The Princess and the Blood of Eternity

Chapter 10: The Ritual of Life

Moonlight reflecting off the water had mixed with the vibrations to create tiny ripples that reflected off the interior walls of the cabin. Lilith wasted time yanking on the bottom of her shorts to make them a tad longer. As unimportant as it seemed, the soggy clothing had become awkwardly bunched between her legs, leaving them embarrassingly short. It was funny, the things she became concerned with at a time such as this.

The shirt was no better, having stretched around the neck and thus exposing her undergarments. If she could get over the shock of showing so much skin, the lack of clothing could allow for more movement. Right, and I could sprout wings and fly away.

Boulder maintained his position at the door with a small stream of rainwater falling on his head. Sword at the ready and body poised to spring into action. He showed no discomfort, despite the ice-cold liquid cascading off his face and chin. She'd always heard about Boulder, the invincible fleet commander, the winner of over fifteen tourneys and countless duels. To see him now... was a comfort.

Cassandra maintained a similar calm that seemed to bleed through the firm grip she maintained with Lilith's hand. As surprising as it seemed, her handmaid acted like she was in her element. She could just be skilled at hiding her nerves for Lilith's sake, but it didn't seem likely.

The chaos and danger seemed to ignite something inside her handmaid. She was a honed weapon, well-suited to the "heat" of battle. Different from her work inside the palace where she was routinely scatterbrained. This was a Cassandra that relished a life or death situation. Lilith suddenly realized that she might know nothing about her two favorite people.

An hour passed with little improvement. Additional holes had opened in the walls while older ones saw their portals widened. Shredded wood, splinters, and dust mixed with the cascade of rainwater that churned amongst the cabin floor.

Lilith screamed when she noticed one monster had jammed their pointy-eared head through one of the holes. Scrambling, it honked that awful cry as it tried to pry its way inside the cabin. Boulder responded by stabbing the creature in the eye with his rapier. The thing disappeared, and the resulting screams of fighting and flesh being torn outside the walls churned Lilith's stomach. If she didn't know better, she'd say they were cannibals.

Is this where I'm going to die? She wondered. Nowhere to hide, nowhere to go—it seemed like a logical question. Her learning of the afterlife had always been painted as a mystical place set in the clouds, adorned with golden gates and void of pain for an eternity.

In a world of suffering, it was easy to believe. Easy to point the finger at something that was out of their control. But what if it were the blessed and powerful who created the suffering in the first place? Take Quinn, for instance. Her family's suffering had been caused by the closure of Mont Qerath's shipyards. A travesty indirectly caused by her own mother. According to the monks in her mother's monastery, wealth and power were the decrees of god. God rewarded his chosen with the fruits of the world. They said the same about the afterlife.

And belief—why did there have to be a catch? With enough evidence, everyone could be a genuine believer. And what of right now? In a situation like this, any strengthening in her belief and faith felt superficial. As Boulder always said—in war, when the cannons are firing, nonbelievers start-believing.

Even now, she couldn't help but yearn for the weekly visits to the monastery. Steep, smooth steps leading up the manicured gardened hill, stinky incense that made it difficult to breathe, and a doe-eyed congregational chorus seated on marble benches trying to outdo one another. Yes, she needed a dose of divine reassurance, even if the awe-inspiring atmosphere of the vast halls, artwork, magnificent architecture, and deep-rooted belongingness was carefully orchestrated frisson.