala assumed that most of it was storage for grain, but now wasn’t the time for thoughts about structure. She knocked on the door, hissing when a splinter broke off into her skin. A young girl who had not seen sleep for a good while promptly opened it.
“Hello, I have some flowers I’d like to sell if you’d be willing,” Sala said, imitating the croak of an old woman. She presented her basket to the girl, who looked over the flowers with a sense of unease.
“You wouldn’t happen to have any healing herbs, would you?”
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“What type?”
“A snake bit my sister; we didn’t catch the stupid thing, but now she’s writhing like a maniac,” the girl spat unintentionally. Her face softened when she realized the tone of voice she had given Sala.
“May I come in?” Sala said quietly, a gentle smile creasing the skin of her eyes. The girl stared beyond Sala but nodded and stepped aside. Sala entered the warm house, seeing the markings of a home. She turned the place over in her head, taking in all the minor details. Turning to the side, she saw something covered with a red and black cloth. It was very hard for a god to hide from another god, and so she winked at the statue of Noctifer that hid underneath the cloth.
This did not go unnoticed by the girl, who narrowed her eyes during the interaction.
“Eva, who is it?” I called a man from upstairs. Eva, so the girl was called, bowed quickly before climbing up the ladder to the second floor of the building, where she spoke to an unseen man. Eventually, the two returned.
“I’m sorry, Aunty; we’ve just been busy with my daughter. My hus-” the man caught himself. That’s when Sala smiled inwardly.
“My wife went down to the market, and” the man took a breath, steeling himself for the continuation of a long, life-defying lie. Sala only chuckled, waving her spindly hand dismissively.
“My child, don’t worry about names. Your husband is down at the market; that is all there is to it.”
The man almost fainted with relief, seeing the accepting gaze of Sala through the eyes of an old woman. It made sense now why they went to Noctifer, who so readily accepted the outcast. The deity could not help but smile widely as she walked to the ladder, scaling it without issue. Sala didn’t stop to reconsider the movement. She could easily be an old woman who climbed.
‘Old women climb, right?’ thought Sala as she came to the second story of the house. It was a simple single room with bedrolls. There, in the corner, was a girl still writhing and groaning in the empty air around her. Medicine and various tools surrounded her bedroll. They were just delaying the inevitable. Sala shuffled towards the girl, sitting down next to her. The writhing stopped for a moment—the effects of a deity’s presence. When the girl looked up, her skin flushed with sweat and paled beyond words. She smiled weakly. Sala reached out and stroked the girl’s temple, ushering her into a small sleep.
She took a flower from her robe and twirled it around her finger.
“How fragile life can be,” she mused to herself. The other two climbed up to the rooms, staring at Sala from the dark corners. The old woman brought with her an unusual scent, filled with incense and petals. Sala didn’t mind their watching; she hoped they were. They’d declare this a miracle of Noctifer, and, for once, she was glad that another took credit for her work.
She blew onto the pink petals of the flower, igniting its spirit, before putting it in the sleeping girl’s mouth.
“I conjure you by the sixty names of the serpents that guide the chariot of the sun,” she whispered into the girl’s ear. There was a sizzling sound, followed by the girl choking. She sat up immediately and spat out the flower, which decayed rapidly, carrying the poison of the snake. She coughed a bit more, and her father immediately brought a vessel into which she vomited. Hazily, the girl looked up. Though still sick, and sick for a while, she slowly regained color in her cheeks. Sala smiled and looked over at her father, who held his girl tightly to his chest. He was crying, and the sight only made her melt further.
“Thank you, Aunty,” he said between sobs.
“Thank Noctifer,” she said plainly, threading her fingers together. The man’s eyes widened at the mention of the deity. He nodded frantically, his tears streaming more. He turned back to his girl, kissing her head with glee. The entire scene stopped when the girl continued to retch into the vessel again. It would take a while, but she was glad. Sala stood up, shuffled back to the ladder, and passed the girl, who stared dumbfounded.
“Thank you, Melanotheos,” the girl whispered in shock. Sala climbed down the ladder, picking up her staff. The fabric that covered the statue caught her eyes. Slowly, she grabbed up the basket of flowers and wandered towards the table. She pulled the cloth off the statue, revealing a clay sculpture. It was handmade, with the fingerprints still visible.
“Your devotees always had a strange way to them,” was all she said as she took up the flowers and began placing them around at the feet of the deity.
“Still, they love you as a father, a mother, a child, a husband, a wife, and anything else that they see you as. That is a gift which is only earned by a great deity,” she added with the last flower.