ST. EDMEUS

The aching of the tornado sirens ricochet through the hollow cavity between the outer facade and the inner sanctum, crossing Ethen and Clay like lashes of a whip. At the peak of the volume, their ears are so filled with pain, they cannot hear their own fists pounding.

"Help us!"

"Let us in!"

"The storm!"

Their fingers splat & their knuckles rap frantically upon the thick glass of the doors of the church they had sat in safely a short time before. The return fire of the security detail within is an unmoving glare of disapproval. More personnel join into the center of the foyer at the commotion, grimaces at the tops of step-less, flowing black robes. Their clustered stature is a fortress that won't be surmounted, locked doors or none.

The indefatigable expressions looking back at them, lightly bathed in the glow of the church — dimmed so as to not invite notice in the darkening day — turn to slight pity, but a pity resolute in its denial. Ethen and Clay quit pleading. They turn around, backs pinned to the door, getting glimpses of churning clouds through the broken windows of the building's outer shell.

Suddenly, they fall backwards and hit marble. They see a figure in robes standing above them, backlit by the ochre glitter of the church's ceiling. But these robes are not as black as the sky; they are white as the concerned eyes addressing them.

"Ethen! Are you two alright?" The First Priestess gestures to her clergy to help them up, and the two reorient themselves to place as the door of the church is closed once more. "So good to see you again so soon! Not under the circumstances of course."

"Gracie!" Ethen blurts out. He reassesses the scowls of the security clergy around them. "I mean, your Highness. Thank you so much! We were walking around in the park after the service. We looked up and we were in trouble."

"That must've been quite the sight! Luckily you are safe under the care of the Church. That's what we're here for, after all!"

"This is Clay."

"Pleased to meet you."

Clay hugs himself tightly. "I'm unusually quiet in the presence of very attractive women."

The older women in black robes gasp at Clay's comment, disgusted. The First Priestess giggles. "Forgive my Meropes, they are good at what they do, and I wouldn't have it any other way."

"What's the weather station saying?" Ethen asks, flicking his soaked hair out of his face.

"Oh it's getting quite bad. They're saying the tornado is going to pass right over this area, and there are some heavy wind gusts already. You can feel a draft just walking around inside the foyer itself. The whole city is on lockdown. I'm quite glad you two were not anywhere worse at this time."

Clay's fear apparently overcomes his previous statement. "Should we be in a lower level of the building? I noticed a lot of glass in the ceiling and around this room."

"There are areas in the lowest crypts that you can go that will be safer, but they are all stone and cold, especially in a storm like this. If you are comfortable up here, and don't mind the noise of the storm outside, we can stay. This is a blessed, Goddess-fearing building, and the church has weathered much worse before than what we will be facing tonight."

"Crypts?!" Clay shrieks.

The wind whistles violently overhead. They walk into the room further, and sit down on the available couches, a naturally-aspirated, wood fire pit lit before them. Clergy drape them in towels, which they use to dry off.

The High Priestess bows politely. "Now please, make yourselves comfortable. I'll be sure the cooks give you something to eat and drink from the church larder."

Sensing their interaction may end all-too-briefly for the second time that day, Ethen asks questions that he knows she will be happy to discuss. "High Priestess, can you explain this building a bit? It looks abandoned from the outside, but is so grandiloquent on the inside. What's the history of the building?"

She bites. "Ah, the outside was indeed built to look that way in the first place. It is a bit of a front, as to try and hide the true opulence of the inside. This building is called St. Edmeus' Cathedral, and is our city's main cathedral. It's oldest portions were built over 1,000 years ago as you would count them, and have been in use ever since. The crypts below go back much longer. This building is a major religious and historical landmark to those faithful in this region."

"1,000 years? The church is that old?"

Ethen smirked; Clay had been successfully summoned. His urge to question was no match for even the prettiest of priestesses.

"Yes and no. The current church building is that old, but the crypts underneath it that stretch down deeper go back much, much further. But this location, St. Edmeus' Cathedral, in one form or another has been home to worshipers of the Mother-Goddess for a thousand years or more, yes!"

Ethen joins in, blowing oxygen onto the embers. "Who is this Saint Edmund anyway?"

"St. Edmeus was a figure from before the Church of Oedipus, but he was one of the first great prophets of the Mother-Goddess. He brought new people to this area and established this Church and others like it, and the primary gathering place took his name after him. It is still a place where the most pure and devoted worshipers come. We have many relics of his, and have established him as a guardian of the Church."

"He must be buried in the tombs below?" Clay asked intently.

"Perhaps. Mainly followers of the church who have been particularly loyal or devout to the Church and to the Mother-Goddess over the years. They are entombed in the walls of the catacombs." Clay shudders. "It is also believed that the Mother-Goddess herself once walked the halls of the crypts. It is said she dwelled here long before, in the times of St. Edmeus."

Ethen, sensing an opportunity, aimed to prolong their interaction further. "No offense your Grace, but maybe we should be down on some of those lower levels, away from so much glass. The storm is getting worse, and the sirens are still going off. If the weather report is as you say, we may be hit by a tornado soon."

Gracie looked up, then over to her entourage, nodding. They scatter in every direction, two walking forward to a large, faded wooden door. "You're right. We'll go to the levels of the catacombs, and see if there is a comfortable place we can sit. Maybe the cooks and servants have made a place in the upper floors to shelter during the storm."

She stands. Her flowing white clothes are different than the ones she wore during the service earlier. She has less jewelry and make-up, but she is still catastrophically beautiful. Her tame, slightly curled hair is clipped by a pearl and rhinestone broach. A smile of white flashes from beneath a cupid's bow of blush-pink lips and majestic philtrum arches. Her silky skin is exposed from her lean neck to the top curvatures of her shoulders, catching the delicate lighting, and chuting the rays across her surfaces. An intricate band of gold and pearl delineating her gown there-down. The rest of her healthful, pristine figure is well-hidden by modesty, but it is not too tough of a deduction.

"I will show you the way, if you two are ready?" She smiles kindly.

The two men stand and follow close faithfully. The wooden door, roughly ten-feet tall, is opened by one of her Meropes leading to a second opening, mostly made of limestone. They travel inside, the clergy-women following behind.

"As we go, I'll explain the different parts of the cathedral, and why it makes this place so unique. This is the Lesser Seat; the prior hall of service and worship. It was used until the First Priestess before me. Ethen I don't think you and I were old enough to ever be in here."

"I remember my mom talking about this room."

"We are blessed to have undergone a major renovation in recent times. That is the Great Seat, the hall we were just in."

"I'm noticing that some of these rooms are quite large. Each has an altar in the center and what looks to be a bed near these altars…"

"It's called a 'baccanal' chamber. When the worshipers want to be closer to the Mother-Goddess, and when they want to devote themselves to Her, they may come and stay in these chambers and worship Her through a night or few days of passion and devotion, giving their bodies to her as an additional way of showing their devotion."

Clay picks up the motif. "What do these… sessions of devotion and passion entail? Do they involve… sons and their mothers?"

"Yes, it does. As the Church of Oedipus preaches, it is one of the purest acts of devotion that a son can partake in with his Mother, to unite their spirits and bodies into one being through the act of love, of which the Mother-Goddess is the greatest exponent. It can get very active in here."

Ethen and Clay turn as white as the walls.

"Don't worry." She reassures them. "We mark and cover these rooms off for privacy when they are used. We only use them during designated festivals and important calendar events. Nothing going on here now." She delights innocently in their naïveté.

The discomfort of the circumstance makes it easier for Ethen to open up concerning these topics. "My mother never told me about these. We never bonded in the way that the church prescribes… maybe that's why I've never heard of these places."

"Perhaps your Mother didn't feel the need to mention it. These chambers are for those that wish to pursue the deeper visions and quests of the faith. Not everybody in the Church will partake of them, and in fact is not right that everyone does. It is a case-by-case basis of appropriateness. You don't need the Unions in order to love or be loved by the Goddess. There can be just as much love and revelation without them. It is not something that is mandated, but it is seen as the most effective act of worship in the Church, yes."

They cross this hall to another wooden door, this one much smaller, and with iron hinges and a generous, circular handle. It groans open to a long, bleak staircase down, lit by a spine of exposed fluorescent bulbs. The construction is of stone, and exudes ages and ages of silent history. Their steps sound coldly, collecting a fine powder. They come to an extended corridor with two-story ceilings. Several chambers open up on both sides along its length.

"There is another staircase down at the end of this corridor." Gracie continues. "This level here is mainly burial chambers, mostly devoted to clergy and the high-ranking members of the Church. To the left, the burial chambers of the Church's servants are here. As we move further down, the crypts are mostly places where the common members of the Church were buried. To the right you will see the great treasure vaults where the most important relics of the Church are stored, such as that of St. Edmeus' first staff."

Ethen chimes in, adding commentary to the tour. "I'm a little surprised that a male could have figured in so prominently in the history of the Church of Oedipus, a matriarchal order."

"St. Edmeus is often seen more for his role as prophet and the founder of our Church, rather than being seen as just a man. He is seen as the original servant of the Mother-Goddess. He is even said to be a son of the Mother-Goddess, and that's why he was able to connect with the Mother-Goddess herself."

Ethen's ulterior orchestration turns to genuine curiosity. "I've never heard this portion of the church's history before. How did Saint Edmunds lay down the roots for this church?"

"St. Edmeus was born royalty to one of the local clans of the region, and was originally a fierce warrior. He fought in many battles, and was known for his feats of strength and his loyalty to his people. However, during a particular war of great importance to his people, one that would define their fate, he refused to fight. He had been to battle countless times before, and was tired of all the meaningless deaths for nothing more than a piece of land or a king's title. He sought the divine and found the Mother-Goddess."

The next staircase was circular, but was stone and continued downwards as the other. There was no chance of any natural light being found here. The walls were dry and the air stale. Not even the tornadic fury made a peep this deep into the ground.

Gracie's voice shot through the relative claustrophobia, slapping back as if stalking them. "St. Edmeus left the war and went off into the wilderness, tired and alone. In his time of great need, he cried out to the heavens for help. When his people and his life failed him, and when he failed his people and his life, where else was he to go?"

"Then, from a distance, he heard the voice of a woman. Though he could not see her, he followed the sound until he came upon her in a glade. There she stood, tall and beautiful, dressed in robes and surrounded by light. She looked like a Goddess, and he felt as if the Mother figure he'd always wanted was right in front of him. The Mother-Goddess told St. Edmeus that he had been chosen to lead humanity back to the right path, away from violence and warfare, and to spread the love and mercy that only a Mother can give."

"She is the Mother to all people, and so she took St. Edmeus as her son. He spent time with her there, and even drank her milk, feeling the Motherly love and affection through every act. She was nurturing him, bringing him back from his time away from the world, and in that, she taught him what true love was."

Ethen's ears perk up. "So Edmeus and the mother goddess were… lovers?"

The First Priestess looks back to Ethen with a blink of her graceful lashes. "Some interpretations say they were, yes. That St. Edmeus was the first true lover of the Mother-Goddess, and that he is a great model to all who want to be closer to Her. Whether they were biologically speaking "lovers" is up for debate, but spiritually that is what happened, yes. And it is from this spiritual love and passion that stems much of the teachings of the Church of Oedipus."

At this, their claustrophobia ends. They bend through a small cut at the terminus of a narrow corridor, and enter an arena of open space. Faint torches and lanterns stretch across their view like stars in the night sky. Massive trees with enormous trunks, impossibly alive, tower like redwoods, dressed in wooden and clay scaffolding. Numerous huts rest upon walkways that scale the trees, ropes acting as rails and delivery systems between them. Many appear occupied, and there is a small population of people moving about at various tasks of labor.

"I apologize," Gracie says, turning back to them. "We do not have electricity all the way down here, and I don't think we will. These are some of the oldest settlements in our Church's ancestry. They've been converted into living and work spaces now, not merely as a place to bury the dead. We have everything you could need in these catacombs, and the torch light is necessary for the crypts to be comfortable and livable to use."

"As for the villagers, that would be the servants and the other residents. This place is constantly busy, and in need of lots of maintenance. Not to mention the priestesses and visiting diplomats that come in here as well. Oh and the Church Mothers visit often as well of course."

They walk a path of cobblestone and the High Priestess nods to several people, who stop what they are doing and bow. There are camp-like tents at the base of the nearest tree, and she guides them there, lit by torches attained by her clergy-women.

Clay holds out his palm and looks up, perplexed. "Is it raining? Here?"

They all take a moment to gaze upwards. A shimmering haze of microdroplets curtain the heights of the cavern and glide down in gentle sheets.

"I… don't know." Gracie muttered.

One of her Meropes speaks up. "It must be flooding above ground, my Grace. I will go back and assess the staff above."

"Thank you." She speaks to Clay and Ethen. "Here, why don't you both stay each in one of the medical tents for the night? The floor is soft and there are bedrolls. They're mostly for the wounded to rest in, but I don't mind if we use a few. It will be a bit cramped, I admit, but we will ride out this storm."

She gestures to the clergy-woman who hasn't spoke. "Wanda, please see Clay to one of the taller tents on the far side?"

"Yes my Priestess." She bows and as is customary in the Church for procession etiquette, hooks Clay's arm for guidance, smiling teasingly at his resultant awkwardness.

As their footsteps fade, Gracie similarly guides Ethen to an unoccupied tent. "Here, no injured or ill are in any tents around you. You should have peace and quiet for rest. Please don't feel obligated to stay. Wanda can see you back to the top, Clay as well. But please be careful out there if you do, I have never seen it rain so hard as to mist in here. It must be awful."

Ethen entered the tent. It was large enough to stand or lie in, but not much room for anything else. Gracie stood at the entrance, holding the flap to one side. Lanterns in the vicinity flickered warm tones across the tent's walls, giving outline to their features.

"Gracie, I came to this church my whole childhood. I never knew that any of this was down here. This is amazing. And I never would've guessed this church has such a rich, cultural history."

She courtesies, blushing. "I'm glad to show you! We know the Church is most known for its more, shall we say... controversial aspects. But the Church of Oedipus is much older and deeper than most people realize. The roots of it run deeper than many modern belief systems."

"Historically, you are the odd ones out. They are very few Goddess-centered religions now."

"Yes, that is true. And a shame, if you ask me. The Mother-Goddess is love and is peace, far better a Goddess to devote oneself and one's soul to than any other that humanity has worshipped."

"I studied religions some. I noticed a technological revolution in the way we as a species believe in things like God… or a Goddess. First, it was a pantheon, and then the revelation was made that there is only one. Maybe the gender swap from male to female is such an evolution and technological step."

"I believe so too. Humanity has always seemed to want a female Goddess to turn to, for comfort, for nurturing... and the Mother-Goddess provides, and in that She became as beloved to our faith as She is today. Men and Gods may be needed in times of primal war, but women and a Goddess belong as rulers in times of advanced peace. I truly believe the world would be a better place, a more peaceful place, if humans could put aside their differences and turn to the Mother-Goddess."

Ethen becomes nervous at her continued presence at his tent. He gulps silently. "How is your family, Gracie?"

She looks to the floor, swinging the tent flap across her body as if it were a dress. "My Mother and I do not get along too well for reasons that are not my place to say. We simply have differing viewpoints. But otherwise, I have not any immediate family that I know of, and I have not any children of my own. What of yours?"

"It was just me and my mom, too, you might remember. She's been gone for three years on a mission trip for the church. She is due to be back this week… Also, the week that I turn 33 years old… tomorrow."

"Oh! What a wonderful coincidence! I am sure that her safe return will be a wonderful early birthday present. She won't know what hit her when she gets back to see you. Is a grand celebration planned to welcome her home?"

Ethen is suddenly aware of his social poverty. "No… currently, there's not. Maybe… maybe there should be."

"A Mother's safe return should always be celebrated! It would be a fantastic idea to throw a party, whether it is a small one or a large one. You two could catch up and talk of old times and new beginnings."

"Gracie… or, or, High Priestess, sorry… I don't mean to pry, but you said that you and your mother are somewhat estranged?"

"Just 'Gracie' please, especially when we are away from clergy. The titles keep me at such a distance." She hangs on these words as they take flight from her lips, the batting of her eyes propelling them on their way towards Ethen. "Yes, that is true. My Mother and I have never seen eye-to-eye on a few things, which has strained our relationship. She is very devout to the Mother-Goddess, as I am of course, but she tends to take it to extremes, while I prefer a slightly less zealous approach. We have not spoken in a while."

"it just… sounds a lot like my own relationship with my mother. Surely she is very proud of you for being the High Priestess?"

"One would think so. I think at one time she would've been... but not as of late. I do not pretend to understand it. But, if I may give my own advice, you are still her son. I truly advise you to give at least a small celebration for her return. You may find yourselves both more understanding than you would think. Three years is a holy quantum. People will change within it."

Ethen's heart opens. "You know what, I will. Like your own mother, we haven't always seen eye-to-eye. But, she's family. She's my only family. She's my mother. Thank you, Gracie. I am… I'm glad we got to see each other again so soon. Maybe not like this, and deep in a tomb, but after seeing you for the first time in many years at the sermon earlier today… I wanted to see you again."

"I am glad too, Ethen. I do not know what we'll make of the future, but I am very glad that we can at least meet again and rekindle some sort of connection. I am sure your Mother will appreciate your celebration when she returns. Maybe it is what the both of you need to mend wounds and move forward."

An awkward silence fills the next seconds. "Well." Gracie begins. "I suppose you are tired and in need of rest. What an exhausting day, it sounds like. If you need anything at all, just open your tent and approach the guards. I will tell them who you are." She bows and lets the flap fall into a door once more.

Ethen quickly picks it back up to one side, standing near her at the entrance of the tent. "Gracie…" She turns around. The mild prisms of the water above refract the warm light of the torches into a cool blue moonlight. She looks up at him expectantly. "… Gracie, do you remember earlier today when you came up to me after the church service to say hi and reconnect? Do you remember telling me in the brief moment we interacted that you had a message to give me from 'her'?"

"Yes, Ethen, I remember."

"I don't know if it was the loud busy atmosphere, but it sounded like you spoke in a language that was not English. I didn't really catch a word of anything that you said, unfortunately."

"Ah. That's because the Mother-Goddess tends to speak in the language of the soul. It is beyond human language, and only through Her love can any of us ever truly make sense of what She means. You may need to look deep within yourself to find out what Her message meant. But She did say that this moment… is the most important of your life. She says that your journey is at its turning point, but you may not be able to see it now. But that it will become apparent to you as you come to it."

Ethen is taken aback. "Thank you."

"Of course, Ethen." She reaches down and takes his hand, rising it to his heart. "Remember, don't be afraid when the turning point comes. Embrace it, and let it take you to the place you need to be."

"Wow." He looks from his heart to hers, and places his other hand over hers. "I wouldn't have thought that the First Priestess would have taken my hand like you just did. I figured you have to be very strict with your emotions and affections."

"Many members of our Church can be, yes. But I am not one of them. I show my devotion to my Church by being open with my emotions. I am a priestess yes, but I am also a woman, and no one can ever rob me of my ability to love and feel."

Ethen speaks slower, his words braising in his nervousness. "Well… how does that work with your duties and responsibilities? Seems you're so busy, you may not have time for… romance."

She looks down. "Some members of the Church think that, but I say this…" Her gaze turns to his. "I am the High Priestess. Do you think that I was chosen so to be single and barren? While I do not engage in the ways of the common people, with all the debauchery and sin that accompanies it, I do not think that means I need to become a monk. I have my duties to the Church, but I would be remiss to deny the Mother-Goddess from giving me romance, if that is what She chooses."

"I see. If she wanted you to be romantic, then she would create the opportunity, as a way to let you know… almost as if it was… fate."

Gracie places her other hand on his, their fingers a knot that ties their hearts together. "A good way of putting it, if you believe in such things, yes. And as it so happens, the Mother-Goddess Herself has told me that romance is not out of my reach. She Herself wants me to find love, so I shall not be afraid to seek it out in this world, if it is available to me."

Ethen looks down, loosing their hands to their sides, one pair still in embrace. "I would guess that whoever the goddess has for you, he would likely need to be a part of the church as well."

Gracie is somewhat displaced emotionally, but maintains her formal composure. "Yes, there is a good chance that will be the case. Whoever is chosen by the Mother-Goddess must be a devotee to Her, and a loyal servant to the Church. If such a man exists for me, I have no doubt that he will make himself known to me."

He leans in slowly with eyes searching her features, his hand reaching up to her cheek. Her eyes meet his, and her heart races as she becomes flustered at the close distance and the feeling of his touch on her face. Yet, she does not pull away. She looks at him with intrigue, as if wondering what his intentions are. Her eyes widen as she realizes his question's meaning, and she can but blush in an innocent yet alluring way. Her eyes never leave his, and her own lips part slightly as she takes a gentle step towards him.

Ethen continues to close the gap until his lips press against her's.

A soft gasp escapes her as she does not fight against his kiss, but returns it with a soft and tender embrace of her own. Her face becomes flushed with a rosy hue as she continues to intertwine with him, her eyes closing as her lips meet his and her body begins to melt against his.

They kiss passionately as the tornado passes overhead, its rain on the red Earth an ovation.

After a moment, she slowly breaks from the kiss, her breath catching in her throat as she looks back towards him. Her face is still flushed as she takes a few steps back. Her eyes twinkle up at him as her heart begins to sing in her chest.

"I suppose this means that you are who the Mother-Goddess mentioned..." she whispers to him.

"Gracie. I am not sure about the teachings of the church. I've been around my whole life, and I have resisted them. My attendance today at the sermon was the first time there in a decade. Is this wrong? Does this make me the wrong man?"

Her eyes never leave his, looking at him with a wide, innocent stare as she nods at his words. "No. I... I think I needed this. This kiss is something I have... dreamed of. The Mother-Goddess made this possible. You are the person whom She wants me to be with..." She gently runs a thumb across the back of his cheek in a tender gesture. "And I think I am the one She wants you to be with. Our paths have crossed in a way that only the Mother-Goddess Herself could have arranged... how then could it be wrong?"