Once Was: Book One of the Asylum Trilogy (3 page)

Others, like my sister, never survived to receive scars and ink upon their skin. Girls who lacked the ability to master a school were stripped of their magic and sent to another building upon Sheelin. There, they worked from sunrise to sunset on making life easier for those who had passed Bas’ tests. As the Fates would have it, in all my years upon Sheelin’s blessed banks, I was the last put through the trials and ordeals to become a priestess. No others had passed the test to even cross the waters.

Sheelin had found no others worthy of her secrets. Whether I was Bas’ last Chosen out of necessity to the people who no longer gave their trust to the priesthood, or from a lack of those open to Her numinous presence, I do not know. I am only aware that She chose me, and (despite my determination to be free beneath the stars) that I strive daily to deserve Her divine gift.

To earn my way onto the boat that would take me to Sheelin, I had been sent with Kira. She was our fire-keeper, the one who lit the ritual blaze that summoned a boat from the sacred isle, as well as Madani’s healer. Her small, earthen hut was deep in the woods far to the south of our small city. Within its warmth, she kept her bed, a hearth and table, numerous shelves for the salves she made, and a hidden door leading to a tunneled entrance to the temple.

Any who asked Kira were told the distance gave her space to reflect upon her duties to Bas. In retrospective wisdom, I believe her isolation gave Kira the space she needed to be an impartial judge of talent; despite having brought her spare sweets when we had them, there had been no ease to my test. From the moment she heard of my vision, Kira assumed her position as priestess and Fire Bearer.

It was the same for me as it had been for all women since the start of the first priestess. It was the beginning of a lifetime of difficult encounters.

*

Darkness closed in on me, dirt rubbing off the ceiling when I lifted onto my knees. The tunnel from Kira’s cottage to the temple in the woods was warmer than I anticipated, but darker than I imagined the womb being. Shuffling knees and grasping hands brought back nothing but more darkness. Fear draped me, a cobweb shawl threatening to close its tendrils around my chest. My heart pounded in response, fighting to keep me alive in the face of my fears. I wanted to turn back into the sunlight.

Turn back.

Could I have turned around? Was I lost?

Worms slid beneath my fingers, teasing me with their innate knowledge of up from down and which way to go. Why had Kira abandoned me here? Was I to fail even in this?

“Please,” I begged.

I crawled even as roots tangled in my hair, the boy-short waves coming free with a tug where longer tresses would have knotted. “Bas, if it is Your desire for me to—” No, She wanted me. This task was for me to prove my desire.

Forward. I had to move forward.

Dirt kicked up from my hands and burned my lungs. Kira had to be just a little further ahead. She told me it would be no longer than the walk from the forge to Fion’s house had been.

That wound was still sharp in my stomach. With effort, I forced those thoughts to the back of my mind, then focused on the musty earth holding me close. Humble. I was to lose the preconceived notions of who I was in this journey. I was to humble myself before Bas’ eyes and let Her rebirth me as an initiate.

“I am yours, Lady.” I gave up crawling and rested my head upon my hands in the dirt. Imagining myself beneath Her paws, I gave myself to the dark.

Power.

Throbbing power.

Tree roots reaching down, branches going to the sky. Water soaked dirt bearing nutrients of life.

“Take me,” I whispered to all of them.

I choked on earth as it swallowed me. Cold stones and warm earth cocooned me, eating me whole and dragging me with it like the worms within the soil. It spat me out with a thundering shudder of power. “Tree child of the stars,” it cried. “Not a stone-worker.”

The darkness lifted. It was still black and my sight was of no use, but I knew that She was ahead of me. Velvet brushed my muddied skin, the new coat cracking, stinging, as a hint of fresh air caressed my face.

Like a babe reaching for its mother, I reached through the parting fabric, and was blind.

Kira laughed as I fumbled, ground giving way to white wooden flooring. “We are all unseeing until She shows us the right path, Roseen. Follow my voice.”

Kira cleansed me, running cool water over my face and limbs. I drank sugared water as if it would give me new life. Perhaps it did. I closed my eyes against the blinding white that stung my thoughts, scourging my soul against the black of night, and when again I opened them, I saw all the colors.

There was black and white, but in between there was . . . everything. Colors I have no name for danced with familiar rainbows. Faded and cracked, white-washed walls were studded with imported glass from a factory in Aristeer. They drew the eye upwards to the spectral blessing that had caught my attention. A brightly tiled ceiling faded from the vivid to the exotic; shimmering deep shades I have never seen were a night-time dream of color. Fion, Cade, and I had watched one of the boats come from Sheelin bearing boxes of tiles. The priest who had born the burden of carrying them had smiled fondly at Cade before walking down the path.

“Lie down, Child.” Kira’s wrinkled face was tanned from a life spent toiling in her garden and traversing the waters between Madani and Sheelin. Despite calluses and scars, the touch of her hands was soothing as she pressed upon my shoulders. It was a grandmother’s touch, one full of fond affection and the promise of sweet fruit breads after.

The reed mat beneath me scratched through my clothing, and the scarlet pillow supporting my head and neck was too soft and smelled of sour herbs used to put a fussy child to sleep. How she expected me to be comfortable enough to let those visions come, I was unsure.

Then, I saw Her. In the center of the ceiling were eyes like those of a cat, though these held a celestial glow visible even in the bright light surrounding me. I felt Her staring at me while I reclined upon the floor in the temple. The magic held in that glazed ceramic went beyond my comprehension.

“Open.” A cloying sweetness filled my nose as Kira held a wine-steeped cloth above my mouth and squeezed. Raining drops of burgundy coated my tongue and ran down to my throat, requiring no action. They knew where they were going, just as the incense she had started burning choked my throat as it swam into my nose and open mouth. “Don’t fight it, daughter of Bas. Let the smoke in; breathe deeply and open your mind.”

If I had thought of fighting, the possibility vanished. The green eyes above bore the priestess’ words into me, and I let the smoke wash through my body, giving myself over to that needy, loving stare.

“What do you see, Roseen, if anything?”

I stared through the smoke, pushing past the images my childish mind latched onto. She had to test whether my visions were powerful truths or fanciful dreams. So, for her and our Goddess, I relived the dreams and blood-filled terrors I wished to forget. Visions of bloodshed had no place in an eight year old’s mind, yet they were there without regard to what should have been.

Before my eyes, the smoke and mosaic faded, leaving me in a haze upon the ocean’s waves. Beneath me, a small raft woven of green reeds buoyed me atop the water. We dipped down, then crested, becoming part of the ocean’s waves. I turned as if treading water, though I floated above it, and saw a brilliant star
—
one not larger than a cabbage rose
—
drifting near the shore.

“I see a star upon the waves. There is ice around it,” I said, though I felt no cold. I simply knew there was ice.

Kira tried to coax more from me, but I ignored her questions, wanting to get closer and trying to see what it meant. “No, Child. Do not fight it. See what She wills. Let the visions come and go as guests She has sent. You cannot force them or they will fade.” The scratch of her quill upon the parchment told me she was recording what I saw. “Tell me more, Bas willing.”

Drifting back into the coalescing fog, I spun around, feeling thousands of faces longing to tell me their hidden stories. In one corner I saw my father carving a memorial stone and turned away, not wanting to see the name he etched. In another, I saw Carek taking off his shoe, and with it his foot. “The butcher is taking off his shoes repeatedly. One foot is coming with it, Kira,” I said, incredulous to the sight before me. It just was not possible. I turned around in the mists, waving it away with my arms, trying to see more. “He’s sitting along the shore in his winter garb; the snow dunes are as high as his shoulders.” I stood up on my rolling raft, trying to find Carek as he danced away.

“That’s enough, Child.” A breeze tickled my senses, clearing the fog as Kira fanned it away with giant feathers from some far away land.

I mourned the loss of palpable magic. My chest ached with grief, tears burned my eyes, and my hands pulsed in an attempt to pull the smoke back to me.

Bas wasn’t finished with me yet.

The fog vanished, and with its loss came rushing waters that pulled me down even as they lifted me up and absorbed me. I gurgled in the banks, feeling sluggish, frigid water bubble below me, the sun warming my upper flows. Tree roots taller than the sky had clear spaces, and I was hungry for them. They fell to the power of my current, but I was so ravenous I continued to swallow them all, as if I hadn’t eaten since last spring. Small twigs fought against me, splashing and flailing before succumbing to my strength, air bubbles popping on my surface as they sank.

The vision faded and took my strength with it. “No! Come back!” I clawed at the receding waters, trying to become one with the rushing river again. Never before had I felt such raw power.

Kira was kneeling over me, her pale blue eyes kind as she stroked a cool cloth over my forehead.

“There’s . . . water . . . coming,” I panted out. “A flood. The river will breach its banks.” My human mind assimilated the images of the vision. “The lower quadrant—it will be gone.”

In a surprising act of kindness, Kira kissed my forehead and smoothed my sweat-plastered hair back. “Shush now, Child. We are merely the mediums through which She speaks, not the interpreters. When I take you to Sheelin, the Dream-teller will decipher your visions.” So, I had been chosen. “The Oneira won’t know what to do with you, though. You’re much too young. Twelve is as young as we’ve claimed before. You’re something special, Little Rose.”

*

I stumbled down the dark road alone, the small sack upon my shoulders mostly empty. There had been no time to refill my supplies. The calling, a magical summons, was too strong. In turning around just once, I had fallen to the ground. Burning glass cut my feet, venomous snakes attacked my legs, and it all refused to subside until I dragged my pain-riddled lower half towards Madani.

My knees trembled, knocking together beneath the starry sky as I took another step down the well-worn path. No, I would not turn around again. I knew the time of the blazing vision was coming to fruition. My destiny would be met with open arms, and I would reconcile what might be with what will be.

Despite all of Kira’s soothing words when I was a child, her pitiful attempts to assuage my fears, my visions have always come true. The winter following my departure to Sheelin, Carek was tending his livestock outside the city gates and was injured by a fall. By the time his sons found him, the cold had claimed the wounded flesh.

Disregarding my foretelling and Kira’s warning, no one had prepared for the harsh winter. They did not listen when I sent word of the recurring vision two spring thaws later, either. Already, the new religion of the Sun Lord had begun to spread its poison. Even without its warrior priest taking the helm of battle, the Sun Faith had divided my people.

The flood ruined the lower quadrant of the city as the lake and river became one large entity for days. Dirt-smudged children who lived on the streets were forced into better districts and orphanages, parents were pushed out of their squalor and into new jobs and homes, and the few businesses remaining along the lake’s edge moved out to other cities. The people who had been in Madani for generations knew not to live in the flood plain. We knew what happened when you tested the Goddess too far.

The natives knew that prayers were answered. The same winter as Carek’s accident, frigid temperatures closed the shores of Madani and Sheelin, but my vision told the people where to find open ice so a ship could be launched for Aristeer to the south. When Madani had no access to the outside world due to dangerously deep snow across the trade routes, Kira reminded them of the hidden sight she had coaxed from me during my test. A small star became a crack in the ice they could open.

Few had believed, but
—
at that point in our recent history
—
they could not defy a direct order of a priestess. They did send prayers of thanks when supplies were obtained in Aristeer. We saw the billowing murk from Kira’s ritual fire and accepted the smoke clouds in solemn grief for the lives lost to the winter winds.

Now, prayers from the uninitiated are far and few between and often equally laden with curses; the words of our priesthood hold little meaning in this modish world.

“Do not fear, Priestess. We still hear their prayers.” Aya’s thick fingers cupped my chin and His coal-black eyes glittered with the sky’s stars as a man’s body
—
thick of arm, shoulder and chest, lean of waist and hips
—
came into being before me. “The road is clear this night, Little Rose. My smiths keep their forges lit to see you safely home. Walk with Me, Child of Bas.”