Sacred Invitation
"The seven-pointed star began its radiant ascension. After four hundred years, we will finally achieve the wish of the Nameless Saint once more. O Celestial Offering, Her Divine Majesty has spoken. The Sacrificial Ceremony will take place in six days!"
Laemno froze for a moment, then remembered that he had to act as the pious Celestial Offering. He forced a zealous smile and clasped his hands together.
"What blessed decree this is. I was bathing in the seven-pointed star's light just now, listening to the Heavens' ethereal call. So that's what it was about. The Gods Beyond truly grace us with their radiance."
"Indeed! Her Divine Majesty wishes to invite you tomorrow to the Caphygae Palace. How fortunate you are, Honored One."
The Goddess?! Laemno almost choked on air. He restrained his expression and quickly nodded.
"I am unworthy of such honor. I'll be sure to prepare adequately." Laemno respectfully bowed. "Thank you for bearing this sacred invitation, Father."
"No, no, the pleasure is mine, Honored One." The clergyman returned his bow, then walked towards the exit. "Please rest well tonight."
Not long after he was gone, two new Adonal Virgins entered the bedroom, holding plates of steaming-hot food. They found Laemno standing still in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, gazing at the pitch-black moon and the seven-pointed star. Everyone had already heard the news, so they mistook his behavior for the silent contemplation of a saint about to achieve his religious duty.
Choosing not to bother him, they put the plates in the dining room and left him to his thoughts.
Damn it! I dodged a bullet there, but I'm not even happy about it. My previous estimation was off, though it matches the future shown by the triangular mirror. I'll need to escape in five days—the very day before the Sacrificial Ceremony.
Thinking about it, it's quite convenient. If I try to break out too soon, they'll have ample time to bring me back and sacrifice me at the chosen date.
Attempting to flee on the day of the Sacrificial Ceremony will be dangerous, too. The security will be at its maximum, and they could just forego capturing me and simply kill me on the spot. The ritual itself requires me to die when the seven-pointed star reaches its zenith. Everything else is pointless fluff and traditional nonsense.
Now, there's another problem. Why did the Hallowed Sovereign invite me to her Divine Palace? I'm not sure I'll be able to keep my facade in front of a deity. What if she senses something wrong and decides to lock me up for the remaining six days? That'd be the worst-case scenario...
Laemno glanced at the table full of food and smelled its delicious fragrance, yet found himself losing his appetite.
No, I must eat. Not touching the plates would signal an abnormality, and I'm physically an eleven-year-old child. I need food to grow and maintain enough energy for the upcoming days.
After convincing himself to sit down, Laemno took a closer look at the food.
His first impression was that it was plain. Gastronomy wasn't that developed in Hierapetra, and they greatly valued austerity, despite their opulent architecture. The dinner meal comprised boiled quail eggs, grilled fish with legumes and olives, some type of round bread, and cheese. There was also a tray of fruits, mainly figs, raisins, and pomegranates, as well as a half-filled cup of wine.
Ironically, it reminded him of his meals back on Earth, though in much greater quantity. Even if he had barely thought about his previous life since his transmigration, the sight of these dishes still evoked a nostalgic feeling. A tinge of sadness darkened his silvery eyes, and a single tear slid down the stigmata covering his left cheek.
"Bon appétit," he muttered in the quiet dining room as he spooned some fish with a piece of bread.
—
The following day, outside the Great Sanctuary in Hierapetra's Divine Capital, Priene.
Nysa opened her eyes, looking at the exquisitely painted ceiling in her chamber. She had slept very little the previous night, not like anyone in her position could even enjoy a sound slumber. The bell that tolled so loudly yesterday had announced the failure of her mission. It was difficult to numb her disappointment and sleep after that.
She rose from her bed and found a kind-faced, copper-skinned slave with hazelnut hair already waiting for her at the bedroom door. Without saying a word, the servant brought a kylix filled with water, helped Nysa wash her face, and gave her a small, greenish resin while braiding her lustrous black hair.
Nysa bit into the resin and felt the freshness spread in her mouth. With a simple gesture, she pointed toward her closet, where countless colorful outfits were displayed.
"I don't wish to stand out today."
The slave understood her mistress' wishes and immediately took out a relatively simple dark-green tunic. She dressed her with practiced skill, wrapped a white mantle across her chest, and hung plain jewelry around her wrists and neck. Then, she spoke in a whispered tone:
"Lady Quincti—..." She froze momentarily, remembering that her mistress didn't like being addressed with her Sethian name. "Lady Nysa, your mother awaits you in the upper garden. Breakfast will be served there."
Nysa silently nodded before heading for the door. She briefly stopped in front of the mirror, looking at her reflection.
She was sixteen years old. Although short and slim, her physique was robust—punctuated with narrow shoulders, pronounced hips, wide thighs, and small breasts. Her pale face held two large, dark-brown eyes, a sharp nose, medium lips and ears, oval cheeks, and a pointy chin.
As a young woman, Nysa was the perfect embodiment of Sethian beauty. Not that she or any of her entourage cared about that.
Resuming her walk, she passed through the door and looked down on a luxurious open courtyard. Slaves busied themselves cleaning, gardening, washing, and cooking, only stopping their activities when bowing to her.
Nysa continued toward an adjacent suite of rooms, climbed the spiraling marble steps, and found herself in a magnificent roof garden. A lavish table was prepared between two symmetrical ponds, with a middle-aged, brown-haired woman sitting on it. Copper-skinned slaves served plate after plate for breakfast, most of them untouched.
Nysa took a seat in front of the middle-aged woman; her eyes lowered not to cross her stern, green-colored gaze.
The woman, who sometimes identified herself as Nysa's mother, dipped a piece of barley bread in her wine cup before eating it. Then, she spoke with her usual disdainful tone:
"I'll never get used to Hierapetran cuisine. How they see value in such poverty and lack of taste goes beyond me."
Nysa took her willingness to talk as permission to eat, gracefully reaching for a honey-covered pancake. Its sweetness mixed with the sour freshness in her mouth, creating a most-revigorating taste. She enjoyed every bite, making sure to remember such rare-coming bliss.
"Your father hung himself in his room last night."
Nysa's expression froze, and her slender hands almost trembled, though she controlled herself in time. Her mother didn't like to see her display emotions. It made her too "human" in her eyes.
"With a failure of a daughter like you, I wouldn't mind tying a knot above my neck either. However, unlike that man, I'm no coward. There's still time to accomplish your task."
A numbing feeling washed over Nysa, and she put back the sweet delicacy on her plate. She regretted indulging in it, as such pleasure was far too great for a failure like her.
The maxim favored by her mother appeared in her head with abnormal clarity:
With pleasure comes pain.
Flickers of memories with her father soon invested her wits, and she finally understood the meaning of loss. That man was the only individual who treated her as something more than a tool, and he was gone. Her faint happiness of not always being reduced to a mere object had vanished for good.
"The Sacrificial Ceremony will be held in five days. You have until then to assassinate the Celestial Offering." The middle-aged woman bit into a fig. "Your very existence is a waste of air, so put it to use. The child needs to die, even if it costs your life. Understood?"
Still shocked by the news, Nysa could only afford a slow nod. However, her mother frowned at her response and snapped her fingers.
Immediately, a nearby slave grabbed Nysa's hair and slammed her head against the marble table.
"Aberrations ought not to reject the manners instilled in them," she said while holding a cup of water. "You are less than a slave, more disposable than this very cup. You were born for a single purpose and have no worth if you fail to accomplish it."
The middle-aged woman took a sip, not wasting even a single glance at her daughter.
"Remember, your life is a kindness I was gracious enough to grant you. Now, let me repeat—did you understand your task?"
Nysa, who tasted the cold alabaster, nodded her head more vigorously. Her hair nearly tore out of her scalp due to the slave's grip.
"Yes, Mother. The task shall be done."
"Good enough." The brown-haired, green-eyed woman gestured with her hand, ordering the slave to let go of Nysa. "The food you just ate should be sufficient for three days. If you want more, bring me the proof of the Celestial Offering's death. There'll be no more chances."
"Thank you for your kindness, Mother." After collecting herself, Nysa respectfully bowed and left the roof garden.
She climbed down the stairs, went through the spacious suite, and entered her bedroom again. That kind slave was still there, cleaning her chambers.
"I-Is there something wrong, Lady Nysa?" She spoke in a frightened tone.
Nysa sat on her bed and silently pointed at her ruined hair. Quickly realizing what she meant, the slave dropped the sheets and went to fix her mistress' braids.
Under the slave's gentle touch, Nysa looked in the mirror at her reddened cheeks. Pale fingers slid down her chin and onto her slender neck, briefly envisioning a tied knot around it. She blinked once, and those intrusive thoughts all but disappeared.
She was a tool, and a tool shouldn't break before serving its purpose.