Heartbeat

I: Sacrifice-3

AKSHARA WAS STARTLED as someone tapped her hard on the shoulder.

“Get up, girl!” Janara hissed. “Now.”

Akshara opened her eyes to see the fires had already been lit. It wouldn’t be long now before the ritual would begin.

“I couldn’t climb back down,” Akshara said, wiping the sleep from her eyes.

“I don’t care for your excuses, you little brat. Sarkasi will deal with you later. For now, I need you to go down and get dressed properly. What kind of temple girl are you anyway?”

“Not a very good one,” Akshara muttered under her breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, Priestess Janara.”

Akshara looked into Janara’s face that had intricate lines and symbols painted on it. The priestess wore a simple sheer red robe to match the color of the blood that would soon be flowing endlessly as Iva’s throat was cut. Only Iva would be in white.

“Quit staring, you worthless girl! You’ll never be a priestess at this rate. You’ll spend the rest of your miserable life cleaning up after ritual, until your hands are too gnarled to hold a wet cloth.”

“Yes, Priestess Janara,” Akshara replied. Janara’s words had not stung her at all, because she now knew that she would get away from Aransia tonight. Then it hit her. What if she really could stop the ritual somehow and save Iva? Could this be the one moment of true bravery in all of her life?

Akshara scrambled down the stairs as she thought about what she’d do. She was going to grab Sarkasi’s knife, plunge it into the priestess’ back, and roll her body down the stairs for the people of the city to see. Then she’d take Iva by the hand, pull her from the altar, and the two of them would somehow flee from Sarkasi’s attendants. It wasn’t a solid plan, but it was all she had.

As Akshara entered the temple, she came to the room where Iva was being prepared. It was a small room just outside of the central chamber which was dedicated to Tars’keli.

The door was open and Sarkasi was waving her hands above Iva in strange patterns Akshara could not recognize. Four other priestesses stood behind Sarkasi in their red robes, the hoods pulled up to conceal their faces. But should she need them, Sarkasi could call upon them at any time. The attendant priestesses sang the hymn to the goddess as Sarkasi continued the preparation, now painting red symbols on Iva’s forehead.

Akshara noticed how serene and beautiful Iva looked during all this. Her eyes were closed, and she had a subtle glow about her. She reminded Akshara of the Efari—the beautiful ruby crowned attendants of the goddess.

Maybe Iva will join the Efari if she is sacrificed. If I can’t stop it. Iva has been the most loyal servant of the goddess, even if she did get in trouble with the priestesses often. Maybe all the trouble was my fault.

Akshara dared to stand beside the door and take a peek into the room every few minutes. Discovery would result in a beating. Even though the door was left wide open at all times, the temple girls were to exercise utmost restraint and avoid looking in whenever the priestesses conducted a ritual in this room.

Akshara decided that the risk of discovery was outweighed by the benefits of satisfying her curiosity, ran off down the hall, and descended into the basement where the temple girls slept. Three other girls were getting ready for the ritual, dressing in their red robes, and painting symbols of the goddess upon their brow and cheeks.

Akshara sat down on her sleeping mat and stared at the one just across from hers — the one that belonged to Iva. They had always slept near each other, often sneaking onto the other’s mat during the middle of the night and sleeping in what felt like an unbreakable embrace. Akshara began to cry softly.

“She’s crying!” a girl with long brown hair, and a scar across her cheek exclaimed. This girl was Olara and she often taunted Akshara. Iva had defended her every time, and Olara was afraid of her—it had been Iva who gave her the scar while defending Akshara. But now Iva was gone and unable to protect her, so Olara would be free to torment her.

“Leave me alone, Olara,” Akshara mumbled.

The girls descended upon her, taking up positions on each side of the mat. Olara stood at the end, hoping to leave her with no escape options.

“You’ll never be a priestess!” Olara shouted. “You can’t even stomach the rituals the gods demand. And tonight, the gods demand your precious Iva’s blood. What are you going to do without her? Spend every day down here crying, I bet!”

“Please go. All of you,” Akshara pleaded.

Olara sat down beside her on the sleeping mat and grabbed hold of a large bunch of Akshara’s hair.

“I’m never going away. I’ll always be here, so I guess you’ll just have to deal with it!” Olara yanked Akshara’s hair so hard it stung across every inch of her scalp. This just made her cry, until she imagined she heard Iva’s voice in her head.

“Don’t let them do this to you, Aksha. You must learn to fight now.”

Akshara could feel a surge of anger building up inside of her, and she swung an elbow into Olara’s stomach, even as the cruel girl still had hold of her hair. Olara screeched in pain and let go of Akshara’s hair at last.

“I’ll send you to the goddess, you filthy beast! You’re no higher than an Aransian pigari, and that means you should be thrown to the fire and feasted upon like the rest of the animals!” Olara shouted as she swung at Akshara’s face, landing a soft punch above her eye.

The other two girls—Ulan and Reika—pulled Olara away. “Come on, don’t touch her anymore, or you’ll be just as dirty as she is,” said Reika.

“I’ll kill her! I swear I’ll kill her someday!” Olara shouted as Ulan and Reika dragged her off, leaving Akshara alone on her sleeping mat.

The only thing to do now was to grab the red robe from the wooden chest beside her mat, and then paint her face with the symbols of the goddess whose very name made her insides burn just thinking about it.

Tars’keli, if I could kill you, I would. I will find a way, I promise you.

*