Awen | Priestess of Light

Chapter 1:1 Blood moon and the runaway Priestess

Good times come and go, but the memories stay forever.

~anonymous

Awen deeply breathed some air and shoved the heavy sweat on her forehead. After a long terrible walked finally, she had reached the two gigantic Narra trees.

The trees have not changed from the first day I'd seen them. They remained like twin pillars aligned together as if they were touching the sky, shielding the shrine from the prying eyes of strangers, like a gateway before you enter a different world. Or better say a borderline between the worlds of priesthood and kingdoms. Thus, it was the borderline from my present to my upcoming future.

Awen closed her eyes. She could already imagine what could await her beyond these gigantic trees.

Beyond the shadows of the forest were the tall mountains overlooking the vast land of the Roseriff kingdom. The expanding luxurious forest is almost infinity with several snaking river banks, hills, and valleys. The beautiful castle at the horizon and the civilized villages and farmland around it. It was a beauty waiting to be explored by her. But this is not the only place she planned to explore because the wide crystal blue ocean was always waving at her. Thinking about the other countries beyond the wide ocean made her shudder in a good way.

Dresses and shoes.

She could almost feel the silk on her skin. Though the robe of the priestess could be categorized as high class and unique.  

But with the feeling of silk, cotton, chiffon, or even velvet, she could buy every fabric she desire and try everything she ever wanted.

As an orphan, she has this feeling of jealousy everything a noble lady dressed in fancy clothing would pass by in front of her. She was sure, her slender but curvaceous body would always be perfect in a dress though her hair was white she could always use accessories to match it to every dress. She has done it before at the opera house at spartus when she become an actress, and she could always remember how beautiful she was as a noble lady.

She was not perfect, also not your average beauty and she also has flaws she admitted that. But thanks to learning from the lady of the opera house, Nancy. She had learned to enhance her beauty with the help of cosmetics.

The thoughts always energized her, and gave them many reasons to pursue her plan but when Awen opened her amber eyes.

She unconsciously fixed her gaze on the imaginary lines between the two Narra trees. The excitement on her face slowly subsided, and for some reason, the silence in the place made her feel melancholy.

The wind touched her bare face, and it made her shudder a little as if the wind wanted to soothe her troubled mind. She already knew what she needed, what she wanted from the very first day she stepped inside the shrine. She had seen it coming though, yet there was a strange surprising heavy tug above her chest that made her a bit suffocating and sad. Eventually, she doesn't need to think harder. The word resurfaced on its own at the back of her mind:

Attachment.

The reason why she won't settle in one place. She can't deny the fact that is bound to happen, once she stepped behind this imaginary line.

Because once she did, there were no laughing acolytes while running in hallways, and soon will be chased by one of the head priestesses.

Behind this imaginary line, there were no rambling stories from the emotional cook Leomord while Awen and Anastasia would pretend to listen, only to have more cookies. Or to sleep while everyone was praying and later painful poke on her forehead would appear once caught.

Behind this line, no more comparison between her against Murielle, Linda, and Erika on how proper they do rituals or on everything people could compare them with, how perfect and holy they were, and how opposite her wavy snow-white hair against Murielle's raven-black hair.

But most especially, the teachings and lessons from the strict but loving head priestess Minerva whom she used to call granny will become another tale on her, another memory like the old man in the streets of Roseriff, who told her about the shrine and stories she kept till now.

Because one more step behind this line, she is alone once again.

A tear escaped from her eyes that she quickly wiped away. Instead, Her eyes glided back at the shrine from where she stood. She was far away now but far enough to see and make out the details of the holy shrine.

With all of her heart, she was thankful for the moon even though it was almost covered with dark-reddish color. It shone to show the familiar colors, intricate decorations, unique angle of dooms, and the beautiful banners of white and gold through the reflection of the red sky changed it in a creepy odd accent.

Yet Awen still tried to memorize them all, Forever grateful for the blessings the shrine had showered on her because it gave her not only things she needed but a large imperfect family she never had.

Despite the heavy bag on her shoulders, Awen knelt and bowed her head down almost touching the ground, and stood up once again. Awen repeated the process several times until she was panting hard.

The ritual is to respect the gods and loved ones.

"All of you will be missed." Awen shut her eyes to force back the tears that wanted to escape again. She was surprised at how emotional she was right now.

"Though, not all of you will be missed." She added quickly when she remembered someone that made her mouth frown.

However, Awen's eyes shut opened, alarmed when she felt a presence behind her. She immediately stood up but sadly her legs stopped her. Her legs weren't cooperating because of the ritual she did moments ago.

Awen cursed mentally. She could not afford to be seen in this kind of vulnerability.

Unfortunately, the stranger sensed their struggle of Awen, and without second thoughts the intruder pushed Awen's face onto the dirty ground.

A familiar laugh that Awen knew very well elicited from the mouth of the intruder before the unwelcome guest uttered the ancient words that will change Awen's life forever.

"Servant and Master, souls bound together. Till death interfere, I am yours forever."

An ancient language far older than the language Awen had learned inside the shrine, echoed like song or prayer together with the howling of the wind, as if the wind honored the words like commandments or perhaps a deadly curse.