Last rites

You're not supposed to recreate your nightmares. They were supposed to be locked, safe, behind your eyes and under your covers. Yet, once a year, L'Lae came back to the temple and rehearsed her deepest fears. She dressed in grey and scrubbed coal on her forearms. Her mentors said it these trips would seal away the terror - that she was prepared for her fate and would embrace it with a peace that transcended understanding and honoured the sect.
Bullshit.
Twenty-six visits and she knew the way the desert moved here. She knew what layers would ease the heat and which would hide the sweat. She knew which inks would blur and run and which would keep her prayers crisp against her throat.
This is what they had truly hoped for her. Not an absence of fear or spirit-forged weapon to kill it. Just enough time to forge a mask to hide behind.
At least she wore it well.

L'lae walked to the base of deep polished steps sloping towards the Goddess. They carved her temple into the mountain, sandstone puckered and shaped to mimic the open mouths of her worshiping creations. Right now, their screams were catching sand.
She took her place, stood within one of the twin moons inlaid with pearl, and gripped the head of her walking stick until it chafed.
'They could be wrong.'
An old prayer by now, L'lae didn't bother to move her lips. Instead, she looked to the herd of priests who had escorted her; not just the pair that claimed her from the temple two decades ago, but all the elders of the sect.
It was hard to make out her mentors from the crowd of shaved heads and scrawls of kohl. They were likely hidden towards the back; trying not to watch in case they lent their tension to L'Lae's and made the seconds drag. L'Lae willed the bodies to part and light to shine on her mentors. She didn't want to make this stand alone.
Turning away from her sect, L'lae settled onto the scuffed pearl moon and settled to wait. She set her eyes straight ahead, to the peak of the dunes. The moment the sun kissed sand, this would be over, and she could turn her back on the temple one last time.
A breeze toyed with the silk of her clothes, weighed down by the cuffs at her ankles. Heat blazed, rays picking through hair to reach scalp and past every seam to touch flesh, like the goddess was inspecting her would-be offering.
'They could be wrong.' This time, she spoke aloud. 'It could happen.'
Her prayer was dull, laden with doubt. L'lae was sure it got no further than her shoulder before the wind plucked it away. Just another dead thing to scatter.
Something glinted at the corner of her eye and her heart leapt at the frantic fear and hope of a vision.
Instead, it was a blur moving through the hills. A cruel shiver of metal; a second coach on its way to the temple. 

This was a new wing of her nightmare. The heat drained from L'lae until she stood as cold as the screaming marble beasts. Wrenching her eyes from the coach, she looked to her sect and watched the shock settle on them, too. The priests had turned to watch the coach's progress, smoothing their sweat-pricked robes and braids hours past their best. No-one dared face L'lae, even at a distance. Slowly, dread wormed its way through to her core.
Her fate was sealed.
L'lae shut her eyes and drew a long breath into her body. She squeezed the staff, taking strength from the familiar press against her hand.
'They're late because they're wrong.' L'lae let the prayer gather in her chest. 'It's just an envoy.'
Maybe the Goddess would answer arrogance over devotion. L'lae swallowed hard, imagined herself as another creature carved into the stone, and opened her eyes.
Gilded wheels shone. Dyed oak doors burned with sacred flowers. A tall window shut out the heat with layers of lace.
'You're just an envoy.' L'lae's lips burned, the prayer gritted between her teeth.
A tall shadow moved against the curtains and reached for the door.
'Lady, forgive me…' The chant of a blessing choked out of L'lae as a curse. The figure unwound from the coach in a storm of red and veils and sterling silver. Auburn curls shook in the wind, framing a face L'lae recognised far too well.
Her own.

The twins studied one another. L'lae's gawk reflected to her as a steady smile.
L'lae leaned harder on her staff as the woman approached; drilling tension down until it met the inlaid pearl. She watched her twin arrange her gown and set out for the second moon carved onto the step, winding a veil across her hair, and fastening it with a gem-studded brooch. She stood on the moon, readjusting the bindings on her hair as though it were a crown from the Goddess' hand and not her own. She smiled like her prayers were being answered, while L'lae stood deaf.
'Welcome.' Above the wind, L'lae made out the chime of a brimming laugh; joy blooming in the distance between them. 'What's your name?'
Was there a protocol for this? Were they supposed to act like competitors or revel in being chosen?
L'lae glanced up at the temple, but the stone was cool and unmoving. They still had to climb.
'I'm L'lae.' With a tap of her staff, she turned away from her priests and the polished coach and nodded to the stairs. 'We should go.'
’It's lovely to meet you, L'lae.' The woman beamed, like her name was sweet to the taste. 'I'm Rika.'
Rika didn't seem hurried or uneasy. She hugged her arms to herself, studying L'lae without shame.
You would expect that, L'lae supposed, from a woman named after the sun. Raised at the city temple, tending miracles, and learning from the saints. What did she have to fear from meeting the Goddess in person? Good fortune had been her birthright.
They shouldn't have spoken. L'lae turned to the shadowed maw of the temple entrance, digging her nails into her staff. She may have failed her first challenge, but it wasn't over yet.
She took the first step. 

They walked at a respectful distance. L'lae aimed for the temple, eyes up and her staff bolstering the climb. Rika was slower, admiring the tales etched onto the staircase and placing a hand on the sunflowers blooming in stone.
When they reached the last step, L'lae hesitated. She refused to look back but waited for Rika to stand close to her side, draining a silver canteen and catching her breath.
'You're in great spirits,' Rika admired. 'Was your temple in the mountains? You're barely glistening.'
'If you want a torch, light it now,' L'lae returned.
Without a glance, she made for entrance. Rika grabbed her arm.
'Please. There's no rush.'
The touch was firm but hollow. Her palms were smooth, her nails rounded for a clean appearance - not necessity. L'lae felt like a beast coiled in Rika's shadow. A brutish, chiselled thing, who brought a weapon for her artefact instead of jewellery.
She eased off the balls of her feet. Reclaiming her arm with deliberate care, she said, 'I've made my goodbyes.'
Rika didn't startle. Instead, she insisted gently, 'Still. Please, take your time.'
A rueful smile seized L'lae. It was true; Rika's saints had prepared her for a pilgrimage, not a judgement. They had armed her with compassion: ask for a name, grant space, ensure a last moment to savour the gift of life before the Goddess reclaimed it.
L'lae turned to look her in the eye. 'You really need to grant me a favour? You don't stink of a decades' worth of good deeds?'
Rika blinked. 'I apologise if I offended.'
'Why?' Facing her directly, L'lae turned the staff against her palm. 'Take your chance to gloat while it's the two of us. You can afford it.'
'L'lae-'
'Don't pretend you know me. I have your face, but what does that mean?' L'lae stepped too close, sending Rika back on her heel. 'I might as well be one of your mirrors.'
'That's not true.'
'Isn't it?'
'We're sisters.' Rika stood up straight, the earnest words not reaching her eyes. 'You're my blood.'
The laugh in L'lae's throat wilted, leaving a bitter taste. Anywhere else, those words would sound hollow. This close to the Goddess, they were prophecy. 

L'lae stepped back. An odd relief fell on her shoulders, lying snug as she regarded her twin with the full range of her training. In another life, she'd have nothing to fear from this strip of sunlight. A good heart was no protection from a soul forged by the hunt.
She pitied Rika for her privilege. She had been raised surrounded by the goddess' workings while L'lae had fought tooth and nail. Though it would do her no good now, she was grateful her communion had come through blood. Death would be the shining moment of her faith.
'Let's just go.'
L'lae didn't savour the breeze or take one more look at the pale outline of her sect. She charged forwards, out of the glare into the belly of the temple, her whole-body shivering at the cool embrace.
Rika caught up to L'lae and they walked on together. Each footstep kicked up dust and traced their journey to the heart of the goddess; the latest of countless pairs scored into the dirt. Although the temple loomed from the mountain, it was only a shell - a grand building to hold dust and glory. There were no markers to guide the sisters to the goddess. Only deepening shadow and a quickening heartbeat.
Light flashed.
L'lae's eyes burned, her staff dropping to the stone. She covered her face and another burst lit up the temple; the flame of a hundred torches flaring once, twice, then settling on the ground like a flaming rope.
When L'lae blinked the stars clear and adjusted to the amber light, she realised the flames had encircled them.
'Kneel.'

Rika didn't have to say it twice. They both dropped to their knees, bowing low as the flames swelled and dimmed, writhing in the dust like a bathing serpent. A seasoned wind kicked up within the circle, a heady stir of moss, ivy, and damp feathers coiling about them.
The Goddess stepped into her temple, bare foot. Even with her eyes clenched shut, the gleam of a sword struck L'lae.
'You can stand, girls. I know your devotion.'
L'lae froze, the nape of her neck exposed and stinging with fear. Every scar on her body clamoured; longing for and dreading the Goddess' eyes. They exposed the truth: she was a huntress. Not a priestess.
Rika rippled up to her feet. She covered her heart and dipped a curtsy. 'My Lady.'
'You smell of the sea, child.'
'I've served in your temple at Westbay,' Rika curtsied again.
'Clearly you were a dedicate,' the goddess set the blade on a stand of shadow. 'There's salt in your bones.'
'Thank you.'
At the sound of Rika's voice, choked with pride, L'lae stirred.
Anger melded with fear, broiling in her stomach. She looked for her staff and reached out for it, grasping tight.
'She lives.' The Goddess' smile warmed the air, setting it alight with the smell of sage and embers. 'Would you prefer I come to you, child?'
'No, my lady.' L'lae shook her head, pressing up from the floor in one careful motion. 'I'm sorry.'
There was more in her words than she intended. The Goddess considered her at length, the attention fizzing over L'lae's shoulders and down her spine.
She had never imagined there would be a welcome. A chance to meet with the deity, witness an avatar of her power, and to be known. L'lae didn't have the words.
With a dizzying smile, their goddess nodded. 'Then, let's begin.' 

The welcome was over. Their Goddess walked past her sword and stepped up onto coalescing shadow; the air forging itself into a throne. She sat, moving her braids so they flowed down one shoulder.
'Do you know why you're here?' She asked.
'To serve you,' Rika offered hastily.
L'lae watched her twin from the corner of her eye. When the Goddess turned to her, expectant, she said, 'This is a trial.'
'A trial,' the Goddess leaned to one side, eyes bright. 'Is it a hardship to come into my presence?'
'No-'
L'lae waved Rika's protest aside with one hand. 'Since only one of us is leaving, I'd say we haven't got to the hard part yet.'
Rika stared at her, outraged. Bracelets tinkled as she clutched at silk and gripped her hands into fists.
The Goddess watched L'lae with growing interest.
L'lae avoided looking at her sister. The silence was crammed with accusation; years of study, dedication to the Tomes, had clearly forged an expectation. Hope to commune with the Goddess. A dream L'lae was ruining.
Slowly, the Goddess' smile deepened. 'You're not afraid, my child?'
'I'm terrified,' L'lae confessed.
'Yet you speak so boldly.'
'I don't know what else I'm supposed to do.'
Amusing the Goddess wouldn't save her. L'lae's temple had Tomes as well; the written accounts of the women who had gone before her. None had left their page unfinished. There was no suggestion they would return.
'You're right.' The Goddess' words made L'lae startle. Were they an answer to her rudeness, or the resignation in her chest? 'There are powers here beyond my own. A rite I must honour, no matter how I may wish to spare my daughters.'
Rika's chin rose. 'We can't understand what this costs you,' she said. 'But we came here willingly.' Her hands clasped in front, and she knelt to the goddess in open prayer. 'We were both raised knowing there would be a sacrifice. That we were born with the highest honour…'
Rika unclasped her hands, reaching for L'lae. She grabbed tight, squeezing as she insisted, 'We were born with another half. A part of ourselves that would become a miracle.'
Despite the chill running up her arm and the urge to shake Rika loose, L'lae's knees buckled. She knelt in the dirt beside her sister, lip trembling.
'We were born for this,' Rika repeated.
L'lae tightened her grip on her staff until her palm stung. 'She's right.' 

Time crawled as they knelt before the Goddess. Her flames murmured softly, shades of amber crackling like a steady heartbeat. Pleasant tendrils of scent rolled from the throne, the air sweetening with honeysuckle and a coming storm.
'The three of us have a duty to fulfil,' she told them. 'Once in a generation, the world sends its emissaries, its chosen, to reveal its destiny.'
The Goddess sat forward on her throne, the shift of her robes dispersing waves of jasmine and the open sea.
'Tell me. Do you know which temple holds my favour?'
L'lae sank harder onto her knees. She lay her staff down beside her, letting Rika speak for them both.
'Your wonders still thrive in Westbay. The people there are happy - thriving - because they know you are the one who provides for them.' Rika held L'lae's hand on her lap, cradled like a damaged bird. 'They sent me, like so many before me, to usher in another age of peace. Another lifetime of your people's devotion to you.'
'I know, child,' the Goddess assured her.
'Then, your question is clearly answered. My temple is home to living saints who serve you faithfully. We are a beacon to all your people - a refuge for any who could doubt. How could any deny you when your spirit and power lives among us?' Tears streaked down Rika's face. Fear or fervour, L'lae couldn't tell. 'I have known your favour all my life.'
She wasn't saying anything that wasn't true. Rika's words weren't cruel or boastful - only honest.
And yet, L'lae wished she could wrench her hand away. Her throat stung, bitterness rising like bile.
When the Goddess turned to hear her speak, L'lae screwed her eyes shut. She couldn't bear to see her hatred reflected; to know she was a stranger to her deity. Just a calf, brought in from the field.
'You're wrong.' A wind picked up around the temple, the smell of damp earth and bracken, the tang of copper. 'You have had my power, child, but not my favour. You studied with saints who walk as gods in their own right and, yes, they taught you loyalty-' out in the darkness, L'lae could hear the roar of wind across an open mountainside, the sky blasting across open ground, heat sizzling in the grasses and bleaching stone, '-but not devotion.'
Rika's hands gripped tighter to L'lae, suddenly like ice.
'My daughters know struggle,' the Goddess showed her palms, her voice gentle. 'They meet me in the dark - the day they wet their knives with blood. When they've taken life with their own hand and return broken-hearted.' She sighed and the tint of copper grew stronger. 'The day when they become most like me.

Finally, L'lae raised her head.
The flames encircling them surged higher; chasing the gloom so they could see their goddess in full glory. 
Her feet bore endless scars. A criss-cross of shades; healing wounds and the mark from blades long rusted. Her braids were sticky with blood, chestnut strands dyed jet.
She rose from her throne; the stone thrumming with her building ire. 
'For centuries, I've let this world shun my kind. Sending my daughters out into the wilderness as though my friendship were a cruelty.' The goddess' eyes caught the firelight, blazing white. 'Westbay has fallen to idols, claiming my gifts as their own. My temple is full, but no one listens when I speak.'
Heat radiated from the goddess. The desert was here, inside the temple; deadly and beautiful.
'L'lae.'
A current ran through the stone. It trembled under L'lae's knees, encouraging her to draw away from Rika's unresisting hands. Standing her staff upright, looked up at the goddess. 'My lady?'
'Rise.' 
Against all odds, despite years spent as an outcast, a life at the farthest reaches from the temple, L'lae was chosen.
She stood, trembling and giddy with adrenaline. 'Thank you.'
The Goddess smiled at her clumsy words. She accepted them with an incline of her head.
'It would have been a pleasure to take you with me,' she told L'lae, 'the women who came before you now live as my warriors. They ride beside me.' The Goddess stepped from the dais of her throne and walked to the shadow-forged stand holding her sword. 'It's your rightful inheritance.'
She reclaimed the blade. A clamour began at the edge of their hearing, the pound of horses and clash of metal, hollers and yells of a wrathful hoard. When the goddess turned, she was dressed for the battlefield. Sunflowers gleamed from a blood-streaked breast plate.
'It's been too long since my will impressed upon this world. I've let the pyres grow too high.' The Goddess' voice shimmered, imbued with power. Rika and L'lae stared, rapt, as she offered her sword. 'Now, it's time for the flame.'

L'lae's arm rose without her bidding, dropping her staff to reach for the sword. The clatter of wood against stone sounded distant; lost in the swell of hoofbeats and the echoes of war.
When she grasped the handle of the blade, her hand brushed the Goddess. It was as familiar as the sting of midday sand.
L'lae smiled and gripped the sword tight. 'It's my honour to serve you.'
The goddess' stepped back from the twins, vanishing through the space between flame and shadow. Only her voice remained, winding through the noise like a darting serpent. 
'Then, serve.'
L'lae didn't consider or grant time for pleas and prayer. She set her feet and struck the blade at Rika.
In a whirl of silk and sword, L'lae made her first offering to the goddess. 
Rika's severed head fell to the stone, her body still kneeling; hands clasped. Blood raged, a last confession, and soaked them both before she fell to one side.
L'lae stood above her splintered sister, chest heaving, the sword suddenly heavy in her hands.
The fires went out. The clamour died. She was alone in a silent temple.
Panting, she looked towards the prick of light.
L'lae watched the doors until she caught her breath. The air was putrid with her kill, curling up into her nostrils until she laughed. After everything she'd feared, the goddess had commissioned her. She was released to do exactly what she loved to do, what she was hated for. What she would never be shamed for, again.  
L'lae wiped the blood from her face and set out. Another laugh broke from her chest, shredding the darkness as she strode towards the light.
She would leave the temple, gather her sect, and take the news to Westbay: in one swing, the world had lost their heir of blessing.
Peace was over.
A new world had begun.