Rhene

The Woman

• Sun Priestess

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  ///// Maera of Diosiri

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  She is a Priestess of The Sun

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  ///// Daughter of Damiskos

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  She was not overly tall, but she had a presence that made her seem such. Straight backed, proud as any queen, those eyes were a rich honey-hazel shade. Sometimes, they appeared more gold, as though the Sun God himself had touched them with his rays. The woman was His Chosen, after all, His High Priestess. Her skin was a rich warm bronze, and torrents of dark hair the color of strong coffee flowed down to her hips, it was at times, kept held back by a golden circlet, or contained in a woven net, accented with gold as well. Her figure was an exaggerated pear, hips wide and full, clearly childbearing even if that was never to be her fate. Soft pale linens draped her form. Golden bangles clinked gently at her wrists. Her grace was unwavering, practiced, she radiated an aura of power. A mere gesture or word from her could sentence men to death. After all, her word was the word of Ilifos. Her will, was His will.
  
  She was a radiant sun, kissed by darker shadows. After all, there were more than a few rumors. How she had sentenced a man who claimed to be her former lover to his death. Some said it was not simply because of his crimes against the Temple, but to silence him. This was the woman who had turned cold to friends and family, who had isolated herself from them, in devoting herself completely to her God. She was a woman who had already lived a full and fascinating life, and who's story was only just beginning.

  
  

  ///BASICSTATS

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  ☀ Alias [Maera] ☀ Race [Human] ☀ Birth season [Fall] ☀ Gender [Female]

  ☀ Height [5'7''] ☀ Weight [140lbs] ☀ Hair [Brown, long and well kept]

  ☀ Eyes [Hazel] ☀ Ears [Rounded, Human like] ☀ Body [Hour glass shape, tanned skin, well kept.]

  
  
  
  ///INDEPTH

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  ☀ Hygiene [Bathes regularly] ☀ Scars [None] ☀ Scent [Smells of Berries] ☀ Handedness [ Left]

  ☀ Orientation [Bi-sexual with a slight male preference] ☀ Fears [Fears falling from the graces of her god.] ☀ Alignment [Varies on the Neutral scale] ☀Age [34]

  ☀ Occupation [High Priestess of Ilifos] ☀ Known Languages [Various Greek dialects ]

  
  

• Gallery

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• History

  It had occurred to her, from time to time, just how very strange it was to remember it so clearly. It had been nearly eighteen centuries since she'd been human, but she remembered it more clearly than most of her time as a monster. Perhaps it was some part of the curse, for her humanity to be so far gone, so very lost, and at times so near it was like she was still there. As though she could almost expect to just wake up in her bed some morning, back in the Temple, surrounded by the splendor of her god. As though the centuries of being this -thing- were all just a never-ending bad dream.
  
  The memories weren't always so strong. They receded, becoming muddied and distant. Other times, they were so close, so overwhelming, they threatened to swallow her whole. Those were the worst times, when she could remember everything.
  
  
  

  **********************************

  
  
  

  A budding youth.

  The broad rectangular flagstones were warm under her bare feet. Her long tunic dress whipped around at her legs, and she slowed her stride just long enough to pull the garment up to knee height. An extra burst of speed, and a few quick dodges around people shopping in the market brought a string of curses chasing her, but most were half hearted and with no malice. After all how angry could someone really be at a seven year old just being a child? Well, she'd be seven tomorrow, but close enough.
  
  She clutched in her hand a small silver coin. It was enough to get several of the little fried pastries at the vendor on the other side of the market, and still have plenty left over for a toy of some sort. She was tempted to buy a dozen, and try to eat them all in one sitting. (despite warnings she'd get sick) but then she wouldn't have enough for any of the -nice- toys.
  
  She reached the vendor, panting and out of breath, holding her coin aloft happily.
  
  "Two of the round ones with honey! those are my favorite!" she finally managed to get out.
  
  "Mine too!" piped up a voice from nearby.
  
  A girl with her hair in braids coiled around the top of her head, and large dark eyes grinned at her. The girl's face was sticky, and she still had a half eaten pastry in hand. She was perhaps in inch or so taller than Maera herself was. She soon learned her name was Aoide, and she was exactly a year and two days older than her.
  
  Aoide went with her to the vendor stall that had all the disks, rattles, wooden animal carvings and even some dolls. Excited to have a new friend, she picked a smaller plainer doll so she could get two, and give one to Aoide, who promised to make them both matching dresses from scrap fabric.
  
  The two became close friends, best friends just naturally. Soon, one would barely ever see one of them, without the other nearby. They were tutored together, and would regularly take turns sleeping over at each other’s houses.
  
  They shared many interests, in particular their love of music and poetry, although Aoide could never quite match Maera’s interest in religion. As a child she was not exactly devote, it was more of a fascination.
  
  At first, Aoide used to accompany her, on her visits to the temple, but in time her friend found them to be boring, saying she’d rather go watch Scythas practice his swordplay and military drills.
  
  “Sometimes, he even lets me spar with him.” she added, one of the first times this occurred.
  
  Maera rolled her eyes. “I don’t see why you want to go watch him all the time. It’s boring.”
  
  Scythas was Maera’s older brother. Six years older than her, his military training had started a couple years before, and he was being trained alongside several boys his own age. She’d always adored her brother, and he’d always been kind and protective, both of her and then of Aoide as well.
  
  The two girls loved exploring the foothills outside of the city, although they’d gotten in trouble numerous times for sneaking off. Both sets of parents disapproved, as the rocky outcroppings were dangerous, both because of potential rock slides, and because there were quite a few snakes, and some of them dangerously venomous. On more than one occasion, Scythas was sent to go looking for them, and found them up high enough that one slip would have meant death, or way further from the city than they were ever permitted to go, even with an escort. Usually, Scythas could be convinced to lie and say he found them over by the stream, or somewhere far more tame than the truth.
  
  The two got more and more bold with a bit of time. Maera was ten, and Aoide was eleven. They had discovered, nearly a mile away up in the foothills, a series of caves. Most were tiny, just big enough for two girls to sit down inside with a blanket and some things and have a picnic. Others were a bit larger, large enough that they walked for several minutes straight, with only the feeble glow of a lantern, and did not see the end of them. Some, they realized joined together if you walked for a short while. It was dangerous, and foolish, but the two had claimed the caves as their own place, and loved spending time there. They had even picked a favorite ‘room’ in the caves. They had hauled all manner of objects up there, scrap cloth to be rugs, pilfered planks that had been discarded, even an old shipping crate, which became a table, covered by a tatty section of stained and moth eaten linen. Cracked pottery had been arranged on it.
  

  
  
  
  

  Childish actions lead to a new path.

  One morning, Aoide had been forced to stay behind and finish helping her mother, until the afternoon. Yesterday, and the day before, her friend hadn’t had much time for her either, she’d had lessons to sit through, and now had more chores than Maera had, being a year older. There was no one speaking at the temple, and Scythas was too busy to entertain her.
  
  She was upset, and even knew she was being a bit selfish, but didn’t care. She’d decided as a bit of a rebellion, she’d go find a better cave than the ‘home’ cave and fix it up much nicer.
  
  Deep down she knew she was being childish, but she was still very much a child. She was insecure, worried her friend would have too much to do, and end up not wanting to spend time with her anymore, like they had in the past. She even knew that soon enough, she’d be expected to take on far more chores and her tutoring would be more time consuming, but she still felt a bit abandoned, more so in the past few days.
  
  She wandered a little further than they’d gone when they found the other caves, up higher and deeper into the mountains. It took a few hours but she soon found what she was looking for.
  
  The cave had a smallish opening, but it fanned out into a wide room with a higher ceiling. The floor was even and flat in large portions. She thought surely some primitive people must have lived here before, and when she found the crude paintings, faded by time and the symbols carved into the walls, it further confirmed that. There was even some old broken bits of pottery, and a fire pit, that had been undisturbed for years. Crusted hard old ash, and even a few fragments of bone were there.
  
  She found a suitable branch and began using it as a broom of sorts to sweep out debris, anything that was too small to easily be picked up, although she put one of the more interesting larger bits of pottery, and a few of the bones in her satchel.
  
  At first, she was confused by the rumbling and slight vibration. To her, it sounded like someone had a heavy cart or wagon, or several, with a team of horses running over an uneven road. It sounded very much like that, but the road was much too far away. Then, it grew louder. Confusion turned to fear as bits of grit and a few small loose hunks of stone fell, and the ground began to shake.
  
  She’d been in one earthquake, a milder one a few years ago. It had frightened her then, but this was worse. She looked toward the entrance, and started to bolt toward it, not even caring that one of the good oil lamps that she’d ‘borrowed’ was still in the cave, along with her satchel. She made it about five strides before the ground seemed to almost lurch, and she stumbled. The air was thick with dust, and more rocks were falling.
  
  She screamed as she heard a great cracking sound, and a roar as a section of rock came crashing down, collapsing the entrance. A hunk of rock hit her in the arm, and another across the back, small thankfully, but it still hurt. With nothing else to do, she curled up on the ground, as a rock smashed her lamp, and plunged the cave into blackness.
  
  She truly felt she was going to die there, as she covered her ears to drown out the sound of falling rock, some falling dangerously close.
  
  The crushing pain never came however, although she was dusted heavily with grit and peppered with chips of rock.
  
  She lay there for a long time, after everything went silent. There was fallen rock all around her, so it was difficult to move, but eventually she scrambled out and felt around in the dark. Nothing seemed familiar. Her throat was painfully dry.
  
  She found what she thought was the entrance, or was, but there were rocks, nearly as tall as she was in the way. She moved some smaller ones, carefully, afraid she’d cause another cave in, but soon met with larger boulders.
  
  She fought to keep from crying, but she couldn’t help herself. She curled up and sobbed, and then screamed until her voice was hoarse, even though she knew it was useless. Who would come look for her here? No one knew she’d gone up into the mountains. She was further from home by far than she was suppose to be.
  
  Her horror and panic grew, when she realized that a bad earthquake could have destroyed the city as well. What if her family, and Aoide were gone? What if they’d been crushed?
  
  She pushed and pulled and dug at the rocks with less care then, until her fingers were bloodied, but to no avail. Eventually, the near maddening thirst drove her to crawl, on hands and knees until she found her satchel. Inside, was thankfully a small water skin, made of goat hide. She drank several large gulps, but stopped herself after that, waited, and took a few tiny sips. She’d learned from one of her tutors, that if she was ever lost somewhere, she should conserve water, and only drink when she absolutely had to.
  
  She lost all passage of time there in the blackness and the stale air. She explored the area until she was familiar enough with it to know it by touch, and navigate around with more ease. She’d hurt herself a few times, tripping over rocks or running into a lower hanging section, but not too badly at least. She’d returned to the entrance half a dozen times, hoping she could finally shift something enough to get out.
  
  She had a few dried figs in her satchel, thankfully, but that had just been meant for a small snack, and they did not go far, she ate all three, and then wished she’d brought more.
  
  Her stomach gnawed terribly, long after the figs were gone, and she knew she’d likely missed several meals or more by then.
  
  She’d finally given up, and had simply laid down near the entrance, not having the energy to cry. She had fallen asleep a few times, only to wake up sore and hungry, in pitch blackness, and remember all over again what had happened.
  
  She thought she’d imagined it at first, when she heard what sounded like muffled shouts, and scraping rock. She snapped awake and pressed the side of her face up to the caved in surface. She heard a high pitched wail of protest, that.. sounded like Aoide.
  
  “HELP” She tried to scream out, although her voice was gravely and raspy still. She began to claw frantically at the rocks, screaming hoarsely for them to find her, terrified they’d move on.
  
  She heard more shouts, and then silence. She screamed again, and was met with more scraping sounds.
  
  “Maera?” A deep voice cut through the rocky barrier. It was her father’s.
  
  She had not realized how stale the air had become until the first section of rock had been pulled away, and fresh air from outside rushed in. The sunlight blinded her for a moment, and she covered her face.
  
  “Maera move back while we clear these other stones.” Her father sounded sick with worry. She could hear Aoide, her voice frantic, some distance back behind where her father was, asking if she was all right.
  
  The stones were cleared away, some of them falling inwards. The next thing she knew, she was being scooped up and carried. Cool water brought to her lips, checked for injuries, a blanket wrapped around her dust and grit covered form.
  
  She fainted at some point on the trip back, and woke up in her bed. It was a full two days later before she finally fully had a grasp of everything that had happened.
  
  She had been down in the cave for three days. When the earthquake came, a few buildings had toppled, but most of the damage was minor, pots and vases, things made of clay or glass being broken, some animals escaping. Her family, and Aoide’s couldn’t find her once the dust had settled, the whole city was searched, then out to the cave she and Aoide had used. Her friend had confessed to having the secret hideout, and lead the way there. All the known caves in the area had been searched, both that following day, and the day after.
  
  That third day, Aoide had insisted going again, praying that they’d somehow missed something. That was when she’d seen an intense ray of light shining down on a path some distance away. She’d broken away from the others, followed it, only to find it now seemed to be shining even further away. A couple of the search party had followed, trying to catch up with the girl before she got herself lost. She refused to be stopped, following the light that always seemed to focus further away.
  
  It was then, one of the search party realized this could be a sign from the Sun God, Ilifos, the man ran back to get the others, while Aoide and her adult cousin, pressed on. The ray changed again, and they were soon running down the path.
  
  It eventually lead them deeper into the mountains, to an obviously caved in opening, where the ray was at last, directly focused. There, just beyond the debris, were scattered fragments of pottery, and a crudely-made brush broom, a clean sign -someone- had been in there recently.
  
  With that being their only hope, they began to pull away the rocks, some of them taking several grown men to budge.
  
  Maera was stunned at the implications of this. Word spread like wildfire and by the time she was recovered from her ordeal, plans had already been made to begin her training as a Priestess. As for her recovery, she had only some scrapes and bruises, and had been a little dehydrated. However, for several years, she could not stand to be in complete darkness, without feeling a rush of panic, as though she was once again trapped in the cave.
  
  For the first year or so she spent much of her time in the smaller mainland temple. It was only after her education and training had progressed, that she was deemed suitable to continue her training on the island, where the grand temple to Ilifos lay.
  
  Her feelings had been mixed at first. It was frightening, and a lot of pressure. She would no longer see her family, or Aoide every day. At best, she might get to see them every other week.
  
  It was terribly lonely at first, but her time was occupied with intense schooling and training. She was educated far beyond what she would have received back home, learning not only several languages, but a great deal of history. She was taught quite a bit in regards to the arts as well.
  
  She would spent hours learning the various songs and prayers to her Solar God. She rehearsed and learned the rituals and ceremonies until she could recite them in her sleep.

  
  
  

  Holy Adolescence.

  Several years passed. She rarely saw family and her dear friend more than every few months at that point, but she’d grown more used to it. They were at least allowed to write freely at least, so much of her communication was through written word, delivered by ivory falcons, a bird sacred to her God.
  
  There was another ceremony when she turned sixteen, this time to raise her officially to the rank of priestess. At that point, she knew she must also pass the test.
  
  She was taken to that grand room of polished bronze and mirrors, where at the height of day, the heat was so intense it was said to be able to cook a person, not unlike roasting meat over a fire. Only the worthy would be able to pass through, from one stairway to the next.
  
  She was afraid, trembling as she was stripped bare and the sacred words were spoken, and once again, it was explained the rules of what she must do. Pass from one side to the other, with the sun at it’s highest peak.
  
  She could already feel the heat even before she started up the stairs. At first, it was just like the blazing hot sun of midsummer, a wash of dry heat that was intense, but not yet unpleasant. At halfway up the stairs, it began to get uncomfortably hot. It was difficult to breathe.
  
  She knew she had to keep going, no matter what. If she turned back, if she could not go on, she would be banished from the island. She would never become a Priestess. The shame would be great, and while her family and Aoide would still accept her with open arms, she knew the city would know. The others, might even drive her from the city all together.
  
  She was also well aware that Ilifos had saved her. He had chosen her, she was special. She could live with letting other people down, even if the shame was great, but letting down the god who had both saved her life, and given her a new one?
  
  Her fear grew at the intensity of the heat near the top of the stairs. The reflecting light ahead, concentrated to the center of the room, was blindingly bright. Tears formed, and started to trail down her cheeks, but the intense heat dried them almost instantly.
  
  She could feel it under her feet, and knew once she stepped onto the smoothly polished metal, it would begin to burn her terribly. She clenched her jaw. Just a few more stairs.
  
  DO NOT BE AFRAID, CHILD.
  
  The voice was inside her head, but it was not an intrusive thought. She froze, her breath catching.
  
  HAVE FAITH IN ME, YOU SHALL REMAIN UNHARMED
  
  She felt something wash over her, and the air around her seemed to shimmer. The heat, while it did not fully dissipate, receded, as though she was shielded from it. There was a presence.. something that seemed all around and inside her all at once. It filled her with hope and excitement, even if an edge of fear remained. With trembling legs she pressed on, and took her first step onto the burning bronze.
  
  It was hot, a bit painfully so but not as bad as it should have been. She’d walked across sun heated rocks before with bare feet, rocks that were just hot enough to turn the bottoms of her feet a bit red but not blister. It was much like that.
  
  The heat was potent and oppressive, but not unbearable. She walked with bold purposeful steps toward the center of the room, but began to veer slightly, to go around the central focus point.
  
  NO, MY CHILD.
  
  She stopped in her tracks once more.
  
  STEP INTO MY LIGHT.
  
  Her eyes widened, but her God had protected her up to this point, hadn’t he? With her heart drumming, she walked toward the light, blindly, and stepped into the focused beam, that should have been hot enough to burn her flesh to a crisp.
  
  For a moment, the glow illuminating the top room winked out, and then it flickered and flashed, as slender fingers of light reflected off her chest, redirecting it to a dozen spots at once.
  
  She gasped, head thrown back, arms spread wide. She could feel the power of Ilifos passing through her heart, down her spine, filling every fiber of her being. For several heartbeats there was only Light and a great thrumming filling her skull, filling the air, then, as though pushed by an unseen hand she stumbled forward. Barely aware that she was walking, dimly aware that the blinding light was as it had been before, and at her back, she made it to the other stairway. She started down the steps, careful, as she was not sure how much longer her legs could support her.
  
  They were waiting at the base of the steps, staring in utter shock. One of the older priestesses, had fallen to her knees and was praying fervently. She felt the shield of protection leave her, but here toward the bottom of the steps, it was no longer needed. The room began to pitch and she fell forward, barely aware of the arms catching her, as darkness enveloped her senses.
  
  She had awoken hours later, laying on clean linen sheets in a softly lit room. She was dressed in a lightweight gown of white, and both her feet and her chest felt mildly pained and the skin felt a bit tight. A light balm had been applied to both.
  
  She had been burned, but not nearly as badly as someone should have. Her feet were mildly reddened, there was a faint light burn where the beam of light had touched her, but only that. She was given two days rest before the ceremony to be raised to the rank of Priestess.
• **********************************

  
  

  Growing as a priestess and the voices that came.

  She would continue to hear The Sun God’s voice now and then, and her faith became intense and strong. She devoted herself completely to being his Priestess, often spending hours a day in prayer and worship. Word had spread fast of what had happened during her test, and people began to speak her name with some level of reverence.
  
  The next instance of her clearly hearing the voice was a couple years later. The voice of her god filled her mind once more, as she was warned of an intense storm that would hit the island and the mainland violently. She had been knelt before the shrine, in a near trance-like prayer state when the voice crashed over her, as did the visions. The sky churning in fury, waves rising up higher than houses. She saw several boats smashed like children’s toys against the rocks, they seemed to be fishing boats. Then, she saw something that made her cry out in horror, tears filling her eyes.
  
  Aoide, close to the shore on a rocky outcropping, watching the storm. Foolish to be out there when it was that bad, but they’d often watched storms roll in together on that same cliff. However, a sudden more powerful wave caught her off guard, the water spilling over and causing her to slip and fall, she tumbled onto the rocks with a scream, only to be swept away by the next crashing wave.
  
  Several of the other residents of the temple tried to console her, but she tore away from them. Aoide was her first priority. She arranged for two guards to escort her, and made one of her first trips to the mainland in a long time. The Temple, did not like her leaving for any reason, but she held enough sway now she could get away with breaking a rule now and then.
  
  She made the guards wait outside, while she visited with her old friend. She’d carried herself with the regal serenity of a Priestess up to the moment when Aoide rushed to greet her with an embrace, then she smiled, clinging to her, tears welling in her eyes.
  
  “It’s wonderful to see you Maera, but.. what is wrong..? Come let us sit and have some milk and sweet cakes, like we did when we were small.”
  
  She rubbed at her eyes, and sat down to the childhood indulgence. Her friend’s presence was comforting, as was the treat, but she soon wept fresh tears, voice trembling, as she told her friend about the visions.
  
  She was glad that Aoide took her seriously, and agreed to stay cooped up indoors during any serious storms in the near future.
  
  “We should make sure the fisher-folk know as well, to not send boats out if the sky looks even remotely dark with rain clouds, at least until this storm has past.” Aoide offered. “I will go with you.”
  
  However, the fishermen seemed less willing to belief the priestess. While not outright disrespectful, they did seem to insist that they knew the waters better than a ‘young girl from the temple’ and they had their boats out during fierce storms before.
  
  “Any sailor worth his day’s catch knows how to sail troubled waters.” one said. However, they seemed at least worried, apprehensive. She got a few of the men with boats to agree to be careful for a while at least.
  
  Word spread through the city as well. Some scoffed, she was after all, a young Priestess. Others however remembered all to well the signs tied to her. Everyone knew about what happened during her test. Quite a few knew tales of what had happened during the earthquake.
  
  When she returned to the Temple, she was met with quite a bit of anger over the commotion she’d caused, and they still were not happy with her mainland trip.
  
  The storm came four days later. It was unlike anything they had seen in the region for centuries. The sky became black as midnight, when it was merely early afternoon, the rain came and soon the winds were howling. The waves rolled in, higher and higher until they smashed into the rocks.
  
  Those on the island huddled deep in the lower levels of the temple, those on the mainlands, hid in their homes or if they were lucky, basements.
  
  Just as she had foreseen, the crashing waves took out several large portions of rocky outcroppings. Buildings were smashed by a sudden torrent of hail the size of fists, clay roof tiles broken like dropped plates. Some trees were snapped in two by the sheer force of it all.
  
  Most of the fishermen had either stayed in at the first sight of poor weather, or had brought their boats back in as soon as the water got rough. A couple of the most stubborn, were never seen again, pieces of their torn apart boats washing up on shore in the days to follow.
  
  There had been some other deaths, a few collapsed houses and some lost animals, but it was nothing compared to what would have been lost had they not been warned.
  
  Her reputation continued to grow, as did the respect and reverence others felt toward her. It also meant that her duties now consumed the majority of her life. She saw Aoide and her family less and less.

  
  
  

  Adulthood.

  She received word a week after her mother did, that her father had been slain in some fighting to the west. He and a small band of troops had been sent to put down an uprising in a city several days travel away. She’d never even been told he would be going away. Her brother, had been there as well, and had carried the message, and their Father’s body back to the city for burial.
  
  She was there for the funeral, adorned in white and gold, a sun circlet at her brow. She mourned, but only on the inside, her face and baring stoic and calm. Her father had been a good man, and she had loved him dearly. She felt a deep sadness for her mother as well, with both her children now grown and away from home. Thankfully, she knew that her Brother was able to visit more than she was, and Aoide came to see her as well.
  
  It was only a short while after her father’s death that she discovered Aoide was to be married, to her Brother, Scythas of all people. She had known them to be fond of each other, but she’d never known it to be in such a way. It was strange, but she was happy for them, both for their joy, and the simple fact it made herself and Aoide family at last.
  
  By age twenty three she was a High Priestess herself, above the rank of several of the women who’d once made her life so very difficult. The other High Priestesses were considered on equal footing with her, with perhaps a bit more influence due to their seniority.
  
  Life settled into a routine, prayer and meditation, walks in the garden. Speaking with the people, ceremony, more prayer. She rarely left the temple. She only saw Aoide perhaps twice a year. Their friendship would wane, then be renewed after they were able to spend time together. Aoide confided in her the sorrow she felt over being thus far, unable to bear a child for Scythas. She felt sorrow for that as well, as the child would be her niece or nephew. She prayed for Ilifos to send his Light, and bless Aoide, at least a dozen times, but received no answer.
  
  She was from time to time, given the task of deciding the punishment for those who has committed crimes against the temple, be they theft, or vandalism, or something considered sacrilegious. Three times in a row she chose flogging and banishment, and once, the removal of a hand, and banishment for a more serious offender. For minor offenses, she would often choose to have them branded, a small burn that would indicate what their crime was. She thought it fair. The Temple, thought her too soft. As devoted as she was to her god however, she did not feel it was justified to execute someone simply for trying to steal a fancy platter, or scrawling an offensive message on the wall. Usually the people who did these things were either hungry and poor, or felt somehow wronged.
  
  However, she could not afford for her standing in the temple to fall, or for word to get out that she was weak. She had vowed to be more harsh in the future, no matter what. She justified it by the reasoning that, being harsh on a few people, would discourage others from committing crimes in the future.
  
  The man she met, who was the beginning of it all, was named Glycon. He was handsome, with a strong hawkish nose and black hair, and intense dark eyes. He was older than her, but only by a few years. She at this point, was in her late twenties. He’d come to her as hundreds others had before to ask for a blessing, but his eyes had been on her for a scandalously long time, rather than properly bowing his head. Instead of feeling anger for his insolence, she felt a strange fluttering in her chest, and a feeling she had rarely ever gotten when gazing upon a man, an ache in her loins, and a tingle across her skin. Her face had grown hot.

  
  
  

  Glycon.

  She made excuses to see him again, telling him that his blessing would require him to return thrice over. Each time they spent mere moments together, and he rarely said much, but the first time they ever touched, she felt an almost electrical charge. She saw to it that he was hired to work in the gardens behind the temple. This was well within her rights, and no one suspected anything.
  
  As a Priestess, she must remain ‘whole’ and ‘pure’ a virgin. However, the wording about that had a little wiggle room, enough that she hardly thought Ilifos would be angry with her spending time alone with Glycon. She made sure he understood her vows. She made sure he understood that they could never be caught being intimate in any way together. So their relationship began as stolen kisses and heated touches, often in the garden, sometimes in unused portions of the temple.
  
  She felt guilty for the way he made her feel, a high even more intense than how she felt in prayer. Part of her -wanted- to test the rules, and even considered breaking her vows, and that frightened her, both because she would even consider such a thing, and because two of the lower Priestesses, had recently been flogged branded, marked and sent far away for being caught being intimate with a man, and not just in the way she had. She’d not understood it then, and she really did not understand it fully now, for the reports from the guards said both times the men were unattractive, rat faced, or pasty and plain. Both times however the men had escaped.
  
  Glycon, sweet Glycon was ever understanding, and said he could relieve her needs without her having to break her vows.
  
  In a secluded corner of the garden deep into the night, he knelt before her and had her raise her gown, and brace one leg against a worn and weathered stone wall. She had already known the little ‘loophole’ taught to her by the other Priestesses of how to relieve tension in herself with her own touch, but that had been nothing compared to what he did with his mouth.
  
  She would always feel a little guilty after the fact, but again and again she let him lure her away somewhere secret where they pleasured each other without actual intercourse. She thought that some of the other Priestesses were suspicious, and she couldn’t decide if it was her paranoia or not, but she could have sworn the guards were watching her more closely. She and Glycon spaced out their meetings, sometimes going weeks without seeing each other. That was torment, and she found her focus began to suffer, in her prayers and meditations, her mind would sometimes wander to him. She was outwardly serene, but inside, a churning mess of emotions.

  
  
  

  Heated passion against a strong will.

  It had been a year and a half since they’d first met. She had not seen him for the better part of a month, the longest gap thus far. She had felt hurt, a bit angry with him, but he’d begged her forgiveness and said he had been questioned by a guard and had thought it best to lay low for a bit. But, the guard in question, had been caught stealing a golden goblet a couple weeks later, and when he’d heard he had felt it was safe to come back.
  
  She remembered the guard being taken away. It had not been her this time who had passed the sentence upon him. She simply remembered thinking it was strange, that the graying rugged fellow who’d worked there for so many years, would suddenly turn to stealing.
  
  They managed to slip away that night, this time to a rarely used storeroom that mostly was used for storing items brought out only during festivals, and there were to be none for months. He kissed her like a man dying of thirst, hands roaming, pressing her up against the wall, breathlessly telling her how much he missed her, how much he needed her. She had been trying to remain angry with him, but her own body ached with need, that she could not quietly sate alone in her bed. He had moved a crate against the storeroom door, so they could not be suddenly surprised. Of course.. should someone try the door and find it not able to open, that would be suspicious of course, but it would at least give them some time to try -something- else. There was a high narrow window, after all. It gave a sense of security at least. Rarely had she ever been nude before him, not fully, but she disrobed, and he shed his clothing as well. They lay, touching and kissing hungrily, and she muffled her moans against a closed fist as his skilled lips and agile tongue roamed her breasts, and fingers slipped between her thighs.
  
  When he’d teased her to the point she was half mad with desire, he leaned in close, his breathing heavy, eyes burning with lust and desperation. He pleaded with her, to just this once, let him join with her.
  
  Her body wanted this, more than anything. She was so close to telling him, yes. But she remembered her vows. Already she teetered on a dangerous gray area. It was not just the fear of being caught, it was also her love for her God. He asked for so little, in return for what she was given. The letter of the laws for his Priestesses did not outright forbid intimate contact, just penetrative sex. The rest too was un-allowed, but only by the Temple itself. That was how she justified it.
  
  She gazed up at him, tears welling in her eyes. She wanted so badly to tell him yes. Some small part of her wanted to give up her vows and flee with him somewhere, to even turn her back on her God.
  
  It all churned in her, desire, and fear and guilt, and sadness. Finally she shook her head.
  
  “No.. Please do not ask this of me again.. I fear how badly I yearn for it, but I can never join with you in this way… If you ask me again.. Then I will...” Her words froze, both at what she was about to say, and at the cold shift in his gaze, from lustful and passionate to something else. It shocked her, but in a way also helped her find strength. Her expression hardened and she raised up slightly on her elbows, nude and stunning in the rays of moonlight, but with a gaze of fire and steel.
  
  “Should you ask this of me again, I will for my own sake and the sake of my vows, see that you are removed from the Temple grounds until the Sun no longer rises. Glycon, no man has ever meant to me what you do. No man has ever made me feel such things, and none ever shall again. But I cannot betray my God.” She was proud of herself for saying what she did so strongly, even as she wanted to burst into tears, even as a part of her wanted to pull him near and demand he have her completely right then and there.
  
  Glycon’s expression remained cold, and he quietly dressed and withdrew, shoving the crate aside, and slipping out into the silent hallway like a ghost.

  
  
  

  Numbness and a growing problem.

  She kept her emotions in check, silent and numb for as long as it took to dress, and return to her room. Once there, she let herself mourn for a bit, the tears came. She cursed herself, her now surely former lover, her sobs driven by anger, guilt and sorrow all mixed into one. When she’d run out of tears, and her head hurt something fierce, she scrubbed at her face, washing it in a basin had one of the temple servants bring her some honeyed wine.
  
  The cup of gently warmed liquid soothed her nerves, it was just enough to bring a tingle of warmth. She lied about why she seemed so morose, saying she had just been thinking too much on things long past, her father and others she’d lost. She excused herself, saying she was going to go spent a few hours in prayer. That part, at least was true.
  
  The prayers strengthened her. She used it to harden her heart toward her lover, while she still ached with loss, she knew this was something that could never happen again. She had not liked how easily he lead her astray, and even had her slowly beginning to neglect her duties. She could not fully blame him for finally having growing tired of not being able to join with her. She had heard plenty of men and how fixated they were on their own needs. Not to mention, if she was being honest with herself, she’d wanted it to, and it frustrated her not to be able to give in. All the more reason, to never let a man turn her head or capture her heart again.
  
  She heard not a single word from her former lover, nor did she so much as catch a glimpse of him, for around five months. In the meantime, one other priestess, was accused of sharing a romantic relation with a man. The man had escaped, fleeing and somehow managing to get out a window. The woman was to be in a great deal of trouble, lashes, imprisonment and possible banishment loomed on her horizon. However, Maera pushed for the sentence to be lighter, if there was any evidence that the woman was still pure. It felt hypocritical not to. Thankfully, it would seem the young Priestess had only had a brief lapse in judgment, and had not coupled with the man. She swore they had only held hands and kissed.
  
  She was given lashes, (only six, thankfully, for her sake) and put on rations of bread and gruel for two weeks, made to scrub the temple floors. Maera couldn’t help but feel a swell of guilt, as that could have easily been her, she after all had gone further than what this woman had been accused of. Glycon had done far more than simply kiss and touch her, his lips and tongue had been at her breasts and buried between her thighs more times than she dared try to count, and she’d pleasured him with both her touch and mouth as well.
• **********************************

  
  

  Glycon's Betrayal.

  When she saw Glycon again, it had been because he’d begged to see her. She quickly found out, this was because he was a prisoner. He’d been caught, in one of the storerooms with his face buried between another pair of thighs, this time a new priestess, who’d only been at the temple for around a month. They had thought themselves hidden, but there had been a small crack in the door. A guard had heard muffled noises, and had peered through the small gap, and had seen all he needed to see, the new priestess, nude and sprawled beneath him, writhing in pleasure as he worked his ‘magic’ on her.
  
  The girl was brought in as well. She was perhaps nineteen at the most, wide eyed, clearly terrified. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she was brought before the Priestess. Maera ordered Glycon, also standing before her, to remain silent, letting the young Priestess speak first, offering her a chance to give her account of how things happened, to even lie and try to insist on innocence, or to explain how she’d so quickly slipped. Maera’s stomach churned, and her heart pounded under her air of cool detachment. The girl began babbling, sobbing about how she had failed her god, how she could not resist the man and his honeyed words.
  
  “He was like a fae prince from the stories..” She sniffled. “With hair of spun gold and eyes like gleaming purple gems.. pale as the moon.. I wanted to say no but he looked at me.. and I could not.. Please priestess.. I beg mercy, let me atone to this temple and my God.”
  
  Maera’s eyes widened. She was talking about Glycon right..? Glycon, who still looked every bit like the dark haired, dark eyed swarthy man with his slightly rough but enthralling voice. The man who’d once been -her- Glycon.. was sneering coldly at the girl, hatefully. Maera had caught a hint of that gaze, that darkness, when she’d refused him. She turned to the other Priestess in the wide receiving chamber, who’d been staring a bit puzzled at Glycon. She beckoned her closer.
  
  “Describe that man to me.” she asked the woman.
  
  “He is broad at the shoulders, his hair is the color of rich chocolate, a mane of curls. His skin is deeply tanned, and his eyes are as green as emeralds. He has a well trimmed beard, and dressed like a prince.” She frowned, and whispered. “He is... if you will not find this improper for me to say, Priestess Maera, the most beautiful man I have ever seen.. but he certainly does not have golden hair as she said. Was he wearing a wig, when he seduced her?.. But.. That would not explain the rest of it, would it?”
  
  The guards had been standing still as statues, staring straight ahead. One of them had frowned deeply a the conversation.
  
  “Guard.. Aerkonis is it?” He nodded, she was glad she’d gotten his name right. He was a mountain of a fellow, dark skinned with eyes like cold flint and a wide jaw, but quiet and thoughtful mannerisms.. The rest of you as well.. One at a time. Describe that man.”
  
  Aerkonis saw Glycon as weak, with a small chin, thinning hair and beady eyes. To one of the other guards he was bald with a huge nose and a pot belly, and probably close to fifty. To another, he had long stringy black hair and was missing teeth, dressed in rags. Some vagabond. One of the guards remarked that he could not understand, why ‘these women’ had fallen for such ‘ugly men’ Something was brewing in the back of Maera’s mind but now was not the time to bring it up, not yet.
  
  “Our young priestess has been bewitched.” she announced. “And I propose a lighter sentence for her. This man..” She was interrupted by Glycon snarling, trying to lunge toward her.
  
  Aerkonis reacted with an uncanny speed for his size, one great bound forward, and a metal backed fist catching the man across the head. Glycon crumpled like a child’s thrown doll onto the floor.

  
  
  

  The failed agent of Vhanyxa.

  The best they could gather, was that Glycon, if that was even his real name, was some sort of illusionist. He was able to make his appearance that of the ideal man for any woman who was attracted to men. All men seemed to see something ugly, weak and non threatening. Glycon was imprisoned, the young Priestess, was confined to her quarters for the time being, but allowed food and water. Maera, could not prove she was for the most part ‘innocent’ until she proved that Glycon was deceiving them.
  
  She called a Council together and spoke to the Priestesses and Guards alike. She told him that she suspected Glycon had been the ‘strange ugly man’ that had been reported escaping from the Temple, and had possibly been behind the other ‘assaults’ on the Priestesses and their purity. She pushed for the notion that he was bewitching them, and quite possibly for some other darker purpose. Why else would he seemingly be trying to destroy the temple from the inside? With his power, he could have almost any women he desired, why target the pure ones of the Temple?
  
  Her actions had more than one purpose, both to get to the bottom of this, and see Glycon stopped, and find out who he was working for, as surely he was not acting alone. More importantly, she also needed to make sure her own transgressions were covered up, or if any suspicion was directed her way, she at least had some defense.
  
  The council talked for hours, discussing possible enemies and plots. Maera stressed that the man had possibly seduced more Priestesses than they were aware of, but if their Sun God had not shown himself to be angry with them, it was best to put it behind them. She admitted to one sliver of folly, that she had felt the charms of the man before, but had ignored his flirting, and she was ever the more thankful she had been strong. She almost felt guilty for how well she lied.
  
  Thankfully someone else brought up what she’d been hoping to work into the conversation.
  
  “And if he hasn’t tried to befoul a Priestess, I wouldn’t put it past him to claim it, just to discredit her.”
  
  There were murmurs of agreement at that. Maera tried not to sound to emphatic about her support of that notion.
  
  It was a tense few days. Maera feared her ‘purity’ would be called into question, but it never was, beyond a couple generalized remarks made that ‘he’s probably been with over half of our Priestesses’ that a senior guard made, before he lowered his head and apologized for speaking in such a way.
  
  Glycon was questioned by the Guards, questioning that no doubt led to torture. One of the maids who’d been near the holding cells beneath the temple, had claimed she’d heard wrenching screams. After several nights of being imprisoned, given only a little water and no food, and likely experiencing horrible torments by over zealous guards, Glycon broke.
  
  His full confession was taken down by one of the scribes, word for word. He’d at first tried to incriminate every single Priestess of higher and power, but had eventually revealed what his true motives had been.
  
  He was the servant of the High Priestess of Vhanyxa, Goddess of Darkness. The cult of Vhanyxa, which had been believed to have been wiped out, over a hundred and fifty years ago by the Temple of Ilifos, and it’s most faithful warriors and clergy. Vhanyxa, the Goddess of Darkness and Night, was believed to be weak, faded to merely a minor power with the destruction of her followers and hallowed grounds. Glycon claimed that Her people were alive and well, there were many, and they were strong. This was merely phase one of the plan, to weaken Ilifos and the temple by being rid of many of it’s Priestesses. He claimed responsibility for every Priestess that had gone astray for the last thirty five years.
  
  Aerkonis would later tell her in secret, (after she’d pressed him for the ‘uncensored’ version of what had happened) that Glycon had been smug at first. He’d crudely described how easily so many of the Priestesses had fallen prey to his methods. How it had only took a little coaxing and teasing to ‘have them panting like dogs and begging for his tongue or his cock, legs spread like whores.’ That had actually been when the questioning had gone from ‘painful encouragement and threats’ to the brutality that had nearly had Glycon not living to see his pending execution.

  
  
  

  An example to be made.

  His execution was scheduled for three days after. He was to be thrown into the Sun Room, chained there, and left to burn to death. A fitting punishment, for defying and defiling the Temple. Maera spent those three days in prayer. Almost as though she were a prisoner herself, she took only bread and broth as food, and allowed herself only a weak tea with no honey, or water. If she was not sleeping, or taking her simple, meager meals, she was knelt or standing before and altar.
  
  It was late afternoon, the day before the execution, when for the first time in years, the Sun God spoke directly to her. She had been hoping, deep down He would, but she had not expected it and she feared she had lost touch with his Light.
  
  MY CHILD.
  
  The voice was seemingly inside of her, and all around her, both at the same time. She startled every so slightly. She went still as a stone. “My Lord..” She whispered softly. She wanted to voice her fears, beg his forgiveness for how far she’d strayed, but she feared interrupting, if He had something to say to her. Her pulse sped up.
  
  DO NOT BE AFRAID. WHILST I DISAPPROVE OF YOUR FALTERING, I WILL NOT PUNISH YOU. I CANNOT AFFORD TO LOSE ANY MORE OF MY CHOSEN.
  
  The voice did not sound angry, but perhaps, a bit like a disappointed father, talking to a young child who had misbehaved. Tears welled in her eyes, both relief, and shame over what she had done.
  
  IT IS NOW THE PAST. NOT FORGOTTEN, BUT YET FORGIVEN. NOW I HAVE A TASK FOR YOU.
  
  She quietly whispered her eagerness to fulfill whatever task was asked of her. Her eyes widened, as her God spoke again, telling her all that was expected of her.
  
  She had told the others, what Ilifos had asked of her, but not the reason, not that it was in part to renew her own tarnished devotion. She merely said that it would make a statement, that the power of Ilifos was still supreme in these lands. As she had heard His voice before, there were none who doubted her. The few who might of suspected she too had fallen victim to Glycon’s charms, began to cast those suspicions aside. After all, she still heard the voice of Ilifos did she not? If she was no longer protected by His Light, why would she do as she planned to do?
  
  Glycon had been taken to the Sun Room. Already, he was almost unrecognizable. He was bruised and bloodied, long thin burns covering his arms and chest. His hair had been shaved off. His nose was crooked and he seemed to be missing several teeth. He had a wild eyed look, like an injured deer who knows the wild dogs are closing in, and has realized there is no escape. He had become a creature, mad with terror, but knowing, they were damned, without hope. He’d been clad only in his pants, but those, and his undergarments were cut away. He stood, nude in front of dozens, as he was covered in oil, from head to toe.
  
  It was not just the Priestesses and Guards who were there to bear witness to his end. Several officials from the city had been brought in as well. The details were not given, but Glycon had been formally charged with an attack on the temple, as well as sexual assault on more than one Priestess.
  
  He was turned to face the crowd. There were gasps. Even Maera felt her stomach wrench and twist. His genitals had been removed. Only burned flesh remained. He could barely walk at this point, without the support of the two guards dragging him. He was chained to the floor, trapped in a kneeling position. A few broken sobs came from him, but no words. The guards left him there, and retreated. Already the room was uncomfortably warm. Soon it would be unbearable for almost anyone.
  
  In the very center of the room was the vessel of oil. As the room continued to heat, Glycon startled to struggle. The floor was already hot enough, that it had started to burn him. A few people down the stairs, peered through the open doorway, and backed away uncomfortably, already finding the heat unpleasant.
  
  To a collective gasp, Maera disrobed. She let the white and gold linen garment drop to the floor. She ascended the stairs, turned and faced the crowd, as proud and regal as though she’d been garbed as a queen.
  
  “The Power of Ilifos has not been harmed by this petty criminal. His Light shines as pure and bright as ever, and it will send this fool into darkness, where he belongs. Behold what The Sun God grants his most faithful.”
  
  She stepped into the room, walking across the floor with effortless ease. The light had become too bright for at least half the witnesses, and some had to leave the room, the ambient heat getting to them.
  
  Glycon saw her, and although half delirious from pain, began to weep fresh tears. Had he not done so many horrible things, and had he not gloated over his deceit and crimes, she might have felt pity for him. The man she had felt things for, she realized, had not been Glycon. No, she had loved a lie, an illusion.
  
  “M..Maera.. pl..please.” He begged, his normally honeyed voice hoarse from screaming. “Please don’t let them do this.. I loved you. The others..” As she stared coldly at him, face an impassive mask, his eyed went even wilder, and he began to babble.
  
  “They didn’t mean anything, I was just doin as my Mistress asked. You.. I loved you.. I still love you..please!… it hurts.. mercy..” His chest had been hitching, and he broke into hysterical sobs, that became a cry of pain. “Please no...” His skin was starting to redden. He was panting, the tears drying instantly as soon as they left his eyes. She knew that he’d been allowed to stay well hydrated. It was not a kindness. It was so he would burn slower.
  
  Even in his growing pain, he seemed to realize something. “You….” He looked at her, standing barefoot on the painfully hot floor, not even touched by the heat. “Why don’t you burn with me?” He blurted, it sounded half question, half curse. She smiled.
  
  “I am bathed in His Light. The Light does not burn His Children… You, however..” She walked closer, and then around him. The room was getting steadily brighter. She picked up the chalice that had been set beside the vessel, and dipped it into the oil, now hot enough it was smoking.
  
  She slowly walked in front of him again. She watched, as he struggled harder, trying desperately to escape the pain. She could tell the skin touching the metal was already blistering, and the flesh on his back, was just starting to as well. The first hoarse scream tore from him, and the Sun had yet to even reach it’s zenith.
  
  She held the goblet aloft. “Ilifos, bless this vessel, with your Holy Light.” She could feel the heat, as she had before when she had completed the Sun Walk, but as before, it was like being outside on a dreadfully hot day, and walking on sun heated pavement. Uncomfortably hot, but far from unbearable. Being accustomed to heat, and the discipline of being a Priestess, meant that she did not even sweat. Glycon, had been sweating buckets, it mingling with the oil streaking him, the sweat and oil only making the burns on his flesh hurt even more.
  
  The oil inside the goblet burst into flame. Some of the fire curled around her wrist. She did not feel it.
  
  Glycon seemed to know what was coming. His cries of pain, suddenly became that of pure terror.
  
  “No.. please… no! Please don’t!” He tried to pull away, now as red as though he’d been boiled, and no doubt minutes away from succumbing to death or seizure from overheating as it was. She took a single step toward him, and flung the burning oil.
  
  The sound that burst from him, was not anything that should have been made by a human. His vocal chords failed him, halfway through the agonized sound, half howl and half squeal. A few hoarse, strangled sounds came out of him as he thrashed, the flames engulfing his body. There was a snap as he broke his own wrist, and dislocated a shoulder from his struggles, but then, he sagged, flesh split open, lips and nose receding, burned alive, the sickening smell of roasting human flesh filling the room.
  
  Maera, tossed the goblet aside, turned and walked calmly from the Sun Room. She did not look back at the blackening corpse of her former lover.
  
  Most everyone had fled the bottom half of the sun room. Only a few of the Priestesses had remained, able to tolerate the roasting temperatures this close to the focal point, and not balking at the screams and smell of burning flesh. Maera was only mildly burned on her hand, simply reddened where the oil fire had touched it, and few spatter burns that were not serious, across her bare torso. Her feet were reddened but no more than they would have been walking on unpleasantly hot flagstones.
  
  Word spread quickly of what had happened, how Maera, the High Priestess had called on the power of Ilifos once more, and how she had made an example of the criminal, far more than simply executing him would have done.
• **********************************

  
  

  Back to the way things should be.

  In the days to come, her station was raised, until she was considered the highest ranking of the High Priestesses. It was now her word that was law, although she still must follow the laws of her God, and the boundaries set in stone.
  
  One of her first acts was to assure that none of the other Priestesses were investigated or questioned as to if they’d been with Glycon. She wanted the slate wiped clean. She began working on strengthening the temple, bringing in more faithful, and giving the most promising small roles in the Temple. She did her best to bring the Priestesses themselves closer together. No more scheming like petty schoolchildren to try and discredit each other.
  
  "We women are all Chosen of Ilifos and we should be lifting each other up, not trying to knock each other down.”
  
  She was able to at last spend an entire day with Aoide, and even see her brother for several hours. She and Aoide had honeyed cakes in the garden, and sipped wine, catching up. Maera had missed her more than she could put into words, and found herself tearing up slightly and confessing all that had happened. Aoide embraced her friend and spoke soothingly. She did not look down on the great ‘High Priestess’ for shedding tears, or for her near betrayal of her God. For just a little while, Maera was able to ease the burden of her role, and be just a woman again, who was allowed to have a moment of vulnerability.
  
  She learned as well that Aoide had never been able to get pregnant, but that she and Maera’s brother had adopted two fine children recently. The girl was six years old, and the boy, merely three. They were currently being watched by the neighbor, who had a small child of her own.
  
  Seeing Aoide again had healed her somewhat. While it had been empowering beyond describing, to see Glycon die while she stood before him unharmed, the incident had left it’s mark. Aoide’s sincerity, gentleness and humor had scrubbed away the lingering guilt.
  
  It was not quite the same for all of her fellow Priestesses, as she would later learn.

  
  
  

  Unexpected discoveries.

  It had been storming that night, when Rhania came to her. She was a Priestess of notable standing, hardly a novice, but still some years away from possible promotion to high Priestess. She had dark bronze skin, and black hair that she wore in thick plaits. Her face was slightly round, and her eyes a lovely pale olive green. She was a few inches shorter than Maera, but fuller in figure. Maera had in the past looked with envy on the woman’s shape. She would later admit to herself, it was with a bit more than envy, in which she’d gazed at her.
  
  With a bit of a shaky breath, the woman admitted that she’d been having nightmares. She confessed that she’d been one of the ones Glycon had tempted, but swore she’d never done more than let him touch her in intimate ways. Her cheeks colored when she’d said this. Maera assured her, she was not in any sort of trouble.
  
  In these nightmares, she’d had guards burst into her room while she slept, arresting her for what she’d done. Sometimes it was over just what had happened with Glycon, and she’d wept for the unfairness of it all as well. In others, she’d supposedly gone further, and was eaten up by guilt. In another dream, she’d been intimate with a guard, even though she’d known the whole time how wrong it was and would never do anything so foolish. Every time, she was judged and executed. She usually woke up, crying and panicked, midway through being whipped, flayed or put to death in some horrible manner. The nightmares had started even well before Glycon was caught. Tonight, had been an exceptionally bad one. Maera, unsure just what had possessed her to say so, asked the woman to stay, and to sleep beside her, after all her bed was quite large.
  
  It was a little strange and awkward at first, but Maera found she rather liked the feeling of another close to her. The two embraced, as a means of comfort. Something else stirred a bit inside of Maera, feeling the woman’s breast brush against her body, but she did her best to ignore the thoughts that came with it.
  
  Rhania smelled quite lovely, like a mixture of honey and vanilla. Maera found herself wondering if any would find it indecent of them, to be curled up together in bed, clad only in thin linens. She was about half asleep, relaxed, and trying to keep at bay the faint confusing stirring in her loins, when Rhania spoke.
  
  “Do you miss it..? I know it was bad.. But my body misses it so, what he used to do..”
  
  Maera was caught off guard. Her eyes flew open. “...But..”
  
  “I know I shouldn’t be speaking on it.. And I think it might be why I am being punished with bad dreams, because I still ..crave.. what used to happen.” She smiled. “I know it happened to you. I could tell right away, even before he was caught. It’s all right, I’d never say anything to anyone else, but I wanted to know if I’m the only one who still.. wants… No,.. needs.” Her face colored, and Maera knew her own face was burning crimson.
  
  Her jaw tensed, but then she gave a slight nod. “Yes, sometimes.” She admitted, and there was a nervous, almost girl-ish giggle shared between the two.
  
  They spoke in hushed tones, both admitting they’d both tried to learn to sate themselves, but it was never the same, and how they’d both struggled with the guilt of what they’d allowed Glycon to do, even if both had stopped him and not allowed penetration.
  
  The ‘girl talk’ and confessions were liberating in their own way, but they also only made the heat in her body continue to grow. Her face heated more when Rhania noticed her squirming. She reassured her that it was all right.
  
  It had started with just touches that made them both blush more heavily and made their pulses quicken. Maera gasped at the deft slender fingers that slipped into her gown and touched her breast. Rhania whispered to her that at no point did the Temple forbid two women touching each other, and Maera realized, that was very much true. She voiced no complaints, and did not resist Rhania unfastening the front of her gown, nor did she protest the soft touch sliding up her thigh.
  
  A tongue lashed against one exposed nipple, and two fingertips slipped between her wet folds. Soon, she was returning the attention, all idea of rank and what was ‘proper’ cast aside as she drew the other woman into a breathless kiss, as they entwined, bodies pressed close together. Rhania whimpered, her full chest heaving, as Maera’s touch found the sweetest spot between her parted legs.
  
  Within moments she was muffling the sounds of her climax against Rhania’s thick silken hair.
  
  It would not be the last time the two woman ‘comforted’ each other in the night. It brought a relief that Maera could not find through simply touching herself.

  
  
  

  The great festival of Ilifos and the tragedy that ended it.

  Nearly a year after Glycon’s execution, a great Festival to honor the Sun God had been planned. It was a yearly celebration, but it had been decided that this particular one, would be the largest in living memory.
  
  The massive square before the temple was cleared away, a small wooden stage constructed where the High Priestesses would stand to speak. Musicians had been hired, there would be a grand feast, and even festival games. Six white horses, or as near to flawless white as could be found, were to be sacrificed to Ilifos.
  
  Banners were hung, bright flowers were brought out. Vendors had come to peddle their wares along the outskirts. Before the celebration was even fully underway, someone brought out a flute, and another a simple wood and hide drum. Several of the people began dancing, the woman holding up long skirts.
  
  Maera was nervous, but elated and excited at the same time. She was to give the main speech, and lead the prayer. She had never been over an entire Festival before, and this was far larger than the previous year’s. She caught Rhania’s gaze and smiled. The lower ranking priestess was setting up the altar, lighting candles, and the center brazier. The Priestess with Rhania brought out the incense and lit it. Several censors were placed in the area, so that the scent would drift out and fill the square, but not overpower everything. She beamed when she saw Aoide, her Brother and their children out in the group. Aoide, looking more beautiful than she’d ever seen her, a bit red faced from dancing, her skirts tied partly up to keep them from tangling around her long sun darkened legs. She clutched Scythas by the arm, laughing. She lost sight of them, behind the milling crowd a short while later.
  
  Her speech went well. She’d practiced it at least a dozen times. Next, was to be the prayer, and the sacrifice would follow. The prayer was easier. She spoke the words that she knew by heart, raising her hands above her head, face tilted toward the warmth of the sun.
  
  The absolute silence that had overtaken the crowd was broken by a few gasps. She paused, but kept going. She heard one of her guards move from his nearby position, out into the crowd. She dismissed it as someone being a disruption and the guard going to deal with it. Maybe someone had too much wine.
  
  She kept going for a few more lines of the lengthy prayer, when she heard a startled shriek, the sound of glass breaking, and an angry shout. She looked out over the crowd, ready to order the arrest of every single person causing an issue, and stopped, eyes going wide.
  
  The crowd had parted around a woman with bone white hair, but a face that could not have been any older than Maera herself. She was pale with angular sharp features. Before her on the ground, had been dropped a glass vessel, where a cloud of thick black smoke, so thick it seemed more like some sort of tar.. was slowly spreading out.
  
  Maera called for the guards to seize her, while avoiding the blackness. It was when she realized the guards were all either rooted to the spot, staring with open mouths and unseeing eyes.. as were some of the festival attendants. Fear gripped her. This had to be some sort of wicked sorcery. She whispered a fervent prayer for aid and protection to Ilifos. The woman pointed a finger at her. For a half second her hand seemed to have impossibly long fingers, claws and graying flesh.
  
  “You. You who reveled in the death of my precious Glycon…” The pale woman’s eyes blazed with fury. “I was content to weaken your Temple slowly, gently stuff it out, remove the weakest of your clergy.”
  
  Maera, was no sorceress herself, but she could not stand for this. The other Priestesses looked lost. Rhania was trying to collect herself. She’d picked up the brass tongs, the closest thing that could be considered a weapon. Maera herself, clutched the ceremonial dagger on the altar itself.
  
  “Love,... You should run.” She whispered to the woman. Rhania, wide eyed with fear, but with a stubborn set to her jaw, shook her head. The two strode toward the woman together, who began to laugh.
  
  “It took me a long time to cook up this punishment, and oh the pacts I made.” The woman’s face. Maera stopped in her tracks at the sight of a leering grinning skull that had replaced the sharp featured face.. But no, it was just a face.. Wasn’t it?
  
  No one seemed capable of running. A few of the other Priestesses, who hadn’t been rooted to the spot were trying desperately to get some of the stupefied members of the crowd away. Only the outer edges seemed unaffected, and it was chaos. The blackness had flowed across the ground like spilled syrup.
  
  She knew who this was. She’d known as soon as Glycon had been mentioned. The High Priestess of Vhanyxa. What pact? What punishment? What was happening to her Guards? The others?
  
  Aerkonis was nearby. He had been one of the guards who’d tried to rush the woman. She could see the veins standing out in his arms, neck and head as he strained, eyes wide and wild. He’d managed to draw his sword, before he’d been rooted. He was inching toward their enemy, his teeth bared in a horrible grimace.
  
  “M….aera.. Pr...priestess...” He managed to gasp out, desperate and pleading. Tears leaked from his eyes and she realized fighting the spell must be paining him terribly. Blood started to trickle from one nostril.
  
  Maera had fully intended to simply dive at the woman, rush her before she could get more sorcery out. A quick slash to the throat would stop her, no matter what sort of magics she wielded. She made it about two strides. The pale woman had raised a ball of blown glass, tinted a pale green and churning with something that looked like a nest of writhing serpents. She threw the orb, grinned her mad skull grin. It shattered at Maera’s feet.

  
  
  

  The birth of a Gorgon.

  What struck Maera felt like a dozen hands had driven into her hard enough to plunge into her body. She was lifted up off the ground, and flung back. She was screaming, she thought that Rhania was screaming as well. She couldn’t see.
  
  Her flesh was splitting open, something was pushing it’s way up from her scalp. She tried to slash blindly with the knife, but it fell from her spasming fingers. She tried to kick, but found her legs had fused together and were stretching, bones snapping and melting. The agony should have been enough to kill her, or at least cause her to lose consciousness, but the blackness never came. She wanted it to kill her, anything to end the agony that seized every fiber of her being. Others were screaming now, people and horses. As her pain faded, what replaced it was something far more terrifying.
  
  A white hot rage bubbled up into her, it filled her, as though it was some separate thing from herself. There were other minds invading hers now, and they too were screaming but without a voice.
  
  Later on, she would realize, or rather accept that Maera had died in that moment. What had been the High Priestess, perished, screaming in agony as her body contorted. What was birthed anew from that death, merely carried some piece of Maera in her. It had her memories, her knowledge, but little else.
  
  Her vision returned to her in a rush, the light was too bright. Some people were fleeing now, others standing as though frozen with fear. They seemed grey-ish this close up and at first she thought it was just her eyes.
  
  Her new body came down on something hard and smooth. Her.. coils?.. Twisted and thrashed, and she shoved it aside, hearing the sound of stone breaking. It was as though all she knew was hate, as she lashed out at the nearest fool who’d dared stand there gaping at her in horror. Puzzlement registered, numbly in the back of her head, when she struck a statue instead of flesh. Frustrated, full of bloodlust, she shoved her way through the crowd, sometimes finding panicked people hiding. Finding one pinned by a toppled statue. She killed anything that moved, and she overturned countless statues, too blind with rage to ponder why they were there.
  
  For a moment she remembered nothing of herself, she was simply a beast with the lower half of a snake, with claws and fangs, filled to the brim with the need to rend and destroy, to sate this burning anger inside of her. But every person she tore apart, clawed, bit or strangled. Every cowering fleshy body that she dashed against the stones, only made it worse. Maera was gone. There was no room for her here.
  
  She found a white horse with a broken leg and ripped it’s throat out. She felt like she should have been repulsed, but she tore into it, eating it’s insides and great hunks of flesh, raw like an animal. Only then when she’d gorged herself, did she feel her rage start to cool. No longer a blazing fire, it smoldered like burning coals.
  
  Eventually she returned to the Temple. Some part of her found it familiar, but she knew not why. She of course, found perhaps a dozen or so people, mostly women in white, or men in armor, trying to hide within. Some of them had barricaded themselves away. She was tired now, and with some weary irritation tore open the doors and roamed the halls, hunting them down, until she was certain nothing larger than a rat still lived in the place she’d decided to make into a lair for the time being. She found a large room with an altar, murals of suns and rays of light all over the walls. The monster felt strangely comforted by this, and laid down to sleep.
  
  Some sort of sense of self came back to her slowly over the next few years. Things began to look familiar. She brought some of the statues indoors, just because they seemed important for some reason. Familiar.
  
  Men came to the island, soldiers with spears and arrows, they were hunting her. She struck them all down. Some of them became statues. It would be some time before she fully made the connection, that it was her turning the living to stone. With time, she found she could force someone with her willpower, to look at her even if they wished not to. She used that to her advantage when some of them got clever. Of course, she always had other methods of killing those who dared invade her island.

  
  
  

  The Gorgon's rage

  The rage stayed with her, only over time it began to evolve. She began to remember what had happened to her. Her rage remained stronger than her grief and it was with the strength of this rage that she left her island to hunt down the Priestess who’d done all of this. The woman was amused at first, and lifted a mirror, meaning to reflect her power back at it. The Monster, not so easily tricked, squeezed her eyes shut and rushed her, then struck with her tail before the woman could get a spell off.
  
  The Priestess caught the Gorgon’s eye for only a half second. It was enough to paralyze her and start the process that would turn her to stone. Her arms and legs began to petrify first. The Gorgon stared down at her as she fought to get an incantation out. She seized her leg by the ankle and twisted. A shrill scream wrenched from the one who’d cursed her, as the stone portion of her leg snapped off, leaving a bleeding stump. She did the same for the other leg, after letting the woman attempt to crawl away.
  
  She rolled her over, the woman was almost in shock at this point, eyes rolling back in her head, gibbering and squealing. The Gorgon slapped her full across the face, hard enough to bloody her lips and loosen teeth. With no remorse she snapped off both of her arms. She then simply drug the barely living body out to the stream in front of her lair, and tossed her into it. The witch who had destroyed everything, choked and sputtered, unable to swim, as her flesh was starting to stone, and her arms and legs were half gone. She struggled, and even stubbornly tried to manage another incantation, but slowly drowned in a few feet of slow moving water.
  
  It would be a long time before the hate and rage in her heart and soul, quelled enough for some sort of functioning life. Over the next few decades, she hunted down anyone belonging to the Cult of Vhanyxa. She killed dozens. She lost count of how many died. Of course along the way there were countless others who thought to slay the murderous beast. She sometimes took on grievous wounds, but always emerged the victor in the end.
  
  She was not sure of just how long had passed when she finally began to remember names and faces. Aoide, so perfectly persevered, moved inside the temple long ago. Her hair had fallen from the cloth she’d bound it in, and it had been lifted into the hair by a gust of wind, right before she’d been turned to stone. Her eyes were wide with shock, and she’d had a hand behind her as though trying to push someone much smaller away. The way she stood, she’d been pivoting, about to run, but she’d looked back. She’d looked back and she had died.
  
  Rhania. She must of have been the first to die. The Monster, who would come to call herself Rhene, found Rhania, a broken toppled statue. Rhania, who had been at her side when the horrible Sorceress had attacked. One broken off arm still clutched the rusted and weathered remains of tongs.
  
  She never found her brother. She thought perhaps he might have been one of the ones who’d died without being turned to stone. She imagined him charging to defend his family, shouting for them to run.
  
  She found a large statue not far from Rhania that could have only been Aerkonis. The face was weathered away, but he still clutched his sword, his mouth open in a snarl of pain, or grim determination.
  
  The statues she had moved indoors were safe from the elements. Aoide, a few other Priestesses some part of her had recognized. Later, she would add more to her collection, sometimes keeping an attacker just because it suited her to do so.
  
  She lost herself to her grief for a long time, going mad with it. It all ran together, blurring. The fits of rage, the agonizing sorrow. Eventually she called out to Ilifos in vain, hoping to hear a voice, but she knew deep down, she never would. Gods gained power through their worshipers. What would become of one who no longer had a single one? She could barely call herself that now.
  
  In the end it would be two hundred years before she could trust herself to not fly into fits of rage, and be consumed by bloodlust. By then, the island had become a wild overgrown place. The city across the water, in ruins as well. Visitors still came. Some curious, wanting to see if the legends of the monstrous woman were true. Some of those were even allowed to escape with their lives. Others came hunting her, and met the same fate as dozens, perhaps hundreds before them. In time she would begin to spend long stretches away from the lair she built for herself, years, even decades. In time she gained a deeper understanding of this body she’d been afflicted with. She learned to control her gaze, the serpents that replaced her hair. She began blindfolding herself as a courtesy around others. She was quite civilized even at times, lest one cause her wrath to awaken once more. Like her grief, it slept, pushed into a deep recess of her mind, like a sleeping dragon.