“This is it, huh? The whole big mystery is just smoke and mirrors? Does this temple even mean anything? Can the gods even hear me? Hear us? Hear anyone?” I shout at nothing as I walk toward the flames.
“Quiet now, are we?” I continue past the flames, toward the other side of the room. “Is this some kind of joke? Are you getting a good laugh out of this?”
I’m pacing the temple like the caged tiger I saw once at a summer festival. The creature walked from one side of the cage to the other, flicking its tail like it was anxious. Like it was biding its time, waiting to release all its anger at being locked up. I imagined the lock coming loose and the beast bursting from the cage. It would run faster than anyone could ever imagine, and in a streak of orange and black, it would fly to the woods, where it could roam and hunt and live.
I feel like that tiger.
I push against the door. I feel around for a button or keyhole. I throw myself against the door again. And again.
I scream into the void. It’s pure rage, and my throat burns as I let it out. My hands are balled into fists, my body contracted and tense. I scream with every single part of myself. I release the frustration and anger and fear and hate. I continue because once I start, I can’t stop.
I scream for my dead parents and brothers.
I scream for the injustice I’ve faced and for the injustice that continues without anything to check it.
I scream for hope and loss. For joy and fear. For everyone who died when they could have been saved by a crust of bread or some warm blankets.
I scream for myself.
And then I collapse to my knees, sweaty, panting, exhausted. I lean my forehead against the cool stone floor. I want to cry, but there aren’t any tears left. My throat is raw from screaming, but I feel a little better. A little lighter.
Nothing changed. The screaming didn’t fix anything. But I still want to.
I sit up, still on my knees. My ass rests on my feet, and I place my palms on my thighs. I feel clearer, calmer than I have in years.
“Do you hear that?” My voice is a whisper, but it carries in the cavernous space. “I want to fix things. I want things to be better. I can’t change what happened to my family. Or to me. But if you give a damn about what happens to us humans, tell me what to do. Tell me how I can make it better.”
The fire goes out with a sizzle.
I stand but don’t move from my place. The air in the room has shifted. It is thicker. Charged. Anxious.
The flames return, roaring to life with even more intensity. But now they’re purple. My brow furrows as I study them. Shades of indigo and blue and even lilac appear as the fire shift and flickers. Every shade of purple imaginable.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper.
“I’ve never responded to anyone who called me to this temple,” a clear, feminine voice says.
I look up from the flames. and see a woman wearing black trousers and a black coat that hugs her curves. Gorgeous black wings stretch wide behind her. She struts toward me, tucking her wings in as she approaches.
Her black boots leave bloody footprints in her wake, and on each of her hips silver weapons glint in the purple light. An axe on one side, a knife on the other.
I know without a doubt that she’s Mara, the goddess of death.
I lower my head, unsure of how I’m supposed to greet her. A curtsy feels wrong, as does getting to my knees, but she’s still a goddess. I lower my gaze until her boots are in view, stopped right in front of me.
I lift my head. “I am not sure how I’m supposed to honor you,” I admit.
She smirks. “I came to you, which makes you one of mine. And daughters of death do not bow to anyone.”
My lips part, and I try to say something, but words fail.
“Now you’re quiet? After speaking to me so loudly these last few weeks?”
I had spoken to her a few times, but mostly out of anger. “I didn’t mean to offend. And honestly, I wasn’t sure you’d even hear me.”
“I hear all of you mortals. I usually just ignore it, but you intrigue me. I haven’t been interested in anything in the mortal plane for centuries. Last time I got involved…” She shakes her head. “Never mind.”
Well, that sounds terrifying.
