Helios Oracles

Chapter 6: Worship

I wake to the sound of bells and curse softly to myself as I scramble from the bed. I don't have time to shower, last night's clothes stripped from my body as I jerk open the door to my wardrobe and pull out my ceremony robe. The heavy red fabric falls to my feet, brushing my bare toes, hood hanging over my shoulders as a niggling thought crosses my mind, like a flame just blown out, a wisp of smoke remaining. Have I forgotten something? It feels as though I have, though what exactly escapes me. I wrestle a brush and my thick hair, finally managing a rough bun at the base of my neck, sandals sliding into place, even as I run for the door and decide if it's important enough, whatever I've forgotten will come to me eventually.

I must have been more tired than I thought last night when I finally made it home to my quarters, because I have little recollection of falling onto my bed and passing out. A dreamless sleep did much to revive me, though I'm now, as I hurry through the hall toward the central worship hall, remembering the troubling conversation I had with the twins.

Relief is welcome after all my anxiety over the matter. At least now I know I'm not the only one with suspicions. I have a pair of allies. I think. Now I reflect on it, was Bellanca more on my side than Thanos?

I can't allow myself to divide them in my mind. They are my friends, my family. I trust them more than anyone in this world. If they believe me-have known all along as they claim-I can believe them, in turn.

Which makes my stomach sink as I slip past three girls in red robes, brushing by a knot of sorcerers grumbling about the early hour and stupid ceremony, sandals sliding over the stone floor as I take my breathless place in the second row behind the elder Oracles-the exact same seat I warmed last night-just as the last bell sounds.

Rena glares at me, poking my ribs. "You're late," she hisses in my ear.

I stick my tongue out at her, a childish gesture. "I'm here, aren't I?"

And then there's no more time for talk. The worship hall is full, the first two rows lined with red robes, the back stacked with black. I miss the quiet of the space, long for the empty silence that embraced me only hours ago in this sacred place. Well trained, we rise as one in a whisper of velvet and satin to greet the pair who mount the central dais, hand in hand.

My grandmother's red robe is trimmed in gold, Liander's black one in silver. Both wear elaborate headdresses, towering over them like steeples of a human church. Sibyl gestures with her free hand and the casing of the dais opens to the chorus of many sighs.

This was the only thing missing from my experience last night, the single regret I have when I come to chapel alone. Without Sibyl and Liander, I have no access to the blessed one below the stone slab. I ease toward the aisle, eyes locked on the shining rainbow case and the recumbent figure inside. Just the sight of my Goddess makes everything better, brighter. I forget for a moment my fears and anxieties, the warning from the twins, my two years of struggle with doubt. Being in the presence of Gaia always gives me peace.

She is so beautiful lying there in a cloth of pure white, face peaceful, hands folded over her generous breast. I've loved her since the first time I saw her as a tiny girl, my heart lost to my Goddess forever. The rainbow light surrounding her hums softly to me, a welcoming song I long to learn, though when she's again returned to the safety of her vault in her gold gilt bed, I forget it immediately. The loss makes my heart ache.

A clump of black mars my view and I look up with irritation to find Liander staring down at Gaia with a gaze of pure possession. My stomach clenches against the need to hit him with fire, to knock him back away from my Goddess. Like she needs my protection. And yet, I can't help but hate him with a passion that shocks me for looking at her like that.

She's his only focus these days, it seems. And though it was Liander who brought her to us, who made our Goddess manifest, I still wish him ill for his attention.

My eyes return to her, and I'm lost in her song again. It is my honor to serve, as the Oracles of Delphi-the first beloved of Gaia-once did so long ago. Love like I feel only when I look upon her floods my entire body, adoration for the Goddess who watches over us and protects us, who supplies the power of my family and the sorcerers we partner. Who grants us the foresight to know what's coming, to protect the world from chaos.

On impulse, without thinking or considering what my action might mean, for the first time in my life I reach out to Gaia directly and send her my love.

And feel her stir at my touch.

I retreat immediately, in shock and fear of what I might have done, even as the ceremony goes on without me. There seem to be no ill effects, though I feel at any moment fire and destruction will bring the sanctuary low. That I've caused some great damage by my audacity. But no one seems to notice what I've done. Sibyl and Liander go about the morning ritual as though nothing happened.

Still, I'm shaking with nerves by the time the service ends and don't wait for the normal exodus line, slipping from my seat and hurrying to the exit before the first row can rise.

I find a quiet corner and pant out my stress, hand clutched to my chest, body tucked in shadows as the rest of the congregation files out, chatting and ignoring me while the panic inside me finally stills.

What was I thinking? I know better. No one is to touch Gaia with power. She is a Goddess, in perfect balance. Any interference with her balance can raise her ire. Clearly, I wasn't thinking. I've completely lost my mind.

And yet, as I finally leave the cubby's shadows and hurry toward my rooms, I catch myself frowning and thinking too hard. I touched Gaia with power. And she answered me. But not with anger or with punishment.

Why, now that I'm aware enough to examine the experience, did it feel like she was asleep?

***