Verna rushed into the room, her ears pounding from the drum in her chest and the growing chant of prayers ringing through the hall. The boy dying on the stone slab was hardly older than her. His skin, now pale with blood loss, was not wrinkled like the older laborers who stood outside waiting, their caps at their chests, hoping for aid.
As she knelt beside her sisters, their pure white robes pooling about the cold floor, she could not help but stare at the boy. Two decades of life now hung on a thread. He had not had time to age; he had not had time to learn. But he had time to die. The soft hands that gripped the open gash across his stomach trembled and shook. Crimson blood dripped from his fingers, his guts stinking the room of sour death.
“Please,” he begged breathlessly. “Help…me…”
“Hold on, son,” Brother Michael assured him. “The Lady guides us. Come, sisters, let us bathe our kin in Her holy light.”
Verna took the hands of each priestess beside her. In tandem, they bowed their heads. Prayers erupted from each of them, bathing the stone tablet at the center of their circle.
“Goddess, hear us!” Brother Michael swayed. “Bless us with Your gifts! Save this soul!”
The chanting grew louder. Verna gripped her sisters’ hands tighter, pouring the scripture from her chest and into the stone room. A low buzz filled the space. The air warmed, condensed, gathering around them like a storm.
“More sisters!” Brother Michael urged. “Guide us, oh Lady of Light! Bless our unworthy forms!”
The buzzing grew, tingling Verna’s skin. Hands squeezed tighter. Prayers grew louder. Light flickered in her periphery.
“Yes! My sisters, let Her light fill you!”
The warm glow multiplied, bursting from a priestess, bathing her in a soft white shine as if poured from the stars and into her bones.
“More! More! Heal our kinsman!”
The chants grew louder, deafening Verna. Her throat rubbed sore against the belch of prayers vomiting from her. The sister beside her erupted in light, angelic in her beauty. Verna shut her eyes, searching inside herself for anything. For any power, any sign, any light. But there was none.
“Beg! Beg together! All of us must bear the honor of Our Lady’s love!”
The room strained. The stones vibrating from the floor, the high ceiling caving in above them. It was too much. They were not enough.
Verna opened her eyes again. The priestess who was first blessed in light was now pale, her eyes rimmed red. The force inside her raged, seemingly storming to escape, to burn her out. Verna saw all around her the sisters carrying the weight of the Lady’s love, their bodies shaking, exhaustion dragging at their flesh. Even Brother Michael wore the cost. His nose was bleeding, his teeth clenched as the hymns flew from his lips. But Verna was untouched.
“Please,” the boy sputtered, his body a dim glow. “Please.”
The room strained, power cracking the space, at a precipice, at a peak, needing but only a push further, only the smallest direction. But Verna could not do it. She screamed the words, she crushed her sisters’ hands, she tore inside herself, begging for any power. But there was none.
“My goddess,” Verna begged. “Please come back to me. Please let me serve You again. Please help me save this boy. Please. Please. Please.”
But there was only silence.
The light encompassing the boy dimmed as the sisters exhausted themselves, their voices wavering, bodies shaking.
“Malina, please,” Verna trembled, tears building in her eyes. “Please, accept me.”
The boy’s body fell loose against the table as the light vanished. His soft hands rocked sideways, empty and lifeless.
Silence filled the room, flooding into the suddenly vacant space, gathering about her ankles as if to rise and drown her. The sisters beside her ripped their hands away. Others fell back; their shallow breaths aimed at her like so many daggers.
Shame twisted in her gut. She ducked her head, as if to vanish and avoid the sight of blame, but Brother Michael’s voice pinned her in place.
“Sister Verna, you failed to join us today. Why?”
The question was hardly one she could answer. One, she had not been able to answer any other time they had asked her it.
“I don’t know, brother,” her voice wavered.
“Are you unfamiliar with our holy words?”
“No, brother.”
Scoffs sounded out around her, a lowly expression of emotion unsuited for priests, but Brother Michael did not move to silence them. “Are you unfamiliar with the task set before us?”
Verna did not dare look up. She could not see the boy or his soft hands. “No, brother.”
“Do you shirk the presence of the goddess?”
This sent a bolt of panic through her. “No! Brother, of course not! I’d never!”
“Then why, pray tell,” Brother Michael sneered, “Have you failed to join us in Our Lady’s light?” Disappointment and accusation dripped from every word.
All the fire of her sisters’ disgusted glances burned her skin. Her cheeks were hot with shame. “I-I tried, Brother. I prayed and-”
“Enough!” He wiped away a line of blood from his lips. “All our family joined in healing this boy! All were blessed by Our Lady’s love! All served to will this boy whole! All but you!”
“I-I didn’t-”
“Sister Verna! You are well aware of our practices! You are taught in the words of Her hymns! You are a member of this congregation! And yet you do not aid in Our Lady’s love! Your failings burden your kin! The weight of Her majesty is only possible through servitude, purity, and unity! But you abandon your family! Denial of your duty only serves to harm another of our flock!” Spittle flew from his mouth, landing on the lifeless boy. “Is that your design? Have we a wolf amidst our hallowed halls?”
“No! Brother, I-” Verna fell forward, her hands slapping against the stained stone. Her sisters leapt back as if she were a poison. “I tried! I prayed! I sought the Lady-”
“You have been found lacking, Sister Verna,” Brother Michael growled. “Given ample time, you continue to fail us.”
Terror gripped her heart. “Please don’t reject me!” She crawled to him, her white robes tarnishing with every inch. “Please! All I want is to serve Her! All I want is to be welcomed into Her light! To be one of Her Order!”
All the sisters glared at her; their mouths snarled in disgust. But Verna didn’t care. If she lost this, she’d lose everything. This was everything. There was nothing but her goddess. Malina was all she knew. “Please, brother, I’ll do anything!” She grasped his calves with utter desperation. “Please!”
Brother Michael pulled his legs free, wiping away her grip as if a pile of shit from a boot. There is but one recourse.” His lips pursed, the words sour in his mouth. “Seek the Confessor.”
Gasps erupted throughout the room, frantic whispers slithering about, but Verna was deaf.
“The Confessor?”
“Purify yourself before him and perhaps,” Brother Michael sighed, “Perhaps he will bring you back to us.”
The Confessor...
Even now, some hours later, the conversation played again and again in her mind. The very name sent a tremble up her spine. Few saw him, even fewer spoke of their experience. He was Her gift to us. Through him, the Lady could heal those led astray and return to the fold even the most dire of Her Order. But his existence was a whisper. He was the ultimate failure. Short of being banished or excommunicated, there was nothing else.
Should I fail him...
“No, I can’t even bear the thought,” Verna gasped.
She had done as was required, gathered into her only other robes, those reserved for the highest of honors. Spotless white, near luminous in its purity, she took to the altar of Her Lady. Gathered in hand, the sands of devotion, Verna descended into the depths of the temple. Her every step echoed out through the dark halls, her path sprinkled in grains of glittering sand.
“Carry the sand as one carries one’s faith. Hold fast against the outside world that seeks to strip you of your beliefs. Carry the glittering grains to the site of the Confessor. There before Her mortal essence on this plane, humble yourself and repent for all that you have done wrong. Let him unburden you of your sins so you may carry out Her light in a pure form.”
Verna could not help but feel a spark of hope gather in her heart. Could this be my redemption? Could this fix my faults? Could this cure me, and bring me back into Her loving arms?
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Verna reached out with her mind, opening her heart as she always had, searching for even a glimmer, but there was none. Only the darkness of the tunnels remained, its shadows held back by the light of her small candle dancing against the distant drafts and coiled shadows gathered around her. The air grew damp and cold. Goosebumps rumbled across her skin, and Verna pulled at her white robe, grasping for warmth. The taste of soil and earth sat heavy on her tongue, along with something foreign, something sickly. She closed her mouth in protest, but it lingered in her nose and seemed to float heavier in the air with every step forward. She paused, uncertain if the quiet hush of her robes against the stone floor was not a dark slither behind her.
All is well. Verna reminded herself. It was a childish fantasy to see monsters in every speck of darkness, particularly under Her domain.
“The rule of Her light, of Her love, of all that is good and right.” Verna touched her fingers to her brow in salute. “Holy Goddess above, I thank you for Your care and for Your Light. You are the dawn upon the day, the ray upon the shore, and the brightness against the dark. May you find me worthy of Your love and bless me with the courage to carry out Your holy goals.”
She breathed deep, pulling her robes tight, making sure not a stray of her long silver hair fell from the tight headdress. All was well. It must be.
The long sloping hallways beneath the temple at last halted before a grand door of dark wood, encased in bands of iron. The sand in her fist had dwindled to less than a spoonful and was falling ever faster.
Time is running out.
Verna tugged at the door to no effect. Casting one last look behind her into the darkness, she reluctantly placed down the candle and grasped the door once more. Throwing her weight behind it, she was surprised to feel a sudden crunch. The sour smell that had teased her tongue now groped her senses like many hands making their way to her throat, forcing her to choke.
“Goddess!” Verna resisted the urge to spit and quickly covered her mouth with the fabric of her sleeve. Eyes watering, she knelt to grasp the candle but noticed a peculiarity on the stone floor. Gouges, inches deep, carved out at the foot of the door as if someone, or something on the other side, had dug to get out. Verna furrowed her brow and looked into the dark room. She saw no light, no table, no pew; she saw nothing but utter darkness. Fear ran its fingers across her mind, a nightmare of monsters in the shadows. “Our Lady protects me.” Verna took a breath, grasped the candle, and continued inside. “Our Lady grants me another chance.”
Her satin sandals ground against grains of sand peppering the stone floor. A trail glittered in the darkness, which grew thicker and more abundant as she walked deeper into the Confessor’s vestry. She could not see any walls that defined the room, nor a ceiling. It was as though the room itself was coated in darkness and illuminated only by the small circle emanating from her candle. The grains of sand grew in bundles. Quickly, she was stepping over puddles, then across mounds, then wading past dunes that rose and fell against her calves.
As the sea of sand rose, she yanked her feet free and took delicate steps atop the waves. “Hello?” Her voice echoed out into the void. “I have come bearing my faith,” Verna raised the last grains of sand and tossed them before her, “and my sins. I am ready to confess and be purified.”
Only her own distant echo spoke in reply.
“Hello?” Verna called out again. “My lord? Sir? I am one of Her blessed daughters and I seek-”
“Blessed?” A sharp crack sounded out from the darkness like nails against stone.
Verna’s chest tightened as she tried to calm her pounding heart. “Is that you, sir?” Her voice quivered despite herself. “I have come to repent my sins to you.”
A soft shuffle whispered in the darkness before her, beyond her candlelight.
“Blessed...daughter?” The voice was a croak, a sharp, sickly thing that set Verna shivering. “You come...to me...for sins?”
Verna tried to slow her breath, fighting the rising panic blaring through her mind. “Yes. Sir, I brought with me my faith and my sins. Would you now hear-”
“Faith and sins?” The voice was closer now, chewing on the words.
“Yes. I seek repentance and purification. If you would grant me-”
“Repent?” The voice screeched, then uttered a barking laugh. “You do not seek to repent, blessed daughter.”
Verna took a step back, “I... I do. Sir, Brother Michael said that I must seek your guidance. To be once more worthy of-”
“Worthy?” The voice howled and rushed towards her, a skittering in the darkness. “You are worthy?”
Verna’s heart pounded, her breath too quick. This isn’t right, this isn’t right. A shape prowled in the shadows. “I-I-I wish to be,” Verna stammered. “I wish to serve Her as a daughter.”
“Ooh?” the voice cooed. “A wish? Yet not your decision? You tell me you bring faith, and yet I taste...doubt.”
Verna gasped, “I have not! I never! My faith in Her is absolute! A dedication without hesitation!”
“And yet...” the voice rasped. “I feel it in you. Settled beneath your skin, though covered like a mask.”
“I... I don’t...” Verna stammered, trying to find the words.
“It matters not, child,” the voice whispered. “She is not here. She does not hear you.”
“She is everywhere!” Verna protested. “Living in our hearts and guiding us in our darkest days!”
“Is this your darkest day?” the voice asked. “Condemned to this place? Sent to me for reasons and understandings beyond your control? A blind obedience. Are we not alone in this...cell? Tell me you feel Her presence, and I will speak ill no longer.”
“I...” Verna looked at the candle and searched inside herself. But there was no warmth. There hadn't been for a long time. Not since...
“You need not speak it, child. I already know.” The voice was beside her now, having moved without a sound. “She has abandoned you. Just as She has abandoned us all.”
“No!” Verna shouted. “She is here! Even in this moment, She may be far, but never leaves! Her light-”
“Her light?” the voice teased. “Where is it now? Surely not here. It has been so dark for so long. And I have been so alone. She is gone.”
Verna shook her head. “I do not know what games you play, sir. But I come for repentance. Will you hear my sins?”
The voice howled as if suddenly struck. “Your sins! Your burdens! Your great mistakes! How will you wound me? Have you lied? Cheated? Killed?
“No, no, of course not! I-”
“Does blood stain your hands? Do tears streak your cheeks? How do you seek to curse me? What must I carry so you may go free?”
Verna’s mind raced. “I-I don’t understand-”
“Your failures! Your faults! You all confess and cast them down upon me! Do you not wonder? Do you not pause and take curiosity at what happens to your sins?”
“Well...I thought-”
“They drown me.” The voice was low, threatening.
“Drown you?” Verna’s mind struggled to piece together the strange nature of this ritual. “You bear the Goddess gifts with piety and-”
“GIFTS?” The voice screeched like an animal. “You wish to see what gifts She has brought upon me?”
At the edge of Verna’s light, the figure came into shape, and she bit back a horrid scream.
A shambling mound of stained robes did little to hide the monster inside; Yellow, molting skin covered in an oozing pus, nails long torn or ripped off, hung by shreds on bone-thin fingers. The glittering sand was stained and ruined beneath the creature’s every hobbled step. Its face was covered in scraps of cloth, but Verna saw chipped, rotted teeth at the edges of bleeding gums.
“Do you see what gifts She bestows upon me?” the creature screamed, his voice a bleeding cry.
“I... I didn’t...” Verna stammered and stepped back.
This isn't supposed to happen. This can’t be real.
“Do not run from it,” he screamed. “See what Her love has brought and what Her worship is worth!” He shambled forward, closer to Verna. “Her Confessor! Her most devout! And what am I to you? To all of you?” He flung his rotted hand out at Verna, a splash of warm liquid dotting her cheek and running to her open mouth.
“Please, I didn’t-”
“Of course, you didn’t know! Why would you care?” Rage cracked in his voice. “You all walk away! Weightless! Lifted! Purified! But your sins! Your burdens! They haunt me! They curse me!”
Verna struggled to find the words. It made no sense. “The Goddess...She...your duty-”
“DUTY?” He tore back the robe. Throwing it behind him with a sickening rip of wet flesh. “Look at me and speak of duty! Look at me and tell me what sacrifice means!”
But Verna could not. She tore her eyes from him. Looking anywhere but up. Searching the glittering grains for help. For anything.
“Do not look away! Do not run away! There is no hope! There is no escape! This is the future that lies before you! For all will be abandoned by Her!”
Verna heard the sand scatter as he stomped towards her.
This isn’t real. This isn’t real.
“Look at me!” His breath was hot on her scalp, but she could not look. It was not real. It couldn't be. A nightmare. One she would wake up from any moment now.
She couldn't look up. She couldn't even move.
Slick, rough hands grasped her chin. Peeled flesh and sores were grinding against her face. She shut her eyes.
This isn’t real. This can’t be real.
His panted breath was rancid. A rot that churned her stomach over and over again. “Please don’t hurt me!” She cried. “Please, I’m sorry I failed you! I’m so sorry!”
“Failed?” His panting subsided, his thumb caressing her softly. “Oh, young one. You know the pain, don’t you? The absence She leaves behind?”
“I didn’t mean to do anything wrong!” Verna whimpered. “I’m sorry!”
“Look at me, child. Please.” His voice was a whisper. “I have nothing left. Please, see me.”
Slowly, Verna peeled open her eyes and gasped. Beyond the torn cloth and ruined face, brilliant blue eyes stared back at her; A cresting ocean on a calm day. Beyond the rot, the ruin, the devastation of his form, he was just a man. “I...” her voice stammered. “I see you.”
He smiled, lips peeling and bleeding with the effort. “Thank you.” Tears ran down his face. “Thank you.” He fell to his knees before her, sobs racking his broken body. “It has been so long! I do not know when I was imprisoned here nor when I am fit to leave, but by some sweet release that continues to escape me!”
“What has happened here? To you?”
“I saw the truth,” the man whimpered. “In my dreams, I see the end coming. The horizon bleeds and cracks. Thunder roars from a great shadow. Something is coming, child. Something I was never supposed to know. Something the Goddess curses me for knowing.”
“But She is all good. She is the light-”
“She is afraid,” the man hissed, his anger returning. “She is terrified. A black sun will rise in the west, one that shines no light. One that devours, engulfs, engorges on life itself.”
“But if this is true,” Verna murmured. “Then we must tell the others! The Order must know! The city council must prepare-”
“It matters not. I was sent here for knowing. Punished for daring to question the goddess,” the man wailed suddenly. “It is fruitless. There is no defeating it. It is a tide. Rising with a bloody sea that washes away this world. There is only one recourse.”
“What is it?” Verna asked desperately. “What can I do?”
The man reached for his dirty rags and pulled at Verna’s hand. “You must do it for me.” Verna felt a rough, heavy weight sit against her palm. Slowly, the man pulled back and revealed a dark stone, chipped and scratched to a point. “I’ve tried many times myself,” the Confessor explained, revealing dark gouges across his throat, “But I cannot leave this place. I always awaken as if by Her design.”
Verna’s mind reeled, “The scratches at the door...”
“A desperation.”
“But...” Verna stammered. “You are the Confessor. Her mortal essence on this plane. I... I cannot...” She thrust the stone back towards him. “I will not do what you ask of me! I cannot!”
Desperation muddled his eyes, “Please! You must! The pain is endless! My days are filled with torment as the sins of others rot me from the inside! At night, I dream in horror of victims I have never known, yet who haunt me! Please! Do this for me! The time of ending is coming! I do not wish to suffer to see it pass! Please!”
Verna’s hands shook, “I cannot! I could not! I would never hurt someone! I...”
“It is a mercy!”
Verna’s head spun, her stomach dropping. “I-I don’t know what you are talking about! That-that isn’t-”
“I know why you are here!” He begged. “I know why they punish you so!”
Verna shut her eyes, driving away the past, drowning out everything. “Please don’t say it! Please!”
“It is okay, child. I understand. Her love is not a gift.”
“I never wanted to hurt anyone!” Tears fell from Verna’s face, blinding her. “I’m sorry. I just...I can’t...”
“I am sorry as well, child,” the Confessor sighed, cupping her hands.
“Sorry? Sorry for what?” Realization dawned on her too late.
Madness shone in his eyes as his grip tightened in an instant. The rock was crushed in her palm, and before she could scream, she was thrust towards him.
The sharpened edge lodged in his throat. Warm blood poured from the wound, and Verna threw herself back, but the man held tight. Deeper into his neck, he forced her bladed hand, yanking again.
Blood flew from him, splattering her face.
“No! No! No!” Verna wailed and fell back, the grip suddenly loosened.
The Confessor smiled, his hands falling limp, blood pumping from him like a spring. He stared at her, perfect blue eyes shining bright.
Closing to never open again.
