Seven Sinful Crowns

Silvana

Silvana was sitting in the court yard when the messenger came. Her guards moved to surround her, a graceful dance, but she knew who must have sent the rider and stood, ushering them aside.

"Your majesty," the lean woman said, her long silver hair shimmering in the sunlight, "Queen Griesha has sent word that the fire will be waiting for you on this day. You should be expecting a letter...by raven."

And Silvana knew what this meant without another word. Her sister never sent ravens...alive, anyways. She did, however, send their souls with secrets, and Silvana nodded and turned, rushing back into her castle as the guards showed the messenger to the stables. It was a long ride from one kingdom to the next, and the horse would need to rest and be fed. The woman, too, she supposed.

Once inside she ordered a fire made, and sent word to bring her fire-mage; she would be traveling by flame. And just as the fire was in full force, the ghost of a raven flew out, combusting into the air, and a singed envelope fell to the ground at her feet.

It was time.

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Silvana stood outside the Temple of Dreams, not daring to enter without permission. Silvana was a queen, of course, but this was the temple of Luana, God of Night, and she was no god. So she waited silently at the great arched door, appreciating the stars and moons carved intricately into the stone.

"Your majesty," said a voice from behind her, and Silvana turned.

She was just a child, the top of her head not yet reaching Silvana's breasts, as she stood staring with deep blue eyes swallowed in porcelain white skin. She looked as of she was build of moonlight, sprinkled in stardust and glowing in the night.

"Priestess. I have come to speak with Maori."

"Of course," she said, stepping forward on the toes of her bare feet. "This way," she sang into the night as she skipped through the opening doors, her white shift blowing in the cold breeze, and Silvana followed.

She had never been in the temple before. Not many have, though the people of the kingdoms gather outside ifs walls for days before The Reaping, offering whatever they have in hopes that their child might be blessed with magic. Some pick which god to pray to for specific gifts, others don't care either way, so long as their baby is blessed, and not a Su. Silvana could smell the sweet decay of rotten fruits, and could only assume the families had made use of their good harvest by placing baskets of apples and ever-fruits along its borders, now rotten and covered in flies and maggots.

Inside the building defied physics, becoming much grander than possibly based soley on the outside, but this was a temple of a god, and physics held no bearings in this world. Silvana knew to stay with the child, not to wonder off and not to touch anything. She remembered the childhood tales of children going missing in the temples when they let their curiosity get the best of them. She wondered if this child was one of the lost. Her white hair was knotted, her gown grungy as if she had been digging in the dirt, not a priestess of the moon. She hummed to herself as she skipped on, and Silvana had to speed her steps to keep up, and when they stopped, they stood in the smallest room Silvana had ever been in, a lonely table and two chairs its only occupants.

"Please, sit." She said, and Silvana did as she commanded.

"Why are you here?" the small child asked.

"To speak with Maori."

"And you have. So now, why are you here?" She asked again.

Silvane just stared at the dirty child before her, the thoughts buzzing until, gears spinning as she smiles innocently, and the pieces clicked. This small, dirty faced girl before her was Maori, High Priestess of the Temple of Dreams. Priestess of the moon, messenger of Luana, God of Night, and looked nothing like the lavish woman Silvana had always imagined.