The Great Temple of Valhil sat atop the holy mound of Nur, overlooking the city, adorning it like a crown. The divine house of The Creator; the only building in all of Valhil that was truly beautiful.
The illustrious structure of polished sandstone glowed ethereally in the silver moonlight. Glittering stars beamed through elaborate alleyways of ornate pillars. Sparkling water bubbled gently in a delicate courtyard fountain. And the strong aroma of incense and spices cling thickly in the air, growing more and more potent as Tizrah and Gulz made their way up the grand sandstone walkway.
To her dismay, Tizrah was already picking up on a familiar yet alarming sense of unmitigated rage reaching out to her form within the heart of the temple, coiling itself around her chest like a boa constrictor. It squeezed and squeezed, nearly suffocating her with its pure wrath as they drew nearer to its source.
"Merciful Creator, you weren't kidding, Gulz," Tizrah said, breathlessly.
"That bad, huh?"
Tizrah nodded, casting her gaze down to her feet clad in braided sandals, watching with unfocused eyes as they scraped softly along the stone walkway. Then, after a moment of consideration, she decided, "I'm pretty sure my mom want's to kill me."
"Isn't that taking it a bit far?" Gulz asked flatly.
"Um, have you met the High Priestess of Valhil?" Tizrah said sardonically.
"But you're her daughter," he insisted.
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure that doesn't mean anything to her."
"I can't believe that."
Tizrah just replied with a shrug of indifference, and Gulz had run out of time to respond as they approached the large yawning entrance to the temple's main sanctuary.
When Gulz spoke next, his voice was low. "Well, in that case, any last words before you go off to meet your untimely demise? Any baggage you'd like to shake loose from?"
"I can think of SOMEONE I'd like to shake loose from,"she glared playfully at him.
He grinned. "Never gonna happen. You can't get rid of me that easily."
"Oh, well. It was worth a try," Tizrah sighed as she parted the rich, silk curtains of purple that were draped delicately over the gaping doorway, and stepped through.
Even though she didn't look back toward him again, she could still feel Gulz's mischievous smirk curling at her back. She could feel him stepping up through the doorway behind her as the entered the temple together, and somewhere deep down she was grateful for it. Grateful for not having to face her mother's wrath alone.
Inside the temple, the immediate silence that filled Tizrah's ears was unnerving. None of the usual prayers or chanting could be heard reverberating throughout the tall expanse of the sanctuary chamber. No beating of the drum, no whimsical tinkling of the chimes. Just stark silence that was punctuated by whispers echoing sharply off high pillars and smooth, plaster walls.
Toward the center of the expansive room were eight girls around Tizrah's age huddled together, swathed in flowing, silky-red ceremonial garments. Tizrah could feel a collective sense of concern, alarm, and judgement all mingled together in the air, exhuding from their hunched bodies as the young priestesses whispered amongst themselves. But even that was all but drowned out b y the pure rage Tizrah could feel burning like a white hot fire from her mother's own form further into the chamber.
Azrah Pias sat with composed dignity upon the elevated seat of the High Priestess, overlooking the temple sanctuary. She wore her regal, golden headdress of sparking ruby droplets that dangled across her forehead. Her long dark hair with streaks of grey was pulled back into a twisted braid. Her face was angular, her expression hard and sharp with aged skin pulled taught across high cheekbones. She looked as stately and important as ever, with her legs crossed and her shoulders pulled back resembling a queen.
Tizrah's footsteps reverberated painfully loudly against the silence of the room, and the whispering chatter died down around her as the priestesses all whipped their heads around, skirts whirling in unison to gape at Tizrah and Gulz, eyes wide with a mixture of curiosity and dismay. At the same time, Azrah's attention immediately snapped to the two forms standing at the entrance, but her gaze lingered on Tizrah, scrutinizing every inch of her.
Tizrah could feel her mother's eyes prying all over her dirt-covered body. Studying her unruly, wind-tousled hair. The plain clothes draped over her body like a potato sack. When she was done taking in the crude, uncivilized look of her daughter, Azrah finally turned her attention to Gulz.
"Gulz al"Rasil," she regarded him coolly, though Tizrah was still acutely aware of her mother's stifling rage. "Thank you for retrieving my daughter and returning her to the temple safely."
"I didn't- I mean, of course, High Priestess," he bowed his head stiffly, all spark of familiar impishness now gone from his eyes.
The sight of it sent a dull pain radiating through Tizrah's body. She hated that Gulz always chose to sacrifice his identity for his duties. She wished he could feel free to be who he was despite his responsibilities. She wished he could be more like herself in that regard. But he wasn't.
"I do apologize for the pains my daughter always seems to cause you." Azrah's eyes flickered back to Tizrah, fire burning behind them, though she kept her expression placid and refined.
Guilt gnawed at Tizrah's chest. Humiliated rage burned in her lungs. "Look, I'm sorry that-"
"It's not a problem," Gulz cut her off coldly. "No trouble at all."
This was the Gulz that Tizrah didn't like. The Gulz that was all business.
"Indeed," Azrah hummed. Then, "Tizrah." Her voice pierced the girl like an ice-cold dagger through the heart. "Enough already with your foolishness. You are nearly eighteen years old, no longer a child. You will one day take my place as High Priestess of the Temple, and Gulz will soon take his father's place on the High Council of Elders. You have a duty, and an image to uphold in the city. But you cannot accomplish anything while you're out there traipsing through Valhil and all over the desert with nothing but a silly dream in your head. Just like your foolish father did all those years ago. Remember his absurd dreams only got him killed in the end."
At the careless mention of her father, Tizrah's jaw clamped down, her hands balling into two tight fists at her sides. It was all she could do to keep the rising anger from choking her own throat. How dare she speak of father?!
"You must put aside your childish fantasies for the good of Valhil, for it is the will of the Holy Creator," Azrah finished pointedly before turning back to Gulz. "Thank you again, Gulz. You do not need to stay. I can take care of her from here. You should go home. Attend to your father's heath."
Gulz nodded stiffly. "I understand. Thank you." And while his face remained expressionless, unwavering eyes staring straight ahead, Tizrah could still feel a twinge of pain which plugked at his heart, and she it was about his father who was very ill.
For months, the priestesses had prayed and made offerings to God to spare the life of Elder Jiri al'Rasil. And Barkaa the healer had done everything within his knowledge and power to save him, but the outlook was bleak. Tizrah knew how it pained Gulz, and her heart ached for him.
She wanted to reach out to him in that moment and pull him into a comforting embrace. She wanted to tell him how deeply sorry she was, and that she'd been praying feverishly day and night for his father's health to improve. For a miracle. Most importantly, she just wanted Gulz to know that she was there for him. But she just couldn't. Not now. Not under the scrutinizing gaze of her mother.
"I will excuse myself," Gulz said finally, keeping his tone even and emotionless despite the pain in his heart.
Tizrah's own heart thrummed dully against her chest as she watched him turn on his heel to leave.
'Don't go,' she wanted to scream. 'Don't leave me here. Don't leave me with this woman I'm forced to call mother.' But Tizrah knew better of it. So she stood there motionless, as though her feet had become millstones weighted to the floor. She watched helplessly until his broad form was swallowed up by the curtains that hung over the entrance. And then he was gone.
Her eyes unfocused themselves, her head swam with concern for Gulz, and with her mother's wrath which bore down on her from every angle. She almost didn't notice when some of the young priestesses had floated past, overtaking her in a blur. They surrounded her from all sides, tittering on and on, bombarding her with a swarm of questions.
"Tizzie, are you okay?"
"Where you really out in the desert again?"
"How dangerous! Did you get to see any Shadow Stalkers?"
"Really?! What did they look like?"
"Are they as terrifying as the stories say?"
Tizrah's head spun, trying to make sense of the blur of writhing faces and words being hurled at her from all sides. "N-No. I didn't see any Shadow Stalkers..."
"Really!?" one of the girls named Muna actually looked disappointed. "That's too bad. I'd always wanted to know what they looked like, but I'm not brave enough to catch a glimpse of one myself."
"Muna!" A girl named Neema chastised. "What do you mean 'that's too bad'? Tizrah's lucky she survived at all. What if she was out there all alone and scared? What if she's traumatized? Then you come along saying things like that!"
"But Neema, I-" the girl began to protest, but Azrah's voice cut sharply and suddenly through the uproar.
"That is quite enough!" she snapped, commanding silence through the temple once more. Each priestess twirled around curtly to meet the stern gaze of the High Priestess, ducking their heads in reverence and shame. "There will be no more talk of Shadow Stalkers or the desert," Azrah continued once she had their attention. "Practice must resume as usual. And no thanks to our very own Tizrah Pias, we will be practicing much later than usual tonight."
A collective goran rose up from the priestesses, and Tizrah winced. They were sure gonna hate her... if it was possible for them to hate her any more than they already did.
"Settle down, girls. Settle down. Do not forget that this is our sacred duty as priestesses. The Creator never sleeps. The Shadow Stalkers never relent, ever restless and ravenous for souls to devour. But the Prophet will reveal himself on the day of deliverance, descending from the sky on a fiery bird to save his people from the evil that walks the desert at night, so saith the Holy Scriptures of Nur. As long as these three things remain true, the Temple of Valhil and its prestesses will always be required to serve, no matter the circumstances. Now, please assume your positions. We will begin with our chants to hasten the coming of the Prophet, and then practice the ceremony of cleansing a Soul-less."
Soul-less. Just the mention of the name sent cold shivers down Tizrah's spine. A Soul-less refered to a person who had their soul devoured by a Shadow Stalker, but their body was left wholly in tact to wander the desert aimlessly, lifelessly. Like a zombie. Hopeully she would not have to have to preform the ceremony on another Soul-less again any time soon. But something told her that was not to be.
As Tizrah shuffled into formation with the rest of the priestesses, she already sensed a contemptuous gaze boring into her from across the room. She shifted her eyes in the direction of the burning stare, even though she already had a good guess who it belonged to. Sure enough, a pair of beautiful almond-brown eyes fringed by thick, black lashes and darkened with disdain were glaring right back at her. 'This is your fault,' the young priestess mouthed the words at Tizrah, and she felt the venom behind each one of those words.
And she glared right back.
"Don't worry too much about Lailah," a familiar, warm voice spoke softly next to her while a small arm wrapped itself gently around the small of Tizrah's back. "You know she's just jealous."
Tizrah turned to the small girl with a slight build at her side, and her features softened a little. "Neema, what's there to be jealous of, really? I mean... have you seen me?"
But Neema shook her head, her doe eyes remaining solemn. "But she IS jealous. I think she covets the seat of the high priestess for herself, more than anything."
"Then she can have it," Tizrah said, almost too loudly, as the priestesses joined together to begin their procession through the temple. They in their beautiful silk garments and gauzy veils. Tizrah in her dusty, tan tunic.
"But she can't. That seat can only be held by a member of the family of Pias. Your family. It is the Creators will. It is destiny."
Tizrah sighed. "Why would Lailah even want this? I certainly don't"
"And that's exactly why she hates you," Neema said faintly. "She thinks you ungrateful for a position she would quite literally kill for."
Tizrah searched the sweet, innocent eyes of the only girl in the temple she could consider a close friend, and finally conceded. "This whole thing is so messed up. So backwards. All of it. I just don't understand why it HAS to be this way."
"It's simply the will of The Creat-"
"I know, I know. It's the will of The Creator. That's what everyone keeps saying. But no one ever asks why. Am I just supposed to blindly follow all of these rules and regulations which make no sense? That have no basis in logic?"
"Yes. That is the prices of faith."
Tizrah groaned in mild exasperation, not feeling satisfied with the answer, but not being surprised by it either. She didn't think she would ever understand.
Soon, the ceremony practice was underway as the cortege of priestesses took off through the temple, chimes ringing, skirts flowing, sashes drifting gracefully through the air. The lengthy, solemn ceremony had begun. It was going to be a long night.