Mara - The Lady Grief (Completed)

6 The Blood of the Pure

2651 B.C.E. City of Tmari-on-the-Euphrates,

Winter, Month of Kissimelu, Nine Months after Mara's Rebirth

Thane

I toss the blankets aside, still hearing the screams of feminine terror in my sleep. Gasping from the remnants of the nightmare, I stand and cross to the mantle above the fireplace.

The black mourning candle lit for my grandfather is not burning. The wick is barely blackened. Not even the tiniest hint of melted wax can be seen. The red jar the candle sits in is as pristine as it was when the first failed lighting occured three nights ago.

The candle won't burn and my grandfather's soul won't be accepted to the Underworld.

I can hear my mother weeping down the hall, even now, probably from her own nightmare. Her own father can't be given the funeral rites because every sign is that Death is refusing my grandfather's spirit.

Bowing my head, I brace my hands on the mantle and murmur my prayers under my breath, "why, Nateos? Why punish our House?"

Earlier this week my father appealed to our House's patron god, the Father, but they had no answers. Furious that his bonded mate is suffering, Everard of the First House has been searching for answers since his father-in-law died.

The gods are silent. The priestesses of the Mother insist that the goddess is remaining neutral while the priests of the Father claim that there is no view of the future they can see for the situation, either.

Yesterday another member of our House died, an elderly grandmother. This morning her family came to me. Her candles do not burn, either.

Something is horrifically wrong. No one can sleep from the hauntings of the two dead spirits and no one knows why those souls are being shunned by Death.

I must go to the temple of Death today and ask the postites there what has angered their god so deeply.

The words of the nomad oracle ring through my mind. Is my House cursed?

---

Mara

When I leave the sacred pool the sun is setting. It is mealtime for most of the Houses. We eat later, after the sun sets on the longest day of the year. Even in wintertime, when the days are so short, we keep our late supper time. At night, I can hear the whispers of the dead in the corridors. Breakfast is shared with the living, but we share the most important meal with the dead.

Bells ring out over the city. They make the tiny hairs on my arms rise. It is nothing like I have ever heard before. I look up, but of course I can see nothing down here in the temple. Our windows look out on the cemetary or into our interior courtyards. No windows open into the city. Even if they did I wouldn't be able to see anything. We sit below the roofline of the neighborhoods beyond.

The bells clang again over the city. Mushu, Mishu, and Momo start cackling, a terrible noise that makes me hurry to redress. Harku is jumping up and down, mouth bared in a full-fanged semblance of a grin. Alnue slinks away, black eyes gleaming, a faint hissing noise emitting from his mouth.

I hurry down the corridor, wondering who the warning bells are pealing for.

"Postite!" I call out to Salbin. The sour, grumpy old male has warmed, a bit, towards me. I wouldn't say he likes me, but he would never betray my presence here and for that I am thankful.

"Mara, you have awakened," he says... oddly, I might add.

"I have been awake? Did the First House leave?" I stop short, nearly out-of-breath from my mad dash along the corridor.