Under the high noon sun, its golden rays cascading upon the mortal realm, the world below lay divided in its judgment. In the lush and fertile lands of the Empire of Romelia, the sun was a gift from the gods, a divine beacon of warmth and prosperity. But in the desolate sands of the Ush, it was a ruthless deity—demanding tribute through fire and blood.
At the heart of a vast plaza, flames flickered in a perfect ring around a towering pyre, their tongues stretching hungrily toward the sky. Encircling the blaze, priests of the Fire God moved with practiced precision, tracing intricate symbols in black coal upon the scorched ground. They worked in silence, their devotion absolute.
"The boars shall charge the viper, the hot sand shall have its due and spit the bones back."
Before the pyre stood twenty bound men, their pale skin glistening with sweat, their muffled cries lost beneath the thick cloth gagging their mouths. Even the sunlight seemed to scorn them, recoiling from their flesh, so starkly different from the bronzed tones of those who lived under the Sultan's rule. Long braids swayed like whips as they thrashed against their restraints, their terror mounting as the searing heat kissed their skin. The scent of burning flesh began to fill the air. They were the latest tribute from the Bedouins who dared to dwell deep within the Sultanate.
"Vermins and flies will come from the mouth of the hunter, where the tender meat of the boar lies." The prophecy had been whispered before, and like the inevitable rise of the sun, it had come to pass.
"FIERY AND RED THY SKIN IS—TO THY MAGNIFICENCE, THUS GIFTS THY SON PRESENTS THEE!" A woman's voice rang out, sharp and fervent. Her dark hair swirled about her face, her eyes—blackened by sacred chalk—bearing six painted lines that stretched from her lids to her chin. With each verse of her chant, she raised a cane high above her head, striking the ground in a steady rhythm.
"BLESS THY SON AND LEAD HIM TO FATE, BLESS THY FOLLOWERS WHO OFFER THESE GIFTS!"
The flames roared in response, licking higher, as if the god himself answered.
With measured steps, she approached the roaring flames of the pyre, like a mother drawing near to her child—not with fear, but with absolute love. The fire's heat warped the air around her, but she did not waver.
Without hesitation, she thrust her hands into the inferno. The crackling of flames drowned out the anguished cries of the sacrifices bound to the stake, their struggles futile against fate's grasp. Her fingers delved deep into the heart of the blaze, yet her face betrayed no pain, no discomfort. She was untouched, unburned—her god would not harm her.
Was she not beloved?
Was she not the daughter of the flame, cherished by both father and son?
From the fire, she retrieved something unseen—something meant only for her. She crushed the sacred chalk between her fingers and smeared it across her eyes. The world blurred, shadows twisting into shapes only she could perceive.
She stood still, watching the fire, waiting.
And then, she felt it.
The flames parted before her as she stepped forward, their hungry tongues licking at the air yet refusing to touch her. She could feel her god entering her, moving through her, playing with her as it pleased.
She did not resist.
She embraced it.
Without pause, she plunged headlong into the heart of the inferno. The searing heat wrapped around her, yet it did not consume her. And within the depths of the blaze, the vision took hold.
Four baby boars tore free from the charred remains of their mother, their gnashing teeth and gleaming eyes filled with primal hunger. Snarling and snapping, they fought viciously over her flesh, their frenzy driven by something deeper than mere need—by destiny itself.
Above them, an eagle soared through the sky, its talons stained crimson with fresh blood. It let out a piercing cry, a sound that split the heavens. Then, with ruthless precision, it folded its wings and dove, its beak and claws poised for the kill.
The fire burned away the vision. The gods had spoken.
She exhaled, her heart pounding, her body alive with divine purpose. The Sultan would rejoice. Once more, the flames had foretold his triumph. He would strike like the eagle, his victory assured.
She smiled.
'The boars shall charge the viper, the hot sand shall have his due and spit the bones back,vermins and flies will come out of the mouth of the hunter , where the tender meat of the boar lies in'
That was said to the sultan before, the words coming out of her mouth. The nobles laughed, the priests scowled at her arrogance, but the sultan smiled. He could feel it in his blood; he understood her link with the god and immediately bestowed upon her the title of high priest.
It was a title that lasted till death, and it was already occupied.....but this did not stop the magnificent one ; a single wave of his hand was all it took to bestow the title and claim a life.
The awe he felt towards her soon turned into desire. She desired him too , the son of her god wanted to unite with her and she threw himself at him.
She felt it in her stomach the result of their union, the god's spawn was in her, and blessed was to be their lineage.
Now she had another revelation to offer to her beloved,and she could wait to share it .
In her wake, she brought her two gifts: a son on the one hand and the sight of his love's enemy falling under his claws on the other. Truly a blessed day it was for her.