Grinning now, Josh pressed two fingers to his temple. “Then you’ve my congratulations, Miss Tannovic.” Shaking his head, his smile softened, and he said, “A Priestess,” under his breath, seemingly awestruck by the revelation.
“These,” the High Priestess said, turning left and saving me from his glassy-eyed admiration, “are the salt caves. They existed long before Milithia’s followers settled here, but have magnificent benefits for those of us who wield ki.”
Stepping farther into the caves, I gasped. “It’s so…quietin here.”
“It’s the salt.” Hands sweeping out, encompassing everything from the torch-lit walls to vaulted ceilings, she inhaled. “Nothing can grow down here. The silence you’re experiencing is the near complete lack of biological life. That ever-present scratching at your ki-sense is muted within these walls.” She gestured at row upon row of ornate wooden benches. “This is where we come to meditate, to learn control over our Goddess given power, for here, we are free from its influence.” She sent me a pointed look, glancing at my left hand buried in my pocket. “Here,noneof us need the Glaith.”
Hearing her unspoken permission, I released the virgin Glaith, allowing my senses to unfurl. For the first time since my gifts had made an appearance, there was… peace without pain. Silence that welcomed, except for the vibrant lives of those standing next to me.
“Rather cold and dank down here, if you ask me,” my father said, squinting at the furthest wall. “And where is the second exit? Seems unsafe to house the most powerful women in the country without the necessary safety measures.”
Ki licking quietly at my edges, I smirked, for I was my own safety measure. But… he had a point.
The High Priestess laughed, eyes crinkling. “If nothing else, Senator, I appreciate your attention to detail. There is a door at the other end of this hall.”
“And where does it go?”
Silver robes swirling about her hips, she crooked a finger, and said, “To the courtyard.”
But my father was not to be dissuaded. “Would that be the same courtyard housing the flock of gigantic planeth?”
“As emergency exits go,” she said, smoothing her skirts, “it’s not ideal, for one should never take a planeth unaware unless they are feeling particularly light on their feet, but it was the only option available to us. We’ve plans to make third exit through this side”—she pointed to the opposite wall—“next spring.”
“As long as there are plans, I suppose,” my father allowed, watching Josh stroll past the wooden benches as he went deeper into the caves, toward the far end of the room where an altar glowed under the light of several tiny candles.
Behind the altar, standing tall and silent, lurked a series of seven statues, and, head craned back, Josh asked, “What’re those?”
The High Priestess’ smile was sad as she too, tilted her chin back, gaze fixed upon a twenty-foot statue of a beautiful woman with waist-length hair. “Salt carvings depicting Milithia’s early history.”
“I thought the Goddess’ chosen form was an owl?” I said, joining them, my pockets laden with Glaith. With my ki andhis.
The High Priestess nodded. “She was a woman, once. Like us.”
“Wha’ happened?”
Gesturing at the second statue in line, of the same woman with a massive frilled snake coiled around her shoulders and a contented smile etched upon her frozen lips, the High Priestess took a breath. “She was murdered by the serpent who consumes the world, by the betrayer she welcomed into her heart and into her domain.”
I flinched, right hand clenching around the ring hanging heavy in my pocket, kept separate by little more than fabric and willpower.
“But Milithia is the Divine,” she continued, “and for her, true death is impossible. The serpent came from the sea, and though he ruled the waves, he had never known one such as her. Milithia owned the land and the air, the sun and the moon, and everything in between—and the serpent coveted her power.”
She moved toward the third statue, this one showing Milithia brought to her knees, the serpent’s fangs embedded deep in the flesh above her breast. “She was caught unaware, poisoned by the betrayer, and to preserve herself she shifted her form, taking on the savage beak and wicked talons of an owl. But even the Divine can err.”
We moved down the line, to an owl bound by the slick coils of the serpent. “In her chosen form, Milithia was master of the air—brutality and grace wrapped in one heartbreaking package. But the serpent was clever. He’d watched her from afar, knew the awe-inspiring power she possessed,andhad discovered a possible weakness.”
“Flight.”
“Yes, Miss Tannovic. An owl is master of the sky, but trapped on the ground by the weight of the serpent’s coils, Milithia was vulnerable for the first time in her existence. She could not spread her great wings,” she added, a sad little smile tugging at the corner of her lips—and one I understood all too well.
“Don’t tell me the serpentateher,” Josh asked, already standing before the fifth statue.
“He did. And in doing so, he absorbed the power of the Divine.” Here the High Priestess paused, giving us time to take in the image of a satiated serpent, his belly thick and full. “Trapped, and losing ki, Milithia did the only thing she could.” She gestured at the sixth statue, a carving of the serpent consumed in flames. “She gave up her power over the sun and burned him from the inside out, destroying them both.”
“She died?”
“In a way, yes.” We turned to face the seventh, and final statue—an owl rising from the flames, great wings spread wide, the serpent clutched in mighty talons. “But they were both changed forever. The serpent was kissed by the Divine, and he too, was exempt from death. The flames burned away everything they were, remaking them as something new. He became master of the land and sea, for when he was reborn, he possessed a fierce set of clawed feet.”
“An owl’s feet.”
