Freshly bathed and smelling of meadows her eyes had never seen, Davina let her empty stomach guide her towards the Big House.
The building was of the same white brick that all of the other buildings in the complex were, but it was the only one to have a second floor. There wasn’t exactly a rule barring anyone from entering the building after lights out, but it was an unspoken rule that once the lanterns were blown out no one was to leave their units. Davina wasn’t big on rules.
Slowly turning the knob and easing the door open inch by inch, so its loud squeak would not wake the three Matrems upstairs, she slipped inside. Her damp unveiled hair left occasional droplets of water in her wake that would hopefully dry before the shrine awoke. Unveiled hair wasn’t permitted, neither were midnight baths or snacks, but the other sisters were good about staying inside their units after their final prayers so she wasn’t too concerned.
The kitchen, the beating heart of the building, (in Davina’s mind) never slept. Though she found kitchen duties especially dull, it was a room she respected for its refusal to sit in silence. As a child the loud clangs of pots and pans, shrill whistles of kettles, thuds of knives on cutting boards, and the song of cooking sent shocks down her back. Her little muscles would twitch with excitement over the very idea of someone loudly washing dishes. It was routine tasks like taking out trash and peeling stacks of silent vegetables that drove Davina mad.
Even as she snuck in for a piece of bread and some cheese in the dead of night, the hearth still cheerily crackled and popped. The knife’s satisfying crunch as it sliced through the bread crust made any possible consequences she could face for her late-night trip worth it.
She sat in the warm room until her eyes spied the faintest traces of light through the large windows. With every fiery pop the sound of rattling chains and echoing wails faded farther into the recesses of her mind. Belly full and mind somewhat at ease, she snuck back to her unit, hoping the whole way that Noel would be waiting for her.
That would be the last nightmare Davina would have in the shrine.
⟴
The downside to Davina’s late night excursions was the bone-sapping fatigue.
She concentrated so hard on not falling asleep during morning worship and not slicing her fingers off while sculpting Soldeus statues that her temples pounded. Her head was so tired and throbby that she took no notice of the Matrems guiding a tall, masked man past the large wooden doors during breakfast and pointing him up the stairs towards Matrem Aster’s office. Instead she stared down into her bowl of warm oats and wondered if she could live without her brain.
It didn’t help that Viola and Angelonia were still being waited on hand and foot. Some of the children had taken to carrying their trailing robes like they were royalty, and little Scaevola and Cleome even made the girls necklaces during their craft hour. They were served first, escorted to and from every room, given the longest bathing times, received extra helpings of food at each meal, and that morning Angelonia had taken the last of the hot tea Davina was looking forward to. Thankfully Sister Zinnia saw the dark rings under the girl’s eyes and slid her own still steaming mug towards her. What would I do without her.
Sure she chugged the liquid so fast it burned her tongue, but the stabbing pain behind her eyes was subsiding. Soon a burned tongue would be the least of her problems.
The rituals for the third and final day of the ceremony were for manets and matrems only. So for the first time in...Davina didn’t know how long she had the day off. For once she was not bound by chores, prayers, or charitable events.
Two of her deepest wishes had come true, yet she wasn’t reacting in the way she had planned. On days when she fantasized about having strangers around she thought of asking endless questions, making friends, and maybe even leaving to go on journeys with them. The new sisters had come and the most she’d ever asked one of them was “could you please pass the butter”. Everything she learned about them was from overseeing bits of their conversations, and asking Sister Zinnia and Sage to tell her what they were like. Making friends was easier said than done.
A bell rang, and Matrem Liatris stood at the head bench alongside Matrem Aster and Shasta. “Sisters, today marks the final day of the Ceremony of Sun, and what a glorious celebration of our community it has been.” Those wonderfully round cheeks spread into a smile that comforted Davina more than any words could. “We ask that all maneats join us to witness the tempuses take their final vows.” Gesturing for the sisters to stand she led them, shoulders back and head held high, out of the dining hall.
Still seated in front of her bowl, Davina sat a little straighter as Matrem Aster shuffled towards her. Smelling of old lavender and ink, those tender ancient eyes gazed down at her warmly.
“One day soon child.” A knobby and wrinkly soft hand rested on top of hers and squeezed it reassuringly. “In six short months you will have your own ceremony. I have been looking towards that day since you were no taller than this very bench.”
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Davina’s face flushed with pride. When the Revered Matrem praised someone, it was a big deal. She was going to do everything in her power to make this woman proud of her.
Nodding and giving her thanks to the white-clad woman, Davina couldn’t help but watch in awe as the woman who had a hand in raising her walked away.
⟴
Now she had an entire day to herself and….and nothing. The only thing Davina could think to do was whisper-read to Noel. Again. Or maybe bathe. Again. She had no blueprints or masterplan to sneak into town, or plots to do anything other than stay within the stupid saftey of the home she could never leave. Disappointment burned the back of her throat and sizzled on her charred tongue. She refused to be dull like Angelonia who was content with living a quiet and structured life. Swallowing as much frustration as her stomach would allow, Davina turned to the one thing she was good at. Rule breaking.
She stopped fitting in the air ducts years ago so she scrambled for another way to see inside the worship hall. She’d thought about donning a white veil and trying to blend in with the other maneats, but they all knew her face. So that was out. There weren’t any curtains or drapes to hide behind, but there were windows.
Anyone happening to walk by would have seen a black and white shadow crawling along on hands and knees under the stained glass windows of the worship hall. Not wanting to be seen, Davina may have taken her role as spy a little too seriously. Inspired by one of the thick lumps under her mattress, she recalled how a character wore disguises, dangled from wires, and even jumped out of moving vehicles to accomplish their mission. So she took the silly act of crouching under the windowsills and crawling through dirt very seriously. She secretly hoped all of the children were diligently finishing their chores and tending to the animals on the other side of the complex. She’d never hear the end of it if one of them saw her.
Once satisfied the dense bushes were shielding her from suspicious eyes, Davina peered into the window above her.
Through the blue haze of the stained glass Davina saw the sisters lining the walls of the hall, each one occupying a bench, heads facing forward, and hands clasped in deep prayer. The children’s prayer cushions had been neatly stacked in the far corner, resembling a bumpy shadow. The matrems stood hand in hand before the altar and laying at their feet, still clad in their white robes, was Viola and Angelonia.
Goosebumps rolled down her arms despite the unusually warm day. She rubbed them away absentmindedly, her gaze never leaving the window.
Matrem Shasta reached for a vial of something that rested on the altar, uncorked it and passed it to Matrem Liatris. Their hands moved in what she assumed was a blessing over the girls, and two drops of whatever liquid was in it was given to Viola and Angelonia. They reminded her of dead birds the way their robes cascaded around them upon the floor, like crumpled wings.
Davina couldn’t be sure if it was the stained glass or how far away she was, but she swore she saw terror in her old friend’s eyes before they closed. And closed they stayed.
The sisters lining the room bowed their heads, and the matrems returned the vial to its original spot before joining their audience in deep prayer. There were too many heartbeats of nothing before anyone moved again.
A shadow seemed to pull itself from the walls and glide to the center of the room. Never in all her life had Davina seen such a thing. Even through the blue glass she could tell it was draped in layers of black. Black robes, a black shoulder cape, ominous pouches hung from a dark belt, and a black hood covering most of its face. White was the symbol of Soldeus, she couldn’t recall ever seeing something as oppositional as this ever lurking around the grounds before.
She couldn’t take her eyes off of it. She couldn’t make herself glance down at the two sleeping girls, she couldn’t make herself stop shivering despite the beads of sweat rolling down her back. She couldn’t even gasp in shock as it began to sing the song that had fascinated her for years.
Exoctic and alluring the words washed over the hall and crashed head first into Davina’s reality. That was the voice. That was the voice that had sung those very same hidden words when she was a child. The song of a shadow man had been lulling her to sleep.
She sat crouched in her uncomfortable position, the sharp branches pressing into her feet and ribs went unnoticed as she watched the shadow man in mezmorized horror. As the song continued in a deep monotonous purr, a flash of silver came from those dark gloved hands.
Her mind didn’t have time to fully catch up to what it was seeing, she was instead too focused on the swelling of the song. The voice had sped up and intensified, almost chanting. This was her favorite part, for it was the only part she could remember. She had spent years humming these notes and now th-NO! Her eyes slammed shut. No no no no no no. She hadn’t seen that. She pressed the palms of her hands into her eyes not caring that there was still dirt and bits of grass on them. No no no.
No matter how hard she squeezed her eyes the motion of a blade being dragged across Viola’s neck was still there. The shadow man was still chanting in it’s deep voice but all Davina heard was a high pitched ringing.
No no that couldn’t have been- she slowly opened one eye, peeking through dirty fingers. Through the blue pane Viola’s robe were drenched in purple.
The rational part of her brain knew that red and blue made purple, that something was incredibly wrong, and she should run. But that part of her brain rarely gets to be incharge. The rest of Davina’s mind went blank. Painfully, painfully blank as she stared at her friend’s neck.
Just below her chin was a line. It was almost as if someone had spilled a cup of grape juice. So, so much juice. For the front of her robe was weeping purple. Viola’s chest continued to rise and fall, but it was faster than it had been a moment ago, and Davina couldn’t rip her eyes away. She didn’t see a matching line appear on Angelonia. She didn’t see the shadow man bandage his weeping creations. She didn’t hear the end of the song that had haunted her for years. She didn’t see the maneats finish the ceremony. Only when the two broken birds were carried from the hall on stretchers by veiled sisters did Viola finally close her eyes again.
She sat there for hours, curled in a ball. Not once did she dare to open her eyes
⟴
It was the cracking of twigs that finally forced her to open her eyes. The world had darkened around her, the warm noon sky had curdled into a familiar gray-orange Bridlo sunset. Even if she wasn’t already terrified, the chilly air made her shiver.
Another crack of a branch made the girl finally sit up. The muscles in her arms and back ached as she allowed them to unwind and relax from their curled position. The sounds of something drawing near brought thoughts of black shadows and weeping necks to the front of her mind. A hand wrapping around her ankle made her shriek, her own hands protectively clutching her throat. Ankle be damned.
A pair of familiar eyes peered back at her through the bush, and tears that had been too stunned before washed Davina’s dirt-stained cheeks. The sobbing girl practically flug herself into Sister Zinnia’s arms as she clawed her way out of the bush. She let herself forget the nightmare she had just witnessed and let the woman try to hug away all of her troubles, the same way she had as a child. The comforting scent of apple blossoms and cinnamon enveloped her as the closest thing she had to a mother held her without question.
Sister Zinnia didn’t move until her tears were gone, her eyes were officially puffy, and the sun was set. Only then did the woman gently push her back so she could look into her face. She looked down at the terrified hazel eyes, looked up at the window that led into the worship hall, and simply hugged her again, knowing what she had seen. The second hug felt different. It was not warm and comforting like the first one, instead it was almost remorseful and layered in regret.
Again she pushed the child away so she could peer into her face. “I never wanted you to see that.” The lines around her eyes were filled with worry and a kind of sadness Davina could not name.
“You knew? How could- why did- I don’t-” her hands stumbled over the words, there were too many questions trying to get out at once.
“Let's get you cleaned up and then I will explain everything.” She helped the girl stand and together they began the journey across the still and dark grounds. “You’ve been missing for hours. I told the others you were already asleep but I had a hunch where you were.” When Davina made no move to speak the older woman continued, not good with silence herself. “You missed dinner.” Another pause, the darkened bathhouse loomed in the distance, it was no longer as comforting as it had been that morning. The sister tried again, “why don’t you get cleaned up and I’ll try to sneak you some food?”
Davina could see the sister was trying, so she nodded and that seemed to satisfy her. As they reached the door to the bathhouse she turned to face the sister, eyes swimming with questions and horror.
“I promise I will tell you everything. Okay?” Her dark brows rose with her question, her worry plainly etched on her face.
With another nod, Sister Zinnia turned for the Big House, giving the girl a few minutes of privacy. Although as she entered the empty room being left alone was the last thing she wanted. Every once comforting crackle from the furnace made her jump, and the pleasant emptiness of the room was suffocating. She kept her eyes trained on the floor, not wishing to see her dirt and snot covered appearance, but also terrified she would see a shadow man standing behind her.
She bathed quickly. As she scrubbed her skin raw the water soon became a light brown, swirling with bits of grass, twigs, and leaves. The hot water did nothing for the cold that had clawed itself into her chest, but at least her skin had warmed up and stopped its incessant shaking.
Stepping out of the water she didn’t bother with drying off. Instead she threw a tunic over her wet head and sat down in front of the furnace. That’s how she stayed until Sister Zinnia came back, slightly wet and staring into the fire.
The sister sat on the floor next to her and handed her a bowl filled with bread, cheese, a few slices of cooked fish, and a piece of fruit.
“Eat child. Eat so I can start my story.” The furnace cracked loudly.
⟴
Sister Zinnia’s story didn’t start with words. The sister pushed her white veil and toque off of her head, revealing soft short brown hair that had a tinge of grey at the temples. Running a hand through her hair, and messing it up so it sat in messy spikes, she smiled softly at the girl. Zinnia always had a soft spot for the kid, ever since she first laid eyes on the wailing green-wrapped bundle.
“There is a reason why I never really pushed the community's teachings onto you.” Lifting her head so Davina could see her neck in the light of the fire, she could make out a thin white scar just below her chin.
Davina let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding in. She had never seen any of the sister’s hair before, let alone their throats, since both were covered by the toque. “But I don’t understand. Why? Why would they do that? Who was the shadow man? Is Viola okay?” The sister put up a hand and she knew she was saying one question at a time.
“Both girls are fine. They're being watched over tonight by the matrems and Dr. Noges. He is the shadow I assume you’re referring to.” The girl nodded quickly, urging her to continue. “Dr. Noges is a spiritual doctor. He performs the final step for all tempuses. The silencing.”
Davina couldn’t help the involuntary gulp at the sinister words. The silencing. The words themselves seemed rather frightening, and having just witnessed the act, seemed even scarier.
“‘The first step to paradise, a clean body, a clean mind, a clean soul.’ If Soldues truly speaks for you then you do not need to speak.” Davina recognized the first part of her sentence, it was part of the lessons that had been drilled into her head as a child. She had never heard the last part though.
The sister looked into Davina’s eyes as though she hoped she understood, but seeing her confusion she continued, “the final step in the Ceremony of Sun is the damaging of the vocal cords. Every tempus must go through with it if she is to become a maneat.”
Davina’s eyes widened in horror. “No! I-” She took a deep breath, and shook her hands out trying to recenter herself. She switched back to the sacred language, speaking aloud suddenly felt disrespectful. Her eyes flicked down to the silvery white scar. Feeling as though she were intruding on something private she quickly turned her gaze back to the fire. “Why d-”
“Don’t be afraid to speak, child, it's one of my favorite things about you.” She chuckled softly, “well, that and your stubbornness. It reminds me of home.”
Davina wasn’t quite sure what to make of that last bit, but she did speak. “Why didn’t I hear about this before? Especially if everyone else has done it?”
Davina noticed the ghost of a smile as the sister heard her voice. As she asked her question however, any traces of happiness left, her brows pinching in uncertainty. “I brought that up to the Revered Matrem myself when you were around ten. I didn’t want you to find out about the ceremonies like this, its not an easy thing to learn of, let alone witness.”
“So what happened?”
“The Matrem happened. She didn’t want you to leave the community out of fear once you learned of the practice. I didn’t understand her reasoning at the time, stars, I still don’t. A tempus is allowed to withdraw from sisterhood so long as the silencing remains incomplete. Once the ceremony is finished however, they belong to the shrine.” The sister’s eyes flicked back and forth, almost like they were replaying the memory, the glow of the fire gave her hair a soft orange glow.
“Wait, you said ‘ceremonies’, plural. Are there more?”
She nodded but pursed her lips in concentration, “yes. There are others, but even I don’t know what happens. Knowledge of those ceremonies lie with the Matrems.”
“So why didn’t you tell me in secret? I would have believed you.” The words I would have believed anything you said remained unspoken, but they didn’t go unnoticed.
How those dark eyes managed to be so full of love and sadness Davina did not know. “It was not for lack of trying, she made sure I was never alone with you after that. That was around the time you were moved out of my unit. After a long time I accepted defeat. I now see how very wrong I was.” She hung her head in sorrow, her messy spikes falling into her eyes. “I’m sorry you saw that.”
Davina’s heart shattered. “It's not your fault, you tried and that’s all you could have done. You’ve done more for me than anyone else has.” It was true. No other sister had taken the time to get to know her like Sister Zinnia had over the years. No one else had helped comb through thick tangled curls, or showed her how to make her toque less itchy. She was the only one who soothed her childish fears and nightmares, and helped hem her tunics when they were too long her. She had taken the time to show her what ravens like to eat, and was the reason why she had Noel for company.
Her words seemed to help the sister reach some conclusion in her own mind, for she squared her shoulders, eyes glittering with determination and the reflection of the fire. “Then perhaps I can help you one last time.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m going to get you out of here.”
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