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“What did she say?” Calindra asked, her face a bloodied and bandaged mess.
“Karona said that… she won’t lend a hand, and that instead, you are to spend the remainder of your life behind the veil.”
Her reaction, as well as the others in the room, was like mine, breaking down and crying at Karona’s judgment. She had no choice but to listen. Whatever Karona wants, she gets.
These days, seeing Calindra forever behind some veil only serves to remind me of the supposed loving deity I serve.
“Who do I really worship?”
A question I ask myself every night, each nightfall only further highlighting the waste of time I’d spent praising her name.
Yet why do I still feel so guilty for thinking about it? What’s wrong with me?
The temple’s halls have grown hollow and eerie, filled with a dreadful silence. No longer does this graceful structure echo with lively conversation and budding handmaidens, all eager to work tirelessly.
No one smiles here anymore, but we’re hardly going to question Karona’s judgment aloud. I fear the repercussions should she find out the depth of my thoughts.
I wander into a quiet meditation room, collapsing onto one of the many benches. There, I curl up, feeling more alone and isolated than ever.
“This place doesn’t feel like home anymore,” I mutter.
Carus’s face springs up in my mind, his noticeable absence more painful each passing day. I think of his revelation of our mating bond, the thought of which somehow warms and wounds me simultaneously, like a bandage repeatedly being ripped off and reapplied.
“How did things get this bad?” I ask as if someone is here to answer me. “How was it that life was so much better when Carus came around each night?”
My once-dormant thoughts of sex and the recollection of his body on mine make for a bitter combination, plunging me deeper into the pit of doom I’ve created for myself by choosing to remain here.
They say time heals all things, but I have an inkling that the more time passes, the worse I’m going to feel about kicking Carus out of my life.
I’m not the same woman I once was, so is it truly right for me to keep living this way?
22
SHANA
Rising from bed is slowly becoming more difficult with each passing morning. The struggle worsens as I grapple with the thoughts of performing my duties for the day.
As I sit in my painting studio, I think of the red paint as the handmaidens’ blood, each brushstroke spreading the crimson red liquid across the canvas. No longer do I find any enjoyment in this. My torment has ripped away my love for my art, and all because of the deity I serve.
Karona shouldn’t make these once great pastimes feel the way they do now,I think to myself, quickly scrambling to find a distraction. I land on the perfect thought, the only one that seems to be keeping me sane these days.
Carus… how I long for you to warm my bed again.I ignore the irony of it, that my only consoling thought is of a dark elf I pushed out of my life.
I tread the lonely hallways, mulling in my self-sorrow when I hear a set of footsteps coming around the corner up ahead. A veiled handmaiden walks with hurried steps, seemingly quickening her pace when she spots me.
I do not see her face, but I recognize her footsteps as those of my best friend. I reach out to grasp her arm, but she retracts and hurries into a light jog.
“Calindra!” I call out in desperation. “Please, can we talk?”
“Now is not a good time, Shana!”
“That’s all you ever say these days,” I mutter, not loud enough for her to hear.
She disappears, and I do not follow. I cannot find the strength to be angry at her, and deep within myself, I know she is not at fault. I couldn’t begin to imagine what she’s going through.
At this rate, I’ll have no one close to me by the time this year draws to an end. Soon, I’ll be by my lonesome with no one to confide in but myself, and I know how some of those stories conclude.
“Carus, Calindra, Karona… All slipping away from me.”
