Coil of Worlds

Still feeling the effects of whatever they’d done, Lara blinked at the door in confusion. Reason slowly filtered in, and she took in the bare room, nibbling on her bottom lip. A single, white pillow graced the floor, and she moved toward it.

After sitting cross-legged for a long time, Lara recalled what this next ritual required, which led her to thinking about the first ritual. She clutched her robe, guilt making her slump forward. She didn’t say a single prayer during the bath. Oh God, what if she had messed everything up?

Staring at the plain, drab walls, her mind wandered. It could have been minutes or hours later, Lara wasn’t sure, but she finally turned her thoughts to the rakir attack. Despite the length of time that had passed since the attack, her heart sped up. Lara remembered her frantic race through the tunnels, calling out to Chion. She remembered how she had scrambled for air and the agony that swept up her legs from the soles of her feet. But then Chion had saved her, rescuing her from certain death. When she resurfaced from the memory, her hair had long since dried, and her stomach signaled the beginning signs of hunger.

An emotion nudged the watery shell she kept around her. Lara turned her head toward the entrance in time to see the door open and a priestess enter the room. Stumbling when she stepped on the edge of her own gown, Lara straightened to her full height and nervously waited for the priestess to tell her what to do. At the woman’s insistent summons, Lara crossed the hallway to a beckoning doorway.

Once in the room, the priestess intoned one word, “Choose,” waving at the multitude of candles sitting on the floor, the shelves, and the walls. Each candle was a different color and shape. She stepped farther into the room, and her nose picked out the subdued scents of each.

How was she supposed to know which candle to pick? Bewildered, she twisted her head to look back at the priestess. When no hint was forthcoming—not even a twitch of cloth, Lara started on the left side of the room and worked her way to the opposite end.

Several times, she almost picked up a candle, but something made her hesitate, and she moved on. On the last row, a glittering candle speckled in gold and brown captivated her. With trembling hands, Lara held the candle aloft, showing the priestess the one she’d chosen.

From there, she was taken back across the hall. A nondescript chalice filled with a murky liquid and a small platter had joined the pillow. She jumped when a priest carried forward a small, lit candle. He lit her much larger candle before exiting the room. Immediately, the room filled with a scent that reminded her of sunshine and summer. Lara stared into the dancing flame.

A low, feminine voice instructed, “When you are ready, drink the potion in the chalice.”

Lara stood unmoving, breathing in the amazing scent, letting it settle her. Reluctantly, she strode over to the pillow and placed the candle on the platter. Sitting down, she rearranged the robe around her. After taking a few, deep breaths, she rolled her shoulders back and picked up the chalice.

Was she really going to do this? She sniffed the contents. Her nose wrinkled at the awful smell. The drink was surely drugged, but did she have a choice? She’d given her assent, as had the others. Holding her breath, Lara upended the goblet and chugged down the drink.

She gagged, feeling the viscous fluid slide down the back of her throat. Having fasted, the drug acted quickly, and her eyes dilated and her cheeks flushed. With a groan, Lara slumped forward, unable to control her muscles. Her breathing vacillated between fast, shallow breaths and slow, deep ones. Riveted to the candle’s flame, she gazed at it until her vision blurred.

Her eyes closed in a slow blink. Between one second and the next, the room fell away, and Lara no longer sat in the ritual chamber.

Her hand was clasped in the familiar grip of her father’s as he led her to one of the few remaining pews still empty. The church sanctuary was filled with people, young and old. When her father leaned over, picked her up, and placed her on the bench, Lara looked down at herself in surprise. Too short to dangle over the seat, her legs stuck straight out, and tiny dress shoes covered her feet.

All at once, the memory slammed into her. Even as her adult mind struggled to come to terms with the flashback, her seven-year-old self peeked up at her father with tear-filled eyes. Her bottom lip quivered.

He sent her an encouraging smile and said, “It is all right, Solara. There is no need to cry.”

“But Daddy, I won’t ever play with Kenny again,” Solara whimpered, leading her father to embrace her in a tight hug.

“Kenneth is in a good place now. He’s in heaven, remember?”

Lara relived the little girl’s sadness and guilt. Flashes of days spent playing with her best friend whipped through her. Completely entrenched in the memory, Lara nevertheless felt the trickle of tears running down her face.

She remembered what happened, and the effects from the potion swept her away to the day that had changed everything.

They’d been playing in his yard, chasing each other in a game of chase with rules they’d made up as they went along. Their laughter was outshined only by their gaiety and exhilaration at the game. Though forbidden to leave the yard, in their exuberant play, Solara chased him into the road, determined to catch him. She snagged her fingers into his shirt, stopping their forward motion.

“I got you,” she giggled breathlessly. The screech of tires scared them, and they both turned to face the car right before it hit them.

The next thing she knew, Solara was strapped to a stretcher, being carried by two strangers. Not understanding why she hurt, she screamed for her mom, trying to turn her head, wanting to run from the strange men. The sudden flurry of activity around her sent her fear rocketing.

Her mother’s worried voice reached Solara a second before her mom’s hand wrapped itself around her arm, “Hey, baby, you are okay. These men are going to help make you better.”

The bearded man looked down at her with kind, hazel eyes and said, “Hey munchkin, I’m Collin, and this bear of a man at your feet is Joseph. We promise to take good care of you, okay?”

She nodded as much as the strap on her forehead allowed, rounded eyes staring up at him. He smiled and said, “Now, for us to help you feel better, you have to promise to do something for us.”

“What?” she whispered, gripping her mother’s hand as tight as she could.

“You have to stay absolutely still. Do you think you can do that for us?” Collin asked.

She heard her mother say, “Thank you. She was terrified.”

Solara sniffled her assent, trying to stay as still as a statue.

Her vision clouded and then cleared.

Lara looked around the hospital room. When her gaze landed on the small, still body of her friend Kenneth, she gasped aloud.

“Kenny,” she cried, running over to the bed as fast as she could go. Both casts for her arm and leg were removed two floors down not fifteen minutes ago. The newness of using her arm and leg made her shuffle forward.

“Wake up,” Solara demanded, wanting Kenneth to play with her again. He’d been sleeping for so long. Weeks and weeks. When she reached over the bed to grab his hand, his mother stopped her, shaking her head no.

Tears trekked down her face. It was all her fault. They didn’t listen to his mother. They should have never left the front yard. If only she’d stopped on the curb and called her best friend back.

Solara turned around and ran back to her father, wrapping her little arms around his leg, crying. He lifted her up and hugged her. It felt as if he hid her from the world, his arms keeping her safe. The drone of voices floated to her, but she didn’t listen. She sobbed into her father’s shirt until exhaustion pushed her into a fitful sleep.

When she lifted her head, Lara was back in the church sanctuary, waiting for the funeral to begin. At the end of the service, her father helped her up, and they walked up to the casket where her mother had told her Kenneth now slept.

She didn’t understand what exactly happened, but Solara knew that she’d never play with her best friend again. She stared guiltily at the wooden box. Her parents denied it, but Solara knew it was her fault. She had caught Kenny’s mom looking at her with resentment. Kenny’s mother had never lied to her, so she was certain it was her fault.

Her parents always told her that she could talk to God, so she said a prayer, “Please bring Kenny back. I promise I’ll be good. I’ll always mind and do good in school.”

With a stifled sob, Lara blinked her eyes open. Tears spilled down her face to her lap, wetting the shroud. She lifted her right sleeve and dabbed at her face. Why didn’t she remember Kenneth until now? How could have I forgotten? She pressed the heel of both her hands to her eyes, breaking down again.

In between gasp of air, she sobbed, “Why him and not me?”

Two invisible hands stroked her hair, and a melodious voice wrapped around her. “Because, child, your destiny lay in another direction.”

Knowing she was alone, Lara screamed and her eyes bounced around the room. Seeing only the four walls, she stilled, waiting. Was the drink causing hallucinations?

Laughter sparked the air, and the two hands caressed her face again. “No, my child. The potion simply opens your mind to my presence.”

“But I don’t believe in a Goddess,” she whispered, fearing the deity’s reaction.

“It does not matter, Solara Meghan Conners, for I believe in you. My consort and I chose you long before you were born.”

Lara knew when the presence dissipated from the chamber, leaving her alone once more. She shuddered. What just happened? Awe filled her, but then anger quickly followed. How could Kenneth’s life mean so little? He was seven when he was killed by the driver.

Short, almost nonexistent flashes from her memory pierced her mind, and Lara relived them in rapid succession. Her rambunctious behavior was severely curtailed following the life-changing incident. Even as a child, she no longer laughed aloud. She always played quietly and calmly, afraid of the negative consequences her actions could cause.

They moved a year later. Though her nightmares of the car accident decreased and soon stopped, her behavior and personality didn’t change. Two years after the incident found that no one in her family ever mentioned the boy, afraid it’d trigger a recurrence of her nightmares.

Over time, she’d forgotten.

Or maybe she intentionally forgot.

Either way, her behavior followed her into adulthood, where she continued hiding her thoughts and feelings from all who knew her. Except for her parents, none of her friends ever came close to breaching the thick wall she’d erected.

All of that changed when she met Chion. The woman she should have been once again emerged, unable to be anything else in his presence.

Gradually, her despair receded and was tucked into the recesses of her soul. Lara would never again forget what happened to her when she was a child.

Kenneth deserved better.

She wiped her face and straightened from where she sat. It all made sense now. Her aversion to funerals and cemeteries was related to the death of her childhood friend. Although Lara still didn’t understand why Kenneth’s life was cut short, she now understood how the childhood loss had molded her. In a way, it had prepared her for what she’d face here in Kureto.

It was another hour before Lara felt ready to confront the outside world. Her nose was red, and she still sniffled. A weakness pervaded her, the three rituals having drained her of energy, strength. Lara had no idea how to handle hearing a female deity’s voice in her head, but she had time to come to terms with the experience.

Locking her knees to stay standing, Lara shuffled across the room to the door. With a final, deep breath, she opened the door. Chion looked up from where he waited for her by the door. Surprised, Lara glanced up and down the empty hallway. The silence was heavy, making her unwilling to break it by speaking aloud.

You are finished? she asked as the paka sat up to nuzzle her stomach.

Yes, I have been for quite some time.

She stroked his ears and scratched him beneath his chin. His whiskers twitched in reaction, and a purr rumbled through their link. Yours must not have taken very long, she reflected.

Hm, he responded, how long do you believe you were in the room?

I don’t know, she hedged, shrugging one shoulder. If I had to guess, half a day at most.

My Lady, my ordeal lasted a full day. Skye and Eiren completed theirs shortly after I exited my room. I have waited by your door for another full day and night.

Her fingers stopped their soothing motion, and she stared at him in shock. Lara took stock of her body. No wonder she was exhausted. Lara ran both hands through her hair and closed her eyes.

“Two days? Why was mine so much longer,” she asked aloud. She opened her eyes to stare at Chion in confusion.

He cocked his head to the side before standing up to rub his entire length across her legs. I’ve no idea, My Lady. When I asked, they didn’t give me a reason. Instead, I received words of encouragement while I waited. Perhaps the potion affected you more strongly than it did us. But, does it matter the reason? Did you gain closure with your past? She jerked her head once. Then the rituals accomplished what they intended.

Searching her face, he changed the subject, Let us meet with Skye and Eiren. Hopefully, they left us food for a light repast. You can change from your white robe, and we can take some much needed rest.

At the mention of food, her stomach howled its hunger. Despite her embarrassment, Lara’s giggle joined Chion’s chuckles. It lightened the heaviness that still blanketed her after her lengthy ordeal.

Lara let Chion lead them back to their chamber, strolling beside him with her hand settled between his shoulders. “Did we all come out of the ritual all right?”

She hoped none had experienced an ordeal as difficult as hers; but then again, hers might have gone smoother if she had spent her time meditating on the right incident. She rolled her eyes. The rakir attack was scary, but nowhere near as emotionally wrought as her childhood accident.

Yes, Skye and Eiren are fine. The third ritual was as I expected.

When he said nothing more, Lara understood what he left unspoken. She was far from ready to talk about her own experience, and it was possible she never would be. She couldn’t consciously expect anyone else to share theirs.