The Deity and her Mortal Lovers

“Death awaits all those who deny the might of our god, Anu!”

“No, please! Someone help me! I am innocent!”

Sirona shuddered and drew her hood over her head as she skated around the edge of the gathered crowd around the priests and the young woman on the altar, screaming for help as the fire climbed higher on the pyre. She couldn’t have been any older than Sirona was. No one spoke out of terror and Sirona hurried through the streets.

As soon as she was out of sight of the square, she picked up her pace and rushed out of the city, heading towards Daran Manor.

Quickly, she took the secret path through the forest, around the back of the manor, and slipped inside.

“My lady, you shouldn’t have been out there!” Mary cried, looking pale and wringing her hands.

“It was good that I was,” she said, putting her basket down. “The priests are in the square. They’ve already put a young woman on the pyre.”

Mary shuddered and turned away, “Hurry, my lady. You know t-they’ll be here soon and your father still hasn’t returned!”

Sirona took the stairs up to her room two at a time. She had to change quickly. If she smelled of smoke, the priests would know she’d been in town and accuse her of any number of wrongdoings. How long would it take for her father to return?

The temple leaders never liked her father, but they had grown more and more interested in Sirona as she’d gotten older.

As the duke’s only daughter, Sirona was meant to greet the priests when they came to the manor, but the thought of letting the Great Herald leer at her freely and try to entice her into becoming an acolyte for the sake of her soul made her sick.

They didn’t care about her soul. They only cared about their lust and power.

She stripped quickly, tossing her clothes into the dirty hamper before changing into a different, simpler dress. She pulled her hair down and shook it out to pull fragrant oils and water through her hair before stepping out onto the balcony and letting the wind dry it.

The door opened behind her and she saw Mary enter, still wringing her hands. She dabbed the sweat beading at her temple nervously.

“My lady, they are here… Your mother calls for you.”

Sirona nodded and tied her hair back before grabbing one of the smaller texts on the cult of Anu. She had read it several times and made sure to always have it with her when the priests came to visit since it kept them from suggesting that she needed more prayer.

“Don’t forget this,” Mary said, grabbing her rosary and slipping it over her head.

“Thank you,” Sirona said with a tight smile, before heading downstairs.

She sent up a prayer in her mind that her father would arrive and get the priests out of their house as soon as possible. As she reached the ground floor, her heart started to race.

Her mother, Aria, turned to look at her and smiled. She was dressed in pale blue, the color of the faithful. Much of Sirona’s closet was made up of shades of blue though she had never liked the color.

“There you are. Come, we must greet the priests… It is said they have caught a heretic.”

Sirona lifted her chin, “Of course, mother.”

She came to stand beside her mother as the doors to the manor were opened and the priests entered with the temple knights. The sight of them made her stomach turn. They were almost worse than priests in the way they indulged their lust and evil.

Sirona and Aria bowed politely as the head priest entered, looking at them.

“Greetings to the Herald of Anu, may blessings be upon you always,” Sirona and Aria said demurely. “Welcome to Gunning, home of the spear of the king.”

He turned up his nose and huffed, “Blessings, indeed. I am here to make you aware of a heretic in your midst. The judgment of Anu has already been passed on him… All that is left is the judgment upon you.”

Sirona’s stomach churned uncomfortably as Aria began to stammer, “Great Herald of Anu, we are at a loss. If there is a heretic among our staff–”

He laughed, “Your staff? I do not care about the souls of peasants. They are already doomed, serving a master like you!”

Sirona stiffened as she heard the thunk of heavy boots and armor. The banner of the king’s knights fluttered outside the open door as they marched a familiar young woman inside. Her head was bowed low and she was dressed in the deep blue of the cult of Anu.

“Hailey?” Sirona asked, confused at the sight of her.

Hailey was Mary’s daughter. She’d been one of Sirona’s only friends growing up. What was she doing dressed as an acolyte?

“Do not speak to the young acolyte,” the priest said before turning his gaze on Aria. “She has chosen the path to save her soul, but it is too late for you.”

“I do not understand–”

The priest threw a bloody sack forward. It rolled towards her, staining the new rug with blood before landing at their feet. Aria took in a sharp gasp as the sack slipped and revealed a bit of hair, a bloody gash, and a single eye staring at her. Sirona stared into the eye looking out of the sack and felt her blood run cold.

She knew those eyes and that hair. Her fingers trembled, itching to reach up to her head. Her mother had complained most of her childhood about the unruly curls she’d inherited. Those same curls were matted with blood on the head inside the sack.

“Father?”