I drug myself to the temple to seek solace.
But all was not quiet. The faint harmonizing of a feminine choir echoed off the walls of the granite hall, like a descending liturgical body. I should have expected their presence. They linger here often, like designated attendants.
I wanted to scream to Them. I wanted to tell Them, like one would a dear friend, of the vision, the violent ocean and the wet sand between my fingers. I wanted to beg Them to tell me who he is, and why he was undeniably hypnotizing, like a serpent with a slithering tongue. I wanted to demand it of Them. Alas, I had no right.
"Sister Rain?" The chorus ceased as a gentle voice called out to me. It was the three women, hidden beneath golden masks and ebony painted smiles, stretched wide as ever. The sway of their velvety, emerald mantles came to a halt as they stopped before me.
"Do you come with something?" One of them asked, almost too eager. The other two nodded in unison.
"No," I lied, "I wished to come here for meditation. But, seeing as our paths have crossed, I will join you." It wasn't entirely a deflection. I always took delight sharing in their company and elegant harmonies.
I almost envied their kinship, their oneness, their simplicity. What a lovely providence it must be, to arise each morning, dress in elegant cloaks, and sing hymns to others.
I am the godhead. I am blessed.
"How goes everything?" I asked hastily, trying to diverge myself from the intrusive blasphemy.
"All is well," one answered.
"All is good," the woman sandwiched between the others nodded.
"Something's wrong with you," the final one said. I didn't need to lift my gaze to see the frown crossing her lips. I froze, my own brows furrowing beneath the itchy cloth covering my eyes.
"Nothing is wrong with me," I quickly, almost defensively, brushed off the remark.
"Tell us," the woman stood between the others spoke again, urgently now. They suddenly all shared in the same, somber expression. A breeze passed the empty space, sending candlelight flickering and dancing between shadows.
The moon is fracturing, our guardians are restless, the omens have turned volatile, a stranger keeps appearing in my dreams and desires. I feel desire...
"My faith blesses me, nothing plagues me," my voice grew muffled as I turned my back to them, walking further into the dim temple. I wasn't certain who I was trying to convince more, them or myself. Nevertheless, the clicking of their shoes against granite followed.
"What were you singing?" I asked, barely recognizing my own, hollow voice. My attention was soon claimed by the magenta leaves scattered about. They left a trail to an alter, also cut from granite, at the back wall of the hall. Atop the stone sat dripping candles, a few nearly wilted flowers, a collection of silky, black features, and a mask.
The mask resembled his, slits carved for a six eyed creature. Although this one expanded the entire face, leaving no opening for a mouth. A discarded mask left at an alter meant mourning. Someone had purged all, given all, left it as a final sacrifice to Them.
The voice from the lady on their left caught up with me, speaking eagerly, "They gave it to us. Would you like to hear?"
"So be it," I gave them an approving wave.
Their silvery voices once again united in a reverent communion, echoing across the hall:
"I know, I know, I am what I am
The mouth of the wolf, the eyes of the lamb
So darling, will you saturate?"
I nearly flinched at the hymn, like some despicable secret had suddenly been revealed. I turned my back to them again, as if trying to shelter myself from their melody.
"Stop," I demanded, my voice scoring through their sweet cadence. As if one moving part, they flinched, as if I had struck them all simultaneously. "You are not to sing this, do you understand?" I jabbed a threatening finger at the woman in the middle. She hunkered back as an uncertain scowl drew across all of their pale faces.
"Dearest Rain, what is it?" One of the ladies asked through a deep gasp, "you can tell us of what unsettles you." Their long, emerald mantels again danced as they strolled in perfect formation, spreading long shadows across the granite floor.
"What concerns you brings worry upon us, too," another concurred with a slight nod. I wasn't sure if their worry was aroused from empathy or the anticipation of some ill omen. The latter was most often the case.
"It's not worth dragging you under, too," I began to turn away from them again, further following the trail of magenta until I was at arms length with the alter.
"Have you been delivered something unpleasant?" Another called over the sound of my bare feet pattering against the cold granite.
"I said it's not worth it!" My heart sank at the sound of my own imprudence echoing between the temple walls. I spun in place, immediately seeking to apologize to them. The words caught in my throat at the sight of their disappointment. The air around us suddenly felt too thin, overcome by smoke and soot from candles that had burned for centuries. I huffed deeply, trying to compose myself and approach them gently, like coddling pouting children.
"Have you heard of this masked man who roams Arcadia?" I began, making a grave effort to keep my voice steady, "He's mortal, I believe, but he's nothing like the archivists. Sleep calls him Their Vessel."
They each gazed at each other, nodding before answering in perfect unison, "Yes."
Yes. The word hit like unwanted verdict. They would have seen the disbelief in my eyes, had the blindfold not concealed them.
Could it be possible that I am the only being in Arcadia who doesn't know of him?
I longed to send the doubt up in prayer, yet held my tongue.
"We sang with him," one of the ladies blurted out, earning herself a displeased look from the other two.
"Yes, but he was exiled," the lady in the middle spoke with a swift nod, her voice low and slightly cross.
"We should not even speak of it," the final one said, her frown still lingering.
"Yet he's returned," I said, almost zealously.
"You found him?" One of them echoed in a faint hush.
"Rain, Dearest," The one on their far right spoke, a new nervousness rising in her voice as she held out a hand, silencing her most fervent sister, "we should all go and sing. It will clear our minds, the lot of us." She took a gentle grasp on my arm, as if trying to tether me to them. It sounded like a plea rather than an honest proposal.
My words must have fallen ruinous upon them, as thought they had subsumed a curse. "Go then. Leave me be," I dismissed them, rubbing the unmarked skin of my forearm where she had grasped onto me.
I bit at the inside of my cheek as I turned my back to them for the final time. The metallic taste seasoned the regret I felt for my harshness.
Go to him, replayed in my mind as I stepped back out into the dull daylight. For a moment, part of me wondered if They was finally moving through me. It would serve as a fine revelation, if so.
I came to the temple for solace, yet departed with a deep restlessness.
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