Page 196 of Split or Swallow

“We are sexual creatures.”

“I know that already.”

“What I mean to say is that we are…open.”

“What do you mean by ‘open’?”

“Out there—” Caspen nodded his head at the doorway, beyond which Tem knew lay the winding passages, “—if a basilisk chooses to wear their human form, they will not burden it with clothing.”

Tem frowned. “You’re saying they’re…naked…all the time?”

Caspen’s mouth twitched.

“That is exactly what I am saying.”

“So everyone just…sees everyone else?”

“Yes.”

“But why?”

“Because it does not matter to them, Tem. You do not matter to them. To a basilisk, the human form is inferior to our true one. The human obsession with privacy is not one the basilisk shares, or understands. They do not respect your body.”

Tem bristled.

“Does my body not deserve respect?”

“Of course,” he pressed his lips to her shoulder. “Of course it does. But there is no need for clothing when you will be removing it anyway.”

Tem had no argument for that, so she pulled off her dress.

They walked together through the winding tunnels, deeper beneath the mountain than Tem had ever gone before. It was completely dark except for the occasional torch, and Tem had to rely on Caspen for guidance. He held her waist, directing her every time they came to a fork in the passageway. Eventually they stopped in front of an ancient pair of wooden doors. Caspen pushed them open.

The auditorium wasn’t at all what Tem expected.

It was lined with torches and circular in shape, with rows of stone benches that sloped gently down toward an enormous stone statue. Tem craned her neck to look up at it. When she realized what she was looking at, her heart stopped. She turned to Caspen.

“You said the ritual was in an auditorium.”

“It is.”

She pointed at the statue.

“Then explain that.”

Caspen looked up, following her gaze.

“That…”

He trailed off, and Tem finished for him:

“That’s Kora.”

“Yes. It is.”

Tem stared up at the statue numbly. It was the largest depiction of Kora she had ever seen, carved from a stone that looked like marble, with delicate threads of gold laced throughout it. The goddess was in a seated position, cross-legged, her elaborately braided hair nearly touching the arched ceiling.

“Where—?” Tem started, but the question died on her tongue. There was only one obvious place the ritual could occur. Kora’s hands were resting palm-up in her lap, splayed open to form a perfect level surface, right in the center of her legs. An altar.