"I watched as the others took shape. Death came next, ultimate and inescapable. Then sun and sea, forest and forge. After that, more abstract domains emerged—warfare, deception, insight, love."
"Love?" said Kydele.
Indeed. And more, that mortals have forgotten. Or did you think Heliod was always the sun god?
***
As always, Xartas made her way up the hills. The sky was dark still, only the distant glimmers of the ever moving constellations illuminating the earth, the farmlands on the rolling hills, the distant woodlands and even more distant mountains. She followed the same path, one that led from the outskirts of her village onwards, surrounded by cypresses and olive trees and shrubs, a dark green line in the pale of the steppes. Once, that path saw many wandering about every night in pilgrimage, but by then only she took that route frequently.
With her she carried the usual: a vial of water, a vial of wine, and a vial of mead. As priestess, she could afford all of those if she so demanded, and she did so in regards to the wine, but the mead was her work alone, and what afforded her still the admiration and respect from her tribe. For that, it was the most precious item, and was hidden in a cow skin bag and well protected by fern leafs and goose feathers.
The walk was as always, fearless in that narrow path, growing thinner and thinner as the sorrounding vegetation seemed to be claiming the unused space. Near the end, she was raising her legs higher in order to avoid damaging the plants and stepping on snakes and partridges, which at least made it easier for her by sliding or flying away. One of the birds landed on her shoulder, preening her hair with its beak, and while it added extra weight, she simply smiled at the creature's friendliness.
Eventually, the path was all but blocked by cypress branches, but they moved away once she approached, revealing her destination. It was a large clearing, between the farmlands and the woods at the top of the hills, surrounded by a ring of white-trunked birch trees. At the center was a wooden throne, filled with vines and flowers, atop a rocky outcrop. Surrounding said outcrop was a ring of water, a small lake that looked a bit like a moat, full of pristine water. In it rested large serpents, their scales iridescent, as if reflecting rainbows. They raised their heads to the surface, regarding Xartas with mild curiosity.
She priestess then laid the two vials on the ground, and opened her bag to reveal the third. She opened the first vial, and walked towards the lake, letting the water flow forth into it in libation. She did the same to the second vial, and poured wine. The serpents opened and closed their mouths underwater, as if trying to drink the wine from their liquid medium. Finally, she poured the mead, and as it spread through the lake it almost seemed to glow, with a faint golden hue. She then sat, waiting.
As if on cue, the sky began to light up. In the horizon, a pink and orange band began to appear, dawn's light flooding the world below. The Sun wasn't even up, and Nyx already began to dim, the stars fading when illumined by the dawnlight. Soon, only the westernmost regions of the sky remained dark, the band dominating the east and everything above being of a well lit blue.
So you arrive. The only person alive who pays me her dues.
"They do not climb here with me, but they love you still."
Perhaps. But nowhere near as much as you.
A red and yellow mist began to fill the clearing, condensing on the throne. There, they formed themselves into a woman, dressed in blood red garments, her hair of a fiery orange tone, her eyes of an exuberant hazel tone, and on the back of her head two powerful golden horns emerged, long and curved like those of an antelope. The stars adorning her shadows betrayed her true nature. She sat calmly, her face bearing a kind smile, yet melancholy seemed to shadow it.
Soon, not even you will climb here.
"Nonsense. I have made a vow, and I will honour it until I die."
Strange, I never took you for an oath-bound type. In fact, wasn't that not the reason you decided to honour me in the first place?
At this, Xartas smiled, recalling how in her youth she rejected the vows to her family, the vows that she would cast her childhood possessions aside, the vows that she would marry, the vows that she'd continue her family's tradition. They were uncertain, those distant years, but in her own will and desires she got everything she wanted: respect, freedom, and one vow she would never break.
"Things change."
Indeed, but not with you. You remain as you have always been, strong willed and fiery hearted. And that fire, that happens to be the reason why you haven't left me.
Xartas simply nodded. Both of them knew it long ago, even if only now they spoke about it, so there was no point in denying.
The god, Haues, rose from her throne, her horns shining more intensely with their own light. Her face adopted a sad, austere expression, as if about to deliver bad news, and Xartas' smile died too.
Love is vanishing from the land, my dearest Xartas. Waves of war sweep through, the people of the east and the north invade and destroy, laying waste to your people and bringing with them new gods. I have tried to stop this, but to no avail. My power fades with every sunset, and I must accept the inevitable, that I will die.
Xartas was visibly alarmed, tears beginning to well in her eyes as she processed the words.
"No, that can't be!"
But it is. Even gods fade, if their domain is so throughly rejected, if the faith in them is gone. Xartas, I do not think I can rise in the next day. This will be the last time I sit on this throne.
With the last sentence, the priestess let go, releasing her despair as she sobbed and shaked in grief. Haues walked down from the outcrop, as elegantly and nonchalantly as if each rock was a mere stair step, and before Xartas could raise her head the god's arms embraced her. She hugged the divine being back, not thinking straight anymore in her commotion, crying as she hugged her.
Time seemed to stop to a grinding halt, until the priestess had no more tears to shed. She let go, and looked at Haues' face. She too seemed red eyed, tears running down her face, even if she retained her relative calm. Neither of them said a word anymore, knowing what would follow. Xartas' lips collided with Haues', and the god repaid in kind, finally demonstrating the passion she was once renowed for. As the kiss continued, Xartas felt energised, as if fire coursed through her veins, her mind clouded by the same orange and pink light of the dawn. She knew what was happening, and that drove her forward more, to enjoy the only chance she'd have at expressing her love.
Once again, time faded, as if an eternity followed. Tellingly, Xartas felt a sensation of depth, as if she was a miniscule fish swimming in a massive ocean, tiny and insignificant, but there, nonetheless. But Haues, she anchored her, she made that small speck in the cosmos feel important, and Xartas could only feel happiness. After all the pain, she could only enjoy that last moment, and forget everything in her own bliss.
As quickly as it began, the kiss ended, and Haues was nowhere in sight, as if she suddenly vanished. But Xartas knew she hadn't yet, that she was inside of her, and she knew what to do. She run away from the clearing, the cypress branches moving away one last time, as she down the path she came from. As she did, vegetation finally claimed, plants growing from the road, eclipsing it as if it never existed.
The scent of fire came into her nostrils, and when she finally arrived, the worse had happened. The houses were burning, the invaders were slaughtering the villagers, no man, woman or child spared.
"Blood for Mogis!" the invaders shouted madly, their irises red like blood.
Rage filled Xartas' heart, and her eyes shone with a fiery orange. The survivors, cowering in fear, rejoiced, their priestess having returned with the power to save them.
"Behold, strangers, how our gods have not left us!" cried a young man, proud and condescending, carrying a sickle and charging at the invaders.
Xartas raised her hand, and all of the villagers followed suit, enflamed by passion and by hope, not mindless rage like the Mogis followers, but love instead, the love for their homes and each other, and the desire to destroy the invaders who threatened everything they adored. Xartas shouted, and a beam of fiery light came from her hands, burning the flesh of the attackers, who began to run away in fear.
But she would not let them get away, not after everything. She raised her hands, and vines began to grow from the ground, grasping the barbarians and strangling them to death, or slowly constricting them, cracking their bones and ripping through their flesh. Soon, nearly all of them were dead, except for a man, half of his face singed and a sickle stuck on his calf.
"Kill me, wench, and you will have the might of our entire horde" he hissed happily, almost cackling.
Xartas looked around. The entire village was destroyed, there was no way they'd survive long enough to even see the arrival of another horde. So, with a shout, she dictated the fate for her and all of the villagers. Screams filled the air, and the bodies of the survivors began to twist grotesquely, bones cracking and rearranging. Their feet became long, the lateral toes shortening and withering and the two central ones becoming larger and larger, their nails bursting out and being replaced by massive hooves. Dense pelage covered their lower bodies, erupting from their skin so forcefully that the new hair was coated in blood, and powerful horns emerged from the back of their heads. In agony and rage, the former townsfolk bellowed madly, and all charged at the surviving invader, tearing him apart limb from limb, until only bloody gore unrecognisable as human remained.
They scattered and run, leaving the village and going to the distant wilds. Xartas felt the light inside her dim, and finally disappear. As it did, she noticed that she too became one of the monsters, a satyr. Kneeling down, she cried, until sunset came.
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