Kneeling in front of the incandescent Goddess, I place my hands in front of hers and gaze up towards the sky, closing my eyes and imagining the full moon above.
It has taken me rotations to learn the strange language of this song. The song I’m going to sing to her, a lyrical breeze I often find hard to grasp.
That one night, three rotations ago, while dusting the lower stacks of the library shelves the book that would change everything landed at my feet. The tome contained the very words I’d poured my soul into over the past rotations, stealing time in the evenings to learn the lyricsthat threw me through a loop.It saved me, that old crusty book. It gave me true purpose and without it I don’t know if I’d still be here. Though I’m sure the winged horn guy would have something to say about that.
When it fell at my feet, I thought nothing of it until I saw the page it had landed on—a sketch of a kneeled figure’s gaze turned skyward, pointed ears and vines trailing the resplendent frame to the soil beneath, the Goddess. My Goddess—the one in the tree. My secret.And then another book fell and everything gradually moved into place.
Knowing of the statue in the cave, I knew it couldn’t be a coincidence, and the voice in my head wouldn’t let it go, either. So, I took the books and brought them to this cavern in the hopes that it would draw more knowledge and inspiration. And gradually I learnt the texts.
Luckily, my mother taught me to read at a young age, but this language is something else. Its pronunciation is almost pretty and elegant, and I often feel like a butcher of these lyrical words.
But here I am on a full moon—as stipulated by the book—a servant girl with a voice in her head singing to the Goddess, hoping this will bring life back to our dying land.
“Here goes nothing.” I inhale and begin.
Through my roughened tongue, I sing the lyrics to the Goddess, to the stars and to the land. The translation floats through my head—
See the wings, they rage in tempest.
Spreading the origin of the Goddess,
For her tears purify this soil
We sow and toil.
To bring bounty for all of her people.
Her blessings take flight.
They sing with mirth,
For they stretch to the stars,
A connection between Goddess and mother.
When blood spills,
This song will be sung.
And life will become anew.
As the words weave their way through my body, my hands begin to heat. A tremor passes through my limbs on the last chorus as I dig my fingers into the dirt to remain stable on my knees.
Finishing the song, I keep my eyes closed…and I wait.
Just a little bit longer. Just a little bit longer.
But nothing.
Nothing comes—not even a snarky remark from Wren. I reach my grimy hands up towards my hair and pull, wanting to scream.
What did I expect? This one song I’ve spent rotations decoding is just going to fix all the problems we are having in the kingdom in the blink of an eye?
A SONG.One song!
I want to laugh out loud at the absurdity of it all, so I do just that. I laugh at myself, I laugh at the Goddess, I laugh at this stupid tree in the middle of a cave and I laugh at my silly dreams. Until all my fight is gone.
“Is this it?” I wipe at my weary face. “Castor is getting married, and I can’t even sing a damn song right?”What is the point of all this?I spend most of my turn living for a Goddess I don’t even know. I am unlovable. No one cares if I live or die. I have no idea why I am so afraid of leaving this temple. None of the servants or priestesses will care if I disappear. I am invisible to them.
