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Listen—
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somewhere a hymn is sung in a harbour chapel.
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Somewhere the holy fire is being lit on-top the sacred alter.
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And somewhere, far out past the last lighthouse,
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the ocean sings an ancient song
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With echoing choir and gnashing jaw.
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Welcoming the fallen with open arms as she cradles them beneath her waves.
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Giving them eternal rest.
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Earlier that day...
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The laughter and songs filled the air, the noise becoming more obnoxious then it did yesterday, he night of the festival many people flooded the streets, the various smells and fragrance flooded the air. A young priestess runs through the crowded street, the ceremony was about to start and she was running late.
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Priestess Clementis never overslept until tonight. She sprinted through the crowd in nothing but a nightgown, clutching her lace veil and folded uniform to her chest. The ceremony was minutes from beginning. She could already picture her subordinates standing in neat rows, waiting for her to arrange them. Waiting for her. The thought made her jaw tighten.
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She ducked around a drunk swaying in her path, slipped between two vendors, and turned sharply into a narrower lane, her bare feet slapping stone as she forced her lungs to keep pace. She only needed a few more streets.
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...
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The Priestess
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Sweet Söl, what is going on!?
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I pushed through the festival goers. Many cussed and cursed at me but I stayed level headed and calm. Not wanting to ruin my already ruin day.
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Calm down, calm down, do not curse them, Clementis. You are a Juno of the order not some bad tempered sailor.
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My feet feels worn and torn but I pressed on, the crowd growing ever more dense and closed. I quickly turned a corner before my face slammed into something hard that I fell hard on to the pavement.
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"What the f-" I stopped before a finished, I looked up to see a tall man who wore a gleaming armour as both his hands set neatly on the hilt of his sword. He had dark brown eyes that almost looked like black stones if it weren't for the street lanterns. Recognition flashed across his face as he spoke.
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"Juno Clementis" He said, his voice flat and devoid of almost all emotion.
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"Cecil" I replied, equally as flat as I could be.
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Cecil Saltfoot was the guard assigned to my temple. He was a man in his late twenties, who had black hair and the darkest brown eyes that resembled stones, you'd probably wouldn't be able to tell that they were brown unless his eyes caught the light. He was a stern man who never smiled a day in his life and liked policing my work when he wants to feel important.
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"Your late"
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"Yes, I know"
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"Did you also know your staff are running around like headless chickens? The whole place is in chaos, and the governor is already losing patience."
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I winced. I knew something like this would happen. My people were diligent and efficient; however, they still needed my instructions or supervision to do anything more complicated than walking and breathing. Most of them were teenagers after all.
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I sighed heavily. "They're good kids"
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"They're a liability. I suggest hiring new subordinates"
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I bristled at his tone of voice. Most of these children grew up in my temple as orphans it's not like I can just hire new people, some were lucky enough to actually want to be trained in the ways of the order and had parents. But those were the lucky few.
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"Well, it's a good thing I never asked for your opinion" I smiled triumphantly at him because I could tell it got under his skin, he turns before he lets out a quiet scoff.
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I huffed as I stood and dusted the dirt from my nightgown.
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"Hurry up, your already late and don't make me warn you a second time" Cecil reached to help, his hand still resting on the hilt while the other was outstretched, I stopped him before he could place his hand on me. "You mustn’t touch a Juno with a sword in hand. You know this, Cecil." He recoiled slightly, realizing his error and instantly removed his right hand from the sword.
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"Apologies, Juno."
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One of the Laws of Divinity forbids soldiers, warriors, and anyone whose work involves wielding weapons to harm others from touching a Juni or a Juno unless one becomes a war priest, in which case the restriction no longer applies.
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Cecil led me to the centre of town, where the ceremony was supposed to have begun an hour ago. Ribbons hung from the rooftops of nearby houses, and the setting sun bathed the streets in a lovely orange hue. In the middle of the square stood a limestone statue of King Normus 'Pirate’s Bane' seated on a throne and holding a sceptre and a spear topped with nine pirate hats, commemorating his defeat of the nine Pirate Lords of the Third Age.
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The platform where the ceremony was supposed to take place was still undecorated, while many of my subordinates milled about with boxes and decorations. Some were arguing while others who were meant to assist me weren’t even in uniform yet. The moment they spotted me, they all snapped to attention.
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"Juno Clementis!" they exclaimed.
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A boy who I recognized as one of my students raised his hand, as if we were in the middle of a lesson. His name was Ryse and he was a bit of a goodie-two-shoes kid, who always volunteered and was always the first one to snitch. He was an all around good kid though I never liked goodie-two-shoes but I could tell that he was honest one that tried his best.
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"Yes, Ryse?" I asked.
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"Juno, we didn’t know if you wanted white flowers or blue flowers for the stage, so we waited, but then—"
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"Liar!" a girl cut in. "Juno, I tried telling them to start decorating, but he insisted that—"
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"Nah-ah!"
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"Yeah, you kept bossing us around like you were already a Juni," another boy added.
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Taking in the chaos before me, I pinched the bridge of my nose, frustrated with myself and everyone else standing. Sometimes I wish I were a war priest that way wouldn't be here in this predicament and be surrounded by half-wits all the time, but alas, I am not.
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Stay calm, stay calm, stay-
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My silent prayer was cut short by a loud booming voice that seems to command the very wind itself to be still.
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“Shut up! All of you! The governor expected this to be done an hour ago, but you’re all too lazy and incompetent to do anything on your own without your precious Juno.”
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Everyone went still and stared at me, waiting for me to reprimand him, but for the first time, I let Cecil continue.
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“You’re adults, for gods’ sake. Act like it.” Technically, most of them were teenagers, but I kept my mouth shut as I felt the gray hairs creeping in.
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I took a deep breath, quietly thanking Cecil for putting some sense into them and began directing everyone. Cecil stood on the side keeping a watchful eye on everyone else making sure no one whined or slacked off.
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This is fine. It’s all fine. Sure, we’re running a little late, but we can still fix it, right?
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People began moving and decorating and now the mess before us was forming into a more organized mess albeit it was still a mess but at least the ceremony would begin soon. White flowers and ribbons hung neatly against the stage backdrop. The holy hearth was to be placed at the centre of the stage to bless the year with peace. A statue was taken from a wooden box, wrapped in layers of parchment inscribed with protection scriptures. The statue of the goddess Junnaie was to be set behind the hearth, a constant reminder of the mother goddess’s gentle watch over her people.
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As I walked around observing the others an intense aura hit me as if someone poured cold water all over me.
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“What in the name of—” I stopped mid-sentence as a hooded figure brushed past me. I turned to look, but as quickly as I’d sensed them, they disappeared along with their aura. Something in the pit of my stomach screamed at me to investigate. I glanced around; the sun had fully set, and the square was plunged into a deep azure. I knew I didn’t have much time to figure out who or what it was but I had to find someone who might.
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I turned to Ryse, who was already in uniform. “Where is Cecil?”
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He shrugged. “I dunno.”
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“I need you to get him. Now.” My voice was stern and firm. I wasn’t asking, I needed Cecil to know that whatever I’d seen and felt was sinister.
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Ryse, sensing the urgency, nodded slowly and began weaving through the chaotic crowd of my team as they tried to organize the ceremony, ducking under people carrying boxes and flowers. I ran my hands through my ginger-blonde hair as if trying to tame the growing storm of unease that was spiraling inside me.
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I hoped that whatever or whoever that was had gone. But what if it hadn’t? I needed to be sure there were no more screw-ups today. Still deep in thought about the whole ordeal, I began to undress, trying to rationalize what was happening.
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That was probably no one… just a trick of the eye. But what about that aura? It was so strong I didn’t even need to tap into my well of power to locate it. Was that a fluke too?
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Deep in my thought I hadn't noticed that Cecil was walking up behind me.
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"You called, Juno Cle—" He stopped in his tracks, his face and neck turning into a deep shade of red. This was the first time I'd seen him express an emotion other than anger, serious or frustration.
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I looked at him, the confusion was evident on my face. "Oh, Cecil look there's...What is it?" I asked, still in deep thought to realize what had happened.
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Cecil turns around giving his back to me but I could make out the faint blush creeping up his neck. "Wha-what do you mean what?!" He gestures wildly towards the empty space. I was slightly amused to see him so suddenly flustered until realization hit, and my skin warmed with embarrassment.
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We both turned away, equally flustered.
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What are you doing? This is no time for this! you need to tell him.
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I cleared my throat loudly so he could hear me.
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“Um… so, anyway, I needed to tell you something…It’s urgent” While talking I put on my priestess uniform, a traditional long, flowing white dress featuring unique cut-outs around the shoulders.
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"Well...What is it?"
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“There is someone…Someone that isn’t supposed to be here”
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I looked around, scanning the crowed for any sign of the assailant. I finally put on my gold belt with engraved scriptures that only graduated priests and priestesses would wear.
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“What? An Outsider? And your only telling me this now?”
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A feeling of annoyance and frustration flared inside of me as I tied my laced white sandals.
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“That’s why I’m telling you NOW, you fool” I didn’t bother to hide the fact that I rolled my eyes at him.
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Sweet Sol, why does this man always want to get on my nerves.
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“Alright” He said. “I’ll look around to see if they’re still here” With a curt nod he leaves, I put on my laced veil and head towards the stage. This wasn't my problem, this was a job for Cecil and so I left it at that.
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The square had swollen by people by the time the ceremony was ready to begin. The festival-goers pressing shoulder to shoulder, faces turned toward the platform. Children clung to sleeves and climbed onto barrels for a better view. Vendors edged their carts toward the outskirts of the crowd, calling out last-minute sales of honeyed bread and spiced fruit, the warm smell of pastry mixing with sweat, smoke, and salt air drifting up from the harbor. Ribbons fluttered overhead from roof to roof and whenever the wind shifted they shimmered like scales against the deepening blue of dusk.
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At the center of it all stood the stage.
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Garlands of pale flowers were woven along the railings and pinned in thick clusters at the corners. White ribbons threaded between the blooms and trailed down in soft loops as lanterns were being lit one by one around the edges.
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In the middle of the stage sat the holy hearth. It was a broad, sacred basin set into a low stone stand, inscribed on the rim of the basin were scriptures and sacred phrases that speaks of the sacred fire and hymns sung on the new solar year.
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Behind the hearth, commanding the back of the platform, rose the porcelain statue of the goddess. Even from the crowd, the pale sheen of her seemed to catch and keep the light. Her hair fell long and flowing in sculpted waves down her back, as though an unseen tide moved through it, and her arms were outstretched in a gesture that could have been welcome or blessing or warning, depending on the eye that watched it. Upon her brow sat a great crown with five distinct points, each one shaped like a spear of sunlight.
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And directly opposite the stage facing it like a judge on a throne stood the limestone monument of King Normus, Pirate’s Bane. The platform had been built so that every prayer, every hymn, every spark of holy flame would be offered under his stony gaze. His carved scepter and spear rose over the crowd, pirate hats stacked like trophies along the spear’s tip.
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I looked at the scene before me in bewilderment. I have to hand it to my staff, when they commit to something, they always outdo themselves. Among the crowd, seated on a platform separate from the rest of the people, was the governor, Lord Krysen of Flo'er. His family were nobles that came from Flo’er, a place in the Baelen region near the Lirael capital, Eudberg, where the upper royal family resides. His family rose through the ranks of nobility as arms merchants and through their merit they were put in charge of Port Thompen by the high king himself. The decision raised a few eye brows as it was expected that a lesser royal family was supposed to take charge but in my opinion it was a wise decision.
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Where is his wife? She’s usually with him.
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I shook my head.
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Never mind that, you can do this.
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I stepped onto the stage with my veil settled and my gold scripture-belt catching the lanternlight, and the square’s noise began to thin as if the crowd itself was holding its breath.
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“People of Port Thompen,” I said, and paused—not for drama… Well, maybe a little bit for the drama. I watched as they waited in anticipation for what I’d say next.
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“Turn your faces to the sea that feeds us, and to the Mother who holds it.”
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I bowed my head to Junnaie’s statue first—respect—then turned and faced the harbour—direction. Every apprentice on the stage followed my motion, like reeds bending in the same current.
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Then I pinched a small bowl of salt from beside the hearth and cast it in a slow circle around the basin. The grains hissed faintly as they struck warm stone, and she traced the circle again, this time with two fingers dipped in oil, marking a ring that would catch the flame.
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Not with a torch shoved in like a tavern fire, but with a wick touched to ember. The first flame was small, modest, a newborn sun. leaning close I inhaled the fire’s incense then exhale—not to feed the fire, but to give it breath, like a blessing given mouth to mouth.
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At least that’s how my mentor described it. It was kind of weird when thinking about it.
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What the devil am I thinking? Focus.
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The singing of the hymns followed soon after, giving thanks to the mother goddess and her son, the precious shining light which was Sol.
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I raised my voice above it.
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“Junnaie—Mother of the heavens, Keeper of the tides,” I said, and each title landed with weight, as if naming the goddess correctly mattered as much as believing, because it did. “We return the first flame to you, as you return the first breath to us by your favorite son, the beloved Sol.”
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I took a vial of seawater, the true harbour water and poured it into the hearth. The water sizzled and spat, turning instantly to steam that curled up in pale strands. I watched the vapor rise as if it were carrying the town’s words upward.
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Then I changed my tone.
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Not angry. Not panicked. Hard.
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I needed to make the petitions of the damned. Every year the pirate’s inkbound magic becomes more and more of a crisis. It was scary how close another sea purge could happen, so usually I give a prayer, warning those you have turned their back on the Divinity’s grace.
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The fools they were.
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“The sea gives,” I said, “but it is not yours to bargain with in blasphemy.” I saw Cecil walking around and analyzing the crowed. He must be looking for the assailant but stopped to watch the performance. I turned to the crowed in a dramatic flare, I could see in the corner of my eye that Cecil had rolled his eyes. I scoffed quietly before getting back into character.
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Jealous much.
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“Inkbound,” I continued, “Tattoo-marked. Those who bind the deep to bone and blood and call it devotion, hear this.”
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I didn’t say their names. I didn’t need to. Condemnation, I’d been taught, was strongest when it was impersonal law, not gossip.
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“Your ink is not scripture,” My voice ringing now, clean and merciless. “Your tendrils are not divine. Your bargains are not blessings. You do not honour the sea, you chain it.”
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I stepped closer to the hearth and held my hands above the flame. The heat gilded around fingers. I spoke the next part slower.
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“Let no ink-spirit cross our threshold unseen. Let no bound thing hide beneath cloth or skin. Let every bargain made in darkness be named by light.”
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At the word light, one apprentice scattered powdered limestone into the air above the fire—fine as flour. It drifted down through the flame and caught, like a spray of tiny stars before it vanished into smoke. Everyone cheered and applauded.
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I lowered my voice again, “And Mother goddess,” I said, “if we have taken too much this year, if our nets have scraped your floor, if our anchors have bitten too deep, teach us restraint.”
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Suddenly a loud, deep roar echoed through the square which caused everyone to be still. It was deep, and bellowed like a creature from the sea, shaking the very air. Ryse and another assistant stared at me as the noise slowly died down.
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This wasn't part of the ceremony.
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Then someone lunges forward, grasping something I couldn't make out. There face becomes clear to see and it's Ryse stepping in front of the assailant. What transpired next was an oversight I had made that cost me everything.
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and then Add to home screen.