🎶A three-part story for the Rahasian holidays. 🎶
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"I'm telling you, Kane, I had a dream." I glower at him as he sits across the table. "Don't laugh at me, I'm being serious."
His smile disappears as he leans back in his chair, legs resting on the tabletop. "That's impossible. Gods don't sleep. Thus, we can't dream."
I lower my tone, staring at my trembling hands. "Then tell me why I saw Arno's face when I left Ratu's dreamscape."
Kane exhales, the breath smelling of the earth, of the comfortable aging of mortality like liquor flowing smoothly down one's throat. "Maybe it's part of your gift." He smiles, laughing more at himself this time, not at me. "Of course, what a fool I was. Your little mirror monsters when you were living. The aloe plant drying up. That poor bird's frightened reaction." He points to himself first, then to me. "God of life, goddess of death. What a pair we make."
"Yes, what a pair." I'm already lost, thinking of that glimpse of Arno's face. "So different. Are we too different, Kane? Like fire and ice?"
"No, love..."
But, I'm already lost to my horrible thoughts. My memories, painful as they are, of Arno.
The first lover I ever had, turned into a bond more like a brother at his death. Half of my mortal self. Clay skin. Half-golem, half-man. That debonair grin, warm, earth-toned eyes.
Ziba...
It feels so distant in the Before, those thoughts of death. Those are mortal thoughts, but still, it unnerves me even as a goddess. One cannot distance themselves from such great sorrow as losing one's other half. "To death."
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The Festival of Shab has hardly begun. Kane drinks and drinks. He empties nearly all the sacrificial wine from every temple dedicated to him in Rahasia. Since he's the only viable god, and I'm still thought of as a regular mortal, he gets triple the liquor than he normally would have. When he's so tipsy that he starts throwing sparks off everywhere like a shooting star barreling towards earth, I throw my arms around him.
"You're my rock, darling. My anchor." He sways a bit, but I hold him even tighter. My mortal self would have been crushed. My goddess self can handle his drunken body. "A toast to myself." He downs another cup. "Lonely... so lonely. Three times the work, two less-er-er the brothers. All alone." He stares into the bottom of the cup that magically refills as Kane's priests and priestesses refill his altars. He watches it as it dribbles uselessly to the ground, mingling with his starlit tears. "No family left for me. Just...me."
I wrap him in night's comforting blanket, laying his head of silver hair on a pillow I've woven of star-thread and stuffed with the sands of time, just for him. Had to slay a sand dragon or two just to get it, but I'll tell him all about it when he's sober. I kiss him softly as his heavy lids flicker shut. "You have me, delbar-am. I will always be your family. Do you hear me?" I press my lips to his, hating the taste of wine, but loving him despite it all. His eyes clear as I drain some of my own power and give it to him. "Now sleep, thief of my heart."
"H-happy Shab, Ode." He mumbles, a little boy despite his ancient power.
"Good Shab to you too, Kane." I press my forehead to his, exchanging breath for breath, heart for heart. "Rest. Forget. Remember. Whichever you need more."
And with that, I exit the Before...
...and enter the dreamscape.
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YOU ARE READING
A Priestess for the Blind God (Legends of Rahasia Book 1)
Fantasy"The Blind God walks around me, and I feel my mind prodded again like it was in the cavern, a spider weaving a tangled web. "Would you do anything to be remembered, Ode, even play a villain, the one who rises against the Chosen One?" In answer, I dr...
