Words First Sisters of Night: Faith
What we offer is given freely as a choice, but know that a gift, even given freely, has a price; it is a price we all pay with devotion and willingness to sacrifice.
Woe to those who betray the night or think they escape the blight by siding with the light.
—Burned fragments of pages from the First Sisters of Night
The next morning, in the streets where the forgotten gathered—where hope and coin were as scarce as food—they waited to hear her voice bring what little hope they knew.
SMACK
"You're a whore and a beggar—you sin not once but twice! Thrice if you count the goddess refusing to show you mercy, and why should she? You sell yourself to filth, wallow in filth. YOU ARE FILTH."
The other girls watched as the bishop berated Serra—she hadn't hidden fast enough. It wasn't the first time they'd faced his wrath and wouldn't be the last. They were thankful it wasn't one of his followers; those men did not stop at words or light smacks. They wondered if the bishop only held back out of fear of losing his image of righteousness.
The rant was soon over, and they watched their friend slink back into the shadows to join them, smiling. "I got off light—only one smack. I think he likes me." Serra rubbed her face, the light mark nothing compared to the real scars she carried.
"That's only thanks to Bobby," one of the others chimed in, glancing meaningfully at Serra. "We can work when he's around. He makes sure to show up and make a scene when others are watching, keeps the worst ones away from us. But I've never seen him hit anybody. Have you?"
Serra blushed, afraid to admit Bobby cared for her more than any of them but could not openly admit to loving a whore. So instead, he made scenes as best he could and kept others away from her and her friends.
"Bobby's a guard captain—it's different," Serra corrected. "The knights and temple show no mercy." She looked down, feeling defeated, knowing he was powerless beyond offering small protections.
"And when they push, there's not much he can do but try to offer mercy."
They grew quiet at that, a somber mood settling over the alley where they slept—or the sewers, if they needed to hide. They had once known better places. A few of them had enjoyed mild wealth in proper brothels, but the Light kept burning or converting those places, saying filth deserved the streets. It made finding safe shelter nearly impossible.
Only Vespera had somehow avoided the church's wrath, working from a tavern. Maybe they were too busy hunting the rest of them. Even then, she'd gotten lucky and found a man offering good money. It helped feed them all, and they were grateful, but they knew nothing lasted. When Vespera got smart and settled down with that man—no longer a whore for coin but a real lady—that's when they would finally starve, just as the Light said they deserved.
Serra wished it could be the same with her and Bobby, but the church watched him too closely. Even if his men agreed women should be free to choose, they would not defy the Light or the knights who served it.
Hunger gnawed at Serra as thoughts of food and warmth made her ask, "Think Vespera will show again today? I'm hungry." Bobby sometimes offered food too, but it couldn't come often.
"Don't be a pig. You ate two days ago. You know the rules—we try to feed those who haven't eaten in a week first, and there are plenty of us hungry," Jane mocked, as if she weren't also wishing to be fed.
Serra knew that, but seeing Vespera eat daily and look healthy wounded more than her pride. Jealousy was a bitter companion when all you had was hunger and the shame of begging.
"Chin up, we got a wall to piss on and a chance at some coin—it's enough," Terra said, squatting in a corner before getting up and casually looking for someone willing to lower their standards. She raised her dirt-stained clothes hopefully, praying for coin.
Terra brushed her matted hair aside as best she could, scouting for any drunks looking for a cheap lay and too intoxicated to care about looks. Pickings were slim and coin even less, so Vespera was the only reason they weren't dead—and the Light was seeing to that too.
"Be well, girls. I bring hope."
The voice they knew well bloomed with familiar warmth, bringing hope and envy in equal measures.
As much as Serra hated to admit it, today Vespera looked even more stunning. Her eyes held green flames that never dulled, unlike the mud of Serra's own. Her hair kept its life and looked like fresh earth versus the rot of Serra's red, tangled mess.
Even when Vespera had starved beside them, she'd kept curves where the rest showed only bones. And the smile she wore never faded, even when her lips bled from those who didn't care what her mouth said, only what it did.
All those things fed Serra's envy and shame, warring with hunger and the wish that it was she who'd been saved by some hero, not Vespera.
Serra knew Bobby loved her, but love left her cold and alone. Coin did not. Lost in her musing, she saw Vespera had brought no bread, so hunger was all she would be fed besides pretty words.
"Change is coming," Vespera announced.
"HA." It slipped from Serra's lips. Her cheeks blushed red, but her glare was cold as the hunger that gnawed at her. "You offer hope, but words are not bread."
They all watched Serra. She saw no hate, just weary acceptance of their fate. Not wanting to add to their misery, she softened what little she could: "Sorry, long day smelling Terra's piss got me on edge. And no food."
"Fuck off, I ate less than you, and it's been three days for me," Terra retorted.
"I might have some stale bread. I was trying to save it," Jane interjected.
"The fuck are you holding out for?" Terra demanded, searching for the food. "Where is it? Don't tell me you left it in that piss-soaked alley—it's rat food now."
"Enough. I will end your hunger in time, but I need you girls to focus on now, okay?" Vespera interrupted, and the other girls in the distance, hearing the commotion, tried to get closer.
There were seven of them in the alley now. Vespera was trying to help fifty girls total, but only seven gathered here regularly. There would be even more mouths to feed if they all came at once, but Vespera was barely able to manage the fifty she'd found.
"A new god exists, and he does not reject the lost and broken."
They all looked at her, dumbfounded and confused. Was this a test? Had she joined the Light? Was that really where the gold came from?
"I cannot force a choice, and he is weak, so he needs time, but he can heal all of us and sustain us so we need less food and water."
Serra wanted to mock the absurdity, but Jane beat her to it. "Assume we believe—what worth is a new god? The moment the Light knows, we're dead. So what's the point?"
The nods from the other girls spoke volumes without words. Yet it didn't deter Vespera—she seemed confident despite the absurdity of her claim.
"I agree," Vespera spoke calmly, meeting their gazes. "And it took me days before I was blessed with his mana. It's a free choice—nothing is forced, nothing is asked but loyalty, and you will be blessed."
"What god exists and asks nothing? I call bullshit. Did the Light put you up to this?" Terra paced, wondering where the hidden threat lay.
"Tread lightly with your words, for I love you all like sisters, but I made my choice, and this is divinity you speak of. Do not mock this." There was a coldness in Vespera's green eyes they had never seen before. It was always warmth and love, not this. What had happened? The worst beatings that left her limping had never shown this.
"Sorry," Terra relented with fear, her pacing forgotten in the face that met hers. Vespera's eyes softened, near tears.
"I don't want you broken or submitting, but to be blessed you must have faith. We spent decades chasing a Light that abandoned us. Is it really that hard to believe there's another god that would welcome us?"
"Yes, you're right to doubt, for this lord is a lord of darkness."
They all flinched in fear, wondering what madness this was, but she continued before they could voice those fears. Even as she started to speak, a few stragglers' interest fled, not wishing to hear such words.
"We live in squalor, piss, and shit and welcome it as home. We see mercy when a man lightly beats us and brings coins—then it's a good day, and eating at all is a blessing." She paused, trying to compose herself, then continued.
"That is the life of the Light's mercy and love. The darkness will give more, and freely. It only asks you do so in his name and not hurt his followers or betray him, or you will meet the same fate."
Serra was about to tell her to shove the god up her ass—they weren't stupid enough to sell their souls to darkness—but Terra surprised her by speaking first.
"Fuck it, I'm already living at the bottom with rot. I even have some growing on me. I've been trying to hide it, but it's eating me. So if your god really can save me, I'm in."
Vespera brushed Terra's matted hair. "I don't want you to choose out of need but desire. It's a choice you can only make once. Say so when you really believe."
"The fuck is that?" Terra spat back, knocking Vespera's hand away. "You tell us good things about healing, less hunger, and a new god exists, then me being first to agree makes me unworthy?"
"No," Vespera said calmly. "I want you to know you're free, and once you choose, it's you who made your choice. DON'T—" Vespera stared at all of them, letting the word hold meaning, "—choose for an easy fix in your life, but embrace him as he will you."
"Will he consume me?" Jane asked, amazing Serra with how they were all just letting this happen.
Vespera shook her head, then spoke carefully. "He is weak—the Light is killing him. I think he's low on mana. He does not consume those who follow him and give power freely, but in doing so, he grows weaker. I can only help a few for now until we grow his power, then we can help more. I have plans, but need time to enact them."
Jane asked once more, "How did you even find or get this power?"
That was a good question, even disregarding whether they believed this absurd thing.
Vespera smiled and spoke carefully. "He came to me. Maybe he was always here and could not find us, and now he has." She looked around at those still listening. "I swear by all I've done for you till now, this is better and will give us something new—a life for us, not begging and hoping. But if you choose this new life, it will be met with personal dangers that could loom."
Jane shrugged, hearing the whole speech and giving in. "I agree—you always helped us. I want help too, but as it is now, I fear I won't last the year. I just didn't want to voice my feelings. We're all in rot, and you were doing what you could to help."
Serra noticed Jane's hair was cut short to avoid dirt—she'd confessed once it was harder for men to grab and hold her for beatings. Her eyes were a pale, murky blue, her olive skin's sheen lost to dirt, making it hard to tell what was crust and grime versus her flesh.
Vespera nodded, which annoyed Terra, who was being ignored as brash in her choice while Jane was accepted so easily.
"Why the fuck does she get better treatment? I was first to agree," Terra barked, drawing eyes as they watched to see how this would play out.
Terra's skin was ebony, yet had dirty ash from the street marring it, her hair short and greasy, matted like Serra's though blacker and wilder. Her eyes burned like embers with pride, even when they reflected the dead earth that showed they were all going nowhere.
Vespera sighed. "I planned to heal you all. I feel he can handle that much—at least you four."
Four? Serra looked around. It seemed one girl had left, not liking this talk, but one stayed close, hopeful. Serra didn't know her name. Did it matter? Another mouth to feed and body to sell.
Vespera held up her hand, forcing those who remained to gather closer. A black droplet appeared in her palm—like a marble made of flowing shadow. Serra worried about where this was going, but Jane took it before Terra could, and Terra was about to voice her complaint when another drop appeared where the first had been.
Terra took it quickly, fearing another hand might grasp it, and in its place a new one was born. The other girl slowly, gently grasped hers, leaving Serra to watch and make her choice.
"Your choice. Just don't reject him or stand against his name. You can walk away—you're not bound in any way," Vespera said coolly, as if she wasn't the lone one not grasping what might be poison.
Those words were the worst mockery. They all knew they were Vespera's dependents, bound to her, so what if another god was added along the way? The Light was going to kill them either way.
Tears gently fell as Serra took it. She was already slowly dying and hungry, so what if her soul was damned? She wasn't worth anything anyway. And if this was all a lie and she was just killing herself with the kindest of lies, at least she'd die with a pretty dream versus waking in the streets.
Jane didn't wait, nor did Terra. Both, nearly at the same time, swallowed theirs. The other girl slowly did the same, leaving Serra holding the teardrop. She wanted to wait and see their fate, but figured even if poison, it could kill slowly, and she'd still meet the same end. Looking at the marble in her hand, it wasn't water—it was a strange gel, almost like the mud in the streets, but it could still flow when pressed, even though it kept its form. So Serra swallowed it as she swallowed all the other things she had to endure.
Serra waited for screams from the others' throats, laughter of betrayal for trust from Vespera, death from willingly consumed poison. What she wasn't ready for was the feeling of something within her soul.
And she was free.
For the first time in as long as she could remember, the gnawing hunger quieted—not gone, but no longer the desperate clawing thing that consumed her thoughts. The constant ache in her joints from sleeping on stone began to ease. Small cuts on her hands that had festered for weeks tingled with warmth as they slowly began to close. Even the persistent cough that rattled her chest seemed to lessen.
Everything felt a little brighter, like she was human and worth living, even as she was, though she still didn't feel worthy.
With that freeing feeling came new knowledge that was both feared and seen: the God of Light was suppressing everything. It clung to all and was suffocating. Only now that she was blessed could she really feel its oppressiveness, when she was finally starting to feel clean and whole.
"That's some good shit," Terra said after a moment, standing and staring. Still lean and gaunt from lack of eating, but now holding a pride Serra had never seen. The angry red patches of rot on her arms were already fading to pink, healthy skin growing over the decay. Even Jane seemed more focused and free, the persistent limp from an old beating already less pronounced as she tested her weight on both feet. Mira, whose name Serra had never bothered to learn until today, bowed deeply and swore to spread the Lord's name, but Vespera caught her shoulder and raised her up.
"The lord is weak, remember? We must use care, travel in shadows, and be our old selves. The Light still hunts us. In time, I will take even that burden away, and you will truly be free. Until then, we must help whom we can and slowly change things."
Vespera looked at Serra now that they shared darkness. Serra felt more—a bond, a closeness she'd lacked before, and she knew with shame why Vespera was better. Not because of looks, but because she never gave up. She fought against everything, even them, and still rose above the darkness—well, rose above the Light in this case.
Darkness above Light? Madness—but that was Vespera's goal: taking that which everyone walked on with indifference and making it stand above the Light, making it their shadow, not them hiding in the Light's shadows.
"Serra, I know you talk with the guard captain. Bobby, was it?" Vespera asked carefully, watching.
Fear spiked in Serra. That was her secret lifeline. How did they know? She'd kept it secret—an escape only she knew. Yet Vespera spoke so casually about what she'd hidden.
"Oh please, princess, we all knew. We all shit in the same place, and it's not hard to see you missing when he's on patrol and you don't come back bruised," Terra said mockingly.
"Sorry," Serra said, regretting keeping the secret even if she hadn't shared because she could trust them to keep it safe.
"No," Vespera said flatly, staring hard at Serra, surprising her out of her shame. "Don't apologize for doing what you must to survive. Even if you weren't planning on sharing what you got with us, you did what you had to." Tears fell for the first time, feeling hope as Vespera defended her.
Terra started laughing, saying how that rotten itch was finally gone. She refused to say where it had been, but said it felt amazing not having to try and reach it to scratch it.
Jane nodded, waiting with the others to hear what would come next as Vespera explained what must be done. They waited to see what would come now that they were one with darkness, feeling the slow, steady warmth of healing flow through bodies that had known only pain and neglect for so long.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhFDFnoe5zk
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