Weakness

Weakness is a Tyme story by Terri Pray.

Artwork by Samuel Pray, created using Daz 3D, Photoshop and Filter Forge.

It was out there, she could feel it, feel the tug that worked its way into her chest and wrapped around her heart. Jada pressed one hand over her heart and closed her eyes for a moment. All she had to do was take a step and she’d feel the pull that told her which direction she would have to move, where her feet would need to place themselves in order to begin her journey.

Then stay, don’t go, don’t leave. They need me.

They would always need her but she was doing this for them, for all of them. Not just her own family but everyone else. Yet she had been the one it had reached out to. Her. A no one. Not even a warrior. Useless according to those sworn to the way of the warrior.

Weak.

Yes, she’d been called that more times than she wanted to think about. Weak and helpless, yet she was alive, she had children and she’d survived the invasion, even if she had done so without her mate standing by her side.

She swallowed and tried to clear the lump from her throat. The pressure, the summons remained, something she couldn’t and wouldn’t ignore. It called to her and she had to answer, to see what was on the other end of that call before it was too late. She wiped her hands down against her leggings before she turned to look at the door. No, it wasn’t time yet. She could still enjoy the company of her sleeping children.

The thought drew her attention and she looked down at the two cradles but kept her distance from both, at least for now. By the gods, she wanted to touch and hold her children. They were hers, her lifeline in this place, on this world. The proof of her right to exist even if she would never be accepted by the majority of her people. 

Without worth. Wasn’t that how they viewed her? Nothing but a breeder and one that even her mate had chosen to abandon in search of someone more suitable, at least that is what she had been told.

The damned man hadn’t even had the guts to speak to her before he’d vanished into the night, something she would never have thought him capable of doing until the morning she’d woken to find herself alone in their shared bed.

Odd.

What had changed between them that he had found it so needful to leave or had something else happened? If so, who held the answers?

My sister?

She shuddered at the thought and closed her eyes. Could it be that her sister was behind the loss of Jada’s mate? That her jealousy or her lack of understanding as to why a warrior male would choose her, had led to her mate’s disappearance? If that were the case then she would never know the truth, unless her mate was alive and returned to her.

Dead, he must be dead. That would be the only reason he would not return to see the birth of his children. Our children.

He’d vanished when she’d discovered she was pregnant and the loss of his presence in her life had been… painful. It would always hurt, she was woman enough to admit that. Yet it didn’t change the pain when she looked at her children and understood they would never know their father. Now she would leave them to follow a dream, an idea and what would that do to her babies?

Was this a foolish idea? Was she doing the right thing in leaving her children tonight in search of — of what? A dream? A legend? Something that might not even exist? What if she never returned?

She took a step toward the first cradle and leaned in. It didn’t matter if she failed to return, she had to try. Even if she failed, she would have at least proved that she wasn’t a coward, that she would never step down when she was called, when she was needed. Her children would be safe, she had the paperwork in place that would prevent her sister from claiming them and they would have the right to choose her own path, even leave Mars if they so wished, without interference from family members.

They would be free.

“Sleep little one. Sleep and know that I love you.” Jada smoothed a soft black curl back from the sleeping child’s eyes and let her fingers play over the lock for a moment before she tucked the quilt back in under his chin. She turned to the second bed in the room, her steps silent as she moved to the side and tucked her daughter in with the same care she had taken with her son. Neither child made a sound as she moved through the room instead their sleep remained undisturbed.

What was it like to sleep in such peace? To know, without doubt, that you were safe?

Had she ever enjoyed such rest when she had been a child? Had there been someone who had stood watch over her?

If there had, she had never been told of such things, nor was there one she could reach out to now in order to find out. The only one with any answer would be her sister and that was a woman who would never provide the information. Not unless it was something that would benefit the older woman. That was the nature of their relationship and had been for as long as Jada could remember.

She shook off the thought and slipped out of the room and pulled the door closed behind her in silence. She paused to listen, making sure that neither child had awoken with her exit and only then did she step away. They would sleep through the night, if the gods were kind, and they had done so for several months now.

A soft noise in the main room drew her attention and she forced a smile into place before turning to see the source. Tall, broad shouldered, with a slight scar on her left cheek, the woman stood there, leaning against the door frame. “They’re going to be soft, if you keep treating them like that. It’s not good for them, for any children to be raised like that. Too much love will weaken them. You know it’s not our way. Not the way of a warrior people. How can they be active members of the community if you continue to coddle them? No, you’re raising them to be nothing more than breeders, just like their mother.”

Jada folded her hands in front of her, refusing to let the tension she felt show in her stance. Love, a weakness? It wasn’t something she agreed with but the other woman was set in her ways. It wasn’t worth the fight. Jada took a deep breath and met the woman’s gaze, her voice calm but gentle and submissive. Anything else would start a fight, something she had no interest in, especially tonight. “So you’ve said, sister.”

The older woman snorted, nostrils flaring in disgust. “No fight in you, just like our mother. How you ever persuaded that man of yours to breed with you, is beyond me. Good warrior like that needed a stronger bed mate, one able to provide him with children to train in the arts. No, he picked you. Nothing more than a weakling, worthless to the rest of us.”

Jada kept silent.

“Not even the spirit to fight with words.” Megan spat and shook her head. “I’m ashamed to call you sister.”

“Would there be a point to it, Megan? Arguments would change nothing between us and I don’t recall the last time you named me as your sister to someone outside of this house.” Jada cursed herself for speaking but it was too late, once spoken the words could not be taken back. She clasped her hands before her and half bowed her head. Submissive, meek, those were the things she had to remember around her sister, at least if she wanted to leave and follow the signal that even now tugged on her heart and pulled her toward the mountains. “Forgive me, but I am needed at the temple tonight. I have given my word and I would not wish to let anyone down.”

“And you expect me to listen out for your brats, is that it?” Megan took a step toward her, one hand resting on her weapons belt, a breath away from the butt of her blaster.

“No, of course not. I would not ask you to lower yourself to the duties of child care.” Jada dropped her gaze once more. The very idea of letting Megan watch the children sickened her. Who knows what her sister would do to them in the name of toughing them up? “Lynda is here.” At least she had been only a few moments ago. Had the girl left when Megan had arrived?

“Watching brats is all that blasted girl is good for. I don’t know why we ever abandoned the old traditions. That one should have been left out on the slopes instead being allowed to live and weaken the bloodlines even further.” Megan turned, stalking her way through the house toward the kitchen. Her voice carried back, snatches of sentences, but it was plain that she didn’t expect a reply. “We lost much when we turned our back on the old ways.”

Jada sighed, peering after her sister. Only when she was certain that the older woman planned on grabbing a bite to eat, no doubt from the food Jada had prepared earlier in the day, and then vanishing for the night, did Jada then slip back into her own bedroom. There, perched on the narrow bed, a blond haired teenager waited, eyes wide as she looked from Jada to the door and back again.

“She won’t come in here and once she’s eaten, she’ll be gone for the night.” Jada explained, her voice pitched low. “She doesn’t want to be here, not relegated to the task of childcare.” Jada softened her words with a warm smile.

Lynda nodded, but said nothing, tears shining within her pale blue eyes. Her fingers tangled on her lap and she lowered her head as a soft tremble rn through her body. Every inch of Jada cried out with the need to hold Lynda and tell her she would be safe.

“You’ll be safe. Her words… they’re just that, words. She won’t strike you, not in my house.” Words. They were still a weapon, but one that Megan used with brute force rather than a delicate touch. Everything about Megan was like that. She stalked, stomped, lashed out, snapped, never stopping to apologize. At least, not to anyone of lower rank and as far as her sister was concerned, anyone unfit to be a warrior would always be of a lower rank. “Stay here, if you want. She never comes into my room. There’s nothing here that interests her and you will be able to access the children’s room from here.” Megan wouldn’t remain that long, no it wasn’t in her nature, yet Jada could understand Lynda’s concerns.

The teen offered a thin smile but nodded, lifting her right hand to scuff away a stray tear, the left arm, which ended just above the elbow, remained pressed against her side. “I know, I know you would never leave me where she could hurt me but…” she lifted the damaged arm, “she thinks I’m a waste of resources. She goes out of her way to say so about me or any others like me. We’re weak, worthless, a drain on the people and planet.”

“By the gods, you’re not any of those things.” Yet she’d heard the words herself. “She doesn’t see the beauty you create or the way children listen to you.”

“No, she sees this and believes that I will help raise children who will accept deformities without question.”

“And is that a bad thing?” Jada arched an eyebrow.

“Not to me, but those like Megan, they disagree.” Lynda lowered her gaze once more.

Gods alone knew she wanted to stay and reassure Lynda but the tug grew with each passing moment. She glanced at the door and then back at Lynda. Jada squeezed her shoulder. “If I could stay, I would but…”

“I know, I’ll be fine, really I will. You’re right, she won’t come in here and she’ll leave soon enough. She always has before.”

Courage, one of the things the warriors prized yet how many of them had looked at Lynda and dismissed her? Jada closed her eyes for a moment and settled her thoughts. If she returned then perhaps things would change? Perhaps there would be a better life for those like herself and Lynda? There was only one way to find out and in doing so she would prove to herself, if no one else, that she was far from weak. “I’ll be back as quick as I can. There’s food in the kitchen, three days of meals just in case, but I should be back before dawn.” At least, that was the plan, how well it would all work out was another matter entirely…

To Be continued next week. 

Silence

Silence is a Tyme setting story by Terri Pray
Artwork by Samuel Pray created using Dax3D, Filter Forge and Photoshop

Her hands clenched, nails digging into her palms, jaw tight as she tried to shut it out. It didn't work, the high-pitched screech of a voice that rose and fell at odd points in time, continued to plague her. Brenda closed her eyes, breathing slowly in through her nose and out through her mouth, counting under her breath to twenty before she gave up. She glanced up, watching the play of clouds across the sky. Large, white, fluffy, they stood out against a brilliant blue sky. Trees rustled behind her, heavy with deep green leaves, the first hint of apples here and there, and bright blue flowers growing beneath their glory.

Beautiful.

A place of peace in an otherwise busy world.

Her gaze shifted, for a moment, to the outline of the high temple of Thanatos, a mix of elegant spires and black stone. Like the park it was one of the few places she could relax, away from the stress of it all.

"Are you listening to a damned word I'm saying?"

Brenda flinched.

"What do you think this is? A fucking game?" The woman continued to pace her way through the small park. "This isn't a joke. I've spent the last three days trying to get an answer from you people and all you have to tell me is the results aren't in yet."

She had to remain calm. Losing her temper wouldn't help. The woman wasn't the type to care who she upset or what she did, as long as it got her what she wanted.

"Fuck you! Get me your goddamn supervisor! Now!"

Brenda reached for her sandwich, breaking off a small piece before she tossed it toward the gathering of birds. The largest broke off, lifting into the air before it dived down onto the piece, pinning it to the ground before he attacked. Small beak tearing the bread apart with obvious glee. A dozen other birds followed him, pushing and shoving in an attempt to grab a piece, their calls ringing out, adding a natural background noise she could live with. An hour a day, that's all she ever managed to steal for herself out here. Her lunch, five days a week, a break from the office and the constant jostling for power that took place between the men and women working there. Oh, sure, they'd try it on each other, that was just a part of their nature, whereas she was a welcome distraction.

High heels clicked their way along the path, long legs, an expensive business suit, perfectly coiffed hair and an attitude that made it clear that she didn't care who got in her way, she'd walk over them, through them or on them, as long as she got what she wanted.

Don't look at the woman, it won't help the situation.

Brenda glanced at the birds and then back at the woman, despite her desire to ignore the loud presence, and frowned. She paced, her steps angry and determined, never faltering as she advanced along the path toward the birds. Would she give them a chance to move?

The click, click, click sound drew closer and the first of the birds lifted from his place, taking flight, circling once before it found a safer place among the trees.

Tension built across Brenda's brow, crawled down her neck and into her jaw. She shot the woman a look, one the suit wearing, loud voiced, intruder ignored. Just as she ignored the fact that the park was a quiet zone. You had a call, you placed it on pause and moved elsewhere, out of the park.

Not according to this woman. Either she hadn't seen the rules or, more likely, didn't think they applied to her.

"Nasty, dirty things," the woman hissed, kicking at the birds as they scattered, lifting into the air in a cloud of colorful feathers and noise. "Shouldn't be allowed."

Brenda's fingers clenched on the box holding the remains of her lunch.

"No, not you." The intruder hissed at the person on the other end of the call. "Are you a supervisor?"

Brenda looked away from the woman. She wasn't there. No one was there with her. It was just Brenda and the birds, nothing else mattered.

"Then get me a goddamn supervisor!" The woman turned, stalking back down the path. "What the seven hells is wrong with you people?"

Perhaps they were tired of dealing with people like this woman? She looked back down at the path, at the remains of the crumbs. Sooner or later the birds would return, but with the way the woman paced, she'd walk back through the flock, scattering them again.

What had they done to her?

Brenda scowled at the woman, her gaze fixed on the communicator. The rules were clear, the silence code enforced here, but where was an officer when she needed one?

"If you think I'm going to call another number, you're insane. Escalate the call, you know how to do that, don't you? Or do you need written instructions!" The woman's voice rose to a shrill scream.

Brenda pressed her hands against her ears, covering them. Shut up, the woman had to shut up. Didn't she understand why people came to the park?

Pain, pressure and tension warred behind her eyes. Her chest tightened, sweat beaded across her brow and across her breasts.

"If you hang up on me, I'll call back again and again until you deal with this mess!"

Tears burned in Brenda's eyes, pain lanced - sharp needle points - into the back of her eyes and she hissed, trying to breathe through it. She wouldn't lose control, not this time, this woman wouldn't push her to breaking point. She was stronger than this, better, she'd learned to control her temper but the migraines were another matter. God, she needed silence, blessed peace and quiet, just enough time to resettle herself before she returned to work.

"You piece of shit!" The woman pulled the communicator away from her ear and glared at the small piece of plastic. "You hung up on me, you ignorant…oh it's on. It's so on."

"No more," Brenda whispered. "Please, no more."

It wouldn't stop, no matter what, the other woman wouldn't stop. Anger, aggression, frustration, they rolled off the stranger in dark, sullen waves. Pain and nausea mixed, turning Brenda's vision into a kaleidoscope of mud touched colors with flashes of brilliant white.

"This isn't over," the woman growled at the communicator and stabbed a finger at the control. "Hang up on me, will you? Let's see how this works for you."

No, no more, she couldn't handle it. Peace, silence, relaxation, that's what she came here for, not this, not the shrill cries, the angry words, the ignorance and hatred that emanated from the woman and her conversation with the stranger on the end of the line.

Stop it, don't let it happen. Go to the temple, they can help, can bring it under control again.

Vibrations ran through her body, her vision narrowed, pinpoint focused on the communicator. Light blinded her, bright, sharp, needlepoints that pierced through her eyes and into her skull. Pressure exploded through those points, burning a path until she gasped and rocked back on the bench she had claimed as her own. Fire and darkness consumed her, eating her from the inside out only to vanish, die in the moment between one heartbeat and the next.

A scream, high and pain filled, broke through the daze that followed and she blinked, trying to focus on the source.

The woman curled on the floor, one hand stretched out, the melted remains of the communicator smoking in the palm of her burned and blackened hand, the scream fading, easing into hysterical sobs and gulps for air.

Brenda rose, rubbing one hand against her temple as she turned and walked away from the woman, following the path out of the park before she activated her communicator. Her gaze fixed on the Silence ruling at the top of the park regulations and a slight smile tugged at her lips. "Hello, yes… can you sent a medical team to River Park…yes, I'm afraid there's been a small accident… stay, no I'm sorry, I need to be elsewhere…. Where? Oh, the temple. Yes, that's right, I'll be right there if you need me."

Where else could she go now, except to the only place that would grant her the silence she needed…

Small Changes

Small Changes is a Tyme setting story by Terri Pray.

Artwork by Samuel Pray, created using Daz3D, Photoshop and Filter Forge.

“It is time.”

Helena frowned and turned toward the door, searching for the owner of the voice. The doorway remained empty, the heavy wooden doors pushed open to welcome the first rays of the sun. Uncertain she took a step toward the door, her gaze flickering from one side of the room to the other. Had she imagined the voice or…

“They will be watching you, even if you can’t see them,” male, calm and focused, the voice held no hint of threat.

“So I’ve been told.” She paused, folding her hands in front of her pale green gown.

“Yet you still don’t believe it, do you?” The man pressed, though remained out of line of sight.

Helena turned her head slightly, focusing on the open door. Was that a shadow? She didn’t move toward it, but watched, letting her eyes relax until she could make out the shape of the shadow. “I believe, but I’m not afraid.”

“Why?” The shadow moved, the man shifting his weight. The soft sound of feet on gravel, a low crunch, just enough to confirm his presence as something more than a ghost.

Ghost indeed, I should have gone to Thanatos with all this talk about ghosts.

No, that wasn’t her talent. Not fully at least. She could sense their presence, sometimes hear them, little more than a whisper most of the time, but occasionally there was something more. Words she needed to hear, to carry to someone else, but that wasn’t her main calling. “I have no reason to be afraid, I am here to serve not to dictate to them.” She kept her voice calm as she addressed the stranger, her hands still folded in front of her, her head held high, back straight. “I am here to tend the people, the land, to answer to the goddess on behalf of those who call this place home, just as I will come to call this place home.”

It wasn’t home though, not yet at least. She was new here, would be new for some time to come, yet she didn’t regret the posting.

“Come into the light,” the man instructed, though his tone remained calm, almost friendly.

Helena hesitated, her gaze narrowing on the entrance. “Do you have a name?”

“We all have names,” he chuckled, “Justin Morning.”

Morning? She knew that name from somewhere. Helena closed her eyes for a moment, trying to recall all of the names she’d been given before she opened her eyes once more. “The resistance leader.”

“That would have been my older brother.” Justin admitted.

Resistance leaders, there had been hundreds of them around the planet during the invasion and occupation. Some real, some who had claimed to be resistance after the fact, others had died during the time that the raiders had laid claim to their world. “And what of you during that time?” Helena stepped out into the light, leaving the cooler air of the temple behind her. “Did you fight along side your brother?”

“Officially… no.”

Honesty, an unusual and rare thing. Most were quick to state that yes, of course, they had fought with the resistance. The truth was many hadn’t been able to, fearful for what might happen to their family and friends if they spoke out. Some were able to fight, others had bowed their heads and worked along side their new masters. That was the nature of the beast. It was one thing to want to be a hero, it was another to have the luxury to stand up and be counted.

“Unofficially?” She pressed as she turned to look at him, enjoying the feel of sunlight on her face. Dawn, warmth, the pleasure of a new day, these were small things she enjoyed even if she didn’t like being awake this early. It was a part of the life she had sworn herself to during the occupation. She’d been a child the day the raiders had come, the day the skies had been filled with alien craft, warriors who claimed their home, their lands and their people.

He shrugged, turned toward her and met her gaze.

Brilliant blue eyes caught and held hers. Sharp nose, high cheekbones, a full bottom lip with a slash of an upper lip. Stubble marked his strong jaw, two, perhaps three days growth of dirty blond hair, hair that also curled in messy waves down to his shoulders. Strong shoulders, muscles without being over built, lean body that hinted at running, speed as well as strength. Tall, a head taller than herself, perhaps 6ft? He didn’t loom, but could have done all too easily, yet he didn’t attempt to with her. She let her gaze move slowly down the length of the man. Simple garb, plain clothing, dark brown pants and a lighter, cream colored, tunic top and with a braided belt. Brown boots, low heeled, that disappeared beneath the legs of his pants.

Working garb, but well made. Not a farmer himself then, but one who preferred their mode of dress.

“So you won’t say?”

“I don’t see a reason to do so,” he explained, a slight smile tugging on his bottom lip.

“But you see a reason to be here, to speak with me now?” She took a single step toward him. Her body warmed as they drew closer, an itch claiming her hands that she knew would be soothed if she reached out and touched his chest. Helena inhaled deeply, tasting his scent on the air. Strong, musk, natural, nothing like the men and women of the cities who so often preferred to douse themselves with scents, body sprays and soaps that left her head spinning and her chest tight.

“I was chosen.”

Her gaze narrowed on him. Chosen. A powerful word, especially when discussed with a priestess. “For what?”

He arched one eyebrow.

Her heart skipped a beat and she looked away, giving herself a moment to steady herself. Her body wanted to feel his, to know the touch of his skin beneath her fingers, the way his hair might feel when she tangled her fingers in it and gave herself to the pleasures of the flesh. She was of Gaea, her child, her chosen, a part of that path allowed for sensual pleasures. For generations there had been men and women sworn to the pleasures of the body, sacred consorts who passed on their secrets to those sworn to the temples of joy and knowledge.

“I see,” Helena let her gaze move away from the temple, down across the expanse of cleared land at the base of the steps, toward the forest. Somewhere, within an hours walk at most, within that forest would be a grove. A sacred place, a circle of stone and trees, created over time by loving hands. Flowers, brush, plants, trees, stones - some marked with carvings, others not, would form a circle with a single white stone in the center.

In times past that stone might have seen offerings of blood and life, small things, a new calf, a lamb, young goat, something pure and simple, offered to the goddess, but such rites were rare now, almost unheard of. Yet the grove remained, a place where she would venture at least once a month, to dance her joy to the goddess. Sometimes she would be alone, other times local women might join her. She would never know until the moment she stepped into the grove itself.

“Is it not the custom for a priestess to have a consort?” His rich voice broke through her thoughts.

“Yes, it is.” A custom that dated back before recorded time.

“Yet this seems to displease you.”

Her gut tightened even as she turned to look at him. “Who chose you?”

His brow furrowed, eyes darkening. “My family.”

“And you have no problem with this? Being chosen for a woman you had never met?”

“Well…” he shifted his weight, lowering his gaze as he did so.

“Then you must understand why this is not welcome.” Helena sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. Yes, this was custom, but it had been changed, warped from the original. “I am Helena, sworn to serve the Goddess Gaea. I have been assigned as priestess here, in the knowledge that the last two priestesses were pawns under the control of the Raiders and their consorts chosen for them by the Raiders and the men acting on their behalf.”

“I wasn’t chosen by the Raiders, they’re gone. We all know that.”

“Yes, but some of their ways have lingered.” She took a step toward him, resting her left hand lightly on his shoulder. “The choosing of a consort, that was never the prerogative of others until the coming of the Raiders. Before that time a priestess chose her own mate, her own consort, if she wanted one at all. There was no force, no pushing. If the priestess didn’t want one, she didn’t have to have one. It is custom that there is normally a consort, but the old ways show that such was done out of love. The love of land and people, the bringing of new life to the world.”

Justin lifted his gaze, his brow deeply marred. “And you would not choose me?”

She dropped her hand away from his shoulder. “I do not know you.”

Hurt flickered across his features. “Do I displease you?”

Helena sighed. “I said I don’t know you and I don’t. Are you displeasing to the eye? No, not to me, but that doesn’t change anything. I don’t know you, beyond your appearance and your name.” Or at least a part of his name. “If I take a consort it will be based on more than those two things. A consort is for life, in most cases. A companion within and out of the bedchamber. The life I will share with a consort will be a varied one, of partners sharing their lives.” She watched the play of emotions across his face. “And you still don’t understand.”

Had so much changed out here? Beyond the cities? Had the Raiders done that much damage to the people she would serve?

“I understand, but I also don’t. There’s been… this is how things are now.”

Her stomach knotted. “Are marriages now arranged?” Goddess, no.

“Of course, that was one of the old ways that the Raiders brought back. The priestesses before you shared with us the passages from the scrolls that showed that this was the way of things. That the Goddess would…”

“No!” The word came out sharper than she had intended. She took a deep breath, knowing the passages that had been used. “That was a corrupted message, Justin. My apologies, I didn’t mean to snap, but this is a common issue we have come across since the Raiders were removed from our world.”

“There were questions, from some of the older members of the community, but who would question a priestess?” Justin rolled out his shoulders, doubt tainting his words.

“They weren’t priestesses, they were women of the Raiders who had been brought here to pretend, or those who failed the training who were then corrupted by the Raiders.” Helena moved with a deliberate slowness, making sure to add all the grace she laid claim to, as she walked to the low wall and perched on the edge of the stone. “Your people aren’t the only ones who were fooled in this way, mainly those beyond the cities, the smaller settlements and towns that were cut off from the high temples, making it harder for people to try and find help, or gaining information from those who were able to access the original scrolls.” Not that it would have been that simple. So many of the temple had been forced into hiding, herself included though she’d been but a child.

Arranged marriages. Forced consorts. All from one small change in how information had been presented. She closed her eyes and turned her face toward the sun. Did she have enough strength to deal with this? Did she have the information she would need?

I’m not alone, the Goddess will help me, the others in the temples will help me.

“I will not bless any arranged marriage unless both husband and wife have agreed to the marriage of their own free will,” she turned to look at Justin. “Take that information back to the village, to all you meet. The old ways have returned. Neither man nor woman will be forced into wedlock, nor into the position of consort or bed companion. No man or woman will be deeded into service without their consent. No child given up to the temple without the child agreeing to it, for service is a calling and not all are called.” She straightened her shoulders, fixing Justin with a stern gaze. “This temple follows the teachings of Gaea, and we will restore the path. If any have questions they may come to me. I will turn none away and these doors will always be open, but know this - I am a priestess of Gaea, her servant, not the servant of man nor village. I cannot be bribed, pressured, or corrupted for I have given my life and soul unto the Lady Gaea.” She lifted her hands out from her sides, spreading her fingers as she opened the gate between herself and the Goddess.

“The village council will need to discuss this…” he shifted his weight, gaze lifted and lowered again in a heartbeat.

Power answered her call, flickering at first but then it hit, surging through her until she felt the glow radiating from her spread fingers. She let her eyes close for a moment, seeking control, snatching it, holding it close before she opened her eyes once more well aware that with the power came a change of color, from pale grey to vivid forest green. “This is not a matter open for discussion. I am a priestess, I answer to the Goddess and to the temples, not to the council.”

He took a step back, shaking his head. “I didn’t mean to offend. Goddess,” he gasped, falling to his knees, his head bowed. “Is that… did she answer your call?” His voice a hushed whisper.

“I am her servant, if she blesses me with the gift then it is still hers to give and take away.” She kept her voice calm. How many of her brothers and sisters had faced something similar? The changes made in the scrolls, the information that had been tweaked, touched with a small change, enough to twist the meanings without raising too many questions. “The Raiders corrupted the teachings, damaged our young and old alike, killed many of our people and those sworn to our temples. We need to change that, heal the land and people alike, and that begins here, with me.” With all of them, each priest and priestess had to find a means of working with their people, healing the damage done and strengthening their home. It would not be easy, each of the five worlds continued to fight against the damage done, faced their own challenges and it would not be a quick fix.

There had been so many small changes, dress code, hair, behavior, all small, tiny even at first, until the next change and the next. They’d come in with force on Mars and Thanatos, Fate and Gaea, the changes had been more subtle at first, but on Chronos - the horror stories continued to filter through to the other worlds - all because of small changes forced upon land and people alike.

“They never showed the gift, never touched the land or the people,” Justin’s voice was still pitched low but anger tightened his shoulders. “They were seeds of poison placed within our hearts.”

Helena sighed and pulled the power back in, controlling it until the glow faded and she felt the micro tension around her eyes ease, letting her know that they had returned to their normal color. “They were pawns, controlled by the Raiders. Some came to it willingly, others were forced, but not one who gave voice to the false teachings, to the damage to our way, were able to touch the gifts of the Goddess, even if they had once been able to do so.” That had been the punishment of the Goddess, one that had, thankfully, made it easier to persuade people that a blessed priestess or priest was able to touch the gift, the land, or the heart.

Helena turned her attention away from Justin, letting her gaze move out to the cleared land and the trees beyond. The first touch of color, the hint of a change from summer to autumn had begun. A hint of yellow or red in the distance, the first rustle of drying leaves that spoke of cooler weather to come.

“It will be hard,” Justin’s voice broke through her thoughts.

“Change always is,” she didn’t look back at him, didn’t need to, “but it is needed. Change, growth, healing - difficult but needed.” She could do this, she didn’t face it alone, she had friends within the temples, men and women who would be facing the same challenges and they would pull through. Their world, their people would return to full strength in the months and years to come.

All she had to do was believe and trust in the Goddess and her people.