Against the Wind

4.3 || Raya

The quiet was startling. It fell like a drip into a pond and rippled outward as the temple walls dampened the city's hum of noise, thickening the air to dark mist. Cloth of the same kaleidoscopic shades of the curtain hung in swooping drapes, some strips bowed low enough to require her to duck, some so high they stretched out to form a substitute sky. Muted candlelight spread faint, overlapping circles, paled at the edges but dense at the building's centre. They glanced off coiled pillars and, where they collided at their brightest, illuminated the lofty shape of a fountain. Sandbrick tiers spiralled around a central pole as if swept in a dance. Each spilled its contents of slender, sparkling streams of water, flowing neatly from one to the next, until finally caught by a spherical pool at the fountain's base. The sound of their trickle and splash tapped at her ears, shallowly spreading at the base of her senses but not quite enough to occupy the silence. Everything was soft, tentative; she hardly dared even breathe for fear of breaking the imposed peace.

She rolled her shoulders and focused on slipping off her shoes, then on the sensation of her bare toes sinking into the cushioned mat of moss, shrugging away the heavy feeling of discontent. The moss was unique only to the temple, grown in a thick forest by only the most potent of magic. Its scent bloomed in the air, sweet and musty, almost sweat-like, carrying a warmth reminiscent of beating hearts and plumes of breath. It was a perfect representation of the miraculous life Tehazihbith held, and all she was supposed to be grateful for.

Inhaling until the smell hit the back of her skull and curled out amongst her thoughts, she started forward. Hariq was right as always. This was exactly where she should be.

Still her stomach fluttered, unsettled. The quiet pressed up against her throat.

Her fingers wrung together. She wrestled them apart and busied her hands in peeling off her mage's cloak, then in folding it and laying it out in front of the fountain. The folds were haphazard, her fingers shaky, and the cloak badly creased when she knelt atop it. At least she could rely on Hariq to maintain her privacy. She must look like a mess.

"I am a mess," she murmured through gritted teeth. A sigh pushed out to trail the words. "Well, here goes nothing."

Hands clasped in one interlocked fist, she touched her forehead to her knuckles, shut her eyes, and bent. Listless content filled the pool's babble. She strained to hear beyond it, thinking of the patter of whispers she associated with magic.

Unnamed one, she prayed. God of many faces, please hear me.

Quiet remained. Water splashed.

My heart is weighed by guilt. I saved one of the beastfolk from death today. Cold fingers trailed her spine, and she fought a flinch, some foolish part of her still wrapped up in Hariq's words waiting for her mind to split in two for even daring to think such a confession. I know his life is merely a curse, but... Shapeless words swirled like falling leaves. Am I really doing something wrong? Will people suffer for my mistake? I swear I will do all I can to keep them from harm, but... he's only a boy, and he's suffering too.

The silence simmered.

Her teeth clenched. Please hear me. I seek your guidance.

She kept waiting, though not for as long as she should have. Every second rubbed past her in coarse, winding lines. The bones in her fingers ached, as did her tightened jaw.

Her next breath hissed. I will never understand Hariq's faith in you.

Opening her eyes should've felt like snapping some cord of connection, but all Raya was aware of was the trickle of gentle light that filtered into her view of her yellow cloak crushed beneath her knees. She straightened her pose and sat back on her heels, the muscles in her neck creaking from their brief strain. Her mouth was dry, her stomach squeezed by a light, thumb-pressed nausea, and the fountain's shimmer made her head ache. So much for peace.

Her eyes fell upon the rippling water before her. With the way the light wove together, the shining surface became a patchwork, visibly chaotic at first glance before detail soaked in and gave the dashes of colour precision and meaning. The longer she looked, the more they diverged, slotting shapes together that somewhat resembled faces. Seven faces, each just slightly unique in features and startling in shade, stealing mystical beauty from the cloth hung above.

Someone had once put a lot of thought into the design of this temple. Perhaps that genius mage was the one Raya should have knelt before, not this meaningless, silent fountain, designed to drown sorrows without answer.

Reaching out, she trailed her fingers over the surface striped by rich, bluish indigo, as if stained by the dead of night. An angular jaw and grim-set smudge of a mouth broke and reformed in the wake of her gliding touch. Each of the seven faces that stared up at her, blinder than Hariq with their hollow, lightless eyes, was a representation of the god this temple honoured, and every one was said to be carved with one of their treasured collective virtues in mind. The startling greens and pinks of truth and unity, Yu and Ii, were more unevenly shaped, roughed by the fountain's spew of water they resided near. Closer by was the violent flame-cast orange of Shi, face of strength. Faith hid from her, cowering near the pool's opposite side, as did the faces of honour and respect. And the blue at her fingertips belonged to the given name of Kel: justice.

Hariq hadn't made reference to such a virtue burning in her heart for no reason. Justice was in their blood, woven into the family name they shared, Kel-Jabir. Justice was to be her fate—if she were to believe in such a thing.

Fate had a tendency to act like shackles.

Raya stood and gathered up her cloak, startled by the firmness of her own movement. Perhaps she had found her answer here, much as it tickled the back of her mind with the prickle of warning.

She turned her back on the fountain and strode out, fighting to ignore the idea of those watery, eyeless faces boring into her shoulder blades, watching her leave. If the voice of the god wouldn't grant her guidance, then she would do as she wished. Her choice had been made before she set foot in here, and she wouldn't stray from it now, not for fate or for faith. It was her choice. She had to hold it close.

Her skin itched. Against her will, she tossed a glance over her shoulder, though sense shuttered over her vision before she could take in a last look of the temple's interior. This wasn't going to be an easy path. But she'd chosen it now, and she would do her god-damned best to ensure it didn't collapse into ruin.

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