A Priestess for the Blind God (Legends of Rahasia Book 1)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

I watch the knife-edges as they soar through the air. When I catch them, a little thrill runs through me. I'm juggling weapons, blades that can slice through my flesh as easily as I sliced through my opponent with Kane's accursed "blessing." It baffles me, how I can spend so much time with these instruments of destruction and eventually start seeing them as playthings instead of dangers. It must be how the gods see us. Seeing as how I view the ghouls as my allies, I wonder if I'm starting to see life as the gods see it. As a game.

"You do not celebrate with the other champions. Instead, you practice for Aziz's part of the contest, juggling knives like a mere circus performer. Feasts rage throughout the night, and here you are, all by your lonesome." I startle, my hands slipping on the knives, losing their graceful arc. The blades drop, luckily, at my feet as opposed to on my head. When I turn around, Kane stands there in dark trousers and a snow-feather shirt, the colors stark against his obsidian skin, his pale hair and swollen eyes. "Do you prefer the darkness, Ode?"

I fall to my knees, and the Blind God laughs, staring at my eyes still despite the fact he cannot see them. Or can he? Maybe gods see in ways we do not.

"I don't wish to sound ungrateful," I swallow, my neck burning as I remember my shame, "the other men in the camp call me Ode the Cursed. And besides, I'm not one for parties. Give me an old ballad instead. I'd much rather spend my time with the words of the dead than the inane conversations of the living."

"I wouldn't expect anything less. Stand for me, champion. Do not kneel like I'm worthy of this respect," he puts his frozen hands beneath my arms, lifting me to my feet. I'm still dwarfed by his size, draped in his shadow like a bird beneath the bars of a cage. "You receive my blessing, and you are cursed. But if the male prince receives my brother's favor, then he is the Chosen One." Kane laughs, the laughter gravelly, like fingernails scraping against glass. I flinch. It's no wonder that Aziz has all the singing talent. "What a cruel world you mortals live in."

I square my shoulders, my heart hammering against the mirror, tucked beneath my bandages. My ghouls hiss, frenzied at being so close to the source of my delicious blood. "Is that why you tried to overthrow it?"

"Now, now," he laughs again, but I know what to expect this time. I'm left more curious than terrified. "Now you see," he smirks, both hands clawing mockingly toward his own eye sockets, "as I do."

"When you first came to me, you wore Astera's face, and then the priest's." I venture, staring at the god who blends in with the shadows, "why?"

"Maybe I do it because I'm a vain god who's ashamed of my gouged-out eyes, is that it? I'm just like my brothers?" Kane continues wearing that eerie smile of his, circling around me, taking slow, loping strides that resemble that of an insect crawling across human skin. "No, young Ode, don't believe everything you hear. When the human world rejected Aster and the priest, Damien, I took them under my protection. Astera was stoned to death. The priest starved on the streets, begging for alms for my temple. Now, I give both Aster and Damien comfort, free of the mortal world and their suffering. Despite the darkness, they feel accepted by me, the freaks' god."

"Is that why you chose me?" I stare directly into those eyes, ignoring the crawling feeling hovering in my mind, the feeling of spiders running around my memories, weaving their tangled web. "Am I a freak?"

Kane doesn't answer. Instead, he stares at me, and at nothing. He does not look, yet he sees. He does not speak, and yet his answer is clear to me. "Ode the Cursed." He leans in closer, his face nearly atop of mine, the stars merging into constellations before my blurred vision. "I like that name." He murmurs, chuckling softly. "I like it a lot."

In the next instant, he has vanished. A robe is draped across a low bench near a blue, ghostly fire. My mirror settles down as my heartbeat calms, and when I feel the material of the dress, it reminds me of Kane's star-print skin.

When I lift the performer's robe against me, it's as though I've taken the night sky and draped it against myself.

Ode the Cursed.

I like that name.

I like it a lot.

***

Hello my Champions!

Are there ships? Are there no ships? Has anything sailed yet, or are we still in the actual desert?

-Sophia