Bless Me

11

After three straight days of marching, Isolde yawned, her lids sticking together as she struggled to stay awake.

Dorian narrowed his eyes. "You're tired," he informed her. "We can make camp."

She waved him off nonchalantly. "M fine."

Dorian glanced over at the girls, his eyes settling on Georgia silently nodding at her and then at Isolde. Georgia hung her head for a moment before yawning loudly.

Isolde paused. "Well...I'm not not tired. It'll be fine to make camp for a while."

Dorian hummed. "We'll stop in this clearing up ahead."

Isolde turned her head in the direction of the girls. Georgia's face heated her eyes darting to Dorian's. He looked between the two before forcing a smile on his face.

"You girls get some rest. I know it's hard on the road, but the sooner we can reach the pack the sooner we can rest." She smiled encouragingly, her voice soft and loving.

Georgia's eyes widened. Dorian reached forward, pulling at her blindfold.

"How far are we from the pack?" She murmured, as the soldiers milled about, setting up camp.

"Just 2 more days," he explained, helping her off her horse. The girls swarmed her.

She smiled at them tiredly. Her kind was torn. After a year of travel she'd found 10 girls. But none from her family. None. Not even one. They couldn't have gotten far, not so far that she wouldn't have come across them yet. And they weren't at any of the packs they'd conquered.

Her stomach turned. A familiar scent filling the air.

Her eyes scoured the girls before settling on where it was coming from. She glanced back, finding Forian's eyes alight.

"Julienne," she whispered, grabbing the girls hand, pulling her to the side. "Come here."

"Sister Isolde," Julienne said, "You're hurting me—"

Isolde's grip didn't let up though, her eyes wide as she kneeled down. Julianne was one of the youngest only 7 years old. Isolde's stomach turned once more, this time more violently.

"Julienne...stop using that." She whispered sharply.

The girl cocked her head in question. "What do you mean sister?"

Isolde looked over her shoulder at Dorian, leaning in closer.

"That power. You can't use that. No one can know you have power do you understand? Stop it."

Julienne was just a small girl with short brown hair and a leaning towards tears. On cue, her eyes welled up.

"What do you mean, sister! Why are you being mean?"

The scent strengthened. Isolde shook her desperately. "Julienne! Stop crying! I need you to breathe, concentrate! Do you want to live?!"

But Julienne did not understand the correlation, only Isolde's unusually sharp tone, and her tears flowed even freer, her small cries turning into sobs. Tears pooled in Isolde's eyes forcefully.

She closed her eyes. Most priestesses had powers, though usually relatively weak. It had been tradition since the hunting of Priestesses began not to ever show those powers.

Isolde sighed. "Okay, shhh. It's alright. It's okay. Julienne listen to me. I know that things are hard. And you probably miss your real family. I know that I'm not...your real family. But I need you ti do something for me. And it's going to hurt your heart but it's the only way you can live."

Julienne quieter down, her eyes widening as Isolde smiled softly.

"That space in your heart where your power lies? The love from your family that helps it grow? Do you feel it?"

Julienne nodded softly. Isolde smiled back. "Point to it."

Julienne pointed to her little heart. Isolde grabbed her hand.

"Crush it. You have to...you have to crush and never let it come again. I can't protect you if they know you have power. They'll take you from me. And I can't stop them."

Dorian edged closer. "Everything alright?" He asked with an edge.

"Yes. Just a girl talk. Give us some space will you?"

Dorian heeded her.

"I don't want to get rid of it," Julienne whispered. "My mom had this power. She made me smile with it."

Isolde hugged her tightly. "I know. But she would want you to live. Please, Julienne. I'm sorry to do this to you. You don't deserve it. It's not your fault but—we don't have a choice. Never ever use that power again."

Dorian sat inside the girls tent, his eyes glowing as he looked at them. They trembled and huddled together, like normal.

"What's it about?" He asked.

The girls said nothing. Dorian smiled at the sheer will of them. They were shaking but loyal.

"I just want to help Isolde. So tell me...the girl Julienne. What's wrong with her."

Georgia stood and swallowed. "She's beginning her monthly a little earlier than normal is all. Excuse us but we would like to pray."

Dorian nodded gently, and left them, glancing back at the two, as the sun began setting behind them. He'd never seen Isolde cry. But she was cradling that girl, crying so remorsefully.

He touched his eyes, as a tear fell from his face. He had seen something before. Something he recognized. A light amongst the girls, though he couldn't see who it may have belonged to or what it was.

Late into the night, Isolde retired to her tent and Julienne was taking in by the other sisters, being comforted, surrounded.

And there alone, was Isolde. The saddest look in her eyes.

Dorian entered her tent, sitting across from her. Her eyes were red, stung with tears that no longer dropped.

"I don't think you're the sentimental type in regards to becoming a woman." He started.

"She is not becoming a woman. She is far from that. She's just a little girl. And I have...I have ended the innocence of that childhood," she said remorsefully, her voice void of emotion, save for the small tremble in  it.

Dorian shifted, reaching out, his hand cupping her face hesitantly. She allowed him, her eyes casts in the other direction.

"You've done nothing out of spite to those children."

"Does it matter? I want to protect them. But my protection will be painful for them."

Dorian swallowed, his hand falling limp at his side. He swallowed an apology. "Isolde I—"

"Has there really been no word about any other priestesses?" She asked softly. "None?"

Dorian shook his head softly.

She swallowed her tears, smoking instead. "Alright then."