7. Breaking Silence
7
Breaking Silence
Calliste
Mount Hellecon, eight years earlier.
There were different types of voicelessness, she’d discovered.
Before, when her husband wouldn’t listen to her pleas, roaring at her to be silent, she could speak, and yet it was as if she had no voice.
But now that she locked herself in silence of her own choosing—for the whole, long year—this was far from being silenced.
She’d picked up sign language during this time. Most of her sisters understood it, from similar experience. She had an entire year to reflect on her new calling and observe without comments, listening to conversations but not joining in or expressing her opinion.
The most surprising discovery was that opinions were only fascinating insights into the minds of others.
She’d heard enough. Seen enough. Understood enough. No one could take away that unwavering certainty that healing was her life’s purpose, what she was meant to be doing. Even though she was nothing more than a refugee.
Staking her whole future on the hope that her husband would never find her to rob her of it—that was frightening, even though Leontia promised her that in the unlikely event that Ariston turned up on Mount Hellecon, no one would tell him that she was here.
Leontia was ready to ignore the law for her. And so, she was ready to take the chance.
The swish of a robe and the scent of mint and lemon told her Leontia was coming. The Head Priestess climbed the steps to the altar beside her and turned around. “Calliste.”
Calliste looked up, her throat like ash.
“It’s been a year exactly. You can speak now.”
She nodded, fear sweeping over her like the intense coldness of her every morning shower. She had been preparing herself for this moment for the past few days, aware that a long time of silence had weakened her vocal cords. Speaking could be painful at first. She could stutter, cough, and struggle to form words.
Now she had to make the Head of the Order recognize her worth and speak the thought that would guide her practice as a healer. She did not know if she would be able to communicate this clearly—or have any meaning at all.
“My silence has become my power.”
She coughed, her throat already strained. Her tongue felt like a foreign object in her mouth, but elation at regaining her speech rushed through her, intoxicating. “Now my words will be twice as strong to mend bodies, lives, and fates.” Then her voice faltered and broke, failing her, but she wanted to complete her thought. “As I step into the eternal grace of Epione.”
Her voice faded into hoarseness and she grew quiet, looking up at Leontia.
In the thick, golden daylight pouring into the Grand Temple’s circular window high above, Leontia: the woman who saved her life and knew all her secrets seemed ethereal, outlined in glow and immaterial, like the goddess Epione herself.
For the whole year, Calliste had quietly wondered if Leontia was the personification of their goddess. Now, when her smile held all the brilliance of the sunshine, she was almost certain of it.
“These are the words I wished to hear, my child.”