140AD - The Rise to Empress || [GxG] ||

Chapter 46

Translations:

Sorceress / Witch = Pythonissa.

Assassin / Murderer = Dolofónos.

Master / Someone that likes to be compared to a god = Kýrios.

Hi / Hello = Geia.

Small (one) / Little (one) = Mikros.

Come on = Éla.

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Martius (March), 143AD

The incessant heat of Rome seemingly vanished overnight right alongside a body of a very important woman.

Somewhere along the streaks of midnight, torchlight passed through the Appian Way where it paused alongside one of the many crosses that lined the walkway. Men dressed in eerily white robes surrounded one of the crosses where they silently took down their Priestess. They were the most trusted of her followers; none ranking above them.

With much care, they laid her down on thick black linen that matched the color of her charred flesh. She had burned beyond recognition; her once wild mane of hair was gone and her sharp features were now dull. One of the men gazed down at his shaking hands which their planted torches just barely shone light upon.

His eyes moved to the charred skin in front of him again, and he could still feel the roughness he had just held. He couldn't begin to shake the unsettling feeling that crept over him. He and his fellow followers of the High Priestess Luna had spent years preparing for this moment, but now that it had arrived, he was unsure if he could follow through with it.

Their plan hadn't gone exactly as it was supposed to. When the Empress marched into the forum and announced that the remaining criminals were to be burned at the cross, things were certainly thrown into a vicious whirlwind. One the acolytes couldn't influence, let alone control.

The High Priestess of Mercury was always going to die, there was no way around that, but she always assured them if the necessary steps were taken, then she would rise again, more powerful than ever before.

As the ritual goes, the five men kneeled in a circle around her and retrieved their dagger's from their robes, each with silvers snakes chiseled around the hilts. They shared a singular look with one another before cutting open their left palms. 

Their eyes closed almost simultaneously and incoherent whispering to the unknown ones began among them as they extended their hands outward, dripping their blood onto the dead Priestess in offering.

And then they waited.

By the time a cold crisp morning comes, a street boy sprinted through the grubby alleys, completely uncaring of how much the gravel hurt his bare feet. He had news for his Mistress; information that she would probably pay handsomely for.

Once he reached her door, he pounded his fist against it until it finally swung open. Still adding pins to her hair, Valentina gazed right into the face of the boy who was covered in dust from his head to his toes. As usual, his dirty blonde hair was matted to his head, clearly not washed in days.

His thin shirt had a rip on the shoulder now since she had last seen him. He no longer wore his tattered sandals and his right cheek sported a fresh cut.