Chapter 41
Chapter
Forty-One
C alliape follows me deeper into the temple, beckoned by the distorted screaming. A short corridor opens up to another sitting room, empty and untouched. Above a domed ceiling with beautifully draped fabric, windows let in the nearly absent light of the eclipsed sky.
There are at least three attaching rooms dotting the outer perimeter. My eyes land on each of them, but I am unsure of which to commit to.
"Calliape, which—" A crash cuts off my question. It echoes up into the chamber of the ceiling, directing our attention to the farthest exit.
Calliape clamps her hand down on my shoulder and without hesitation launches us forward, as far as her gift will allow in the unfamiliar setting.
With my next inhale, we stand in the doorway of another sitting room, a disheveled, eerie version of the perfectly put together space we were in previously.
Two figures inside stand unnaturally, and my eyes take too long to make sense of them.
I blink rapidly and when my vision adjusts, what comes from my body is not a gasp or a sharp inhale, it's a primal snarl.
The elder priestess who ran from the fight holds my sister in a spiderweb grasp around her neck. Silky strands constrict, cutting off her airway as Leema scratches and tries to free herself, plucking tiny threads that continue to manifest and multiply up the column of her throat.
Blood covers her gown from a wound I cannot see, and her hands are stained in old blood, dried and blotchy around her wrists.
I scream her name so loud my ears ring and pulse with my heartbeat, drowning out the sound of the elder’s biting words.
My light rushes out of me on its own, doing my bidding without waiting for my thoughts to catch up, the emerald energy striking out of my fingertips with electric rage.
The fire is so green and brilliant, I have to squint my own eyes from the intensity.
Without aim or reason, it launches forth, knowing who it is meant for.
I see a glowing reflection in the wild shine of the elder’s eyes right before contact, and in an instant, she is gone, the mist left behind crackling into nothing.
Leema falls to her knees, taking in a gulping breath as the last of the elder’s silky strands falls to the ground and disappears.
I stumble to my sister, holding her hands and running my palms over them, her stomach, checking for the origin of the blood that coats her.
"It's not mine." Leema tries to wipe it away as if disgusted, but the sticky smudges do not move.
Knowing she is unharmed, that she is not bleeding out and I am not too late, breaks something in me.
I crush her chest against mine, feeling her forearm protecting her rounded belly from my sudden embrace. Her other hand slides to my back, hugging me like she is just as happy to see me.
I want to stay here, let myself cry and outpour the tension I am holding in my shoulders, but if the blood is not hers, then it belongs to someone else.
"Whose blood is this?" I pull her hands together, gently forcing her attention.
"I didn't mean to. I did not know if you were truly going to help me. I told her I wanted to leave."
"Who? Who did you tell? Leema, where is the highest?" I beg for an answer, but her eyes look through me, wild from shock.
Leema can't answer me. She only whimpers helplessly and begins smearing her hands on the clean parts of her white gown.
"Ferren." Calliape's calm tone is forced and unnatural. She stands over a vast puddle of blood on the far side of the domed room, red stripes following the grout lines of the mosaic tile.
It is answer enough.
I nod at Leema reassuringly. "It's alright. This is Calliape, my friend. She will stay with you."
As I stand, Calliape has folded the distance next to us. I meet her eyes, and though she says nothing, an unspoken understanding crosses between us, a deep trust in each other and what our roles will be in what happens next.
The sound of Selene's gift cuts off, the wind coming to an abrupt stop, and my ears pop from sudden change in sound. I know without looking she is already in the archway behind us.
I weave around the displaced furniture, fueled by my sister’s fear and desire to end this.
I walk to the portion of wet tile, the light so low the blood takes on an inky black.
My insides move in a strange twist when I see a smeared trail on the edge of the pool, as if someone has dragged themselves away.
I press my palm into my cramping side and brace as I follow it with my eyes.
Crixa lies at the base of an ornately upholstered chaise lounge, weakly holding her abdomen. A slender but lengthy dinner knife lays on the floor by her drenched temple robe, casting the midnight blue fabric in a wet black where she pulled the knife from her wound.
She is pale, her breath shallow, but she is alive.
The amount of blood around her and the dried remnants on Leema's hands makes it obvious Crixa has been here, like this, long before my arrival. Too weak to call for help and losing blood at a rate that quickly drained her ability to defend herself.
Crixa underestimated how far Leema would go to protect herself and her child. The so-called most powerful priestess in Cosima let herself be caught off guard, so much so that she is too weak to wield her gifts.
I can hear her muttering to Calliape, clinging and desperately trying to convince her she did not mean to, that it was a mistake, how she panicked.
"Ferren." Crixa's weak voice silences the room.
I step on the streaky marks where she dragged herself away and crouch next to her, her eyes still shut but her head turned slightly, sensing my nearness.
"Heal your highest." Her whisper is strained.
The only time I was able to accomplish such a thing was unknowingly and only to myself. I move the frail hand that holds her wound, wanting to see it closer. "I cannot."
With the last of her strength, her eyes crack open, and she wraps her bony fingers around mine and presses my palm to the leaking spot on her abdomen. "I know of . . . all your gifts . . . Lord Hollis spoke of how difficult they were to hold . . . onto. You will heal me."
She pulls me closer to her until the curve of my wrist digs into her thinly padded stomach. Even while she bleeds out onto the tiles, she demands my obedience.
"Cosima will fall without a highest." Her eyes look so depleted, like there is no shine or life there now, and I know she is only hanging on by a single thread.
I shake my head, denying her again. "I will not."
"Your sister will hang if I die, divine vessel or not. As will you," Crixa wheezes.
I stand, removing my palm, and the wound instantly starts to ooze again, but Crixa does not cover it, her hand resting limply in her lap.
"I cannot let you harm High Priestess Ferren or her sister," Selene says behind me.
Crixa's eyes widen at the unexpected announcement. She leans around my body to see its source. "High Priestess Selene? I did not think I would see you again . . . Your hair’s gone grey." Crixa coughs.
"I have prayed to never see you again."
"So many friends my Ferren has made." Crixa glances over at Calliape and then her head sinks back into the cushion of the lounge, nodding in a small understanding movement.
She may know I have brought them here, even that I am taking Leema out, but not that I have the truth of what happens in this temple and her participation.
"You came back to me to atone," she tries another means of manipulation. "You have finally risen in the ranks of your temple. Do not squander it away. Heal. Me. And all can be forgiven."
"Ferren, I am so sorry." Leema walks on shaky steps, holding onto Calliape for support.
Crixa's skilled manipulation is working its way into her, sinking its claws in and making my sister feel like this single deed has ruined the one thing I have always wanted: ascension and respect from my temple.
"No, Leema, you have done nothing to me. Do not listen to her; this woman does not know my intentions anymore."
Leema clutches her stomach protectively, her confused yet assured expression her only reply.
I watch Crixa as I continue, "They do terrible things here; you felt it. I am sorry I have not gained your trust, but I would have never let you give birth in this temple."
"The highest and the elders of this temple have been sacrificing mothers to make more divine children," Selene says flatly, staring at Crixa with such contempt, I think her gifts will spill forth.
Crixa faintly huffs as if amused. "Blasphemy."
"It's true. I have seen it," I say to Leema.
"Admit to these women what you have done, how many mothers you have murdered," Selene spits the demand at Crixa, knowing it's unlikely to be met.
Leema is almost as pale as Crixa as she sits on a near sofa, still clutching her belly, her pupils blow out like she is panicking internally. The sight of the fear written all over her makes my jaw clench so hard my teeth could crack.
I squat next to Crixa, firmly pressing my hand to her wound and staring into my highest's fading eyes.
"I did what I had to do to protect the three worlds," Crixa whispers only loud enough for me, the gaps of her teeth stained red. "I care for you deeply. I know you care for me too." She holds my hand in place with a clawing grip, her peppery tendrils snaking up my arm and weakly scratching at my skin.
But they cannot breach the green light radiating slowly from my hands, not to heal her but to keep her pinned.
She will hear my words. I will not let her bleed out until I am finished. "I came back . . . for my sister, not for your forgiveness. I want you to know that."
Her eyes widen with betrayal, the last of the color draining from her face.
"Now, I will have your confession, Crixa," I grit at her.
She laughs at me, using her depleting strength to mock me.
"Admit what you have done, admit you killed our mother."
Leema's gasp behind me breaks my heart. I wish I could have told her gently, held her when I explained, but Crixa owes this to me.
"I, the Highest Priestess of Cosima, take an oath to usher . . . the priestess order . . . into the new age." She musters up just enough strength, not to spit her rage at me or give me and my sister closure, but to recite one last prayer before her mind truly fades. "I will lay down my life . . . in the preservation . . . of your divine daughters."
I close my eyes and little green vines slither across her body, holding and trapping her against the chaise. They undulate and keep her in place as she whispers another meaningless prayer.
"Calliape?" I join her where she stands protectively next to my sister. "Are there any others in this temple?"
Knowing she is the only one who can answer my question quickly, she leaves in a gush of wind, folding and searching the temple.
"Are you alright?" I ask Leema, afraid of her answer.
"You did not come back to Cosima for atonement?"
"No."
I can see how fast she is putting her thoughts together, how they seem to race by, and she cannot hold onto a single emotion on her face for more than a moment.
She thought she had done something unforgivable, something so horrible her and her child would die for it, but now she knows the true reason I am here.
The Albright said my sister was seeking balance. My past manipulated reality and circumstance made me believe a skewed version of what that could be.
But this is the true balance: the woman who made us this way succumbing in the same temple she murdered our mother in.
That is what the Albright foretold. Leema will have balance because I give it to her.
My hair sways as Calliape appears beside me, breaking my attention away from thinking of what else to say to Leema.
"No others, just the ones we have seen. They have succumbed," Calliape reports.
"Will you please take my sister out to the courtyard?" I ask her.
She nods and helps Leema to stand, and I turn my back on them, hoping they can leave without any issue . . . so I can finish this.
I wait until I cannot hear their footsteps anymore before walking back to Crixa.
"You will never leave this temple," I say, looming over her. "And I will make sure every book in the three worlds that has your name recorded as the highest also states what you did, how you sinned against First Mother, how many women you sacrificed, and how many children you orphaned."
She watches me take the nearest torch out of its mount on the wall, the orange flame the only life reflected in her eyes.
The highest cannot defend herself, too weak to put up any kind of ward or conjure her powers against me. She will not have an honorable priestess’s death.
She does not deserve it.
"They are outside."
I spin quickly, not expecting to hear Selene's voice coming from the archway of the room.
I stare at her for a long time, watching her pupils dance back and forth between me, the torch I am holding, and Crixa pinned and motionless on the floor.
"The horror I saw in this temple has haunted me. All those women that came here while I lived my life on Frith. Thank you . . . for letting me make this right," Selene says.
I nod because there is nothing to say, then walk to another torch attached to the wall and force it out of the iron grip, handing it out for her to take.
She has her reasons for helping me, and her own guilt or not, I will gladly accept it so we can burn this temple to the ground.
"This ends now. Blessed night," I say, not knowing if I am speaking to Crixa or announcing it to First Mother herself, hoping she will understand.
I walk to the farthest corner of the room, kissing the flame to the long, draped fabric coming down from the walls.
It ignites instantly, sending heat through the space, traveling upward.
Selene touches the cushions of the furniture with hers, engulfing the fabric in a hissing discolored flame.
We work our way around the now impossibly hot space until we both stand in the exit.
The fire engulfs the furniture around Crixa. If she is still alive, she does not move.
I tighten my hold on her, making sure she stays put until my light has nothing to grasp onto but her scorched bones.
For a moment, the roaring blaze of the beautiful room crackling and hissing almost sounds like the flames are speaking to me.
I tell myself it’s Crixa calling out my name, screaming from the epicenter of the fire. But the voice I hear is distorted, deep in tone, and elated at what I am doing.
The fire speaks again, like a lover praising me, wanting to reach out across the ether.
"Do you hear that?" I shout to Selene over the roaring blaze.
She looks to me utterly confused, confirming the voice is somehow only meant for me.
I back my way out of the room, feeling uneasy and that my sanity will come down with the temple.
When we reach the main chamber, I throw each torch from its placement onto the ground, knowing they will catch on the woven rugs.
Every chair, table, or large decor item has been piled up and blown together, a tall mound of broken pieces where the elder priestesses fought us. Selene used everything she could, down to the furniture, to disable the last elder.
She throws her torch into the pile. "We need to hurry!"
I kiss the edge of the splintered furniture, wanting to make sure nothing is missed. "Go! I am right behind."
The halls of the temple glow with an otherworldly hue as the fire travels from its depths.
Glass oil lamps burst in the adjoining room from the heat, spitting and fueling the hungry flames.
"Ferren!" Selene yells through a cough from the exit of the temple.
I follow her out, the cold exterior air hitting my lungs in a shocking contrast.
My eyes sting, not able to adjust to the darkness, but I know I have to seal the doors. I turn back and muster every bit of my light into my palms, holding it up to the iron handles of the temple entrance.
My fingertips burn and ache as the ornate metalwork begins to melt, the mammoth black knob morphing into a buckling shape.
When I dissipate my light, the metal cools and creates a seal—no one can get in and no one can leave.
I refuse to wait for the leaders of the three worlds to help me. When they come to finally investigate the horrific events that transpired in the darkest corners of this temple, they will find ash instead.
I search the dark courtyard for my sister.
Selene ran out only moments before I did, but I cannot see her figure either.
My eyes burn from the heat and smoke, my vision warped from the brilliant orange blaze, making the courtyard look pitch black around me.
The fire takes hold of the temple fully, crackling behind me, popping and groaning like a great campfire. I can smell the smoke still sticking to my hair and feel the temperature around me slowly rising.
A radiant glow from the flames bathes my extended, searching hands in orange.
I can finally see the bright white of Leema's dress, blotchy and bloodstained. My breath returns to me at the sight of her holding onto Calliape, waiting in safety.
99 walks passed Selene, his armor cast in the same brilliant light as the one reflected in her wide, stunned eyes.
I reach for his forearms to hold myself up when he sends calm, soothing affection to me. Every nerve ending singed by what happened suddenly relaxes. Our tether was open the entire time; he knows what transpired in there.
He stands in front of me, his helmet tilting down, roaming over my body, likely to check for injuries that I am too dazed to notice.
"It is over," I say.
His chest heaves when he hears my voice.
I surprise myself at how true my statement really is. I am not as traumatized as I was when I came face-to-face with Crixa before. I feel no guilt or shame for what I did, only intense relief.
The pressure dissolving from my muscles releases small spikes of ecstasy with each passing moment, each cracking of burned temple wood, each blink of better vision as the fire grows.
The eclipse hue of the courtyard is replaced by golden, angry light, highlighting the ornate pillars, casting the moon flowers in amber, and exposing the more than a dozen Viathans standing behind Leema and the others.
Viathan guards who were stationed here when I arrived, but also ones who came with 99, their formation still and motionless, as if they are awaiting orders.
99's rough knuckles gingerly caress my cheek. "You forbade them from entering the temple."
I realize he is right. He instructed the commanders waiting for me here to follow my orders and they did.
But so did 99. He waited for me outside, knew I had it under control. It is one thing for him to say he knows I am capable, but a whole different sensation when it likely took everything in him to stand idle and wait for me.
I hug him tightly, pressing my face into his chest armor and savoring the feel of his forearms wrapped around my back.
He whispers into our tether that everything is going to be alright, that it is over, but I can feel the nerves he is trying to pacify, ones that tell me he is not sure what consequences will come now.
The feeling doesn't stop when he lets me go, a sense of underlying dread seeping in and filling me up.
Then my ears pop. My eyes water in a gush of tears across my lower lids and my vision is suddenly clearer.
I know what it is the moment I look up into the sky.
A faintly iridescent film falls away like a giant dome of protection over the city, the Estate, the stones.
Selene feels it too.
She stands next to me while we both realize the cost of ending things.
The Highest Priestess of Cosima is dead, and her protection ward around the city, keeping us all safe from the true enemy, has died with her.