Page 5

five

Dove

W aking, I find myself… Hmmm, not on my shitty bedroom floor. Eyes wide open, I groan loudly, discovering a familiar dark corner of my mind. A place only accessible by a choice few, except one. The one who makes himself known no matter what.

I find him sitting on a boulder, a sleeping black dragon lies in front of him on the rocky ground. A sooty, fresh fire aroma fills my nostrils.

This winged man has been visiting me since before I can remember. Truth be told, I think he’s just another apparition of my slightly warped mind, or really my largely warped mind. Any normal person would have just one voice that talks to them (or none), but I have a dead sister and a dark winged creature with horns—a daemon.

“Goddess, what do you want?”

Jumping down from his perch, his black feathered wings fluff out behind him as he goes to land. “Is that anyway to speak to your elders?”

“As far as I know, you’re not even real,” I grunt.

He lifts a single white eyebrow. “Quiet prickly tonight, aren’t you, pet?”

“Argh!” If he keeps calling me that stupid nickname during our little visits, I’m going to knee him in the balls. And if I’m projecting onto this winged daemon who calls me pet, I need to seriously question my name choices.

Crunching gravel comes my way and I look up just in time to be encased in black wings and onyx eyes. “Please, don’t,” I push at a solid immovable chest.

He ignores me, “Tell me what is troubling you, pet?”

I feel like he should know considering he’s in my head, in this dream, but I find myself wanting to explain, regardless.

Exhaling loudly, I let it all out, “Castor—he’s marrying one of the priestesses.”

Rumbling starts from the naked, chiselled chest I’m cocooned in. “Pet, he is beneath you. How many times must I tell you this? He is scum on your boots.”

I have to admire my consciousness for trying to cheer me up, but that feels like the furthest thing from the truth.

Strong hands push me back and eyes so dark they remind me of faraway places stare down at me. He props one of his hands under my chin and keeps our eyes locked. “Find your way to me Pet and I’ll show you what a real man of power is capable of.”

At his words and his touch, a shutter shimmies through my bones.

I push back at him. “Stop.”

A crooked smirk overtakes sharp cheekbones as he takes a step towards me, wings once again surrounding my whole body in safety. Black lips touch my ear. “One day soon, pet, one day soon.” His velvet whisper tickles my ear going straight for my swooping stomach. “Now sleep.” The words are a command as I feel lips graze my forehead before the darkness takes me whole.

“Doooovve…”

“Doovve…” a familiar voice trickles like smooth honey through my mind.

“I’m not in the mood, Wren,” I say to the room, my voice roughened after crying myself to sleep.

“Wake up, lazy bones.” I swear, the feeling of a slight nudge jerks my body to roll off my blankets, but my sister is just as real as the horned man I dreamed up last night—incorporeal.

Before cracking my eyes, a memory of fluid ebony feathers hugs my peripherals. But all is soon forgotten when my vision starts to adjust to the soft glow emanating from beside me. Another night, another strange dream, another day in my prison. Maybe leaving isn’t such a bad idea? But what would I do? Where would I go? This is all I've ever known. My chest clenches at the thought reminding myself why I stay in this temple.

“Fine.” I sit up, stretching out my muscles. The floor isn’t the greatest resting place, my back and neck protesting.

My stomach rumbles, reminding me of the little food I ate last turn due to my nerves around the high priestess’s announcement . Turns out, I was right to be nervous. Sure, Castor barely knew I existed, but now he is sure to never enter my stratosphere. And Kestrel… Well, that is a hard blow I am not fully willing to accept, my poor heart hoping that I still have one friend.

Rubbing my hands along my weary face, I mumble, “You don’t have friends, Dove.”

“Stop wallowing, Little Dove. There’s work to be done,” Wren commands.

It is times like these that I want to claw my brain out.

Standing up, I ask aloud, “What is your will?”

“So formal, Little Dove,” the tinkling trickles through my brain like the sweetest of melodies once again.

“Yes, well, don’t get used to it,” I respond, moving from my small nest of warm blankets and into the cold air around me.

A light, airy laugh chimes through my borders. “ Have you been practising?”

“Yes.” I blow my hair out of my face as I throw the thickest blanket around my shoulders.

The voice drifts away as I hastily clutch the glowing lantern and make my way out the door. I walk towards a tattered emerald tapestry inlaid with golden threads at the end of the hall. Behind it is a heavy stone door. Finding the point where two circles meet, I heave the door a crack, and a chill sweeps my body.

It’s just one song, I remind myself.

Resigned to my fate, I lift the lantern in front of me and watch as the thin tunnel is illuminated.

“Boo,” the sweet voice rings back through my ears.

I give a slight chuckle and shake my head, continuing the trek down the tunnel. The sensation of the temperature dropping cools my lungs as my breaths become living whisps floating in the air.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Inwardly, I roll my eyes. “What’s there to talk about?”

“The high priestess’s announcement?”

“It’s fine, I’m fine. I’m ready.” I hear her frowning as I spot the glow up ahead.

Opening the lantern, I begin the process of switching out the glow-worms. Over the rotations, I have found they favour moss. So, at the bottom of the lantern, I always keep damp moss, swapping the glowing, slippery, thick little creatures out every evening. That way, they are never within the lantern for an extended period.

Once I have my new set of glowing creatures, I rest it on the floor for my return and follow the lit-up pathway in front of me.

It’s not long before the path leads me to a moon-drenched cavern. I take a long breath, and the salty breeze assaults my tongue, making me smile brightly. I guess you could say I love the glimpses of the ocean I get from the temple windows. But here… Here, I can smell it like summer has come anew. It reminds me of life. I love the ocean. No wonder this is where she chose to be .

Taking in the small, lapping waves, I get a perfect view through the large opening leading out towards the sea. I could sit with my feet in the water, all light and darkness, and just bask in its ethereal beauty. But I’m here for a job, my purpose—as told by the annoying voice in my head, that is.

“ I’m waiting… ” Wren says impatiently.

“I haven’t been here in a whole moon cycle. I want to be able to picture it all.” The slight rise and fall of the breathing water kissing the sand’s edge, the wide, circular hole in the stone above, giving the moon full access to touch its healing light on all within the large space. A true sacred space. Her space.

Giving the moon and water one last sweep, I turn around and take in the reason I’m here.

A large, thick tree big enough to house ten full-grown men grows from the centre of the vast place. An impossibility, yet here it stands in all its glory.

When I first discovered the tree, there were still lush green leaves and an abundance of dazzling pink flowers. Now, all the petals lay lifeless on the cave’s sandy floor, and the leaves have turned a golden brown.

At least half of those leaves are scattered on the ground below. My heart clenches at the spectacle. It’s why I always gaze upon the tree last. If I can just see the constants of the moon and sea, I can imagine how I originally found it all those rotations ago at fifteen. A place full of life and magic.

Now, all I know is sadness and regret as I look at the dying flora. Maybe, if I’d found her sooner, I could’ve done more. I don’t know what, but I’m sure I would’ve had some idea. Anything. My mother taught me enough. Maybe.

Inching closer, I make my way towards the oval opening within the lower trunk. Like stepping through a portal into another world, I enter through the makeshift door to find the tree lit up with more glow-worms, lighting the space that holds her in safety. For how much longer, I do not know.

The mother of all life. The Goddess herself, Oona.

A statue twice the size of me, made of an almost clear crystal, holds the figure of a woman wearing a flowing dress and kneeling on the ground. Both of her hands are tangled in vines as she reaches for the ground beneath her. Her face angled up towards the sky with her eyes closed, long hair spilling around tipped ears.

I imagine she is birthing new life. She is the Goddess, after all. Oona is life, the connection between the land below and the stars above.

In her face, I see my own sadness. I am here to correct that.

A stillness, a quiet, greets me in this space like it is waiting for something. Someone.

Kneeling in front of the incandescent Goddess, I place my hands in front of hers and gaze up towards the sky, closing my eyes and imagining the full moon above.

It has taken me rotations to learn the strange language of this song. The song I’m going to sing to her, a lyrical breeze I often find hard to grasp.

That one night, three rotations ago, while dusting the lower stacks of the library shelves the book that would change everything landed at my feet. The tome contained the very words I’d poured my soul into over the past rotations, stealing time in the evenings to learn the lyrics that threw me through a loop.It saved me, that old crusty book. It gave me true purpose and without it I don’t know if I’d still be here. Though I’m sure the winged horn guy would have something to say about that.

When it fell at my feet, I thought nothing of it until I saw the page it had landed on—a sketch of a kneeled figure’s gaze turned skyward, pointed ears and vines trailing the resplendent frame to the soil beneath, the Goddess. My Goddess—the one in the tree. My secret.And then another book fell and everything gradually moved into place.

Knowing of the statue in the cave, I knew it couldn’t be a coincidence, and the voice in my head wouldn’t let it go, either. So, I took the books and brought them to this cavern in the hopes that it would draw more knowledge and inspiration. And gradually I learnt the texts.

Luckily, my mother taught me to read at a young age, but this language is something else. Its pronunciation is almost pretty and elegant, and I often feel like a butcher of these lyrical words.

But here I am on a full moon—as stipulated by the book—a servant girl with a voice in her head singing to the Goddess, hoping this will bring life back to our dying land.

“Here goes nothing.” I inhale and begin.

Through my roughened tongue, I sing the lyrics to the Goddess, to the stars and to the land. The translation floats through my head—

See the wings, they rage in tempest.

Spreading the origin of the Goddess,

For her tears purify this soil

We sow and toil.

To bring bounty for all of her people.

Her blessings take flight.

They sing with mirth,

For they stretch to the stars,

A connection between Goddess and mother.

When blood spills,

This song will be sung.

And life will become anew.

As the words weave their way through my body, my hands begin to heat. A tremor passes through my limbs on the last chorus as I dig my fingers into the dirt to remain stable on my knees.

Finishing the song, I keep my eyes closed…and I wait.

Just a little bit longer. Just a little bit longer .

But nothing.

Nothing comes—not even a snarky remark from Wren. I reach my grimy hands up towards my hair and pull, wanting to scream.

What did I expect? This one song I’ve spent rotations decoding is just going to fix all the problems we are having in the kingdom in the blink of an eye?

A SONG . One song!

I want to laugh out loud at the absurdity of it all, so I do just that. I laugh at myself, I laugh at the Goddess, I laugh at this stupid tree in the middle of a cave and I laugh at my silly dreams. Until all my fight is gone.

“Is this it?” I wipe at my weary face. “Castor is getting married, and I can’t even sing a damn song right?” What is the point of all this? I spend most of my turn living for a Goddess I don’t even know. I am unlovable. No one cares if I live or die. I have no idea why I am so afraid of leaving this temple. None of the servants or priestesses will care if I disappear. I am invisible to them.

Well, to most of them.

“I want to do something right for once. I want this life to be more, mean more. If I can’t have love and I can’t have my voice, give me something, ANYTHING.” I scream at the Goddess as my chest tightens.

Her crystalised figure continues to stare up towards the centre of the tree and the radiant glow-worms above. I have been here before. It is sad how many times I’ve been here before and repeated this mantra. This turn, it is worse. This turn, I’ve lost the right to dream. I have a choice to make. Do I want to live this life anymore?

Scrubbing the dirt from my cheeks, I stumble out of the tree and flop along the shoreline, splashing my face with fresh, salty water. I could keep going . I could walk towards the towering waves lapping the coastline right into the depths of the ocean . An ocean I feel such comfort in. A moon I know better than the features of my own face. The water will take me. She will claim me as her own. I know she will.

Without further thought, I stand and start my journey home. The temple is not my home. It is just keeping me safe.

Safe from what? Death? And now, I welcome death with open arms as I inch closer into the water.

A great belly laugh wells up within my stomach and out of my throat, echoing in the large cave.

And that’s when I sense it. Waist-deep in freezing ocean water… A deep, powerful pull at my chest.