Chapter 2

The moon and the sister star were radiant in their celestial thrones, their light soft and pale as Annie climbed the stone steps to the Celestial Shrine to make her nightly offering to Jocasta. Moonstones glowed in alcoves that had been carved into the side of the mountain, their cool colors supposed to inspire peace and introspection.

Annie struggled to get into her meditative state of mind, still reeling from her confrontation with Naomi. She should’ve never said anything.

During dinner, the High Priestess had acted as if the confrontation had never happened while the others chatted about the festival and the division of labor. Sir Torric spoke of war raging outside the valley.

Annie didn’t fight the tears that spilled onto her cheeks. She was alone. It was safe.

A powerful burst of wind blew her hair back from her shoulders and she paused, closing her eyes as the wind swept over her. Nature was the best place to commune with the gods.

The smell of foul smoke was faint; likely a toxic plume of death and destruction blown in from some battlefield, castle siege, or mass funeral pyre. Annie wrinkled her nose and covered her mouth and nose with her hand. Father Sun and Mother Earth had blessed them with a warm, wet spring, and, instead of planting fields, tending livestock, and being kind to one another, humans waged war.

The stone steps beneath Annie’s bare feet were cool and smooth, the elevation a refuge from the heat that lay over the valley like a heavy blanket. Vunos, god of the mountains, raised them to impress Arista. Like Granda, Arista preferred the company of animals to that of men, but her sister, Anona, was deeply impressed. She sought Vunos in his halls of stone and they made Malleator, god of metals and the forge.

Annie stopped to pick up a Moonstone as large as her palm and held it up to the light, smiling when the brightness intensified. Jocasta was with her; the moon goddess saw her priestess’ pain. She cupped the crystal in her hands and pressed on, murmuring chants and hymns. She didn’t need an earthly family when she had the gods.

If only she could make herself believe that.

Light flickered up ahead as two figures descended the stairs, speaking in low voices. Annie’s heart seized in her chest at Naomi’s tense expression. A Moonstone twinkled in Helion’s palm as the priest to Father Sun and High Hand of the Terrestrial Temple clutched Naomi’s arm for balance.

Annie plastered a polite smile on her face and bent her knees, dipping her head in a bow. “I don’t think I’ve ever known either of you to visit the Celestial Shrine this late. I am sorry I missed the pleasure of your company.”

Naomi brushed her hair back from her forehead, the glow of the Moonstones bringing out the gold in her eyes. “I gave up trying to sleep hours ago. Organizing our midsummer festivities and observances are enough to keep me up at night on their own. Add in war and strife and I’m practically at my wits end.”

Helion nodded, the old man’s expression grim. Despite the wrinkles and shock of white hair, the High Hand was still an impressive man with a square jaw and broad shoulders. He wore a sleeveless red tunic with worn out leather sandals. He pressed his lips together in a thin line as he studied Annie.

“What do Father Sun and Mother Earth think of all this violence and gore before they herald in the summer?” asked Annie. If Naomi wanted to pretend their brutal conversation had never happened, Annie was happy to oblige.

Shrewd eyes peered out from beneath a strong brow as Helion bowed his head in reverence to the gods. “I believe they like it very much.”

Annie furrowed her brow in confusion and Naomi chuckled.

Helion spoke with the wisdom and patience that can only come with age. “You have served here long enough to understand that death belongs to our Celestial Mother and Father just as much as life. There is great power in the blood of men. The gods accept it as an offering and make our fields and wombs quicken - woman and animal alike. Our wars do not trouble them.”

Lightning bugs began to flash all around; as if the gods wanted to speak for themselves. There was truth in Helion’s words. Father Sun and Mother Earth brought new life into the world and reclaimed it, body and soul, when its time was up.

The High Priestess’ voice jarred Annie out of her reverie. “Mother Earth has blessed me this night.”

A wave of anticipation made Annie tremble. If the Earth goddess blessed Naomi with a vision, then surely Jocasta would reveal some deep and mysterious truth to her priestess. “What did she tell you?”

Naomi studied her, eyes scanning her face and figure as the three of them stood on the narrow steps that had been carved into the side of the mountain. Annie grew more uncomfortable by the moment.

Finally, Naomi looked away. “I would not burden you before you make your offering to your goddess, but come see me in the morning. Mother Earth’s visions troubled me and I would appreciate your insights as an interpreter.”

Helion smiled. “We are blessed to have you with us, Sister Annika. Jocasta’s heavenly hand rests upon you. Your skill as a prophetess and interpreter are invaluable.”

Annie bowed low, trying to hide how pleased she was that such a wise and powerful High Hand would shower her with such praise. “You honor me.”

Naomi’s smile reached her eyes, its bittersweetness not lost on Annie. “We’ll keep you no longer. May your offering be sincerely and warmly received.”

Annie pressed herself against the side of the mountain as they passed, then made her way to the Celestial Shine with renewed vigor. It was tempting to ask for a peaceful vision, but Annie would’ve been grateful for something grim. Any word from her goddess was welcome.

Annie ignored the burning in her calves as she reached the top of the staircase, the precipice dark and still. A mighty baobab tree grew directly out of the cliff face, dense roots twisting down the side of the mountain. Despite a lack of soil and exposed roots, the tree produced green leaves every year.

A small stone figurine of Mother Earth stood in a pool of still water in the center of the precipice, the moon’s perfect reflection shining up at Annie.

She hesitated at the top of the stairs, closing her eyes as she knelt. She had to calm her mind, body, and spirit before she approached her goddess.

“Annika.”

With an embarrassing little yelp, she leapt to her feet as Sir Reuben, temple guard, stepped out of the darkness, light from her Moonstone casting strange shadows over his pock-marked face.

Sir Reuben was not a handsome man, but he was very godly and kind. He had protected various Temples and the lives of those who called them home from vandals and heathens for most of his life.

He smiled, missing teeth just as noticeable in the darkness. “Did I frighten you?”

Annie forced a fake laugh from her throat. “I’ve come to this shrine almost every night for six years and I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve encountered another person. Tonight, I’ve seen three.”

His dark eyes drifted over her shoulder. “Were you able to interpret the High Priestess’ vision?” Steel plate armor clinked as he raised his arm to scratch behind his ear.

Annie chose her words carefully. “No. She asked me to come see her tomorrow morning.”

He nodded, eyes still on the staircase behind her.

Sir Reuben was typically very talkative. His brooding silence troubled her.

“Do you know what she saw?” She shifted the Moonstone between her hands.

He didn’t answer right away, eyes darting to the pool of water and then to the beautiful moon above them before meeting Annie’s, a small smile on his lips. “They say we’re going to have a strawberry moon on midsummer’s night. The High Priestess says that’s a good sign.”

She smiled, eager to overlook the initial awkwardness between them. “Yes. Strawberry midsummers are typically associated with bountiful harvests and people have joked for generations that the cries of newborns can’t be escaped the following spring.”

“It will be a welcome sound after all this war.” His expression darkened and he clutched the sword at his hip. “These are troubling times. I do not know what the High Priestess saw, but she collapsed before the pool, convulsing and moaning as she foamed at the mouth.”

Annie shivered, praying Jocasta would grant her insight into the unknown.

Sir Reuben continued. “I held her head steady while she shook. I was afraid it would never end. The High Hand prayed the fit would pass.”

“Did she say anything when she came to?” asked Annie.

He fell silent, staring intently at her as another gust of wind blew her hair away from her face and sent her robes into motion.

She held his gaze until the strange tension between them became too much to bear. Her eyes fell to the filagree on his steel breastplate, weak light reflecting off the metal. She walked past him, eager to get to her prayers. She knew just the chant for anxious hearts.

“Will you interpret dreams for the villagers at the festival this year?”

Annie turned, Sir Reuben’s serious expression out of place. He’d guarded her booth last midsummer and they’d both found great fulfillment in serving the people. “Yes. They’re always so grateful. I’m happy to do it for them.”

He pursed his lips. “Be careful this year. I’ll tell the High Priestess to station two guards by your booth. The threat of war makes me nervous and I’ve heard too much talk of a ‘strawberry midsummer prophecy’ to dismiss it as haughty young men trying to be funny.”

She rolled her eyes, temper flaring. “I could strangle the scribe who thought it prudent to write such a silly fantasy down. If I had a silver for every man who offered to put a child in my belly every midsummer, I could retire and buy a mansion in Civitas Riparia. The Alcalde says it’s nonsense.”

Sir Reuben’s eyes widened. “Alcalde Titus said that?”

“He did.” Annie turned toward the shrine.

May Jocasta grant her peace and assurance.

Sir Reuben spoke, his gravelly voice grating on her already frayed nerves. “Nonsense or no, people believe it. And as war rages, those same people would do anything to secure a lasting peace. Your status as priestess to Jocasta will not protect you from the whims of wicked and terrified men. Look after yourself, Annie. Stay vigilant even in places you think are safe.”

She froze, glaring over her shoulder. “Like this shrine?”

Sir Reuben tensed, but accepted her jab without issue. “I’ll leave you to your prayers and meditation, priestess. If you need anything, call out.”

Annie nodded. “Thank you, Sir Reuben. You’re a credit to this Temple.”

He retreated back into the darkness.

She took a deep breath, willing all of her fears and inhibitions out of her body as she exhaled. Sir Reuben was a good and decent man. He’d meant no offense.

But Annie couldn’t help but wish people would be more tactful when bringing up an ancient prophecy concerning a sexual relationship between Jocasta and Gladius, the god of war, that resulted in a pregnancy. The trouble with prophecies was that their interpretations were entirely subjective.

Would the literal Jocasta, goddess of purity, really offer herself to Gladius in exchange for lasting peace on Earth? Or would a priestess to the moon goddess be attacked by a soldier? That had been happening since time immortal with or without a vague prophecy. Jocasta’s priestesses faced teasing and harassment every midsummer, strawberry or not.

Annie began a chant of supplication, asking her goddess to calm her racing heart and soothe her troubled thoughts before she began her prayers. Her father said the strawberry midsummer prophecy was ungrounded, the depraved scribblings of a bored scribe.

She knelt by the pool, offering her thanks and penance to Mother Earth before focusing on the moon’s reflection in the water. Her pulse slowed and her mind quieted as she opened herself up to Jocasta’s secrets. Maybe if she was blessed with a profound vision, Naomi would soften her heart.

Annie forced those selfish thoughts away. “Jocasta, keeper of secrets and revealer of truth, give me a glimpse of this war’s end; of the people who will rise from it and rebuild.”

She closed her eyes, noting the speed of her pulse and her short, shallow breaths. She couldn’t stop tearing at her fingernails and pulling at the frayed edges of her sleeves. She prostrated herself before the stone figurine, Mother Earth’s facial features long since worn away by the elements, and pressed her hands flat against the stone. Memory and habit took over; prayers, chants, and hymns bursting from her mouth in a rush of words and melodies.

Annie fell silent, her heart calm and steady in her chest. She lifted her upper body, hands raised in exaltation with her eyes still closed. “Jocasta, daughter of Father Sun and Mother Earth, as pure and innocent as the starlight, gather young women and little children close to you. Keep them safe and protect them from those who would defile them.” She prostrated herself, a hymn of mercy on her lips.

Her breathing slowed and a serene peace flooded her, Jocasta’s presence heavy all around.

The moon goddess would show her something that night. Annie was sure of it, her skin tingling as a strange pressure squeezed her head.

When she finished the hymn, Annie returned to a kneeling position, head bowed with her hands clasped together at her forehead. “Jocasta, giver of dreams and watcher of omens, what plans do the gods have for us? How much longer must we endure such sorrow?”

She stretched back out over the ground, her forehead pressing into the rough stone. The pressure against her skull threatened to make it explode. She ignored it, the pain she experienced nothing compared to divine assurance.

Annie began a chant she’d learned from a traveling monk who’d specialized in self-flagellation. He claimed he had mastered his body’s natural response to pain. She didn’t know about any of that, but the chant helped her achieve a trance-like state of perfect unity; her mind, body, and soul singularly focused on one thing.

The throbbing headache troubled her no more, her awareness of it reduced to a passing indifference. Tension melted away from her body, her entire being in complete harmony with the universe.

She raised her body, face and hands lifted to the sky. Just as she opened her mouth to recite more prayers, light flashed and her eyes flew open. Annie fell back with a strangled cry, hiding her face behind her hands in a pathetic display of cowardice. She squinted against the blinding light, a tall figure coming into focus.

A beautiful young woman stood ankle-deep in the pool, the moon’s reflection perfect despite her standing in the middle of it. Thick black hair tumbled to the woman’s waist in a cascade of loose curls and heavy-lidded silver eyes crinkled at the edges as she smiled with a gentle kindness. Her face was a pale oval, her features sharp and even. Long, delicate robes of a glittery white material hung from a slender frame.

Annie tore her eyes away from the celestial beauty before her, rolling onto her side and covering her face with her hands.

Jocasta’s voice was soft and sweet. “You have nothing to fear from me, my Annika, my good and faithful servant. I am not so proud a deity that I won’t let my people look upon my face. Come. I will show you what you ask.”

Annie lowered her hands, stunned silent. Jocasta smiled, reaching out. The priestess sat up and crawled forward, prostrating herself one more time for good measure. Fear burned at the back of her throat, but she swallowed it, standing. The moon goddess, or any other deity for that matter, had never before manifested in her presence. The visions she’d experienced over the years had happened inside her head.

She hesitated.

What if that wasn’t really her goddess? What if it was some wicked spirit come to trick her?

Jocasta was patient, a dreamy smile on her lips as she held out her hand, waiting.

Annie was afraid to be sure, but she wanted to see what Jocasta had to show her. She would never forgive herself if she missed out on such an incredible opportunity to witness the universe’s secrets because she feared the unknown.

She took a step forward, her eyes locked on Jocasta’s as she reached out to accept the goddess’ hand.

Cold fingers caught her wrist, squeezing hard enough to make her cry out. Jocasta’s pretty eyes turned black and she sank like stone in the pool of water, dragging Annie down with her. The priestess screamed, her cry weak and distant as she was pulled toward the water’s surface. Instead of cold, wet, darkness, Annie was hurled into a tunnel of colorful lights.

A low frequency filled her head, the deep vibrations reverberating all the way into her bones. Air rushed over her as the colors swirled and changed. She did not try to resist as she rushed toward a blinding white light, too terrified to scream.

The frequency increased with every passing moment, the flashing lights and the pulsing in her head threatening to drive her insane, but the noise stopped abruptly and the lights went out. Annie raced through total darkness, speeding toward the unknown.

Maybe was dead. Maybe she’d been dragged off to some dark void for touching herself when she was alone at night.

Suddenly, she was very wet and very cold. She couldn’t breathe.

Annie flailed in water, soaked robes pulling her toward a watery grave. A single beam of pale light pierced the darkness. She struggled upward, hands clawing, desperately reaching for the surface as her lungs ached and her mind screamed for oxygen.

A white hand took shape before her, grasping her fingers with a familiar strength.

Jocasta pulled Annie from beneath the surface of the water, the priestess clinging to her goddess as she sputtered, coughing up water and gasping for breath.

They were in a pool very similar to the one they left behind. Only the moon’s still reflection was now a thin crescent.

“Stand.” Jocasta reached around to comb Annie’s wet locks from her face.

Annie stood, embarrassed and confused when the water only came up to her calf. “Where are we?”

For the first time, the moon goddess’ smile faltered and she looked away, her eyes scanning a desolate landscape around them.

Annie glanced around, afraid.

Warm snow fell from the sky, the substance smearing all over Annie’s skin. She caught a fluffy gray flake in her palm, mouth dropping open when she raked her fingers through it.

The fetid stench of death and decay made her gag. Annie spun around. An enormous tree stump sat by the pool and spiky roots had been torn from the side of a cliff; sinister as they jutted out into the gloom.

Off in the distance below, smoke billowed up from the remains of a Terrestrial Temple. Panic pierced Annie’s thoughts. This couldn’t be the future.

She turned toward Jocasta, the goddess’ dreamy eyes staring off into the void. A single tear turned gray as it slid down her ash-stained cheek. “When is this supposed to happen? How do I stop it?”

An ear-splitting roar spilt the sky, red light and fire spilling from the gash as a dragon emerged from the smoke, scaly lips curling back over a mouth of vicious fangs in a terrifying mockery of a smile. A burst of flames shot from its mouth as dark wings unfurled, lifting it high into the air.

Another roar brought Annie to her knees, the water churning around her as the ground shook. The silver moon was the only thing that remained still.

Annie, still clutching Jocasta by the hand, threw her other arm around the goddess’ leg, staring up into her beautiful face. “What’s happening?”

The moon goddess shook her head, holding Annie close as they sank back down into the pool.

Annie clamped her eyes shut and clung to Jocasta as they were propelled through the loud blinding tunnel once again. White light flashed and Annie’s feet slammed against solid ground. She stumbled forward, wailing as she threw her hands out to catch her fall. Something hard crunched beneath her palm.

“Jocasta!” Annie pushed herself to her feet, brushing dirt and tiny stones from her hands.

A pale glow illuminated the area around her, Jocasta’s light flickering as she wept into her hands. Tears pooled in Annie’s eyes, fear and dread making her weak. Skeletal remains littered the ground, exposed and uncared for in the darkness. Most of them were small. Child-sized.

Sick with horror, Annie looked down, a broken skull at her feet. The tiny stones she’d brushed from her hands were bone fragments. A scream of despair and anger tore her throat. She doubled over, tearing at her hair as she sobbed.

The goddess stomped weeping, her footsteps soft against the ground as she moved to comfort her priestess.

Annie stood, accepting Jocasta’s hand. “Why have you brought me to this hell?”

The moon goddess’ tragic beauty was heartbreaking, captivating, and utterly compelling. She shook her head, dark hair shifting on her shoulders, and pointed at a blood red moon over head. “This has already begun and will come to pass. War, pestilence, famine, and death will sweep the land. The blood of the innocent will go unavenged.”