Goda's Slave (Lesbian, Dystopia, LGBT Fantasy)

Chapter 37: A Crack in the Earth

Hovering over the priestess like a looming fog was a death shroud made of leather. It was held at each of its corners by four temple hands wearing white. It was branded with images of the Goddess and her creations—twisting vines and trees, savage beasts and coiling snakes—but what struck Kanna the most was the smell of freshly tanned hide. It permeated the space. It reminded her of the smell of the priestess's gloved hands on that night in the desert.

The assistants had frozen with surprise. Clearly in the midst of a ritual, the room had a dim air to it; the windows were shuttered, the tables were littered with candles whose flames were now whipping around, disturbed by the rush of air that had come in from the door.

Goda had broken through the room—and through the silence—like a barreling train. She knocked over one of the tables that held a pot of incense, and the ceramic shattered and sent a puff of sweet-smelling dirt into the air. She bumped into some of the women in white who had been standing further away from the deathbed, making them stumble back. She was too big for the room. She made the floor shake with her footfalls—with the pounding of her heart, of her throat. Though Kanna knew it was yet another delusion, it felt like the very walls of the chamber were woven with the giant's veins and that they pulsed chaotically with every step.

She looked up to find that the giant had reached the makeshift altar and was ripping the death shroud away from the assistants, who stared at her with shock.

They did not react until the hide of that dead animal had been snatched from all of the hands except for one—one that was cuffed with a metal band that matched that of Goda, of Kanna, of Parama, one that belonged to a woman who was gazing wide-eyed at the giant from the other side of the bed.

"What on Earth are you doing?" the woman shouted. She grasped the leather with both hands and tried to pull it away from Goda, and in the struggle the shroud rose and fell and grazed the face of the priestess.

"Stop!" The giant gave the covering a final jerk, and when it slipped from the assistant's grasp, Goda threw it on the floor. "Can't you see that you'll suffocate her?"

"She's already dead, Porter!" When the woman stiffly rounded the bed, the glow of the candles hit her face more directly, and Kanna could see her furious expression, the pain in her eyes—and the features that made her suddenly familiar.

It was Assistant Finn. It was the woman who had pored over Kanna's paperwork near the gateway of the temple complex, the woman who had struck a pen through all of Kanna's names except for two.

"Look," she said gruffly when she reached Goda's side, "I understand. Believe me, Goda, I understand—but you can't be in here. No layperson should witness this, and certainly not you. We're in the middle of her final rites. She is dead and there's nothing you can do."

Goda's jaw set; the muscles of her shoulders stiffened; her fists trembled with what looked like restraint. "She is not dead. Listen to her. Listen! Have you all gone deaf? She breathes."

Indeed, in the relative quiet that came in response, Kanna could still hear the faint gasps of the priestess, whose eyes were wide open and pointed towards the ceiling with no shred of awareness. Though she reminded Kanna of the corpse of the woman who had died from Flower that night in Karo, and though her breaths were ragged and shallow, there was no way to deny that she still lived.

The conflict in the assistant's eyes was clear even from where Kanna was standing, but Finn did not stop to count Rem's breaths the way Kanna did. "The leader of the Health Administration herself declared our priestess dead earlier today. The paperwork is signed. She is legally dead, so we're proceeding with the rites. She will be wrapped in the shroud today and publicly incinerated tomorrow. You can offer your final respects then."