Mara - The Lady Grief (Completed)

8 Bitter Loss

2651 B.C.E. City of Tmari-on-the-Euphrates

Late Winter, Month of Shabatu, Eleven Months after Mara's Rebirth

Thane

I feel like ten thousand fools. But, what else can I do? The postites at the House of Death refuse to answer even the simplest of questions from the First House. The Patriarch will not even meet with my father or me. My father was correct, the House of Death answers to no one.

So here I am, at the entrance to the neighborhood of Tmari controlled by the Fifth House, by Love.

Guilt is an albatross around my neck. I haven't been to this part of the city, despite it being right next to my own, since my perfidious grandfather told me Parijan betrayed me.

I can't look at the citrus tree that we met under. It's branches are blackened, dead and barren. I remember it being budding with flowers, the petals falling around my Fated as if Love herself was blessing our pairing.

I feel as dead as the tree. Ice crunches under my feet. Soon winter will break, but this time is the darkest part, when nothing seems alive and it is too cold to even snow.

I receive hostile stares from the Love patrons at the temple. Guards shift at their posts, breaking their emotional gazes to glare at me in hatred.

I understand. My House is more powerful and I abused that power to murder one of their own, precious children. I hate myself, too.

"Thane of the First House," the priest greets me, loudly, in case one of the watchers didn't know who I was. Now they all know and the air becomes even more frigid.

"I have come to speak to your oracle," I say. My voice is in monotone. I have no emotion but guilt left in me. Even my own son can't lift the burden. He looks too much like Anthea. He doesn't feel like mine.

"Our oracle?" the priests grey, bushy eyebrows shoot upwards.

"Yes," I ground out between clenched teeth. I can't love my son, but I can save his life.

"About?"

I must play my cards right. Offer myself, play on their love for children and innocents.

"My son doesn't stop crying. He doesn't sleep, doesn't eat. He will die if nothing is done."

The priests eyes grow frosty. Was this a miscalculation or can this male sense my ambiguity toward my own flesh and blood?

"I have come to ask your goddess for help," I add dully.

"For?"

"To break the curse on my House. I am willing to do whatever it takes."

He turns, silently, and walks into the temple. I follow, assuming that his lack of protest is permission to enter.

"Our oracle is in here," the priest says.

I jolt with immediate horror at the small figure sitting on a pure white stone, surrounded by flowering trees and plants, all white blooms.

This little Acera female's hair is the same as my Parijan. They could be sisters, in fact. When the female's eyes open on me it's little relief to see the milky-blue instead of deepest brown. They are just too similar for the demon I host and myself to handle without feeling ill.

"What do you ask of the goddess, Thane of the First?" the oracle says in a childlike voice.

I force my shudders down. At least this oracle is obeying the code of soothsayers, not like the desert nomads.