“So formal, Little Dove,”the tinkling trickles through my brain like the sweetest of melodies once again.
“Yes, well, don’t get used to it,” I respond, moving from my small nest of warm blankets and into the cold air around me.
A light, airy laugh chimes through my borders. “Have you been practising?”
“Yes.” I blow my hair out of my face as I throw the thickest blanket around my shoulders.
The voice drifts away as I hastily clutch the glowing lantern and make my way out the door. I walk towards a tattered emerald tapestry inlaid with golden threads at the end of the hall. Behind it is a heavy stone door. Finding the point where two circles meet, I heave the door a crack, and a chill sweeps my body.
It’s just one song,I remind myself.
Resigned to my fate, I lift the lantern in front of me and watch as the thin tunnel is illuminated.
“Boo,”the sweet voice rings back through my ears.
I give a slight chuckle and shake my head, continuing the trek down the tunnel. The sensation of the temperature dropping cools my lungs as my breaths become living whisps floating in the air.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Inwardly, I roll my eyes. “What’s there to talk about?”
“The high priestess’s announcement?”
“It’s fine, I’m fine. I’m ready.” I hear her frowning as I spot the glow up ahead.
Opening the lantern, I begin the process of switching out the glow-worms. Over the rotations, I have found they favour moss. So, at the bottom of the lantern, I always keep damp moss, swapping the glowing, slippery, thick little creatures out every evening. That way, they are never within the lantern for an extended period.
Once I have my new set of glowing creatures, I rest it on the floor for my return and follow the lit-up pathway in front of me.
It’s not long before the path leads me to a moon-drenched cavern. I take a long breath, and the salty breeze assaults my tongue, making me smile brightly. I guess you could say I love the glimpses of the ocean I get from the temple windows. But here… Here, I can smell it likesummer has come anew. It reminds me of life.I love the ocean. No wonder this is where she chose to be.
Taking in the small, lapping waves, I get a perfect view through the large opening leading out towards the sea. I could sit with my feet in the water, all light and darkness, and just bask in its ethereal beauty. But I’m here for a job, my purpose—as told by the annoying voice in my head, that is.
“I’m waiting…”Wren says impatiently.
“I haven’t been here in a whole moon cycle. I want to be able to picture it all.” The slight rise and fall of the breathing water kissing the sand’s edge, the wide, circular hole in the stone above, giving the moon full access to touch its healing light on all within the large space. A true sacred space. Her space.
Giving the moon and water one last sweep, I turn around and take in the reason I’m here.
A large, thick tree big enough to house ten full-grown men grows from the centre of the vast place. An impossibility, yet here it stands in all its glory.
When I first discovered the tree, there were still lush green leaves and an abundance of dazzling pink flowers. Now, all the petals lay lifeless on the cave’s sandy floor, and the leaves have turned a golden brown.
At least half of those leaves are scattered on the ground below. My heart clenches at the spectacle. It’s why I always gaze upon the tree last. If I can just see the constants of the moon and sea, I can imagine how I originally found it all those rotations ago at fifteen. A place full of life and magic.
Now, all I know is sadness and regret as I look at the dying flora.Maybe, if I’d found her sooner, I could’ve done more. I don’t know what,but I’m sure I would’ve had some idea. Anything. My mother taught me enough. Maybe.
Inching closer, I make my way towards the oval opening within the lower trunk. Like stepping through a portal into another world, I enter through the makeshift door to find the tree lit up with more glow-worms, lighting the space that holds her in safety. For how much longer, I do not know.
The mother of all life. The Goddess herself, Oona.
A statue twice the size of me, made of an almost clear crystal, holds the figure of a woman wearing a flowing dress and kneeling on the ground. Both of her hands are tangled in vines as she reaches for the ground beneath her. Her face angled up towards the sky with her eyes closed, long hair spilling around tipped ears.
I imagine she is birthing new life. She is the Goddess, after all. Oona is life, the connection between the land below and the stars above.
In her face, I see my own sadness. I am here to correct that.
A stillness, a quiet, greets me in this space like it is waiting for something. Someone.
