She also began studying the religious texts. She had little else to do, and she knew she had to keep her mind occupied. When she cracked open the pages and returned to the stories, she felt a wave of nostalgia and shame, like an older woman rereading embarrassing diary entries from her younger self. Yes, at one point she had memorized about half of the stories in the scriptures altogether. Now, in her teenage years, she saw the demi-gods as a menagerie of strange, gut-wrenching idols, and Keirella understood now why she feared them so much as a child.
For a year and a half she studied Mautism in earnest—-she thinks, she lost track of the days. In fact, she not only lost time, but most of her self: she no longer enjoyed food, sound, or even color the same way again. She could not find any love for the gods, but she had re-memorized the scriptures-—it was all she could do-—and her daily thoughts filled with stories of sacrifice, grief, and heavenly ascension. She thought, too, of her mother: was that why she had lost a sense of morality? Because she felt trapped like this all her life? By the end of her captivity, Kierella lost touch with her innermost emotions, but the desire to escape always lingered, buried deep underground. If she happened to think of a certain memory, or if an image outside of her window caught her attention, something greater touched that desire, stirred it, sending up a pang of longing. Sometimes she even dreamed of escape.
In one very particular dream, she lied in her bed. A naked, broad-shouldered man with fine black hair loomed over her, but when she turned her head to the side, she saw a large, reptilian skeleton in the man’s place. For some reason, this did not bother her: she tried as best as she could to see the dream-man from a head-on view.
He began to make love to her, although she sensed nothing actually physical was happening, even in the dreamscape. Still, it felt good—-more blissful and ecstatic than anything she had ever experienced. Her pleasure began to build, and his name came unbidden from her lips: “Death, oh Death.”
Death: Maute’s illicit, secret child, the one uncounted for. The holy books said all five demi-gods shared the responsibility of death among themselves, but she knew now that that was no longer correct. Only one demi-god could handle such an enormous task as taking lives everyday, and he had been avoided by god and human alike.
He stopped at her realization and smiled into her face. “I see you understand now. I am Synk, the demi-god of death. I can help you leave your confines, but first, you must sacrifice something to me--as it has always been.”
For the demi-god of death, Synk was uncontrollably handsome. Second by second she forgot his skeletal mirror-image, and second by second her yearning for his sex built within her. Keirella pressed her palms against his chest—-not to push him away but to continue touching him. The contact sent an cold shock through her.
Leave the anchoress’s hold? She would give anything to leave that place.
part 6
For a year and a half she studied Mautism in earnest—-she thinks, she lost track of the days. In fact, she not only lost time, but most of her self: she no longer enjoyed food, sound, or even color the same way again. She could not find any love for the gods, but she had re-memorized the scriptures-—it was all she could do-—and her daily thoughts filled with stories of sacrifice, grief, and heavenly ascension. She thought, too, of her mother: was that why she had lost a sense of morality? Because she felt trapped like this all her life? By the end of her captivity, Kierella lost touch with her innermost emotions, but the desire to escape always lingered, buried deep underground. If she happened to think of a certain memory, or if an image outside of her window caught her attention, something greater touched that desire, stirred it, sending up a pang of longing. Sometimes she even dreamed of escape.
In one very particular dream, she lied in her bed. A naked, broad-shouldered man with fine black hair loomed over her, but when she turned her head to the side, she saw a large, reptilian skeleton in the man’s place. For some reason, this did not bother her: she tried as best as she could to see the dream-man from a head-on view.
He began to make love to her, although she sensed nothing actually physical was happening, even in the dreamscape. Still, it felt good—-more blissful and ecstatic than anything she had ever experienced. Her pleasure began to build, and his name came unbidden from her lips: “Death, oh Death.”
Death: Maute’s illicit, secret child, the one uncounted for. The holy books said all five demi-gods shared the responsibility of death among themselves, but she knew now that that was no longer correct. Only one demi-god could handle such an enormous task as taking lives everyday, and he had been avoided by god and human alike.
He stopped at her realization and smiled into her face. “I see you understand now. I am Synk, the demi-god of death. I can help you leave your confines, but first, you must sacrifice something to me--as it has always been.”
For the demi-god of death, Synk was uncontrollably handsome. Second by second she forgot his skeletal mirror-image, and second by second her yearning for his sex built within her. Keirella pressed her palms against his chest—-not to push him away but to continue touching him. The contact sent an cold shock through her.
Leave the anchoress’s hold? She would give anything to leave that place.
“Then please, allow me,” he said.