Hey everyone!
Just wanted to briefly say thank you for the support so far! I'm really excited to share this story with you, since I've been working on it for a while and it's my very first time launching something like this online! Please let me know what you think in the comments below!
Morgan Lester
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Ipotli found An'Ara inside the temple to Ta'Vedi which stood atop Apeti Lun's largest pyramid. The young priest was kneeling over a red stone altar where a small fire burned; one of her hands rested unharmed in the center of the flame. Her other hand sat on the forehead of a young child who lay prostrate on the ground, eyes wide with fear. A woman—probably the child's mother—stood to one side.
The Empress, who was breathing heavily from the exertion of carrying her son up the pyramid's many steps, stayed in the doorway of the temple, half in shadow, and held Nero close to her shoulder; somehow the jostle of climbing so far had not woken him. She glanced at him anxiously and wondered if somehow those—those things—could make him ill.
Would An'Ara be able to help?
Ipotli looked back up and watched An'Ara trace strange patterns in the coals of the altar-fire. Aside from a slight hum, she made no sound, but the air seemed to thicken as she worked. It grew harder to breathe, and the fire began to dance and make strange shadows flicker over the stone carvings on the temple walls. Ipotli knew the figures' eyes were only painted on, but during rituals they seemed to gleam with a spark of life. She shuddered, and blinked to dispel the smoke-sting in her eyes.
Then, suddenly, the fire burned low and went out. The air cleared once more, and An'Ara removed her hand from the child's forehead.
"In the name of Ta'Vedi are you cleansed," she told the child. "Always remember in whose name you have been healed." She looked towards the mother. "Lift her up. It will not hurt her."
The mother reached for her daughter's hand and spoke softly to her. After a moment, she pulled the girl to her feet. She smiled to see her daughter stand, then began to cry. The little girl reached to embrace An'Ara, who quickly stepped away and smiled wistfully. Ipotli wondered what was making the priest's eyes well up like that.
"Go now," An'Ara said, "and may Ta'Vedi guide your feet."
The pair left the temple joyfully, the girl's steps growing ever stronger. An'Ara watched them disappear down the pyramid steps and swiped a barely-noticeable tear from the corner of her eye. When she noticed Ipotli standing to the side she stiffened, then smiled gently.
"I thought Ta'Vedi couldn't give strength to broken limbs," Ipotli said by way of greeting.
An'Ara moved to begin cleaning the blackened remains of the fire from the altar. "It was an illness which made her unable to move, not an injury." She frowned. "It is not your custom to come to the temple at night, Cin'Ipotli, or to bring your son. Is something wrong?"
"My husband's dead." The words echoed harshly against the smooth stone walls of the temple and into the peaked ceiling above them.
An'Ara froze, then looked up from her work. "I...was he ill?"
Ipotli shrugged. "He burned to death when the grove he was hunting in caught fire. Ta'Vedi didn't protect him from the flames the way She protects you." She gestured to the ashes staining the dirty rag An'Ara held.
"Are you alright?" An'Ara asked. She put the cloth down and took a step towards Ipotli, the bright blue feathers adorning the hem of her ceremonial cape swaying behind her as she walked. "Forgive me for intruding on your thoughts. I only know that there was little love between you."
"I don't know what to think." Ipotli shifted Nero in her arms, which were beginning to ache. "We didn't speak. He was running the valleyworld into the ground with his spending and neglect. And yet..."
"It is noble to grieve." An'Ara placed her hand on Ipotli's shoulder, her brown eyes sympathetic. "Every life is precious, no matter whose it is."
"I don't know how to grieve for a man I never knew," Ipotli said bitterly. She glanced at An'Ara's hand. "I thought you weren't allowed to touch an unclean person in this place."
"My fingers only touch your sleeve." An'Ara shrugged. "Ta'Vedi will forgive me for offering comfort to—to a friend." Nevertheless, she pulled her hand back and buried it in the red folds of her cape. Then she looked sharply over at the child in Ipotli's arms. "Ci'Nero is too young to be Emperor."
"I'm supposed to rule for now." Ipotli looked down at Nero as well, and another line of worry appeared on her brow. She had forgotten the real reason she had come to see An'Ara. "Actually, I—I wondered if you would tell me something."
An'Ara nodded, turning to finish cleaning the ashes from the altar. "I have only a year's experience with priestcraft, but it may be that I can help. We can talk while I work. You may sit."
Ipotli gratefully sank onto the only bench in the temple, a rough stone slab in its corner, and pulled Nero to her lap. Then she bit her lip so hard she almost drew blood. Could she do this?
An'Ara raised a pale golden brow, its contrast against the deep brown of her skin striking. It was the only indicator of the true color of her hair since she, like all priests, routinely shaved her head. "Cin'Ipotli? You had something to say?"
Her words echoed through the empty temple. For a moment, Ipotli didn't breathe. Then—
"Can a child become a demon?"
An'Ara's rag dropped from her hand, staining the smooth brown stone of the floor. After a moment, without looking at Ipotli, she bent to retrieve it and began to wipe streaks of ash from the stones. "Why do you want to know?"
"It doesn't matter. Can a child become a demon after they've been born clean?"
"I have never seen anything like that happen." An'Ara stood. "But there are records—it's happened once before, to my knowledge. The child was born clean, but when she had lived four summers she began sprouting scales. Sometimes her legs would disappear and the body of a bucara would take its place."
"That monster snake from the Forest?"
"Yes. The priests only knew what it was because—" An'Ara paused, then wiped the last of the ash from the altar. "Because of the tales the Traitor started."
Ipotli nodded. "The explorer. I've read about him. I wish they hadn't destroyed all the copies; the stories I've read about his findings are interesting. I'd like to see the original."
An'Ara turned away to return her rag to the small sack beneath the altar, so what she said next was unintelligible.
"An'Ara, what did you say?"
She turned back around, her expression guarded. "I said that these are strange subjects. What's worrying you, Cin'Ipotli?"
"She was sent to the Forest, wasn't she? The little girl?" Ipotli looked down at her sleeping child. "I can't let that happen to Nero. I cannot let my child be sent to that dark place."
An'Ara didn't say anything. Her expression didn't change. Only her trembling hands revealed how dismayed she was.
Ipotli stood, and Nero squirmed in her arms. "Ara, I need your help. Please. If there is any way he can be cleansed—he wasn't born this way. Demons happen because of a parent's sin, don't they? Whatever I've done to bring this upon him, it isn't his fault. Please."
An'Ara stepped back half a pace. "Are you sure? He doesn't have a tail, horns, hooves... demons as young as he is transform every other moment."
As though on cue, the wings returned, tearing through the fabric of Nero's wrapping and spreading wide. They gleamed in the light of the temple's hanging lanterns, and Nero turned, now awake, to look at them with a contemplative expression. He patted one wing with a small hand, then patted his mother's shoulder.
"Mine," he said solemnly.
Ipotli looked back at An'Ara. "He didn't have them this morning. He didn't have them until his father died. Please, An'Ara, I'll do anything. Just help him."
Nero squirmed more. "Down!"
"No." Ipotli's eyes filled with tears. "No, Nero, you can't go running off now—now that—"
Nero scowled. "Now!" He patted her shoulder again, and she felt a sudden rush of stinging heat. There was a glow—
Suddenly An'Ara started forward and snatched the now screaming Nero from Ipotli, then swatted frantically at Ipotli's shoulder. The glow disappeared, but the slap left her in agony. "What—An'Ara, what—"
An'Ara put one of her fingers into Nero's mouth to stop his crying and then pointed to Ipotli's sleeve. There was now a smoking, charred hole in it, and the skin showing through was pink instead of brown. It had begun to sting again, and Ipotli put a hand to it, biting her lip to keep from crying out.
"Your child is a demon," An'Ara said shortly. "He set fire to you—I have never seen one capable of doing that. He is very dangerous."
"He's my baby," Ipotli gasped out. "I can't let him be sent to the Forest. He needs me." She tried to reach for Nero, then choked out a sob; the movement made the pain in her shoulder flare up.
"I don't know what I can do for him." An'Ara looked at Nero's red eyes in horror. "I cannot cleanse demons. No one can. Their souls are not human."
"You look at the tears in his eyes and tell me he isn't human," Ipotli snapped. "He wasn't like this before. There has to be a way to make him whole again."
Nero laid his head on An'Ara's shoulder and patted one of his wings again.
"Mine," he said.