Chapter 23 ∞ Incense

The Temple of the Gods wasn't exactly how I pictured it. I was expecting a pyramid of some sort, the likes of Machu Picchu, to rise from an expanse of a forest. Trees would sway and quiver in worship and reverence around it while the beige earth would strike a contrast against its aged stone walls. My mind had been ingrained with the stereotype of Indiana Jones, so the scenery came as a little surprise to me when we arrived.

The Temple of the Gods was not in the middle of nowhere. Rather, it occupied an area in the city with decent foot traffic. It had a very simple architectural design—square, brick walls with a span of travertine arches puncturing its side. The roofs were flat save for a row of balustrades fencing the very corners.

Still, the War College back in Venerya was much more intricate.

I wasn't expecting them to be rich, so the simplicity was expected. Weren't monks essentially beggars? There was a reason why they referred to others as almsgivers. They relied on the kindness of strangers to tide them through their lives. I don't reckon they were much different from those in my previous world.

Mistress Veronika shifted the wooden box containing the bow to her left hand. She refused to leave it behind in the auberge—the hotel, simply put—because she had trust issues. The item was much too valuable, both the box and what it contained. If it were me, I wouldn't leave it behind either. It was a good thing I had Mistress Veronika with me. She was much more capable of safeguarding it than I was.

Their main gate was an arch that was marked with the name of the place. We made our way through and found ourselves climbing wide and short cobblestone steps that led uphill. The landscape was terraced, each layer bearing different varieties of herb bushes—some plain, some flower-bearing. Some took on such deep green that it bordered black while some were much lighter. I recognized some of the bushes at first glance, having been trained by Mistress Kora. After he kept dragging me to the garden with him to help out, unless I was truly disinterested and an idiot, I wouldn't be familiar with these things.

I still wasn't used to calling him mistress. He was a man, after all!

Well, he was working in a brothel.

I was living in a brothel, raised by courtesans.

When we reached the front of the temple, a monk came forward to greet us. As expected, he'd shaved his head and was wearing a plain set of dark, orange robes that bordered brown and red. I suppose some things still lived up to the stereotypes.

"Wonderful morning, almsgivers," the monk greeted, a gentle and polite smile gracing his lips. "Are you here to pray?"

"We would like to light some incense," my mistress said.

"If that is so, please proceed this way." He pointed us to, not inside the temple, but to the side. He guided her eyes to a turn on the right. "Please follow the pavement and make a right turn to get to the shrine. Make sure to avoid going too far. That is the direction of the monastery as well. You might get lost."

"Thank you." My mistress gave him a smile. She then took my hand and led me to the directions he gave. I looked up at him from under my hood and caught him looking at me, eyes slowly gravitating to the wooden box that my mistress carried. His gaze didn't linger too long. He lightly tipped himself forward for a bow before going on his way.

Looks like people here knew how to mind their own business.

"I remember coming here when I was still in Lovarda. This is the first time in a while."

"Why is that, mistress?"

"The monks are very particular about where to build the shrines and temples," she told me. "The place first has to meet the requirements. Otherwise, it'd just be an empty place of worship." She looked around and took a deep breath. "Come, feel it."

Indeed. I picked up a rise in the concentration of domain energies around us. It seemed this place sat in a location where the blood of nature flowed richly.

"It's a spirit vein," she told me. "They're spots where the domains pool directly before being dispersed. This is the most suitable place to train your abilities as a Conduit and is also the place best to do meditation to tune in to your inner self. Being a Conduit requires a certain level of enlightenment, Evyionne. For you to be able to unravel the secrets of your abilities, you must learn to harmonize with nature itself."

"So you went here to train before?"

"Mm," she said. "Yes, I did. I wanted to do this in the War College, but the temples are more open and accessible to the public."

"I thought you said this place was boring."

"Isn't that how it usually is when it's peaceful?" she pointed out. "But I suppose it was the right decision to come here. There is not even one temple in Kilahad even though it's the capital city of Venerya. The strongest spiritual facet, even so, is not on our continent but Vertvalden."

"Really?" I wondered out loud.

The right turn led to a staircase that seemed to flow down the wall and fly into a green expanse. I could not believe my eyes how wide the embrace of this place was. Statues of the seven dragons coiled around the place. There was an eighth, and it was of a serpent with bared fangs and a hanging tongue. Their bodies were angled in the most graceful of lines—so lifelike, in fact, that it felt as though they would come roaring at any given moment.

"This is the shrine," my mistress told me. "As is customary, we will get nine incenses to pay respects to all of them. The ninth, if you are a Conduit, you will give to your Deliverer. For others, they will get eleven or ten depending on how many patrons they have for their three Dimensions. Do you recall what they are?"

"Mind, body, and soul," I replied.

"Good. This is your first time paying respects to the eight entities. Follow me closely, Evyionne, and watch what I do carefully. We can't have you running into any trouble, alright?"

"What will happen if I make a mistake?"

"The eight entities can be very sensitive souls," she told me. "It is best if we do not anger them and be at our best behavior, alright? Since you are still a child and this is your first time paying your respects, they will be tolerant, but they will not be lenient towards me."

I frowned. "Why do they sound like jerks?"

She shook her head and put a hand on my mine. "Oh, Evy…Think of it this way. We are the ones asking favors. You cannot be rude to the people you're asking a favor from, right? They are our guardians, dear. They're your benefactors. You ought to be respectful."

"Okay, I get it." I nodded. "I'm sorry if I said they sound like jerks. It makes a lot more sense to me now that you explained it."

"It's not your fault. There are a lot of things you still need to learn about." She patted my head and smiled. "Now, come."

We descended the phobia-triggering heights. The staircase was quite steep but was firm enough not to spur me into nausea. Besides, I had my mistress with me, so I was not as nervous.

When we finally reached the last of the steps, Mistress Veronika turned to a wooden cabinet on the side of the garden where a bunch of incenses was stuffed. There was a donation box on the right that wasn't necessarily charging for the incenses but was definitely giving that idea.

"The incenses are a way for the monks keep this place running. Remember to leave a few coins for them, at least." My mistress took several gold bullions—the most valuable end of the currency—and dropped five inside. My eyes nearly popped. Those coins equated to a thousand bullions each and were enough to buy me around twenty or fifty bottles of essences for my perfume-mixing.

I stifled a whistle and settled with the rounding of my lips. How generous. It looked like these monks would have a field day when they see what's inside.

Yup. I now knew. My Mistress Veronika was not stingy at all. Wasn't this a little too excessive though?

She took two bundles of incenses and handed the other one to me. "There should be fifteen in there," she told me. She then lowered herself to meet my eyes, leaning forward to whisper in my ears, "For now, do not light an incense solely for your Deliverer."

"Why?"

"Evyionne…to have Kaliya as your Deliverer is not only unusual or rare—it is simply not thought to be possible. There are many people here in the shrine. Please just light eight incenses for each of the entities and offer an apology to Kaliya for now. There are simply too many eyes."

"But what's the point of paying respects if I won't do it properly?" I asked. "You just said—"

"Your Deliverer will understand. They know of your situation and should be aware of it when they chose you."

I stifled the sour look on my face and nodded. Hell, they should know. Or rather, he should know. He couldn't punish me for doing this. If he tried, I'd be punishing him instead. He wouldn't show his face around if he didn't need me. Like he said, only the two of us really knew what happened in the afterlife.

"Watch over this," she said, placing the wooden box down before me.

I stayed on the side first and watched my mistress proceed with the ritual. She lit one incense from the bunch, clipping the rest between her arm and side. She then put both hands flat against one another with the incense in between and bowed deeply. She stayed in that position for a good few seconds before rising and stiffly stepping forward to bury the incense on the pot before the Dragon of the First Night and Full Moon, Azurine. This dragon had a gentle aura about her. She had a very nurturing demeanor. Anyone who would gaze upon her idol would instantly feel tranquility. I bathed in her presence for a while and picked up on the thick energy unique to her domain.

My mistress was right. This wasn't an empty place of worship. They truly gathered the domains and each seemed to naturally pool on the corresponding entities they belonged to.

The next one was Galatea, Dragon of the Second Night and Fourth Night, ruler of the sky and sea, a dragon of the Waning Gibbous and the Waning Crescent—of wind and water. She was also the twin dragon of the Dragon of the Fifth Night, ruler of the void and space, and Dragon of the Waxing Crescent, Bulan. It was said in the myths that she devoured her twin brother's abilities and left him with literally nothing that all he was left was control over space and nothingness.

The ruler of the Third Night was my Mistress' patron, Balasea, Overseer of Light and Fire and Dragon of the Third Quarter. She lingered longer on this dragon and paid special heed to his presence before moving on to the Dragon of the Sixth Night and the Waxing Crescent, Raki. His name sounds tacky, kind of, but it sort of suited the bulky physique and sturdy, stiffer body he had compared to the others. It made sense considering he ruled over the domain of earth and metal. He was the image of stability—of pure power and strength.

The last one was, of course, Kaliya, my patron and deliverer, Dragon of the Seventh and Moonless Night—ruler of the domain of death and chaos. I noticed there were nearly no prayers offered to him save for the courtesy sticks offered to the rest of the dragons and the serpent. It was a little saddening.

I looked at serpent last as my mistress proceeded to give him her respects. Compared to the seven dragons who ruled over domains related to nature and elements of the world, the scope of the power of the serpent was a little vague. He seemed to have a certain control over light and fire, but his power manifested better on the Dimensions of the mind and body compared to the soul. Those who have him for a patron have better than average physique—sometimes even mental fortitude that exceeded normal by folds. This made his blessing and guardianship also quite tricky to attain. Only those born of the heritage of the so-called "serpent's blood" had the privilege of chances. The physical prowess could only be handled by his people. There were reports of infants dying at birth due to inability to bear his guardianship.

"Evyionne," my mistress began. "It's your turn now. I trust you watched me carefully?"

"Yes, mistress," I said. I left the wooden box containing the bow inside by her side and proceeded to perform the ritual.

I made sure to stick with the methods I saw my mistress do upon paying respects to the eight entities. I stuck each incense before each statue and said prayers to each of them, asking them for blessings. I came upon the last dragon, Kaliya, and bowed, muttering an insincere apology under my breath.

Unwittingly, I immersed myself in the energy that the statue was exuding and closed my eyes. My connection with the energy spurred me into a trip down the memory lane, images exploding behind my lids and sounds echoing by my ear. They were sights and sounds of my life before. I was conscious enough to know that.

I went back to the time of my childhood when I sat at the rim of the rice field, holding a thin stick I had broken off from a tree with a string tied at the end in lieu of a fishing pole. The branch was strong enough not to break if I pull, and the string was tied in a tight knot beside a ridge on the length where it wouldn't easily slide off. I had my grandfather do it for me because I was a little too young to know how to tie knots properly. In fact, I was still at that age where I didn't know how to tie the laces of my shoes—which was no big deal considering we nearly didn't wear those things unless we were traveling to places far from home.

My older cousins and I would set off before sunset because we believed that was when they came out most, croaking and hopping between the rice stalks, splashing on the shallow waters where the crops thrived best. My feet would dangle from the dirt walkways. The fields, after all, had been dug a level deeper to trap the water funneled for the crops. Sometimes, I would carefully wade between the stalks, squatting and stubbornly looking for my prey when the poles didn't work—they never worked for me.

I had never been able to catch one before. I was far too impatient and hotheaded. My cousins, however, often brought them home by twos or threes. Sometimes they would trap them in plastic jars of reused biscuit packaging or just carry them by their long legs and have the adults roast them by the fire.

They weren't bad. They tasted like chicken. I understood that most people from non-Asian countries would have trouble comprehending that we ate frogs for dinner, but it never really bothered me.

When my father left us, my mother and I moved to the big city to leave the provincial life behind. There was nothing left for us there anymore. I didn't really miss the frogs, but I missed the freedom I had playing outside in the fields, reminiscing my wild life of climbing guava and mango trees—picking off spiders from the branches or the corners of the house. We trapped them in matchboxes to keep as pets, bringing out barbecue sticks where two, poor spiders would fight a battle to the death to serve our sadistic, childish pleasure.

City life was much different. The houses were packed so closely that there were hardly any trees to climb. I had to settle with being caged inside the house, watching TV and playing board games. I didn't take to it immediately, but outdoor playtime with the neighbors' children helped me adjust.

At times, I would come with my mother to a shop she opened in a market district. She sold customized scents to customers or other readymade formulas. Her profession was quite unheard of, not too popular and practical in the day and age. However, she earned regulars with the more traditional and affordable materials for aromatherapy such as incense sticks and incense pots. There were mostly Chinese who came to the shop. I even learned a bit of the language from them due to the frequency of their visits.

It must be why I'm remembering all this. The concept of lighting incenses wasn't foreign to me. I have done it before in my past life.

The shop was small and was only known to people who frequented the district, but it was enough to sustain us until I went to college. When I was met with the opportunity, I decided to leave behind the neighborhood for a constituent of a well-known public university in another city six hours away, partly because of the falling out I had with my mother for several misunderstandings.

We used to be so close. I still loved her dearly, but I needed to distance myself to regain my dignity and recover from the humiliation. It was a very religious neighborhood, and I was a black sheep with nonconforming ideals. They didn't like me asking too many questions, so I went ahead and left.

My mother insisted on sending me money. Sometimes, she would ask me to come back. Still, I refused her help and slaved through several part-time jobs to pay off my rent. Free food events—everything free, in fact—became my lifeline. I got by the leftovers I took home from the shops I worked in, and I scraped together enough funds to buy supplies for school. It was my luck that I got into college with a scholarship, but that made it thrice or five times harder than it already was.

I was the daughter of a single mother. I was independent, and I knew well not to depend too much on anyone—even those close to you, for they weren't an exception to issues of betrayal. I felt guilty about leaving my mom behind and putting her through the torture and guilt. Nevertheless, a part of me took pleasure in it. I was much too stubborn to come home and reconcile—not until I was convinced I had proven myself.

I realized towards the end I was hurting myself just as much as I was hurting my mother. A part of me wished I put up with it and stayed with her, but my notions of righteousness rose above everything else. Then again, the situation wasn't that simple to endure on my part. I needed physical distance—to immerse myself in a new place where I wouldn't be judged for my personal views.

"Evy?"

I woke up when I felt a hand on my shoulder. Opening my eyes, I realized my mistress had come forward to remind me to move on to the last statue, which was the serpent. I bowed my head in apology, shaking off the lingering images and stepping before the serpent.

I stuck the incense on the pot before the serpent and went back to my mistress.

We were just leaving when a monk came forward with a smile on his face, eyes trained on my mistress.

"Veronika, is it you?" he affectionately addressed.

"Master Len," she said, bowing. "How are you?"

"It's Abbot now, I'm afraid." His smile climbed to his ears and his eyes nearly disappeared into thin lines.

Veronika smiled and came forward to give him an embrace. Her movements were graceful and soft. Her arms lightly encircled around him with the tenderness of a daughter. Judging from the look on her face, this must be quite a familiar man. "It is good to see you in good health, Abbot. What happened to Abbot Olu?"

"You've been gone many years. Why did you not announce yourself?" he asked. "Abbot Olu is now with Kaliya in the cycle of reincarnation. I pray he has found his way to his next life with no trouble." He then muttered a short prayer under his breath.

"I wasn't planning on staying very long," she told him. "But I promised my niece I would take her here before we leave."

"Ah, you must stay for tea, at least, and introduce to me this young lady. I have been worried about you for the past few years. Why not a letter at least? They now have those communicators. Please send me a message once in a while…" he said. "We may not have a lot of money, but we have afforded ourselves a communicator at least. It is necessary now, I'm afraid. We got to keep up somehow."

"What do you say, Evy?" my mistress inquired, giving me a smile. "Should we stay for tea?"

I nodded. I didn't think I have found out why I was asked to come here, after all. We were in no rush as it was still quite early.