A Third of the Moon and the Stars Struck

by Jade Brieanne

  As Ose sang, the dust in the air began to move faster, swirling around her, through her hair, over her skin until it settled into a pink and gold sphere of Wanderlust in front of her.

  “This Ose wishes you to sing, little one. Sing the words taught to you.”

  This was the routine. Ose allowed her access to Wanderlust and her mother and in turn, she lent them her spiritual powers to pass messages to Gaia. She never knew the details of the messages, she wasn’t versed in the language Ose spoke, but she sent them nonetheless without complaint or hesitation. That was the deal.

  The dust shifted, then fell away, leaving an image so sharp Elle felt as if she were looking through a window. The image was of her mother. She was on a rooftop by herself, a Mughal rug separating her from the dirty concrete floor. Her mother’s eyes were closed as if Elle’s voice was the only in the world. When her song drew to a close, her mother’s eyes opened.

  “Thank you, jaaneman. Your voice is so beautiful,” her mother cooed. “I miss you so much.”

  Elle beamed. “I miss you too, Mother.”

  Elle caught her mother up on her life–about being accepted and promoted into the Astral Bodyguard program. There was a boy in the program she liked. His name was Liam, but she wasn’t sure he liked her back. She told her mother how she visited Lunah’s grave, put fresh flowers there, and kept it neat. She talked about the big visit from her grandmother and how today was going to be a very long day for her.

  Elle became lost in their conversation and it felt like they had talked for hours, but Elle knew better. Soon, their time was up as the short-lived power of Wanderlust began to wear off.

  “I have to go again,” Elle announced softly, unable to keep the disappointment out of her voice. “I won’t be able to talk to you again until everything has calmed down here but I wanted to see your face. I needed to see your face.”

  “Of course, I understand! You can always reach out to me whenever you want to. I’ll always be here for you, love.”

  Elle nodded as the connection began to fade. She tried to hold it longer but the vision blurred, then disappeared. Her mother was gone.

  She tried not to cry whenever it happened–her connection being severed and her mother’s voice slipping away. She felt lonely today, lonelier than usual. It was rather stupid to feel lonely. Her grandmother and aunt were visiting from The Glory Beyond and her uncles, Kano and Yusuf, were never too far away.

  She shoved the feeling down; it never served her any good anyway. She was beginning to stand from her own Mughal rug when the chamber door opened and light flooded the room. Elle turned to see if Ose was behind her but it seemed she was the only one in the room. A figure stepped into the light from the torches, blotting the brightness and casting their face into darkness but Elle knew she was in trouble without having to see just who was visiting her.

  How did she know I was down here?

  “Do you know how big this temple is, Lulu’ah Elle Dantò?”

  It was Pythia Phi, current Chief Maiden of Tambour and her mother’s twin sister. Elle resisted the temptation to roll her eyes. Just because she couldn’t see her aunt’s face didn’t mean her aunt couldn’t see hers. Pythia Phi’s temper rivaled no one’s and she didn’t want to set her off.

  Pythia Phi was a peculiar woman in a peculiar situation. She, of course, had her sister’s face and coloring, but that’s about all she shared with her twin. When her mother lived in Caeli, Elle was no older than a toddler, but she remembered everything about her. Her mother had been the epitome of class. She wore nothing but white, from her intricate crown-like headpiece, her elegant saree, to her white silk slippers. She followed decorum like it was a religion, spoke the noble dialect of her mother, Khavah Dantò, and commanded the respect a princess would.

  Her aunt was quite different and had always been. She approached the role of Chief Priestess like it was the highest form of altruism. She treated it like it was tangible, as if she had to get on her hands and knees daily to do her job. Her attire showed that. Pythia Phi shied away from silk and satin, choosing to wear lightweight linen and cotton in bright colored patterns. Her paijama pants were always spotted with water and her kurta always had the sleeves pushed back. She forwent the “crown” as she called it, opting to pull her long wavy hair back into a sloppy bun. Shoes?

  Pythia Phi didn’t have high regard for shoes.

  When her aunt crossed her arms and began tapping her fingers, Elle decided it was best to answer her rather than to remain silent. Her sigh was loud and tinged with annoyance when she recited “From sky to sky, realm to realm.”

  “And even then that’s not as big as this temple is! I’ve been looking for you for hours! Days! Your grandmother has been requesting you for hours! Days! Do you not know what today is?”

  “Of course I do!” Elle stood, straightening her all-white Astral Bodyguard cadet uniform. “You see? I’m prepared! I’m not a child! I know my duty. I just…” Elle looked down at her feet. “I needed a moment alone. It’s hard being around my entire family without mom.”

  Pythia Phi tilted her head, the light from the hallway bending with her. “Come,” she commanded, although her voice was soft and without censure. Considering her outburst, she deserved it. She held her hand out and Elle took it. They both left the room, their footfalls and the rustling of clothing the only sounds in the torch-lit hallway. Her aunt smelled like burnt wax, ashes, but Elle knew it was because she’d been taking care of the Room of a Thousand Wicks, the memorial hall for stillborn children.

  Pythia Phi led her up the stairs to the Prayer Sanctuary of Tambour, crossing the enormous detailed marble floors and coming up to the lip of the large aureole pool at the center of the temple. Steam rose from it, warming Elle’s face as she glanced over the lip and looked deeper into the water. Engraved into the capacious floor of the pool was a pattern of two circles, a pentagram, and three heptagons–the Sigillum Dei Aemeth.

  “You know that your mother was the original Heir of Tambour and not I. Growing up, I would have never dreamed of it. I never wanted any of this. I dreamed of going to MATE, learning how to fight, and learning how to save lives rather than telling them which life needed to be saved. I wanted,” Pythia Phi looked over the pool. “I wanted something different.”

  Elle lowered her head, her face hot with shame. Every time she complained about her mother, she often forgot that when her mother left, she also left behind her sisters, brothers and a mother. She left people behind who had to change their life to fill her void.

  “I’m sorry,” Elle murmured. When she looked up, her aunt was smiling.

  Pythia Phi tapped her under her chin. “I didn’t tell you that to break your spirit, child. I told you because sometimes the strings of fate, fickle things, aren't always what we want or need. That is why I am the Chief Priestess of Tambour and not Pythia Del. Your mother had to make a choice. The wrong one in my opinion but one she made because she loved me, loved your cousin, and because she loves you.”

  Elle knew what choice that was–to rebel against Caeli, to refuse Aeon Terra, to cross the Blood Border and add her name to the list of uncrossables. Now she was stuck in a realm with no way to get back.

  “Close your eyes, Elle.”

  Elle did as she was told, the world going dark as she lowered her lids over her dark eyes. She felt her aunt’s rough palm slide over hers before she was being tugged over the lip of the temple pool and into its warm waters. Her bare feet sunk to the bottom and she felt the strum of power granted to her as a child radiate up her legs until it coursed through every part of her.

  “You can open them now.”

  When she did, five women appeared, all seated around the pool. Elle’s gaze swung to Tambour, the large mass glowing like a sun in the center of the temple. Every time she was in its presence, it stole her breath away.

  Elle wasn’t the strongest spiritualist, she knew this. Her powers were largely dormant and she could only tap into a small reservoir with mas
sive concentration. But her lack of powers didn’t change the fact that she was the Heir of Tambour and the power to see it was inherent, just as inherent as her dark skin, her dark eyes and her dark hair.

  “One day this will be yours–the power to interpret these strings, and the power to aid in saving life after life. Don’t be sad, Elle. You have so much to be thankful for. Your mother will return and I know she will be proud of the fine young woman you’ve grown up to be.”

  The other priestesses of Tambour smiled at her from their positions in the aureole pool. They still held loyalty to the defected Priestess and that affection often transferred to Elle. She felt her melancholy melt away, her frown morphing into a brilliant smile. “Thank you, Auntie.”

  Pythia Phi kissed her on the forehead. “You’re welcome, bhanji. Now! Let’s get you to your quarters!” She paused and brushed something pink from Elle’s shoulders. “Today is a–”

  “There you are!” a voice boomed throughout the temple. “I’ve been looking all over for you two! Do you know how big this temple is? From sky to sky! Realm to realm!”

  Pythia Phi winced and Elle’s brows rose at the sound of the voice. “Well. It seems your aunt has arrived,” Pythia Phi murmured.

  Only certain people were allowed into the main Temple: The Chief, The Heir, The Priestesses and…

  The First Blood of The Divine.

  Anais Dantò strode through the Temple of Tambour, her heels clicking against the marble. Her oldest aunt was a statuesque woman, acquiring the height from her father, Seraphim Angel Alloyon. Her coloring was all her mother–melanin-rich skin that seemed to glow and a headful of ash grey hair. Some of Khavah’s other children adopted her looks. All four children were the complexion of raw umber and Yusuf had wild grey streaks in his hair. Anais, however, was the only one of Khavah Dantò’s children to get her remarkable green eyes. They were piercing and scared anyone she would turn them on. Elle had long considered that her aunt enjoyed their fear.

  She approached and her dark cloak billowed behind her like it was caught in the wind. Elle noticed that her aunt was dressed in Glory Beyond fashions, which was to say, anything slightly shy of battle ready. Their clothing was very monarchial and severe. Although she’d never been to that realm, from the way they dressed, you would think that there was a constant war up there. Anais wore a long flowing shift with a split that danced like ocean waves when she walked. A pair of tan leather pants that looked painted on peeked out between the split and a pair of high heeled boots that look impossible to walk in adorned her feet. To Elle, her aunt looked like a celestial Valkyrie with her flamboyant styling, heavy gold jewelry, and thick leather cuirass.

  Pythia Phi hiked her pants up her legs and crossed the pool in quick strides, kicking up water as she went.

  One of the priestesses sighed. “Your holiness. Please do not run. It is unbecoming.”

  Kry’stal, a priestess of sun and radiance, laughed, the sound fruity and light. “She has never listened to you before, Calesha, why do you think she’ll listen now?”

  “It doesn’t matter to me,” the celestial priestess responded, “I’ll keep saying it until she starts.”

  “When you go hoarse, don’t come running to me for any honey elixirs. I won’t give them to you. Plus, becoming isn’t a thing I think her holiness is aiming for,” Coya, another priestess of sun, said.

  Pythia Phi waited until she was close enough to kick some water at Coya. The maiden sputtered and sluiced the water off her face while her sisters laughed. With a grumble, Coya joined in on the laughter.

  When Pythia Phi reached the edge of the pool, she held her hands out. “Didi,” she said with an affectionate pout.

  Anais’s severe frown morphed into a wide smile as she met her sister halfway, dragging her out of the pool and spinning her around.

  It was no secret that when they were younger, Anais and Pythia Phi strongly disliked each other. Pythia Phi said it was because Anais was bossy and arrogant and Anais said it was because Pythia Phi was a certifiable nut. As they grew older, they grew closer, often because Pythia Del would lock them in a room until they found peace. Yet without Pythia Del to keep that peace, sometimes you could see the tension in their eyes when they spoke to one another.

  Not today.

  When she sat Pythia Phi down, Anais touched her forehead to her sister’s. The smell of something burnt drifted from where they stood. “I only come down to this realm every so often and the nerve of you making me come and look for you!”

  “Serves you right for only coming down to visit every so often! And to think, the only reason you’re here is for formal matters!”

  Anais frowned. “Rete! Don’t call him formal matters. He’s a pain and has never, not once in his pathetic miserable life, deserved the position he has. When I’m done with that useless ass–”

  Pythia Phi rushed to throw a hand over her sister’s mouth. “Not in the temple and not in front of your niece,” she whispered.

  Anais pushed her sister’s hand away. “Oh! That’s right!” She craned her neck to look around Pythia Phi.

  Noticing the attention was now on her, Elle took a few hesitant steps forward until she was standing in front of her very powerful, very intimidating aunt. The truth was Anais scared Elle. Not in the way monsters under her bed scared her as a child. No, Anais froze Elle to her feet, she made her palms sweat, and she made her heart pound in her chest. Elle felt like her aunt was always accessing her, holding her to standards Elle didn’t understand and she never felt like she passed her aunt’s unspoken test. She wanted to both please her aunt and stay very, very far away from her.

  However, even with the fear she felt, she very much respected Anais, for the power she wielded, her rank, her ability to capture people's attention the way she did, and it was that respect that allowed her to sink into her embrace when Anais motioned her closer.

  “You get prettier and prettier every time I see you, Lulu’ah Elle Dantò,” Anais said as Elle’s arms wrapped around her waist. She felt something was off about her aunt but the thought was secondary to Anais’s praise. “Soon you’ll be a spitting image of your mother.” Her aunt’s arms tightened around her and kept getting tighter and tighter and–

  “Auntie Anais…you’re hurting me,” Elle breathed, wincing.

  Anais let go, alarmed. “I’m–I’m so sorry, pitit. I…” She bent looked down and Elle tried not the quiver under the intensity of her aunt’s green-eyed stare. “You know I would never hurt you, right?”

  Elle fought to keep the confusion off her face. “Of course you wouldn’t, Aunt Anais.” Elle backed out of her embrace and ran her hands down her uniform, glad to see it wasn’t wrinkled. “I better get going. I have to prepare to escort you all into The Great Hall.”

  Anais sighed. “Very well. Hopefully, this nonsense will be over with quick. My patience is short for this trial and the reason behind it.”

  Anais took a step closer to Pythia Phi and the two began to talk speak in conspiratorial whispers, so Elle excused herself with a bow of her head and began walking towards the Temple entrance.

  Caeli’s warm air greeted her as she walked through the large ivory columns that capped the opening. She looked over the thick tree line that surrounded the Temple and beyond it to Elysian. Her home. She paused when she heard her Aunt’s voice again.

  “And Elle?”

  Elle turned back towards the Temple.

  “Be careful.”

  The frown came before she could help herself. “Of course, Aunt Anais,” she said before she left.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Feilong’s Home Roof

  Brooklyn, New York

  Pythia Del liked New York well enough. She’d made a home in Seattle and preferred her base in New Delhi but whereas New Delhi was culturally monolithic, New York was like a good sambar podi, a combination of ingredients thrown together into a pot to make curry. The taste of it, the city, could be hard to digest for those who weren’t used to it,
but it suited Pythia Del’s palate just fine.

  She sat on the roof of Feilong’s park slope brownstone gazing over the brick covered houses across the street. Although the sun had set hours ago, there was a glow over the city from all of the lights. It was noisy, disconnected, and beautiful, melodious like her daughter’s voice.

  Her feet slid against the rug under her. Although her linen and leather gave her the air of a rebel leader, the silk caress of her purple and gold saree eased the tension that came with dealing with a group of people simmering in their own anger.

  The door to the roof deck opened behind her and closed with a quiet click and spirit essence filled her nose. Speaking of one of those people…

  Lucan’s spirit essence smelled like freshly ground rosemary. It was fresh and sweet and it always managed to relax her, even when she was mad at him or he irritated her…or when he didn’t call for four years because he was on some kind of mad hunt for a purpose that Pythia Del didn’t believe existed.

  Shen’s karma was bad, foul, stunk like dragon arums. In Pythia Del’s opinion, he didn’t have a purpose. He existed as an antithesis to peace, something chaotic to balance out the good, that good being the good inside of Jin Amaris. Pythia Del humored Lucan, anyways. She felt like she was Niobe and her Morpheus had a dream.

  Lucan came to a stop next to her and Pythia Del looked up at him. Lucan was a lot of man–impossibly tall with skin the color of teak wood and a physique that said he had an obsession with hard work, the continuous flipping of food packages to count calories, copious intake of water, reps, lunges, deadlifts, narcissism. He filled out a shirt nicely and his tattooed forearms were undeniably sexy. However, those weren’t the things that caught Pythia Del’s attention. It was his smile. He had a smile that lit up his face. He rarely graced anyone with it, so when he did, everyone noticed. She noticed it in another way, a deeper way.