THE HOLY GATHERERS

Chapter Three: The Ritual of Reckoning

I stopped and looked around. The forest was still, and I was alone. No one had followed me. For the first time in my life, I felt truly isolated, the silence suffocating in its vastness. The familiar comfort of my clan, the shared voices of my sisters, was gone.

I had never known confusion like this. Growing up, everything seemed so certain. Maturity was achieved when you were blessed by the Goddesses of Fertility. It was a rite of passage we were told about since childhood. But today, standing on the brink of that ceremony, the experience had not brought me the comfort or conviction I had hoped for. Instead, I was drowning in uncertainty.

“Why do I feel so unworthy?” I whispered aloud, as if speaking to the trees would give me the answers I sought. “Why am I so unsure of accepting my path? Why do I feel there is more to my story than the one I was told growing up?”

No answer came, only the soft rustle of leaves in the wind. The more I tried to suppress it, the more the tears fell. Hot, unstoppable tears that streaked down my cheeks, carrying with them the weight of my fears. The world felt too large, too complicated, and my place in it too fragile.

Suddenly, a whisper broke through the stillness, soft and melodic. It was too faint to discern at first, but it grew louder, more insistent, wrapping around me like the wind.

“The mother of the old and the new shall undo what has been done. In the midst of the battle, you shall find love of a creature called man. Open your eyes and your heart. Accept yourself to uncover what the goddesses have planned for you. You are the last hope for all.”

I gasped, my breath catching in my throat as the voice encircled me. The words were strange, foreign, yet they struck something deep within me. A prophecy? A warning? I couldn’t tell. My pulse quickened as I glanced around frantically, trying to locate the source of the voice, but there was no one.

Then, from the shadows of the trees, a shape emerged. It was tall, broad, and muscular—unlike any figure I had ever seen before. My heart thundered in my chest, and fear froze me in place as the figure moved closer with slow, deliberate steps.

“What… what are you?” I managed to whisper, but my voice trembled, the words barely audible.

The figure said nothing. It kept approaching, its face obscured by the darkness, but I could feel the warmth radiating from it as it drew nearer. My body quivered with fear, and I wanted to run, but my feet felt glued to the ground.

The figure stopped just before me. My breath hitched as it raised its hand, and though I flinched, I couldn’t move. The hand grasped mine, its touch gentle yet firm, and warmth flooded my body, seeping into my bones. The sensation was strange, but not unwelcome. There was a familiarity in that touch, as though I had known it all my life.

Slowly, the figure leaned in, its breath warm against my skin. I could feel it studying me, its presence overwhelming yet oddly comforting. I wanted to pull away, but something deep within me whispered that this was right. I was meant to be here, meant to feel this.

The figure’s grip tightened, pulling me closer. I felt my body press against its solid form, and for a fleeting moment, everything else disappeared. The uncertainty, the fear, the overwhelming weight of my path—all of it vanished. There was only this moment, this connection.

And then, darkness.

I woke with a start, gasping for air. My heart raced, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure where I was or what had just happened. I sat up quickly, my eyes darting around, trying to ground myself.

The forest had returned to Its quiet stillness. The night air was cool against my skin, and as I looked down, I realized I was still wearing the same gown from the ceremony, now stained with dried wine. The events of the evening came rushing back to me—the feast, the ritual, the figure in the forest.

“Was it a dream?” I whispered to myself, but something told me it wasn’t. The sensation of warmth from the figure’s touch still lingered in my hand, a reminder that what I had seen—what I had felt—was real.

I stood up, adjusting my gown as I scanned my surroundings. The half-moon hung high in the sky, casting a pale light over the forest. It was midnight. I had lost track of time, but the soft chiming of the crystal leaves from the silver tree of the Goddess of War confirmed it. The ritual was about to begin. The final test.

“Well,” I muttered, wiping my damp palms on my gown, “it’s time to face the tree. The same tree that gave Mother Cora her life back.”

I knew what was coming. The approval of the Goddess of War didn’t come easily. The silver tree, though beautiful with its glistening crystal leaves, was also known for its cruelty. The poisonous roots beneath it were said to be unforgiving, lashing out at those deemed unworthy.

As I approached the temple, memories of my first encounter with the tree flooded my mind. I had been so young, innocent. My mothers had always said I was lucky to survive that day. Some believed it was a sign from the goddess herself that I was destined to be a Holy Gatherer. Others whispered darker things—that I had cheated the Goddess of War, that I would not live long, or worse, that I was an abomination.

I had never let those whispers break me. But they had haunted me, especially during the sleepless nights of my childhood. The dreams… the dreams had come too early for me, long before I was ready to understand them.
The dream’ was how we communicated with the goddesses. It was a gift given only to mothers, never to sisters. But for me, the dreams came long before I was ready to be a mother, filling my nights with visions of places I had never seen, faces I had never met.

I had told no one about them. No one, except Meme.

I looked up and saw her in the distance, walking toward the temple. Relief washed over me. “Meme!” I called out, my voice louder than I intended.

She turned and hurried over, concern etched into her features. “Tiya, I’ve been looking for you. Where have you been? You’re not even changed!” Her eyes traveled to my gown, noting the dried wine stain. “Oh no… I’m so sorry, Ti. This is my fault.”

“Meme, don’t worry about it,” I reassured her, trying to keep my voice steady. “Besides, how could I stay mad at the only friend I have?”

She smiled softly, though there was still worry in her eyes. “Where were you? Were you… praying for a companion?” She asked the last part with a playful smile, trying to lighten the mood.

I tried to laugh, but it came out strained. Meme’s eyes shifted to my arm, and her expression grew serious. “Tiya… what happened? How did you get this bruise?” She gently touched my arm, her fingers tracing the dark mark. “Does it hurt?”

I hadn’t even noticed it before. A bruise, dark and angry, wrapping around my forearm like a chain. I blinked, trying to remember how it had gotten there, but my mind came up blank. “I… I don’t know,” I stammered. “I didn’t feel it happen.”

Meme’s face darkened with concern. “Is this Ivy’s doing? She left the dining hall not long after you did.” Her voice was filled with fury on my behalf.

“No!” I said quickly. “It wasn’t Ivy. And it doesn’t hurt. We should go. The ritual is starting soon.”

Meme hesitated, still staring at my arm, but nodded. “Wait,” she said suddenly, stopping in her tracks. “I have a whisper I need to share with the Goddess of Fertility before the ritual begins.”

She hurried over to the nearest tree, kneeling at its base and pressing her forehead against its bark. I watched as she whispered her prayer, the sight of her so serene and devoted.

In the distance, I could see the rest of the clan making their way toward the temple, the final test awaiting us all.

Meme stood, brushing the dirt from her knees, and came back to me, grabbing my arm as she led me toward the temple. “Let’s go.”

I couldn’t resist teasing her, trying to bring some levity to the moment. “We’ve just become adults, and here you are already requesting a soul mate.”

Meme laughed, but it was soft, almost shy. “Well… the sooner I request my desires, the better chance I have at getting approval.” She placed my hand against her chest, her heart beating steadily beneath my palm. “I just hope your feelings match mine.”

Her words hung In the air between us, unspoken but understood. She was talking about me. I had always known, but the reality of it was still something I wasn’t sure I could face.

Before I could respond, a sharp voice cut through the moment like a blade. “What a beautiful surprise, seeing you two making a promise to each other.”
I stiffened, feeling a chill run down my spine as Meme’s hand slipped from mine. There, stepping forward with an air of superiority, was Ivy. Her see-through gown clung to her tall, lean frame, shimmering under the moonlight like the very essence of her arrogance. The smugness in her voice was palpable, dripping with disdain as she addressed us.
Behind her, two of her most devoted friends loomed—ever loyal, always ready to back her every move. They stood together, whispering to one another, their laughter cruel and mocking as they exchanged glances, clearly enjoying the spectacle. Their presence was a reminder of the power Ivy held, and the lengths her followers would go to support her. The three of them formed a barrier of intimidation, a wall of self-importance that threatened to crush the fragile confidence I had managed to muster.

Meme turned to face me, her expression softer now, as though Ivy’s words had no effect on her. “We should go,” she said, her voice calm, choosing to ignore Ivy’s taunt. As we began walking, she sighed. “I can’t apologize enough about your gown, Ti. I wanted to follow you when you left earlier, but I was… well, a bit drunk,” she admitted sheepishly, glancing down. “The last thing I wanted was to stumble after you and end up falling flat in front of the entire community.”

I chuckled, finding humor in the image of Meme—always graceful—tripping over herself. “Honestly, Meme, it’s fine,” I said with a shrug. “The wine stain adds a bit more color to my gown. Look.” I twirled playfully, holding my arms out to display the faded stain like it was some elegant addition. The crimson hue stood out against the otherwise pale fabric, an unintentional mark of rebellion.

Meme laughed, the tension between us breaking at last. She extended her hand, offering it to me. I hesitated for only a second before taking it. Together, hand in hand, we ran, our feet light on the grass as we joined the rest of the mothers heading toward the Temple of the Goddess of War.

The garden surrounding the temple was breathtaking, yet foreboding. The air here was different—charged with power, as if the ground itself hummed with the energy of the Goddess. The ancient silver tree at the center loomed over us, its crystal leaves shimmering under the moonlight. Those leaves, though beautiful, held an eerie quality. Their sharp edges caught the light in a way that felt both divine and dangerous.

As we crossed the temple gate, all the new recruits were already lined up, facing the sacred silver tree. The priestesses stood in a circle around the tree, their expressions solemn, their presence a reminder of what was at stake. The night was deathly quiet, save for the soft rustling of the tree’s crystal leaves, which emitted a faint melody that sent shivers down my spine.

Mother Cora stood at the center of it all, her crystal staff gleaming in the moonlight. Her eyes scanned the crowd, acknowledging each member of the clan with a small nod. Finally, she lifted her staff and the entire clan knelt around us in unison.

“The moment we have all been waiting for is here,” Mother Cora announced, her voice carrying authority, but also something deeper—a reverence for what was about to unfold. “Our protector, we stand before you to bless these new bloods with your gift. Bestow your kindness, arm them with your weapons, and test their devotion.”

Her  words rang through the air like a chant, and I could feel the weight of them pressing down on me. This was it. There was no turning back.

“All said and done, we stand here, calling the Goddess of War. Choose your army. We fight in your honor, and we die for the survival of the clan. Protect the cubs of our goddess. These sisters stand here willingly, ready to carry out their responsibility.”

There was a momentary pause, and I could see the strain on Mother Cora’s face as she struggled to kneel. Her silver leg made the movement awkward and painful, but she pressed on with determination, her devotion to the goddess of War never faltering. Finally, she managed to kneel before the sacred tree, her head bowed in respect.

As soon as she completed the motion, the tree erupted in a dazzling explosion of silver light. The air was thick with energy, a power so ancient and vast that it was almost suffocating. The crystal leaves shook, their melody growing louder and more frantic as a portal began to open at the base of the tree. The silver glow from the tree bathed everything in an ethereal light, and the ground beneath me seemed to tremble in response.

This was the final test. The moment that would determine whether I was destined to become a Holy Gatherer or an inland mother for the rest of my life. I could feel my heart racing, my breath shallow as the portal yawned open before us. The light from it was so bright, so blinding, that I had to squint just to see.

Mother Cora’s voice broke through the hum of energy. “Which one of you is brave enough to lead?” she asked, her voice steady despite the intense power swirling around us. The challenge was clear.

I felt the words ripple through the crowd, and for a moment, no one moved. The weight of the question seemed to hang in the air, oppressive and daunting. But then, something strange happened. My legs began to move, seemingly of their own accord. It wasn’t a conscious decision—I hadn’t even fully processed what I was doing—but my body propelled me forward, step by step, until I was standing at the front of the group, closest to the portal.

The crowd murmured softly behind me, their whispers filling the air with tension. I could feel their eyes on me, watching, judging, waiting to see if I would falter. My own heart beat wildly in my chest, each thump echoing in my ears. What was I doing? I hadn’t planned this. I hadn’t prepared myself to lead.

Yet, despite the fear that gripped me, I couldn’t stop my feet from moving. The portal loomed before me, swirling with a silvery light that seemed to pulse with life. The energy radiating from it was immense—both terrifying and intoxicating.

Suddenly, I felt a force unlike anything I had ever experienced. It was as if my soul was being pulled from my body, drawn toward the portal by some otherworldly power. My breath hitched, and for a brief, terrifying moment, I thought I might lose myself entirely.

I heard Mother Cora’s voice again, distant but clear. “Tiya…”

But I couldn’t respond. The pull of the portal was too strong. I felt my entire being teetering on the edge of something vast, something beyond comprehension. And then, without warning, the silver light enveloped me completely, and the world fell away.

In that instant, I felt my soul escaping my body, as though I had been snatched away by a force far greater than myself. The ground disappeared beneath me, and all sense of reality dissolved. There was only light, and the infinite expanse of the unknown.

This is it, I thought, my mind swimming in the overwhelming sea of energy. This is the test.

And with that, I surrendered to the power of the Goddess of War, allowing myself to be taken, allowing myself to be judged.

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Author Note
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