Still confined to the women's quarters, Aisha lay on her cot. Boredom threatened to consume her before her courses ended. She had already consumed the story in the scroll so many times in the last few days she could recite portions of it from memory. It left her restless for more stories. She was tempted to sneak across the temple to the library but stopped herself. If she was caught outside the dormitory in her unclean state, she would put herself in danger of discovery.
Nasreen left for her shift in the brothel an hour ago. The other women in confinement with Aisha were older and spent their time gossiping amongst each other or sleeping. Aisha kept herself separate from them out of shyness or fear, she didn't know which.
Before the fall of Adyll, today would have been celebrated as a holy feast - the time of equal day and night. During this holy time, citizens would spend their day in final preparation for welcoming their deceased loved ones into their homes when the sun set. Favorite meals were prepared for those who most recently passed into the Goddess' embrace. The palace and temple would be hung with autumn leaves and flowers brought from lower elevations. Two hours before dusk, the city would gather in the temple to hear the oracles' prophecy before the sacred fire. Each household would call their dead by name as they lit their lanterns to carry them home where the dead would feast with the living. All night, the streets would be lit as neighbors and friends shared meals and traded stories of their departed loved ones.
Aisha remembered her own family's lantern, how her mother carried it from the sanctuary through the hidden entrance to the catacombs. They would stop at each sarcophagus to recite the name of the former Queen whose likeness was carved there. Before she was Aisha, Irinya asked why they did not invite the ancestor papas along with the ancestor mamas to come to dinner with them. Her father told her it was because the fathers lived in the mama's hearts and became a part of them upon death. Irinya had nodded as if she understood, but she did not.
How could she forget her papa, King Pytr? He was a kind man who carried her on his shoulders and always caught her when she fell. Not like these new men who occupied Adyll, the same men who had killed her papa.
Aisha wiped a tear from her cheek. She vowed to teach her father's name to her children. She would not allow him to be forgotten along with the others.
Shaking herself from her reverie, she noticed the room filling with women returning early from their duties across the temple. A moment later the Holy Mother entered the room followed shortly by Nasreen and the other temple prostitutes. The old woman motioned everyone to gather around her as drums began to sound from outside in the courtyard.
"There is an announcement. All residents of the city, even those of you in confinement, must assemble as we did the night of the city's surrender. The king will be arriving within the next few hours with a captured Zorya." The old woman's voice shook as she spoke.
Terrified murmuring rose among the women.
"Quiet. Quiet! Calm yourselves," said the old woman. "I do not know how this man could have captured one who can see between the worlds, but he has. His power and darkness know no bounds. We must contain our anger and fear within ourselves and obey as we have since he became king. Our place is here in the temple as it always has been."
"Holy Mother, what will he do to her?" asked one of the older women.
"I do not know, sister. Only an oracle can see where this may lead," said the priestess. "And it seems even this is beyond their sight."
Aisha felt Nasreen's hand on her shoulder. "Don’t worry. I will be there with you. We shall see another horror together. I doubt it will be the last, Aisha."
"Where is the Princess Irinya, witch?” Baraz spat the words at the grey-robed woman who knelt on the throne room floor. “They call you an oracle, do they not? I have read of your kind in your library. Filthy women living in the forest in hovels, bleaching your hair with ashes and rendered fat to look like your demon Goddess."
"When you become as old as I am, young man, you become so close to the Goddess that you no longer need the ashes," laughed Zora.
"Baraz, I do not believe this woman can tell us where the princess is hiding. She is nothing but a crazed old crone who was wandering to the forest terrifying children for amusement," Mahleck droned. "I am becoming bored with this. The only ashes I wish to see are the ones she turns into once we cleanse the evil from her body."
"Oh, strigoi-viu," said the oracle in a sing-song voice. "Poor little Mahleck, spoiled little boy. Thinks he is owed what cannot be bought. The blood of the Goddess is not yours to drink. She told you so long, long ago. You stole a taste and now you cannot slake your thirst!"
"Where is the princess?!" screamed Baraz. "Answer my question, witch!"
"Come closer and I will tell you a prophecy," she whispered. "One of blood and pain, of gold turned to mud and a new story yet to be written."
Baraz leaned closer. "Speak up, you mumbling old fool!"
Zora fell to the floor, her eyes rolling back into her head as she arched her back.
"Baraz, raised to glorious adulation above your fellows, chosen of the Locusts," intoned the crone. "I prophesy this day that you shall lick the backside of your strigoi-viu master and feast upon his shit." She sat up as if nothing had happened and erupted into a loud cackle.
"I bore of this entertainment, Baraz. Summon the guard and take her to the temple. Let her prophesy while the flames lick her backside," said Mahleck as he rose from his throne and left them both behind. Her cackling echoed down the hall mocking him as he went.