The Lady’s delicate fingers lift my chin, and I gaze back into the eyes of those I am joined to. The Lady speaks in low tones, a vow that I answer instinctively. My voice is my own and yet otherworldly and strange on my tongue. In turn, each man before me does the same. The slight hand of the Lady lifts each chin forward. Their eyes focus, and the sacred words flow from their lips as if we had always known them. Quietly living in our bones for this day.
Guided by a force I do not comprehend, we lean forward in unison, our foreheads pressed together at the temple. I feel an energy surrounding us, and I realize the ritual bindings have fallen away from our skin. I feel them, still connecting us all the same. The quiet is heady and tranquil now.
When the Lady calls out, her voice is filled with reverence and joy, inspiring the same in each witness.
“The Trinity is sealed this night. Go now and seek its delight.”
I suck in a breath, and my lungs fill with rich and euphoric incense from the fire.
Bodies start to move around us, at first slowly. I remain as their presence hovers at the edges of my consciousness, then blurs. Music vibrates, and the space around us fills with heat and sound. The energy of the space changes as the gathering draws closer. When we rise, we become the fluid center of an ever-growing crowd.
The drumming reverberates in my chest, and the vibrations soothe the mass into a gentle sway. We are unmoored from the soft grass beneath us but held in collective warmth.
I am just beyond the edge of consciousness when the energy builds to freneticism. So I let it go, my will. Swaying and stepping in time with the drums. There is no clear image here, just light and shadow, arms and hands moving like waves.
We brush together without friction; we are the beginning of something alive and changing. The fluidity ripples, like the surface of the mirror, and the energy shifts. Instead of a soft impermeable body, we become something else. Cohesive, a moving spiral. Where skin connects, there is no inhibition, only contact.
I have a gentle knowing that one of my bonded is at my back, close but tentative, calming. One is at my chest, tethering me in my skin so I do not blow away. The spiral moves us outward, slowly. Methodically. When the night breeze touches my damp skin, it contrasts starkly with the heat of the two bodies surrounding me. The cool air in my lungs heightens my senses.
Hands pass between us, a gentle pressure as the spiral moves us farther from the fire. We are deeper into the night, and without knowing it, we are delivered back to the mouth of the cave. We step into the darkness unbidden.
The scents of rich, deep earth emanate from the dirt walls of the entrance. The sounds of the gathering fall away. The guiding strikes of the drums remain the deeper we walk, penetrating earth and stone. The chamber is small when the walls change from soil to rock. The small fire has been maintained, and I can make out the familiar nest of furs from my cloistering.
The proximity of the bodies next to me in the darkness is close. We are so close. When a hand presses to my shoulder, it is heated and inviting; it is asking me something. So I press forward slightly. The presence behind me grows closer, faintly touching but not pressing. It is a question, too, in its own way.
My hands move instinctively; there is a calm rightness to this moment. The invisible bonds of this union carry us closer to one another. My hand touches a lightly stubbled jaw in front of me. It leans into my palm, exhaling, then breathing me in. A nose skates lightly across my neck, and the sensation is…divine. Delicate fingers trail to my shoulder, a ghost's touch. Hands larger and more firm, land gently at my waist. There is ecstasy here in the deepness of the earth, if we so choose it.
A quiet pressure is growing inside me. Building from my core and sparking its way across my exposed skin. When lips graze my jaw, I close my eyes and lean into the form behind me. He is tense. I can taste his uncertainty. But his curious touches at my neck and shoulders continue.
The first brush of lips on my own is so soft, a whisper on my skin. My left hand reaches back to the stone wall behind us, and the cold surface grounds me into my body with dizzying clarity. I can feel…something. Markings.
“Wait,” I whisper, using my voice for the first time since the vow. “Wait,” I say louder now, clearer. Everyone becomes still. Slowly, the man in front steps back, and I step forward. The man behind me slides away from the wall.
We remain this way for a long moment, the first time we’ve been truly present and in our bodies together. My eyes adjust to the darkness of the cave, and I move slowly, still finding my footing on its uneven ground. A small torch sits beside the fire, and I place it deep into the flame. After a moment, they overtake it, and more light enters the small space. When I walk back to the wall, the two men follow me with tentative steps.
The wall is filled with faint etchings. The closer I am, the more of it I can read. My eyes adjust to the flame near me, and I focus on the wall. These are names. Some wore away to nearly nothing at the top. The newest ones toward the bottom are familiar.
Aris, Saint, Kellen
Elias, Solace, Jude
Ander, Kiaan, Leilani
Rian, Brennus, Bo
Emyr, Adrien, Isla
Connor, Arianelle,
Adira.
My breath catches in my chest. These names, these are the Trinities. Each name, a king or queen, when they left this chasm. The weight of reality hangs heavy in the air between us. The weight of destiny, too. I turn to the right, and the dark-haired man is there. He looks…hauntedby what we’ve found.
“Chiron,” The name slips out in a whisper, and his eyes flick to me and away in an instant. He turns his back to the wall. I know that Adira was the representative of the land, and she died before Chiron was born. The Lost Queen. His parents haven’t been a Trinity for nearly all of their reign. His grief is a tangible thing. As one without a mother, I understand this feeling well. The gaping hole in me that never truly heals.
I move back to the wall and to the other person in the cave. Wren. His arms are folded across his chest, and he is stony, perceptive.
The energy of the Rite and the revelry has drained from our encounter and our quiet revelations on the wall.
