Page 16 of Daughter of the Serpent

“The gods will see,” she whispered, her voice tinged with urgency, as if grasping for any reason to stay put. “We are not supposed to do this.”

“The gods drunkenly feast each night - I doubt they will mind us justlooking,” Tara insisted, gripping Sylvie’s arm and pulling her forward. “We may only have tonight to be free before returning to the temple. Who knows when we'll get another chance like this?”

Despite the conflict between her mind and her heart, Tara’s words sliced through her.

Sylvie fiddled with her fingers, as if somehow they held the answers.

“Oh gods, forgive us.” She sighed finally, yielding.

Tara’s smile stretched ear to ear in response, and without hesitation she had grabbed Sylvie’s hand and she was being tugged behind her, racing closer and closer to the crowd below.

Sylvie gripped Tara’s hand ruthlessly. Taking such a risk was undeniably reckless. If they were recognized as the children of the light, Sylvie shuddered to think of the punishment the High Priest would impose.

A whipping? Expulsion? Public humiliation?

Yet it was too late, they were already in the crowd, joining the wave of bodies, mingling within the canopy of sin and delight. Drawing her cloak tighter around her face, Sylvie braced herself for the inevitable scrutiny of prying eyes. Yet, to her astonishment, they passed unnoticed.

Under normal circumstances, their pristine white robes and modest attire would have set them apart, drawing a clear line between them and the revelers. But tonight, adorned in vibrant colors and simple cloaks, they blended seamlessly into the crowd. For this fleeting moment, they were just ordinary common folk, and Sylvie just a regular girl in a regular green dress.

She let her hand be idle, dropping it from the hood that safely hid her face, and most importantly her eyes. Keeping her gaze down she clutched Tara close. Even if they were to take this chance, she would regard herself. The last thing she needed was her eye to draw unwelcome attention.

Navigating through the mingling warmth and perspiration of thecrowd a host of sounds and scents assaulted, her heart quickening in response. This was unlike anything she had ever experienced, a world she had only ever imagined from the shadows. She found herself enraptured in the sights around her - the dance of lovers, their bodies skin to skin, the locking of lips, tongues swirling wantonly to the pounding drumbeat.

Some indulged their desires openly, but she averted her eyes from such brazen displays. Such new sights tempted her to retreat back to the safety of the temple.

“We shouldn’t be here,” Sylvie gripped into her friend’s hand, resisting the sudden swell of fear that engulfed her senses. This was not the place for a devout follower of the light…and yet, beneath her initial judgment, a flicker of curiosity stirred.

“No one is paying us any heed.” Tara hissed, her annoyance evident.

As Sylvie looked around her, she was surprised to see she was right. There were no eyes upon her, no judgment, only raw abandon - and she found herself enraptured by it.

Tara turned towards her, allowing the hood of her cloak to cascade down, revealing her unbound auburn hair and flushed cheeks. Taking Sylvie's hands, Tara initiated a playful twirl, attempting to dispel any lingering stagnancy and resistance in her limbs. Despite her initial reluctance, Sylvie surrendered her body to the pulse of the music. Her hips twitched to move, her body feeling the power of the drums.

She understood that to truly blend in, she needed to avoid standing out like a sunken tree stump in the heart of the forest; she had to play the part.

Closing her eyes she diverted her unwelcome thoughts away, letting herself tune into the frequency and sound of the drums. Connecting to it, she began to let her body sway. She swore she could hear the almost inaudible laugh coming from Tara over the music, and yet she didn’t let it shake her.

She couldn’t remember the last time she had danced, nevermindsmiled unguardedly, but despite the initial awkwardness, remembrance surfaced. Allowing her instincts to take over she began to let go. Twirling and dancing, her body no longer became her own, the music springing a passion and movement naturally within, despite her mind's worries. The haunting culmination of the Munnharpe, bukkehorn, and the thick skinned drums brought forth a plethora of new sensations. Her head tilted back, her gaze moving to the stars and moon above, letting the hood of her cloak fall free. Immersed in the moment, she cast aside all fear, surrendering to the pulsating energy.

On this night, she would metamorphose into a creature of her own creation - and she was, if for only this precious moment, undoubtedlyfree.

Another song came to its haunting end, the last note piercing the air in a joyous and yet somber plea. She hadn’t noticed the heat that had begun to bead along her forehead, the dampness that had gathered along her spine, and the shallow breath that had become a deep expansion to her lungs. Time had become nonexistent in this space of rhythm and movement, spirit and dance - there was only the drumbeat and the thud of her unfurling heart.

As people drifted to the edges of the circle for refreshment, Sylvie's eyes danced with mirth. She had never felt so alive. As she looked to her friend, Tara's countenance only mirrored her own, her cheeks flushed and yet her features glowing with a newfound delight.

Perhaps every risk they had taken, had been worth it.

Catching their breath, Sylvie scanned the bustling crowd, still pulsating with energy. Her eyes flitted from face to face until they settled on a familiar figure, instantly halting her in her tracks.

There, amidst the swirling bodies, was Haldor.

His laughter rang out, infectious and full of life, as he twirled his dance partner in celebration. The woman, fair haired and beautiful, adorned a dress that shimmered with every spin, her laughter and mirth echoing his own. Sylvie’s eyes widened as his hands caressedher, tracing a path that left Sylvie momentarily breathless, her mouth falling open in astonishment.

Ashes.She quickly tried to regain her composure.

She shouldn't have been surprised; he had always had a knack for skirting and even flouting the rules she lived by - especially when it came to women. Yet she had never had a front row seat to his exhibitions. It was no secret that Haldor and the rest of the warriors of the light could eat, drink, and fuck as they pleased, as long as it was kept from the temple gates.

A pang of envy tugged at Sylvie's heart as she watched him dancing without care, the connection between Haldor and the woman evident. He too, wore the attire of the common folk, blending with the crowd seamlessly with his brown breeches, high leather boots, and a matching tunic, open just enough that the reddish brown hair of his chest peaked outward. He looked ruggedly handsome outside of his ceremonial robes and usual fighting leathers, the outline of his masculine physique pronounced, his usual swept back hair falling free about his shoulders in ruddy brown waves. She found herself imagining what it would be like to be in the girl's place, to feel Haldor's hand in hers, to lose herself in the rhythm of the dance with him. The thought stirred a potent mixture of longing and curiosity, leaving her momentarily lost amidst the celebrations.