Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It happened again last night. 

The rain, touches of thunder, moonlight creeping wetly across the flat stone halls, crooked above her head, spearing inwards to meet in a shadowy canopy. Ancient greetings, the shadows waving down at her. 

Come to me the voice had said, and voicing her concerns to the midnight drear, unheard once again, she came out of bed and followed. Past rows of cots like a hospital ward, bare feet padded across the room. Twelve beds lined up on either side, each hosting one of her many and ever-changing sisters, their habits folded, brushed of lint and starched, at the foot of the bed. None of them moved, not in their sleep, dreams or nightmares, as the storm raged, threatening to carry away the thousand-tonne hall and the rest of the temple with it. 

But the voice said Come to me so she listened to it instead of the harpy screech of the gales, doused her ankles in moonlight, rippling through the night, silent as death’s whisper. Her legs curtained to the floor with linen the colour of the moon, devoid of lace or ribbons. A habit to sleep in, sleeves cinched at the wrist, collar high on the neck. Try as she might, she could not truly breathe save for the moments in between fittings.

Come to me.

The words meant more than this. There was a week left. One more week of this, and then all of this would go away. No more storms, no more voices in the night, no more deadly wakings with her legs clamped together, with skirts wrapped around her legs like a hurricane whipped them close. No more restless mornings and the shame of rosy cheeks. 

In a week she would be saved. It had to happen this year. 

In a week she would be claimed, and finally, finally free of this place. 

It was the last chance she would get.

Her hand touched the door handle. Locked. A chill ran through her. Her long hair was permanently pinned up close to her head, offering no respite for her poor neck. Another untouched flagellation, scolds of wind in winter, sweat that boiled through the thick linen, down her back like whips in summer heat. One more week of this.

Her hand moved of its own accord to the heavy key slotted into the key hole. Mother must have forgotten to remove it tonight. The thick beaded cord hung down from it. It tickled the wooden door as she turned it, the mechanisms within clacking like clockwork. Nothing stirred though the sound echoed thrice around the chamber. 

She’d gotten this far before. Down the hall and free to wander the temple, the gardens, even down to the gate, but it was always padlocked after sunset. Accident after accident after coincidence, but the porter was more vigilant than Mother or her Aunts, never letting the gate out of his sight if it was unlocked, and never, ever going to sleep without locking the gate. His cabin lay on the outside of the Wall. She’d always felt as if this little man were locking them in rather than keeping unwanted guests out. What if something happened to him in the night, or the old man succumbed to death in his sleep? Who could let them out then?

Mother said that wouldn’t happen. But she said a lot of things. Every year, she promised she’d been good enough, worthy enough. She said she would leave this place, her and her sisters. But every year, she was the only one left behind. 

Not chosen. Not good enough. 

It had something to do with the storms, she was sure of it.

The living ghost of her body shuffled down the steps and to the ground floor, where hearths had long-since cooled, and more locked doors lined the temple entryway.

She knew these doors better than she knew her own body, she felt. Better than her own name. On her right were the visitor’s rooms. Travellers, pilgrims, visiting philosophers and lecturers. All the men who stepped foot inside the Wall stayed here, and every one’s door locked again. 

The rooms were empty now, but she almost wished they weren’t. Every time this happened, she felt so awfully alone. It was a terrible thing to be like this. The worst feeling. She knew because she had been happy before. 

A long time ago. 

Alas the front door was still locked. Mother’s memory had served her tonight, but these occasions were becoming more frequent. It was not her place to remind Mother of her faults. As far as anyone was concerned, she had none. Her, and her patroness, were only to be looked up to. 

At this point, meeting a dead end, she was used to being turned around, walked back to by forces she couldn’t see, and tucked back into bed. Other times she would be followed or discovered, and scolded in the morning.

Her hand did not part from the handle, however. Her fingers stiffened around it as the whisper swept in from under the door, Come to me.

Urgency beat in her blood with every heartbeat, and she felt her skin heating. The chill of the metal handle turned to scalding heat, burning her hand. Tears pricked at her eyes and she turned yet again to pleading in her head. I’m trying. I’m looking for you. Set me free.

It had been years. Ten years of this. Why was she being punished now? She wanted to go back to bed, escape the wolf-howls of the storm. She heard the chain and padlock shiver on the gate, like a metal rattlesnake. 

She squeezed the tears from her eyes. They carved red-hot on her frosty cheeks and she flinched when her hand was released, falling backwards. A shock of wind blasted under the door and caught the hem of her dress, sweeping it back across her knees. Scrambling to protect her decency from the piercing eyes of the portraits of previous Mothers, she tripped over herself, then retreated to her room.

But she hesitated with the key half-turned in the lock.

Released of the manhandling forces, she found herself, for the first time, free and awake. And just as she heard the final clap of thunder, she took a deep breath. 

Help me.

A new voice spoke through her lips.

She shook her head, clapping a hand over her mouth, and locked the door behind her. Her feet met the warm sheets with solace, out of the cold, out of the night, the storm waning at last. Just one more week. Nobody had heard her. It couldn’t get worse now. Not now. 

Help me.

Just one more week. 

*****

Golden dawn replaced the silver rays that shot across the chamber like arrows, disturbing her awake. As her eyes focused, she realised she was the last of the sisters to wake up. Most were already donning their habits in pairs, wrapping various cloths around themselves with the help of their neighbour. Virtue in constriction, she cited the words on one of the temple pillars. Her own habit had fallen off the bed, sheets disturbed again, rolled into a clump between her thighs. 

Her cheeks flushed and she checked nobody was looking as she freed herself and made her bed as she waited for Mother to finish dressing herself. 

She had always admired Mother. There was nothing else to do about Mother. All the sisters were to model themselves on her virtue, her pride, strength of character and mind, heart and body. Before they left, they were deemed more than her copies, but her emulations. She was what any woman aspired to be before she could become a priestess. 

Her habit was much the same as theirs: A long, red gown, cinched at the wrists and neck with a black ribbon. Loose around the waist, for ease of movement, and cut just above the ankle. The only choice they had in their attire were the shoes. In winter, many opted for boots, and leather sandals in summer. Looks didn’t matter, really, as it was improper for anyone to look at a priestess for too long. 

Mother inspected her chest, and peeked under her habit before buttoning it. Her eyes darted to the door, and then, instinctively to the bed furthest from her. Suspicion changed her form, and she hurried all the sisters along before coming over.

“Eva,” she said with forced kindness. “How did you sleep?”

Eva pressed her lips tight. She couldn’t lie to Mother. Not so close to salvation.

“There was a storm again,” she confessed, dropping her head. Mother sighed, not with disappointment, but with hope. She sat on the other end of the bed and motioned for Eva to stand and turn around. Mother’s trained fingers undid the small button at the base of her hairline in seconds, dry fingers scraping the skin beneath. Eva shivered as the linen came away from her body. 

“Just one more week, my dear.”

“I know,” she replied. Neither said anything as Eva sat again, fetching her habit and unwrapping it before undoing the buttons at her wrists. Mother didn’t leave like she usually did. It was always the undoing that troubled her. But after ten years, the complex wrappings had become second nature. 

“You know,” Mother said, as Eva fastened the red gown at the back, “you aren’t the longest occupant of this school.”

“I’ve heard.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Thank you,” said Eva, hoping she would get the hint and stop. Tears already pricked at her eyes remembering last night, at the heat that still lingered on her cheeks and neck. She hoped Mother’s touch hadn’t sensed it. She always seemed to know everything, no matter how well you thought you were hiding it. 

“I know I say this every year, but I do believe someone is ready for you. I can feel it. We can.” At this she clutched the band wrapped around her hand, the key probing the palm. Her patroness spoke through her more often than most others did. This is what made her a Mother. 

The stained glass figure above her bed watched Eva when Mother was occupied, that roundish maternal shape of Ama, patroness of the temple. With a long brain wrapped around her head, Mother was a human copy of her. Whereas the sisters were taught to become all that their patron desired, Mother chose a different form of worship: imitation. 

“But what if…” Eva was silenced with a swift hand over her lips. 

“I can feel it, dear.” Mother gave one of her finishing smiles, and rose to embrace her warmly. She stroked the hair pinned up on Eva’s head and planted a kiss on her forehead. “Go join your sisters. This is an important week for everyone, not just the school, you know.”

You know, you know, you know. This was how it always was with Mother. 

“I know.”

“I’ll see you at dinner tonight.”

*****

The temple was to be cleaned, top to bottom. The garden tended to, windows washed, silver polished, and the heat of labour coloured the sisters’ cheeks from dawn until dusk. The fasting, of course, never stopped even with this labour. 

Half of the sisters were sent to the town, to visit those who needed a blessed presence. It was custom to offer the sisters food for their pains, and it was custom for the sisters to turn it down. The whole island was a temptation in this week, and it was trusted that all sisters would resist.

Eva tied the laces on her boots while sat on the stairs beyond the front door, trying not to think of what had passed mere hours ago behind it, or the hesitation on returning to the bedchamber. She was the epitome of virtue, the older sister who had been here so long she was second only to Mother in her virtue. That, or, an impostor.

She wasn’t stupid, nor had the years of daily routines blinded her to the occasional out-of-place glances, passing dirty looks, or surprised glares when she showed her face year after year in the same habit. The rules were as simple as they could be: only the virtuous would be chosen, and they must remain virtuous in order to be claimed. 

Eva had been chosen, of course, in the same manner as her sisters. They entered the school at their own will. Some in youth, feeling a calling. Others finding no use for themselves other than worship. 
Eva was of both sorts. Having lost her parents young, and gaining her markings not soon after, it only made sense that she would be given to Mother’s care. There was always something to be done in the temple, even for a lost child. She became a sister after five years in the school, at 18. She was 19 when she first stood in the heart of the temple and waited to be claimed alongside her sisters. She was almost 24 now, and had known nothing more than disappointment every day since the first.

Sometimes she would get up early and steal looks at her sisters, comparing the markings on their bodies. Red seams along their backs and ribs, promises of a future under the eye of a celestial being.

There were no mirrors in the temple but she wished for one almost daily, just to be able to check that hers was still there.

She thumbed at the hem of her skirt, straightening out a wrinkle before getting up. 

*****

The fisherman’s widow looked tired. 

“Still here, then?” she said, managing to grin through her grimace. Despite her marriage, she had confided in Eva long ago that she detested the smell of fish. But someone had to haul in the catch every morning. The island had to be fed. 

“Still here,” Eva echoed, laying down the basket of herbs she’d been told to deliver to her. Her name was Bella, and on this entire island, she was the only soul that didn’t test or doubt her. 

“Jamie’s inside, having a nap.”

Bella’s son had been born the same year Eva became a sister. She’d been saddened by the idea that she might not be here to see him grow up. Sisters who were claimed never stayed on the island for long. Other than Mothers, they followed their patrons and patronesses’ whims like wind in their sails. Now, seeing Jamie in his fifth year, and getting bigger with every visit, Eva almost found consolation in her neglect. 

The few hours she had here every year were precious to her. 

“You know,” said Bella, untangling a fishing net, “there’s no shame in leaving the school. Some things just weren’t meant to be.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. There is all the shame.”

“Nobody would blame you.”

“I would! Ten years of my life, I’ve been in the temple, and a student for five of those. That’s longer than anyone but Mother, and to leave because of—of—boredom?”

“I didn’t say boredom.”

“Well, I have the markings. I have a purpose, and if it takes me ten more years, I will discover it. I haven’t given in to any temptations and I won’t start now.”

“I never liked the school,” Bella said, wrinkling her nose. “I don’t think I would have gone, even if I had the markings on me.”

“You’ve told me, many times.”

“Isn’t it just odd? Making us women stay virtuous, locked up at night like precious jewels? Who cares if you’re a virgin or not, the world still spins after you get a bit of—“

“Bella, please,” Eva shivered at her words, which made her laugh. 

“I won’t bore you with my politics.” She threw her hands up in defeat. “I think it’s admirable you’re passionate about something after this long.”

“It’s more than passion. This has been my life for ten years. I want it to mean something. I want it to… pay off, I suppose.”

“You want to feel justified?”

Eva nodded. “If this all comes to nothing. Then, I guess I have nothing.”

“You’ve always got me, Eva dear. And a smelly old cabin if you ever need a place to sleep.”

At that, Jamie emerged from the cabin, yawning at the bright sun glimmering over the ocean. He recognised Eva, and all but jumped into her arms. The conversation ended there, but it didn’t stop Bella from trying to steer it back in that direction at any given opportunity. 

“Tide’s coming up again,” she said. “Take Jaime in, will you? I need to tie the boat up.”

She brought the boy inside and showed him one of his books, listening passively to the swell of the waves, clawing their steady way back up the shore. Sometimes they crashed in a certain way against the cliffs to the west, and Eva remembered the caves her father used to tell her about. Nobody had gone down to them in decades, though. It wasn’t safe. Once the tide came up, they were sealed for hours. 

“You coming back down tomorrow, then?” Bella asked when she returned. “We both miss you these days.”

“If I’m sent out to the town, I’ll stop by. We never know what jobs Mother has for us until she tells us.”

“Alright then,” she sighed. “Don’t linger on the path, then. Storm’s coming back tonight, I fear.”

Eva turned cold. “You think so?”

“Sky was red like a robin’s breast this morning. I’m sure of it.”

Come to me.

“Eva? Did you say something?”

She could barely hear her above the ringing in her ears. Her teeth clattered with the force of snapping her mouth shut. The sound of waves crashing amplified ten times with that voice. She looked to the sky, ensuring that it was still daytime, and clear. The clouds were only gathering in the west now, above her only blue. “I should go,” she managed to utter, but her voice was isolated in her ears. Whatever Bella replied with was lost as she turned from the house and stumbled up the path, forgetting her basket.

*****

By the time she reached the top of the path the ringing had ceased, and Eva started wondering if it was only a trick of the waves that had put those whispered words into her ears at the wrong time. 

Just one more week. It would all be worth it. 

She turned west instead of north, to the temple. On rare occasions like these ones, she liked to walk along the beach. A narrow elevated path rounded the shore from which kids sometimes sat to fish.

Today it was empty, the gathering clouds an odd omen for all. Two storms back to back weren’t unheard of, but this one was coloured oddly. It changed the colour of the horizon into an odd hue Eva couldn’t place. 

She let her mind and feet wander. Soon there would be more chores, and the virtuous hunger in her belly would make itself known. Thankfully, she also hated fish. It made Bella’s house safe, though.

Free of temptation. She could never be hungry in there.

The path ended and she waded through some tall grass to reach the next piece, that rounded upward again towards the back of the temple. From here she could see the roses that peeked over the Wall on their trellises. She hurried along, the wind gaining strength, and whipping the wet grasses against her skirts. Every step was harder than the last, her boots dug into the chalky soil underneath until the hem was dark with mud. 

And then…

Help me.

I can see you.

She whipped around. The voice sounded over her shoulder now, but there was nothing around. Nothing but the waves, the grass, and the caves further West. 

The waves.

She hardly needed to look down now. They’d somehow caught up, creeping ever faster towards her ankles. With renewed efforts, she dug herself out of the grass just as the first splashes caught her habit. When that taste wasn’t enough, entire waves gave chase to her, slapping the side of the hill in her wake. 

What a storm indeed. All disbelief removed, she made straight for the temple again, not daring to linger in the open any longer. 

Chapter Text

Mother was the best of them. Most of the sisters were averse to calling on her, and hardly ever called her ‘Mother.’ Eva took it to mean they still hadn’t let go of their own mothers, from their past life. It was easier than breathing for her. It felt natural. She came to Mother’s care at 15, and memories of her own mother, fond as they were, reigned over the past just as Mother reigned over the present. The future, too, was in her capable hands.

So when she met Eva on the temple steps with a leaden expression, it felt like the whole island was about to crumble into the sea. What happened to the hopeful glimmer in her eye, that roused Eva’s heart just a few hours ago? Mother looked her up and down, glare lingering on her muddied hem and fatigued rise and fall of her chest. 

“What have you been doing?” she snapped, her voice like a crack of thunder, or a log snapping in the hearth.

Eva halted on the first step. 

“I was visiting the fisherman’s widow,” said Eva, meekly. “Helping with her chores.” She knew Mother didn’t believe her, but there was no time to insist on the truth when a dash of icy rain sprayed the sides of their faces. 

Mother’s black eyes followed her ascent, an air of disbelief cooling as the storm clouds descended even lower, engulfing the spires that crowned the domed roof of the temple. She shut the door behind them both and locked it, making sure Eva heard the harsh click of the lock. 

“Go change, then help your sisters with dinner.”

The dormitory was empty when she entered it, and darker than the time of day demanded. Eva struggled with the button on her collar, fussing for several minutes as she considered finding Mother to help her, or any of her sisters. But they would be busy, and despite the call of duty, she still needed a few minutes on her own. At last the button slipped out between her sore fingertips. She sat down on the bed and shed the heavy gown, ribbons and all, in a red and black puddle on the floor. 

She shivered in her simple underclothes: a wide white band across her chest and matching linen drawers that reached over her hips and down to her knees. The effort of rushing up the hill had caused her to break out in sweat, and so she removed that layer, too. She hustled around and dropped all the dirty clothes in the laundry basket at the end of her bed. That would be her first chore in the morning, but for now she took a minute to just breathe. 

Slouched over the side of the bed, she put her hands on her knees and closed her eyes, inhaling the stale air she knew too well in these halls. It had been a constant companion for ten years. She hardly noticed it anymore, except the days when she was allowed out. Even the garden was stifling, as if the perfume was meant to disguise the staleness, instead becoming suffocating. 
It was only in the minutes out on the beach when she felt she could really breathe freely. 

She stroked the soft hairs lining the top of her thighs.

Come to me.

She slapped a hand over her mouth as a crack of thunder shattered her silence. Immediately she jumped to her drawer and picked out new undergarments and a clean spare habit. She sat on her knees by the bed, unfolding the clothes.

You kept me waiting.

She shook her head, limbs suddenly tense, elbows locked to her sides. 

The door remained shut, nobody had a reason to come in here until after dinner. But her absence would surely be noted. She was already the source of so much talk—she couldn’t afford to make them wait any longer.

But her hands disobeyed her. And this time, there was nothing in their way. No thick layers of linen to dull the friction. Her right hand released the ribbon. It fell to the ground like a dead snake as she stroked her thigh from knee to groin with the cool tips of her fingers. As if a string was tied around her wrist, she could only tug at it to make it obey. The invisible force let go at once. She understood: it was giving her a choice.

She was being tempted. She flexed her fingers, ensuring the power was all her own again, and turned her attention to her left hand, which now held the pins that had secured her hair in place. A shiver ran through her body as the full length of her locks were set free, golden brown threads that reached down her back, releasing relief from her scalp and neck. A weight lifted. 

Heat rose to Eva’s cheeks as she shifted her knees further apart, and this time, she did it all of her own volition. 

I saw you.

Another check of the door. No sounds. No footsteps. Only the storm. 

“Show yourself,” she said out loud, less assertive than she sounded in her own head.

I saw you.

“Who are you? Why do you torture me?”

You will not take what I have to offer?

“I’m resisting,” she said defensively. “My virtue is intact.”

What is virtue? said a hissing breath behind her right ear. She spun around. Nothing, but she could smell the sea-salt air as if the shore were right there. Without reward?

Ten years. Five as Mother’s daughter. Five as her pupil. Never any reward, nor recognition. She knew this was a trap. She knew she was being tested, but gods protect her, it had been ten years. 

I saw you try the locked doors. You long for touch. You hunger for it.

“N-no. I never did that.” 

You cannot lie to me. I am in your head.

It had only happened once. She squeezed her eyes shut. The night was calm, unlike this day. The owls held a choir outside the window above her bed, keeping her awake. There had been no voice that time, but she was still not at peace. 

She’d got up. She’d tried the dormitory door. It was unlocked. She’d walked down the hallway, face averted from the portraits of past Mothers. Even then, she knew her shame. She walked barefoot to the first guest door. A man had spoken at the temple that evening, something about wealth, or health. She could not hear him above the thrumming of her heart. He had a soft face, that caught the candlelight like a halo-ed angel. Long, golden hair curled around his smooth jaw. He looked almost like a girl, but nothing like her sisters.

She’d raised her hand to the door. 

The memory assaulted her head.

You went looking for him.

She did. But the door was locked. The latch clicked when she tried it, rousing her from her stupor. The Mothers all watched her run back to bed and hide under the covers, pressing the pillow to her ears until the owls sang her to sleep.

He was gone early the next morning.

I can give you what you wanted from him.

Ten years. Ten diligent, docile years. Hot tears welled in her eyes. She let them fall between her knees, resting her forehead on the edge of the mattress. 

Come to me.

You won’t find it in a man, or in a temple. It’s hidden in your blood. I can get it out.

Her breaths quickened, becoming shallow and short, her head light, the stream of sunset seeming blinding now her fingertips threaded through the dark pubic hair between her thighs. It all passed in a vignette, and the next thing she knew was a warmth, a smooth wetness, a dark prohibited pleasure she could hold in her hand. Something so small and yet so dangerous. 

She made a decision, and proceeded further down.

Then she heard voices at the door. 

Ducking down, she flattened herself on the cold floor, sliding under the bed and trying her hardest to shrink down into nothing. She tried holding her breath, but her lungs heaved with anxiety and the new risk of being seen, of being caught. Her other hand flew to her mouth when she heard two of her sisters come in, the one still between her legs frozen still. 

“I told you she wouldn’t be here,” said one of them. “She’ll be in the laundry by now.”

“Is anyone ever where they’re supposed to be?” the other sighed. Eva heard the sound of springs creak as she sat on the bed.

“One more week of this, and we’ll be out,” she was assured. Her tone changed. “Any idea who you’ll get?”

“Anyone but Ama, I beg,” the second one groaned. Eva recognised her voice as belonging to Hanie, a slight, but vocal sister, who always seemed to have something to say, and made Eva wonder at the liberty with which the gods chose their future priestesses. Then again, perhaps the markings that were visible on Hanie’s neck like a garland were what made her this way, not the other way around. “I couldn’t bear to be in this place any longer than I already have.”

“Poor Eva,” said the other, who must be Gora, Hanie’s second-in-command when Mother’s back was turned. “But I suppose she grew up in here.”

“Something tells me she’s not too eager to get out of here, either,” Hanie giggled. “I’m just saying—nobody’s ever stayed at the school for more than two years. Five? And another five before that, as a child. Maybe she’s not the dutiful sister she makes herself out to be.”

An ache grew in Eva’s wrist from holding it still in such an uncomfortable manner, but she didn’t dare move it, sure that any spark of friction would burn as loud as a firework, and then her sisters’ suspicions would seem to be confirmed. But then again, wasn’t there a kernel of truth in Hanie’s jests?

“I heard she was making eyes at that fisherman on the pier before he died,” said Gora, adding fuel to Hanie’s flame as always. “Must be torment to his widow that she was sent down to her today.”

Hanie snickered. “You have it wrong,” she said. “Not that smelly old man, but his wife, and he died of shame when he found out.”

Even Gora was struck dumb by the accusation, and Eva gasped between her fingers. She had half a mind to roll out of there and give them a stern talking-to, if she had been in a more suitable manner.

In the end she waited for the stunned silence, accompanied by Hanie’s giggles, to subside, as the two retreated away, the door slamming behind them. 

The rumours were worse than she’d anticipated, then. Poor woman, she thought, to be accused of such a thing when all she did was endure her life with a smile on her face. Eva couldn’t find it in herself to pity her friend, it wasn’t right. What was right was to shame those silly girls for coming up with such an idea. It was one thing to accuse a fellow sister of betraying her fate by abandoning her virtuosity, but to compose such a scandal as accusing her of losing it to another woman, and an older one at that? Eva found it unthinkable. 

Her fury broke her temporary paralysis, and she forgot the voice which had abandoned her, the cold of the stones on her back stiffening her muscles, and rolled back out. She dressed herself in silence, took the clothes to the laundry, happy that neither Hanie not Gora crossed her path in the meantime, and went down to the kitchen to help with the final touches on dinner, all the while composing a harsh lecture for the two next time she had the opportunity. Oh and if only Ama herself came to teach them a lesson or two.

But it was not in Eva’s nature to enact revenge on someone else’s part, and so she left them to the mercy of fate, sure it would manifest repercussions beyond her authority either way.

And then night came, the first sparks of lightning blasted across the sky, disturbing her sleep even before she succumbed to it, and she forgot all about revenge and retribution.

*****

Eva’s eyes ached beneath their lids, her skin was cold like she’d been plunged in the ocean. It felt like she was drowning, too, when she woke up from her turbulent dream into a tempest of light and dark. Golden candle-light glowed over her turned shoulder, and every so often it was drowned out by a silver torrent of lightning.

She navigated the half-asleep haze, waiting for the moment when her limbs would grow impatient and manoeuvre her themselves. She must have kicked the blankets down in her sleep. Grappling for them did nothing, in fact, she couldn’t feel their weight on the bed at all.

And then she heard it.

A whispered prayer, comprised of words cut out of stone at the tops of temple pillars, carved into her mind over ten years. She turned her head and saw a pale figure in the corner of her vision. Terror flashed through her body like a blast of wind. She wanted more than anything to flee, to jump out of bed and shriek, to wake up the whole temple and the island, too. 

But then the voice broke into a stifled sob that nearly blew out the candle, and Eva saw Mother’s bed was empty. She turned again and waited for her eye to focus on the woman behind her, realising the cold that dressed her skin was due to her night-dress being pulled up at the back, balled up under her neck.

Mother examined her as she prayed, her knotted hands hovering over her ribs at the back, but not touching. Eva half wished she would. Mother’s hands were always warm. Eva’s eyes were drifting closed again, lulled by the distant sounds of waves rocking against the western cliffs, howling as air pumelled through the tunnels and caves, groaning out blue notes in the night’s silence. 

Then it all ended. Mother sighed to signify she’d done all she could, and the little warmth of the candle’s flame blew out. The night-dress rolled back over her chilled skin and Mother unfolded the blanket back over her, tucking her in as if she were still that 15 year-old girl she took under her wing on a stormy night like this one. 

Eva watched Mother’s ghostly figure drift back across the aisle toward her own cot, pausing under the glassy portrait of Ama, mutter another prayer, then get into her bed, Within a minute, her soft snores sounded through the room, and Eva’s fatigue from the day caught up to her. This was all too much to endure in a single night. The heat between her legs hadn’t subside since she almost…

It wasn’t worth dwelling on a momentary lapse which had led to nothing but almost getting caught. She snuggled deeper into the covers and tied her hardest to fall asleep again, but the ancient groans of the caves would not leave her in peace, and she only descended into sleep with the anxious thoughts of the fisherman’s wife, alone with her child and at the mercy of the ever-changing tides.

*****

The storm had washed in unexpected guests, the sisters discovered the next morning. While they slumbered, safe at the island’s peak, a small merchant ship had lost control and wrecked along the cliff’s side, washing up on the beach just North of the fisherman’s cabin. The widow had been the one to discover them early the next morning as she went out at dawn, the still water, blue as glass, had softened and fallen flat beneath a scarlet sky, but the beach was littered with bodies. 

Those that still breathed were hauled in to the temple, while those who weren’t were already being cleaned for burial, which would happen that night, and the sisters were all engaged in prayer or helping to dress and feed the survivors. Matters of the temple would have to be postponed, Eva figured, heaving a large basket of dry clothes on her hip, handing out some dresses for the women and simple tunics for the men. Hanie and Gora had been quiet all morning, to Eva’s surprise, so she was content to be in their company until they were called away. She helped some of the women dress, as they were still in shock from last night, while Hanie spoon-fed the ship’s captain some broth. He was struck dumb, and pale as the moon. 

Gora sat beside the first mate, pen in hand, taking down what few words he managed to utter between shallow gasps, as if he were still drowning. 

“Demon waves,” he uttered, “snuck up on us… clear night… the water swarming… Eyshe save us… Eyshe…” His speech deteriorated, and between spoonfuls of broth all he could do was sputter the sea-god’s name. 

Gora leaned to Hanie and whispered, “Do you think it was pirates?”

Hanie’s jaw dropped. “Pirates?” she gawped. “This close to the island?”

Gora shrugged as if it meant nothing. “Wouldn’t be the first time. Don’t you know what happened on this beach ten years ago?”

“Y-Yes, but that was just an accident.”

“People don’t accidentally take a cold swim in the middle of a storm.”

The air was dry and heavy under the overcompensating sun, and Eva felt her spare habit like a burden on her back, sticking where the seams were too tight. She’d had this one since she was 19, now it felt almost indecent to wear. It tightened around her hips and shoulders where it ought to fall loosely over, and unlike her usual option, spread over under her breasts, cinching slightly underneath, giving her a shape she’d never gotten used to owning. She felt eyes on her, rolling down her body like beads of sweat, prickly like judgement.

She turned and came face to face with Bella, child still on her hip. Jamie looked restless and pallid, eyes red and puffy from crying. His mother saw her looking and hoisted him closer to her chest. “He’ll be fine,” she assured. “Didn’t sleep well last night.”

“I can ask Mother to open one of the guest rooms for you.”

She shook her head. “We have a house, small as it is. Those rooms should be kept for these poor souls until the next ship from the mainland comes.” 

Eva placed a hand on her shoulder, and she visibly softened. “If you need anything, just ask. You look tired.”

She smiled weakly. “I am,” she exhaled. “But there’s no time for that. I heard one of the women asking me about a girl they saw during the storm. I didn’t quite understand her, but I think it might have been her daughter. I don’t know, I didn’t see her with the rest of the survivors. I was going to ask you to watch Jamie while I searched the beach, but the tide is coming up and… weak as I am on my knees, I just…” She looked desperately to Eva. “I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t need to.”

“I’ll go search,” said Eva. “You take a turn with the soup. Gora and Hanie are getting restless, too. I’ll send them to make the beds in the temple.”

“Are you sure, sweetheart?” Jamie was slipping from her hold again.

“Of course, you take a seat now.”

Eva recognised something in her own voice she thought she never would. She sounded like Mother now. The thought sent a shiver up her spine, but she approached the girls and gave her commands. A cool breeze whistled past, whispering that Mother would be proud of this initiative. After last night’s debacle, she was no longer sure if her approval was something to seek anymore. She’d had it these ten years, or believed she did. But to catch her in that compromising state—praying over Eva’s scars, eyes raking over her body… She’d felt exposed, even in her Mother’s eyes, where she’d been safe these ten years.

She consciously pulled at her dress, achieving no more comfort as she turned and faced the ocean, tracking her usual path past the cottage and down the sharp edge of the beach. The coastline rounded suddenly around the island and dipped between the fang-like volcanic rocks that rose up around the western cliffs, cave entrance gaping like a black maw full of obsidian teeth. Water lapped at her ankles as she sped over the sun-dappled beach, golden-white sand rushing over her boots, speckling them with fairy dust. Even with the added weight, she felt lighter down here, where the wind couldn’t reach her past the shield that the cliffs provided. Finally her path converged into a narrow alley between the parallel rows of teeth, and she felt like a mouse skittering in a great sleeping beast’s mouth, testing her luck, and the monster’s slumber. The wind that did make it through the cave openings billowed through from back to front and blew back upwards in a long, melodious groan, adding to the illusion that there really was a beast somewhere, hidden in the depths of the island, warm in its volcanic belly. 

Eva paused. Her feet sank an inch into the warm sand. Aside from the ship’s scattered ruins, nothing stirred on the beach. Gulls had pecked it clean before sunrise, marauders that washed the remains clean of any food that had washed up with the dead and the near-dead. Now the beach was silent, save for the hissing of the waves rasping over the sand, higher and higher, and the low whistles soaring overhead from the caves. Eva turned once, twice, listening, looking. Nothing. 

The realisation saddened her. If she wasn’t here, and she wasn’t with the survivors, the only place that woman’s daughter could be was at the bottom of the ocean now. Even these caves, enchanting as they were to children and adults alike, were nothing to look at at night. Eva remembered seeing them once at night. In the shifting uncertainty of shadows and sounds, she had even believed the maw to open and close. Her father’s stories never helped to soothe her superstitions. Now she was grown, and knew better than to indulge in fairy tales, and knew better than to search the caves when the tide was already past ankle-height—

Come to me.

She snapped her eyes shut, clamping her hands over her ears. Sweat pooled at the nape of her neck where the dark ribbon was tied too tight, courtesy of Mother’s attitude on seeing her change of dress this morning, and insisting she help her dress entirely. 

She hadn’t heard it. It was a trick of the waves, scheming against her, and her colourful memories. Playing on her fear and the grief she still held after ten years. A week every year was still not enough time to live out her old life, even if only through breathing the old air. She’d had ten weeks since then, in total, on the island her parents had walked over. Every step was walking in their footsteps, but distractions kept her stagnant every time. 

She turned again, teeth rising out of sand around her, dark hedgerows lining a shadowy driveway, gothic in its grandiosity, but empty. Empty, she repeated. She let out a breath. In the cool of the shade her sigh was hot as steam, and pinched the dry skin on her nose, tickling it. She cursed under her breath and hiked up her skirt and petticoat, lifting her foot over the high ledge, the first step into the beast’s black jaw. 

Chapter Text

Her body cooled by sharp degrees, sweat running cold down her spine, held tight against her skin by the ill-fitting clothes. Her eyes took too long to get use to the darkness, and when her path dipped down she yelped, finding herself knee-deep in a gritty puddle. She felt around the smooth entrance with open palms as the passage narrowed, turning down and then back up. Her boots made easy work of the grainy slope, volcanic rock having cooled in step-like formations.

At last she could see light ahead, gold and streaming down like a waterfall. The sound of waves hitting the exterior walls were oddly soothing, though the occasional spray that dropped didn’t serve to comfort her. She found herself in a vast chamber, about twice the size of her dormitory and ten times as tall. The roof of the cave wasn’t visible when the sun was high in the sky, but perhaps at dawn.

She imagined knife-like stalactites, baring down above her, the slightest shift in wind might send them shuttling down.

She forced that thought away and took in what was at hand. At the top of the ‘steps’ as she emerged from the shallow water, a black plateau of solid rock formed a platform, wide and central to the cave as a stage is in a theatre. It reminded her of the inner chamber of the temple, bordered with high columns (there were black columns here and there where a stalactite and stalagmite had met, and embraced in centuries-long kiss) shrouded in shadows and flames, the only daylight that entered was from a wide opening in the roof. 

But the key difference was that this cave, however dark and dank, felt full of life, and a divinity she had never truly found in the temple. 

She couldn’t put her finger on it, exactly, but it had something to do with the way the water lapped at her feet, more warmly in here than outside in the sun. In the golden kiss between light and shadow, she felt seen. She took what felt like her place in the center of the stage and momentarily forgot what she had been searching for. 

Deep breaths of cool air whistled into her nose and out through her mouth, fresh and perfumed with clear sea air, depositing an odd confidence in her, and a dark sort of hope she had only ever felt when, under cover of night, a door she had believed to be locked suddenly gave way under her touch.

Something moved to her left, on the far side of the cave, just out of the spotlight. Eva’s head spun sharply to greet it, smile fading from her lips. 

“Oh, goodness,” she exhaled. “Are you alright?” she called out.

The figure shifted, obscured by low, jutting rocks, that lined the stalagmites like petrified gums. Eva aught sight of a pearly-white shoulder, shivering just out of sight. 

“Don’t be scared of me,” she said soothingly, voice low enough not to echo in the cavernous chamber. She toed back down into the water, sending golden ripples towards the object of her intrigue. “I’m a priestess on this island. Well, almost,” she added, attempting a camaraderie she’d never received before. “You’re one of the survivors. Your ship was wrecked in last night’s storm.”

Still the figure made no sound, but Eva could hear breathing. Panting. 

Eva stopped in her tracks, as if she’d spooked a wild animal before gaining its trust. “I can take you back to them. It’s awfully scary in here, isn’t it. Don’t worry, there really isn’t anything in here that can hurt us. Just some strange sounds. These caves can be very deceiving.”

“I—I’m not decent,” said the figure, her voice trembling on its own even without an echo. She spoke so softly, full of fear.

Eva craned her neck to see around the rocks. Nothing more than a pale neck attached to the shoulder was visible, smattered with pink that blushed into red as the image faded out of sight.

“Are you injured?” Eva stepped hastily forward. The girl retreated further away with a hissing intake of air. That did echo, like a serpent was hiding just out of the corner of her eye, slithering between the slick rocks. A demon in its natural habitat. It made Eva’s skin prickle. 

“I can bring you some clothing,” she offered instead. “But will you step nearer to the cave entrance? The water is rising too fast, and I fear I won’t be able to reach you again.”

The girl hesitated. No more ripples appeared. She must have found a ledge to perch on. After a moment, her distant voice trembled out, “You will.”

That seemed to put an end to it. 

“Alright,” said Eva. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. If you’re injured, I can bring some people to help us. We have plenty of strong men—”

“No!”

Eva had to cover her ears. The shrill reprimand galloped three times in her head, echoing in the empty space it created. In that moment, all she knew was the girl’s fear. 

“A-alright,” she conceded. “I’ll come alone.”

“Please hurry,” the girl said, small as ever before. 

Eva retraced her steps, finding no hope or solace in the bright sun that greeted her at the cave’s entrance. Her bones felt heavy when out of the water, not helped by her restricted movement, or the added weight of her soaked dress. She threaded through the beach paths, casting a worrisome glance at the rising tides as she did.

Her sisters had brought the bulk of the survivors further uphill, hoping to get them to the temple before noon, but foolish Gora and Hanie had forgotten a basket of bread rolls, and a folded sheet of cloth. It would have to do for now, until she managed to source a dress from the village. Nobody took note of her returning or leaving.

She was breathless as she slipped noisily down the beach, kicking sprays of sea water behind her as she ran for the cave again. Her skirts clung to her wet thighs, but she felt light as air when entering the cave. Her eyes had barely adjusted to the blaring sunlight, that the darkness within was a blessed reprieve.

“Is that you?” came the voice, closer, but impossible to tell where from. 

“It is, miss,” said Eva. “I found some linen and some food for you. Will you come out?”

The water to her right sent a soft ripple, but the voice that accompanied it came from her left. She didn’t know where to address, so she closed her eyes and looked down at the dark water at her feet.

“I can help… you dress,” she said, then bit her cheek. Why had she said that? “I have many sisters, miss. You don’t need to fear embarrassment. You must be fairly cold after a night in here.”

“Not cold, no,” countered the voice, more confident, almost laughing at her. Eva was relieved. “A little frightened. I do hate being alone.”

“You’re not alone now,” said Eva hopefully. “I brought you food,” she repeated.”

“Food?”

“Just some bread. I’m afraid it’s nothing that will warm you up much. All the soup must have been eaten already. If you come up to the temple, though, my sisters will set you up with a hot meal tonight.”

A nervous quiver of water as she splashed away. “No, I only want you,” said the girl. “I will accept your offer of food.”

Eva blushed. Her wording was so strange. But then, many of the voyagers she’d met were from different lands, and sometimes came across as more formal in their language than the occasion called for. 

“Of course,” said Eva. “You’d better hurry. The tide was rather high when I came back.”

“Nobody has given me an offering of food in many years.”

Eva’s tongue was caught between her teeth. She couldn’t mock her language now, not when she was so close to gaining her trust. Besides, it was impolite, from her place as a visitor. She couldn’t say why, but such a voice, such a person as suggested by her ephemeral skin, appeared more at home in such a setting. Like a pearl in a clam shell, she couldn’t seem more radiant in the midday sun than in the dark of this volcanic jaw.

“Will you please turn around?” said the voice, nearer and more human with the lack of echo. Eva saw two ghostly arms stretch out between the black bars as the figure advanced. 

She closed her eyes for good measure and obeyed, but opened them after. Resisting a glance at her host was a feat she didn’t think she could achieve, as she listened to the linen sliding across smooth arms, to the tell-tale sign of hair being squeezed dry of water. Then there was silence, followed by bread tearing.

“Did you make this?” the voice asked, but Eva did not turn.

“I—I did. With my sisters. In the temple.” She was painfully aware of the time. Already the chances of getting home without being soaked from head to toe were slim. The chances of getting home at all were growing more doubtful by the minute. 

“This is very suitable,” said the girl. “I thank you.”

Eva finally turned around, a pleased smile on her lips. It readily dropped when she cast her eyes on her host, her speech floundering. Her words came out in a slur of throat sounds, that made the object of her disbelief shake with giggling. 

Eva did not even notice all the food was out of sight.

The girl stood before her—above her, for her eyes were in a permanent state of downcast—a tall creature, rapidly human yet doubtfully so in this light. She seemed to have slipped out of the moon, tearing off slips of the night sky to dress her head in long, straight strands. Droplets of water adorned it like stars. Her lips were dark, turned down at the corners in a perpetual frown. Her pointed chin reminded Eva of a sea-shell, and her soft, rounded cheekbones of a pearl. 

But her eyes.

Her eyes were every colour, and none at the same time. 

Pale, mother-of-pearl irises shelling deep black pupils that stared, stared deep and long. 

Eva fell to her knees.

The girl laughed wholeheartedly, and it sounded like a wave withdrawing from a tide pool. 

“You are the first I have seen greet me this way in a long time. What a strange land this must be. Do you all fall down like this before strangers?”

Her image flashed in Eva’s mind every time she close her eyes, but she couldn’t bring herself to look up from the space between her hands. Bright terror filler her, thrumming, turgid in her veins. A feeling she had only ever felt near or after midnight surrounded her close to the skin like cold sweat. She gripped the volcanic rock under her fingers, afraid she might float away, afraid this was all a dream. 

“My apologies,” she stuttered, breathless. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“It is no issue,” said the girl—if a girl she really was. “I ought to do the same after such a generous offering. These cloths will do nicely for me.”

Eva finally dragged her gaze up, allowing her eyes to rake over the figure one aspect at a time. Her bare feet, snowy against the blacker than night rocks, skin so bright she could almost see the glow she cast upon them. The edge of the linen she’d wrapped around herself, tied over her left shoulder and at the waist, loose as an avalanche over her body, seeming less radiant than her complexion, thought it itself was white. Then her hair, bejeweled as it was with stars, at once they seemed to fade on second glance. Eva felt a fool. She felt ecstatic. She wasn’t sure how she felt, but her face, neck, and ears were burning.

The girl bent down and helped her to stand up on shaky legs. 

“I’m ever so sorry. I don’t know what…” Eva heard her voice stuck in a loop, which made the girl smile even brighter. “Pray, what is your name?”

“I suppose you will call me Phoebe.”

“Phoebe,” she echoed, testing its taste in her mouth. She found it sweet. Not sweet like candy, or fruit. But sweet like the first taste of blood from a split lip. 

“Why do you look scared?” Phoebe asked, amused. “I am a girl, just like you.”

You are nothing like me, Eva thought. She wasn’t. Nothing like her, or her sisters, or Bella, or Mother, or any woman Eva had ever met or conceived of. She seemed to have melted out of the moonlight and the shadows of this cave, and taken a form that so haunted Eva. One that, before casting her eyes on it, she did not even know it was the figure of her worst nightmares, and most blissful dreams. She followed Phoebe as if in a trance, as they both sat down on the edge of a smooth rock, hips connected. As Phoebe bent forward to shift the makeshift dress around her knees, the linen slipped off her shoulder, and Eva caught a glimpse of her back and rib cage. Thin blue veins and lightning-marks on her arms assured her that she was human, or as close as one could come to it. She averted her eyes when Phoebe sprang back up, and the soft outline of her breast stole into her view.

Eva noticed she had sat the two of them just out of the sunlight.

“I’m afraid my injuries have weakened me,” she said, though there were no marks on her. Eva was quite sure she had seen blood earlier, but there was nothing on her skin to suggest an open wound.

Not even a scar. She was unblemished, by scar nor sun-burn, and Eva became quite sure she was some form of royalty.

“As such, I will not come with you. I could not survive the journey.”

“Oh, will you not try,” Eva pleaded, resisting the urge to fall to her knees again. She couldn’t imagine leaving her behind, not in here at night, when another storm was all but expected. Worst of all was the idea of going back to the temple with her only in her mind’s eye. She was sure she would die if she ever lost sight of this woman. “If you’re too weak to walk, I can find people to carry you.”

“I can not stand to be seen,” she winced. “My trust is so easily broken, you see. I have been hurt so often, and been so lonesome as a result. This storm…” she trailed off, watching the sunlight framed by the cave’s mouth. “It does not matter. This cave is a more fit home for my fancies than any temple. I am sure it will do for now.” She suddenly lightened up, and clasped both of Eva’s hands in her own. “But I will not be lonesome with you,” she declared.

“I—I must not stay,” Eva said through gritted teeth, almost breaking down at how Phoebe deflated. “I am ever so sorry. My sisters and Mother will be wondering where I am. If you came with me, I could explain… I’m sure we could be inseparable, except at night.”

“But the night is always the worst,” said Phoebe. “But I understand. I should not ask too much of such a new friend.”

Eva’s spirits soared at the last word. To be in her presence was more than enough, but this word would sustain her. It made her heart soar. “No, indeed I wish I could stay with you. I promise I will return first thing in the morning.”

“Do you really?”

“I do,” she said, more firmly. “I swear it.”

*****

She regretted leaving as soon as the full face of the sun was bared. She felt heavy again, her joints stiff as she stepped out of the cave’s shadow. The thought of Phoebe in there all on her own froze her heart, and she didn’t take a single step without the urge to take it in the opposite direction. The sky was clear but an odd colour, which reminded her of Phoebe’s eyes, clouded and iridescent, radiating a sharpness that seemed to follow Eva home. 

She made it into the dormitory without alerting anyone to the state of her dress. When she closed the door behind her to change, she found it had been dry this whole time.

Mind weary and distracted, she merely refreshed herself and rejoined her sisters at dinner. But she couldn’t enjoy a single bite. The survivors were all asleep in the rooms adjacent to her. The thought of Phoebe laid down among them all was near revolting. How could she ever relate to the rest of them? Though a professed woman, she just couldn’t—

Eva started at the sound of chairs scraping the ground. Her sisters had all risen an were returning in two lines to the dormitory, rumours of the day passing between them like birds between chattering tree-tops. She tucked some leftover food in the pile of tea-towels she had offered to deposit in the laundry basket in their room. Nobody gave her a second glance when she also fell to the back of the line, where Mother always followed behind like a herding dog.

“Good evening,” she said politely, intending to make some excuse to speak with her. Perhaps she ought to report on Gora and Hanie’s carelessness and wasting of supplies, but then she would be expected to retrieve them. And, of course, she couldn’t expose Phoebe like that. 

Fortunately, Mother was more than prepared to uphold the conversation. She’d noticed Gora and Hanie’s behaviour of late, too.

“When they came back this morning I sent them straight to the laundry. A mistake on my part, I admit. They ended up shrinking your habit in their carelessness.”

Eva groaned. She was hardly able to breathe comfortably in this habit, and had been looking forward to returning to Phoebe in her most appropriate attire. Just a few more days. A few days of this, and she would never wear this cursed habit again. 

She sustained the conversation through to their arrival in the dormitory, and immediately distracted Mother by asking her to help undress. A rolling thunder assisted to mask her unexplained giddiness.

She almost looked forward to the storm. The sound of it was almost like Phoebe’s laughter, but not quite. Nothing held a flame to it. 

As predicted, Mother ended up tucking her key into the night-stand without having actually locked the door. 

Eva had never been one to actively cause mischief, or even to seek it out. But as her eyes closed that night, and the first pattering of rain fell on the dormitory roof, she couldn’t help but wander at the pleasure it brought on her heart. She allowed herself to fall asleep, for once the promise of a midnight rouse not filling her with dread, but excitement. 

Chapter Text

It was only when she reached the mouth of the cave again that Eva stopped to think. She remembered waking after only a few hours of restless sleep, her dreams filled with one voice. She remembered slipping noiselessly through the unlocked door, and through the front door, too. The busy day and evening had reduced it to an afterthought. She remembered the chain around the temple gate, the cool of the metal and the rain, the rattle as she dropped it and turned to the roses climbing the western wall.

She remembered the first thorn that pierced her skin. 

Now her palms were slashed all over, trembling as the rain washed the worst of the blood clean, splattering pink onto her night-gown. The chunk of bread she’d saved from dinner was inedible now, soaked with rain and blood, but she brought it anyway, proof of her efforts. Her devotion. 

She scolded herself. She should only be devoted to one thing. Ten years, she reminded herself. Ten years, and in five more days it would be over. She just had to resist for five more days. 

The shadow of the cave loomed long on the beach. She’d been walking in it for a long time before coming to her senses. Her feet were bare on the sand, and not an inch of her was dry. She felt drunk, or as she imagined drunkenness to be. Her thoughts were at times silent and other times deafening in her head as the echoing thunder rolling over her, and then again in a different tone through the cave entrance. 

There had been no voice to guide her tonight. No invisible hands to steer her through unlocked doors, and hold her up as she went down slippery steps. She’d done it all with the energy in her human limbs. She’d been her own accomplice in disobeying the temple, her promised god or goddess, and Mother. She hadn’t even given her a second thought while passing her sleeping form.

Now it all seemed so wicked. How could she show her face again, rain-lined, pink with shame, pale with self-inflicted terror? Ten years, and she had been so ready to throw it out just like that. This wasn’t some strange preacher in a locked room, one she hadn’t even wanted. She had simply been lonely that night. 

This was what she wanted.

Come to me.

She dug her heels in the sand and had more than half a mind to obey, to strike out at the barely-out-of-reach temptation. To paw at it, claw at it, seize it in her own teeth. It smelled of blood, but always her own. 

She listened closely, the voice coming from inside the cave. 

Come to me.

It was Phoebe’s voice. It had always been Phoebe’s voice.

Come back to me.

No, it hadn’t. That was just her excuse for the next step, as sand gave way to stone, and weight gave way to weightlessness. And if it had, then it had always been a test. Phoebe was a human, or at least took a human’s shape, blue-lined and flawless as a sea-spirit. Yes, that was it. A test, a temptation. This was a challenge unlike any priestess had ever faced. Her patron was generous to test her faith, her virtuousness, so thoroughly. She would prove her worth a thousand times over if that was what it took. 

She took the next step in earnest and succumbed to the shadows, prepared now in will to face it, and come through unscathed. She clenched her bloody fists and held out the bread when she entered the cave. Her breath hitched when she entered the main chamber, surprised mostly at how bright it was. It felt brighter than it had been in the daylight. The moat around the center stage was lit up from the depths, a soft green-blue glow that signaled some magical life underneath. Indeed, the stage was set for a challenge.

When Eva looked around, the feeling solidified.

Phoebe was sat in the shallows, combing her slender fingers through her midnight hair. The linen Eva had given her was pooled around her waist, giving her the look of floating on a cloud.

She faced away, leaning on one hand, while the other drew circles in the water. Small ripples grew out and melted into stillness on the surface further away.

She giggled at the pictures she drew, having not heard Eva entering. 

She even talked to herself in the same sing-song voice. The cave’s echo made it sound like a dream. 

“Oh,” she lamented. “How long until morning? I’ve never known such a long night in my life. It feels like years.” She almost breathed out the final words, preening at the hairs that tumbled over her shoulder. “I do miss her,” she said, confessing into the water. “Oh, I never thought it would feel like this again.”

She tickled little waves in the black stillness that tied knots in Eva’s throat. A feeling like drowsiness overcame her, heavy in the lightness of the cool air. The moon was dim enough that Phoebe’s outline seemed to cast its own glow. The curves of her body exaggerated against the black backdrop. It was the stuff of her dreams, though if this image had ever haunted her dreams, she didn’t think she could have endured the torture. 

To look but not touch. To see but not understand. To taste, but not eat her fill. This was torture.

Ten years, she read off a mental script, and cleared her throat.

Like a startled swan, Phoebe took flight, scampering off through the water and into the forest of black talons. The water didn’t settle in her absence, churning nervously as she caught her breath out of sight. 

“It’s only me,” Eva assured her, approaching the spot she’d vacated. In her flight she’d shed the white cloth, stepping out of her angel’s disguise. It lay rumpled on the ground like a set of forlorn wings. “I’m sorry...”

When she looked back up again, two slender arms were wrapped around a black trunk of stone, and Phoebe was peering out from one side. Little by little she emerged, resting her pink cheek on the smooth rock. “You came back,” she mumbled, barely containing her glee. Eva held out the bread she’d carried over, out and proud like an offering, but Phoebe’s expression lacked the delight that Eva had longed to replicate. Her face contorted, what little colour her blush had dappled on her cheeks forgotten in favour of grey horror.

“You’re bleeding,” she said, wading back into the water. She seized Eva by the wrists ad drew her closer, her palms held open to the moonlight. The streaks of blood were dark in the blue night, almost black, but as she tended to her, soft breaths playing over Eva’s ripped skin, Phoebe’s glow burned ever brighter. It seeped into the water, moonlight melting into dew, swirling around their knees. 

It was only when they both leaned down to wash the blood away that Eva began to doubt in earnest. Because Phoebe’s touch—her hands, cold as they were, felt too familiar. Her eyes up close recalled a thousand thousand nights not yet spent together, this close. And her body…

The white shroud lay forgotten behind them, and Eva saw for the first time the fullness of a woman’s body, that was not her own. Unashamed, radiant, bared like a weapon or a set of teeth, Phoebe’s body reached out to her own, and Eva felt herself grow heavier and heavier, miles of doubt spooling in her head out of the unraveling threads that had made up her heavy habits. In her sleeping attire, turning sheer with wetness, she felt like a warrior in the colours of a Kingdom she no longer even knew the name of. 

How could this be sinful? Was the white of her purity not darker than the white of the pleasure that danced across her skin as Phoebe traced nimble fingers over her wounds? The white of Phoebe’s shoulders, bobbing in silent sobs, whiter still than the decade of piety Eva had suffered between turbulent sheets. Whiter than her breasts, pink-peaked, blushing in the chill of night, disturbed by Phoebe's sudden sobs.

“Don’t cry,” Eva said, her words hardly registering even to her own ears. “I’m not hurt. I escaped. To see you.”

Escaped. Suddenly her home of a decade was her prison. This cave more hospitable than a warm bed and meal. Than her own sisters, and Mother. 

“I’m sorry,” Phoebe sputtered, her lips creasing in pain, a grief larger than this moment. Her tears dropped into the water like falling stars. “I don’t mean to scare you.”

“You don’t scare me.”

“I haven’t cared for anyone like this in a long time,” she said, frantically gathering her composure. “My last friend… she was kept away from me for... The people who held her didn’t understand we needed each other.”

Eva wanted to stroke her hair, to lay a comforting hand on her shoulder while she cried. But her hands were deep below the water, still held in Phoebe’s own. “She would pray for escape. Give… offerings beyond what she could afford. Blood. Flesh…”

Eva gasped. In the centuries before her, priestesses were known to give sacrifices instead of offerings for their patrons, begging them to ease the torment of their mortal bodies. They believed the fault was in their flesh, and their blood. Tales of girls with black marks on their arms and thighs where they’d sliced and burnt themselves were always silenced when they came to Mother’s ears, but that didn’t stop them from circulating. They were the heart of their shame. It could never get that bad, they thought. It must never reach that point.

Eva looked down but her hands were invisible below the water. Could she be on the same path as those girls? The madness… could it be in her blood?

The thrill she’d felt when it began to run was like nothing she’d ever felt before. As it turned pink in the rain, even as it stained the sleeves of her nightdress, she never even thought of pain. It was all in the effort to see her. 

It was all part of the test.

But now she began to believe there was no test at all. 

So then, what was this?

*****

“I’m so sorry—How improper of me!” Phoebe regained her composure and notice her own nakedness. Leaving Eva to sit dumbly in the water, she sprung up, the swell of her breasts brushing past petrified Eva’s shoulder as she waded past her to the discarded linen. 

Eva raised her hands up as Phoebe redressed. “Are you not hungry?” she asked. “I can try to bring you something else in the morning.”

“Oh, not at all,” said Phoebe. The blood-soaked bread had been tossed aside and lay dejected in a dissolving clump on the rock. “I wished more for your company.”

“Your friend,” she said awkwardly, “was from this island?”

Phoebe’s movements behind her stopped. “She was,” she admitted. 

“She was a priestess, like me?”

“She was like you, yes.”

“Did she have… markings on her?”

Phoebe’s wet footsteps drew closer. Eva watched her reflection in the water, her rippling figure just out of reach. Watched her take a seat on the ledge behind Eva, knees either side of her. 

“She did. Since her infancy.”

Eva raised her bloodless hands to her shoulders, reaching back over them to pull at the nightdress. It dragged wetly on her skin, but she tugged and tugged until at last it was drawn all over her head, falling like a layer of snow into a thawed river. She shivered when the cold air grazed down her back.

“Are they…” Eva’s voice failed her. “Are they still there?”

All this time, it could have been a cruel joke. A terrible mistake. They might have been a birthmark, or an injury from her childhood. Something stalking close behind another memory. What if the last ten years had been false?

Or worse, what if she’d lost them herself? That night at the locked door, she had been willing to—to…

Maybe it wasn’t as simple as flesh and flesh. Maybe it really was in her blood. The impurity. The fault.

When Phoebe touched the skin between her shoulder blades, Eva didn’t flinch. In her heart, it was already over. Phoebe would say there was nothing, and she could finally move on. Run away or die, for all she cared. She’d already broken almost every rule tonight. And every other rule in her thoughts and dreams. She waited for confirmation, for Phoebe—the only one who wouldn’t lie to her—to crush the hopes she’d twisted into curses.

Instead she said, “They’re beautiful.”

A sense of pride she thought she’d lost after her first year began to unfurl. The feeling of spreading a pair of dutifully-preened wings, putting herself on display, at the mercy of someone else’s eyes. In truth she had seen them herself only once her entire life, but they were a timeless mark of belonging, year after year, to something bigger than herself. But to what exactly? They were a mark of virginity, in the most trivial sense. There were girls who grew out of them with time, who did not choose the path that she had. 

They were chosen, yes, but ultimately it was a test that not all of them wanted to be put to in the first place. She had never called them cowards. She had never seen them as freer than her, either. Their freedoms Eva could count on one hand, while the blessings that awaited her were innumerable. All she had to do was wait for them. 

Eva’s night-dress was heavy as she started to wring it out, emboldened by the reassurance of her markings. They were still there. She was still just as pure as she had been when she first stepped through the temple gates. The thought of crossing that wall again, spilling fresh blood on the thorns (the old blood would have already washed away) was made brief by Phoebe’s hands on her bare skin. 

Who is more virtuous? 

The sinner who is tempted, and resists with every breath?

Or the hermit sealed away from sin, whose mind is so blank he only dreams of dreaming? 

Whose life is a stranger to pleasure?

Eva was no stranger to pleasure. She knew what it was to feel warmth in the body, the softness of a hand that was not hers upon her skin, a pleasant taste on the tongue, a sweet melody... As brief as they were, the encounters she had had with pleasure had lined her nightmares this past decade, making them, if not bearable, at least personal. She could wake and know the demons were of her own bearing, that she had survived them before and could do so again. 

This hand on her back, between her wings, was a pleasure she knew from another life entirely. It was one she only recognised by the promise of her total and merciless defeat. Ten years melted into ten seconds. The time it took for her to drop the nightgown into the shallows, swipe her hair off her back, and lean into Phoebe’s touch. 

The markings were still there. Mother and her sisters as innocent as herself. The gods, by this promise, as cruel as they could ever be.

This voice, this touch, this torture. All of it a test. 

If this was it, the climax of these ten years… There was no imagining what could come after. The true reward. This brief pleasure—fleeting. Gone with the turning of the wind. The storm already subsiding, she could only revel in this stillness for so long. It need not go further. This was enough.

“Tell me about your friend,” she said, addressing the water, trusting it to carry her words across to the face she felt too vulnerable to see as the body reached out like this. 

“It is a burden doubled when shared,” said Phoebe, lightly petting Eva’s upper back. “I loved her deeply.”

She knew she shouldn’t believe it. That this tale, like the hand across her skin, was a fallacy. A fable she risked ending up on the wrong side of. 

“Did you call to her, like you called to me?”

For a second, neither breathed. 

“No,” Phoebe admitted. “I should have.” Her hand began to wander, fingertips tripping over Eva’s shoulder blades. “Maybe if she knew who… what I was… she would have understood. She would have waited until the time was right to—” 

“Waited for what?”

“The storm to pass,” said Phoebe. “Eva—” her name was like a strike of lightning on Phoebe’s lips “—there are forces at play even here. Inside that temple, it’s a hive of magics all in agreement with each other, all those gods…”

“And here?” Eva asked, suddenly alert.

“Just one. Do you understand why you are special?”

“Tell me what you were sent here to say,” Eva demanded, leaning out of her touch. As soon as she did, she regretted it. Waking up, an icy streak encased her body, and she scurried to find her discarded nightgown and whatever coverage it would offer. “I know you’re not a human,” she said, taming the tremble in her voice. “Won’t you just show me the truth? Why I suffered these ten years with no reprieve? What do the gods want of me?”

She turned at last to face Phoebe. Her dark hair framed her pearl-like face, her opal eyes wide and afraid. Of Eva? Impossible. Her timid lips half-open, she could not meet Eva’s eyes. Eva tore her gaze away after donning the wet gown again. She stepped out of the water as Phoebe slid in. Eva took a stand above the girl crumpled in the shallows, half-dissolved in the dim light.

“Who sent you here? I deserve to know, after all this time, who plays this cruel trick on me.”

“Nobody,” said Phoebe. “But—please—”

“I shouldn’t have come here,” realised Eva. The storm clouds around her brain were receding. Her hands were aching. Her feet numb on the stone they gripped to, threatening to slip with every step. “I passed every test until now. You…” she threaded her fingers through her hair, pulling it out of her face. “I still can’t see you clearly. What you are…”

“I’m not what you think,” interjected Phoebe. “Let me explain.”

“I don’t know what you are, but I know you stand in the way of what I have been working towards my whole life. You—your hands, your words.” In retreating she stepped on the discarded loaf of bread, turning stale and pink with the infusion of blood. “I drew blood for this,” she said. “I passed your challenge.”

Inexplicably she began to laugh. Her whole body ached under the weight of realisation, but her spirit felt sharp and light. Hope secured her feet to the ground and she walked backwards to the entrance. 

Phoebe did not follow, watching her only with her bright eyes. The light from the water dimmed with Eva’s retreat, leaving her eyes as the only glimmer. The moon itself seemed put out. In the darkness she saw what Phoebe truly was and shuddered, for she had let herself be touched by a demon. 

*****

She didn’t care how loud her footfalls were, or how her nightgown dripped with rain on the clean floors, marking out her direct path from the front door. When her head hit her pillow she didn’t feel the sting of fresh wounds in the palms of her hands, cross-hatched over the old ones.

But she could smell the roses.

In the morning, she could rise and go about her life, because she had been tempted again, and in this life, resisted. There would be food and music and plenty of hands to hold in chastity.

Just a few more days. 

Sleep did not come. Neither did a dream, or that cursed voice. Tears warmed and thawed her as she wept. For her fallen sister, lost to this demon long ago, fooled by such an idea as love. There was no stronger love than a priestess's for her god. Now Eva knew that.

Whoever Phoebe was, demon or not, would be her own undoing, not Eva’s. Prisoner in the caves? A siren, storm-tossed against the jagged rocks, making the most of fresh prey in the temple? 

Was she talking to herself when Eva came upon her, or reporting to something else?

But why had she not sated her blood lust on Eva’s open wounds? Was she silent now because her fangs were sunk into the blood-soaked loaf of bread? Eva clenched her fists and hugged her pillow. She threw the blanket off the bed for good measure. The cold of the night was what she needed to clear her head. 

Of her. Of it.

Less than a day had passed and she felt like a different person. She did not mourn the foolish girl she left behind in that cave. It bled out of her. She closed her eyes, and recited verses until she slept at last. 

*****

When Eva was a child she heard voices in the water. 

They would wake her in the night. The markings on her body, deepening in colour with age, seared her skin and made sleep near impossible. Growing pains, they all said, and an over-excited imagination. She had just learned her fate. 

It wasn’t the ocean itself that spoke to her, but the spaces it made. When a wave curled into its root, forming, if only for a second, a chamber. She would dream of living in one, in an eternal tide, loud and silent at the same time. She would often dream that it was her own voice in there, not weeping like the fairies of the stories, that drew grieving mothers into the water thinking their lost children were afloat. But singing. 

Her own voice, humming a lullaby into her own glassy blue cocoon. When she reached maturity these voices and dreams stopped, coinciding with her moving far from the shore. The sounds of storms were distant whispers from below and gossiping thunderclaps from above. From a safe distance, in between two tremors, she came of age. 

*****

Eva was aware of the pain before she woke up. Her cocoon split in two, the wave rolling backward on itself, or a giant sea-shell unveiling its newest pearl. She opened her eyes and found a dozen more pairs staring back. A dozen half-dressed girl gawking at her. The next thing she remembered was the smell of blood.

“Out of my way, girls,” Mother’s breathlessness invaded the audience. They parted to let her in, her wild eyes leading the way. “Oh, my sweet child…”

Eva’s eyes stung, tears had dried along her eyelids. The sea-salt made it hard to keep them open. 

Chapter Text

“There are very few of us,” Mother told her as she dabbed her cheeks with a warm cloth, “who understand sinning for the greater good. A hundred years ago, a different Mother might have killed you.”

This one feeds you, clothes you, heals your wounds, was the unspoken addition. 

The sun was awful. Dashing itself shamelessly across her bare skin like this. She longed for darkness. 

“I’m not sure I understand anything anymore,” said Eva. 

“Neither do I. Neither does anyone. The only template is our history. From mistakes, we learn. We are all children until the day we die, Eva.”

Mother’s private bathroom had no windows but a wide sky-light through which the sun could shine down on the glimmering tiles. The ground was paved with a mosaic of pearls whose likeness Eva would have loved to forget. She closed in on herself, allowing the water to run into the wells her body formed and seep secretly out. Mother brushed the dried blood from her hair and face with utmost care.

“You are a brave girl,” she said, close to Eva’s ear. “Not many could resist a siren.”

A siren. She mouthed the word, the sounds of it sneaking into the crannies in her mouth and unearthing memories. She knew this word. Had spoken it a thousand times in dreams. Her teeth chattered with its echoes. 

“I thought a day could come,” Mother continued, “when I was allowed to leave this story behind.” She put down the rag and sat on the edge of the bath. Eva wished for dry land. Mother’s face was like clay when she looked up to it. Every wrinkle hardened with a terrible memory. “I want nothing more than to protect my daughters. The gods will test them and that is their right. But I— Sometimes I wish I could prepare them for anything that comes their way. But it wouldn’t be a test if they knew all the answers, would it?”

“I suppose not.”

“But you did succeed. I am sorry it hurt so badly.”

“Mother,” said Eva, attempting to rinse out the siren from her gums. “The s— um, Phoebe told me she had a friend in the past. Another priestess, who was kept from her.” Mother’s lips drew in a tight line. 

“She didn’t lie,” she said, but nothing more until Eva made to stand up. “I had a daughter once, who was like you. Challenged. More so than the others. I raised her nearly from a baby. She was at the school for almost as long as you when she started to… have certain ideas.” Mother tucked a wet strand of hair out of Eva’s face. “She… lusted for the ocean. Tried to escape any chance she got. She nearly harmed one of her sisters. I prayed for hey every hour of the day, but she was enamoured by something I didn’t yet understand.”

“It was—”

“Yes, my darling, it was your siren.”

A tingle climbed up Eva’s spine. My, my, my siren. 

“It hurt her spirit, but she fought long and hard against the temptation. The gods… I would never call them cruel…” she didn’t finish the sentiment. Eva understood. “She fought until the end, against her temptations, her lust. I will always remember her for her strength. As I will remember you, Eva.” She stroked the tender roundness of Eva’s cheek. Her hand might as well have been made of wood. The caress was dry to Eva’s skin, made raw by scrubbing and steam. “Unshakeable.”

Eva slipped out of her touch, resting her chin on her reddened knees. The plush muscles of her lower back were near numb from sitting and she longed to stretch her legs out, to relieve some pressure on her bandaged hands and wrists. But she shrank as if the touch of the golden rays was yet to break the seed from which her limbs could sprout, or the glassy shell of her egg was only now showing fault lines, but too shy to erupt in Mother’s presence. This shell she made with her own body. It would be such a shame to subject her eyes to the act of shattering it. 

So she lowered her gaze and pretended to weep. 

“Oh, sweet girl,” Mother cooed. “You are safe here. I will always protect you.” 
But she couldn’t protect her predecessor. 

“You may stay inside today, if you wish,” she offered. “Your sisters are busy with the newcomers. I can take over your duties while you rest.”

“No,” Interjected Eva through false sobs. “I’ll do it. I just need a few minutes more.” She wiped her tears with the cloth-wrapped back of her hand. “This isn’t over yet.”

Mother rose to her feet. Her face was stern and calculating, as if she hadn’t even considered that the siren was still in their midst. Her eyes darkened, and Eva got the sense she was looking right through her, through the floor and the island’s core, down into the rocky womb she’d emerged bleeding from. “You’re correct. We must petition the hunters and sailors. Perhaps this trouble will end with her—”

“Please,” said Eva, shielding her ears from the hateful multiplication of those words. The narrow bathroom offered no reprieve between echoes, no moment of silence. “Let this be my decision. She is...” My siren. "My obstacle."

“But, my dear…” 

Eva held her ground, avoiding Mother’s gaze, seeing her only through the wet curtain of her hair. 

“Very well,” Mother rigidly conceded. “I trust… I trust you will do the right thing.” She retreated to the door, her skirts following close behind her, along with her silence. “You always have.”

Without her in the room it felt lighter. The red of her habit and click of her heeled boots departed, a blessed weight off the walls and floor. No longer were the white tiles and pearls stained with muted pink like blood smeared on them long ago. No longer was there a shadow ever-shifting from corner to corner, always within two strides of another creeping spot. The creatures that had held Eva’s vigil the past hour were gone and she could bloom. 

She stretched her aching limbs until they reached the edges of the bath, itself a shallow round well in the ground, tiled all the same as its surroundings. Her knees came up and over the ledges and she leaned back, tucking her shoulder-blades over the edge opposite. She used her four limbs as leverage to raise her hip off the bottom of the bath, the well of her navel stretching and expelling lukewarm water off. She let the sunlight dry her body in its ancient way, and waited.

Waited for a voice that never came. 

*****

Push and pull. Two sides of the same story, or so they professed to be, as the tide's two oscillating modes. The nameless girl that came before her, ten years ago almost to the date, had either sought or fought the siren Eva had come to know as her own since last night. Even with a new dream on the horizon, conspiring to the monster’s death, she could not help but claim her as such. It was her dreams she haunted, her years she consumed, her fate she played with. Her temptation, her siren. 

But the other girl. 

Mother claimed that she had fought day and night. That it was the fighting which killed her. That she was a martyr. Was this Eva’s destiny? A childish part of her said yes. That part had believed it like a distant nightmare, that all children dream: what if I wake up dead in the night? What if the gods are cruel, not kind? What if all is not right? 

Another part of her believed it more romantic—no, more virtuous—to die in pursuit of something, rather than to struggle against a shortening rope. Was this all that her fate had come to? A battle between romance and fear? 

A sword clashed against a riotous shield: The other girl was dead, indeed, and her legacy preceded her like a forked tongue. One prong telling her to finish what she started, the other stabbing at her feet when she took another step. The story wasn’t complete. She needed more information. 

Her body still ached between wet and dry. Her lower muscles lay motionless in a half-inch of water, constantly cooling and warming in the sun. No storm tonight. The rest of her creaked as it dried, boasting the wisdom of a debate that only occurred in the boughs of a thousand years-old tree. But she didn’t have a thousand years. She was, until the end of the week, merely mortal, with thoughts beyond her years and station battling in the contradicting volumes in her head. 

What a mess she was in. 

She felt a stroke of wind brushing a lone hair across her fore-arm, and swatted it away, but her hand rested where it lay. Pruney fingertips long-since stretched taut prodded at the skin until they felt resistance: bone, blood, and other miscellaneous humours. 

No storm. No nightmares. 

But Phoebe had touched her. Had touched this skin that has been washed, by rain and soap and Mother’s hands, brushed over a dozen times yet the whisper of those fingers persisted, sneaking along her arms and shoulders, climbing up her spinal cord like a lowered rope to tangle in her hair and around her ears. It said those dreaded words Come to me through memory alone. Maybe it was her imagination this time, or confusion. In a state of disbelief, she was probably just overwhelmed. Naked, alone for a blessed moment, re-living the last dip she had in deeper water. 

She listened more closely, grabbed a fistful of her hair and folded it away from her ears, turning her head so she could listen to the suggestions that beamed down through the skylight. Birdsong, a light air, the sounds of people even lighter. But no distinct voices. 

She dropped her hair and slumped down in the bath again, tipping her head back, eyes closed. Mother’s tone had joined the sister’s warble outside. Eva truly was alone. A door that bolted from the inside shielded her, and she didn’t even have to steal a key. She was free to come and go today, as she pleased, only needing to give Mother an answer tonight. The idea of free time tickled her, but still she couldn’t bring herself to get up. To dry off, get dressed, and wander as her heart led her. Somehow, deep down, she knew just where her heart would lead her. 

Was it that bad already? Was the rot already festering in her heart? Or had it always been there? Had Phoebe always had a seed in her soul, and was just waiting for it to sprout? Did she know that once she stopped her haunting voice, Eva would be searching for it in the daylight as well as the night?

Free time, no tight sleeves to balloon around her like the slightest prod would send her spiraling away, deflating. No eyes nor ears, and a comfortable buzz to buffer the sounds of her own breaths. She felt like she could float the next few hours away, while away the morning and afternoon with only a fasting hunger in her gut as the memory of duty. 

Duty?

She combed the tangles out of her hair before they dried. One of the duties of a priestess was personal cleanliness. The habit she’d been fitted into as soon as she took her vows made that difficult most days. Thick linen was hardly breathable, and most days (even in colder months) began and ended in a sweating struggle to change into and out of them. Her hair scarcely had a chance to breathe, too, tied up so tightly and close to her scalp she was sure something could have nested in it if it wanted to. Of course, they were expected to wash, but with twelve strangers in the dormitory baths all at once, Eva rarely allowed herself more than a few minutes before nerves took over and she swiftly dried off. 

She sank deeper into the bath and considered turning the water back on. Scrubbed within an inch of her life, she entertained the idea of a long, warm soak. But when her hand failed to reach the switch on the other side of the basin, she dropped it in her lap, and didn’t pick it up again. She credited the turbulent sleep with how heavy her limbs suddenly felt, and the thrumming of her heart with the sudden exertion on no breakfast or dinner. Her skin prickled with heat, but that must have been the sun. When her eyes finally opened, everything was tinted with a bright blue she tried to blink away and regain her composure. 

The hand that had trembled with pins and needles, released from an awkward suspension, and she shook it loosely, bringing her fingertips back and forth across her upper thigh. They danced across the peach-fuzz hair, loosened from a sleepy coverage of pores by scrubbing. Her skin was still quite raw and sensitive, no wonder her whole body suddenly seized when she stroked across a sensitive nerve that crept out from her inner thigh. She jolted awake, suddenly lucid, hand inches above her leg. 

A pit formed in her stomach, deeper than hunger. Deeper than fear. In it she sensed a formless warmth growing. Power. 

She lowered her hand back down, and didn’t jerk it away when the same jolt flashed through her. She tucked her chin into her chest and steered her whole arm with her shoulder, arm rigid as if a single fault or release of tension in the taut muscle would send something spiraling out of control. She moved as in a rowing boat, shoulder dropping, elbow down, wrist bent down, index finger navigating between the tight junction of her thigh and hip. The tight line of muscle on muscle obscured under a dense cloud of pubic hair, so she strained to see, then eventually gave up, where her fingers actually were going. 

She rolled her eyes up toward the skylight, squinting as she felt a provocation clawing up the sides of the hopeful pit within her. Nothing controlled her. No storm, no nightmares. A power called spite.

Look, she felt like saying, you only got me this far. 

Courage coursed through her veins, and control. She tested herself, and removed her hand again, elated that when her mind said ‘stop’ her digits obeyed. One of the pillars in the temple spoke of self-control. Knowing when to act, and when to react, and when to keep completely still. A smile stretched across her lips, the bottom one captured between her teeth, and she dipped below again. 

She recited the rest of her vows. Hard to forget them when she’d had to take them ten years in a row. 

Cleanliness she’s achieved. Not a speck of dirt weighed down her body, nor festered under her finger nails as they lightly scraped at the skin between her thighs, burrowing down to make room for themselves. 

Self-control, she stifled a giggle with each successful interruption of her own self-motions. 

Patience, she counted ten seconds between each adventurous squeeze and press. 

Boldness, she fought to keep her eyes open and look at herself, documenting every step that pushed the line further and further down. 

Devotion. 

She didn’t know where and who her true god was. What they wanted so badly of her that they couldn’t muster up the courage to make it known five years in a row. As her middle finger grazed the plush, limp heat between her legs she couldn’t help but feel provocative. She parted her lips and bared her teeth, to whoever was out there, watching her and waiting so excruciatingly long. Come to me she felt herself saying. Come and take me formed her tongue against the back of her teeth, jaw set, not daring to voice those thoughts. 

Her legs, bent at the knee, waded apart, rippling the shallow water around her bottom. All pretence dissolved in those waves, milky white with long-forgotten soap suds, as she shifted her legs further open, feet propped stably on the bath’s edge. There for all the world’s eyes to see, or only one pair, if they were bold enough to take a peek. With a permissive sigh she closed her eyes again, waiting for nothing, for everything, for something to seize her limbs invisibly and put them to use or better yet to stop her in her tracks, remind her of her duty—her oath.

She wanted nothing more than to feel another set of hands digging into her untouched shoulders, to drive a suggestion into a promise and bury it deep inside her burning flesh. If something—someone—were to do that, give her a searing flash of certainty, there and then, she swore she would take every step until the end of this week on her knees. Let them bleed for all she cared. She couldn’t feel pain if the promise of an end to this was set in the stones she dragged herself across.

She spread her fingers, straining against the bounds, baring herself free for the taking, like a girl at the market spreading ripe goods over a tattered tablecloth knowing the wares drew the eye away from it. It was all performance. Eva knew, in her heart, she had only been acting the dutiful sister and priestess. Every devotional act, every prayer across her upper lip, every drop of the sweat of labour down her back had carried with it the salty aftertaste of desire. To be taken, to be put to use, body and soul, to feel something sturdier than an oath breaching past her devoted lips.

To be a disciple of something rock-solid that made her lose sleep for good reason. 

With dry mouth, she tossed herself into a storm with no wind. She opened her eyes. The sky was still clear, its sun high in the sky but passed over the open skylight. The residual dew drops of the bath had dried or fallen off her skin, and she felt a heaviness again fill the pit inside her. Like a leech had rid her of all her blood and stuffed her with cotton and rocks like a cheap toy. 

Boldness paved the way to anger. She looked down at herself, all long, lithe limbs present and correct. Dutiful hands she knew well the softness of, even if hidden under those rude bandages. Thighs that could cushion a weary head or cling to any mortal body. Soundness of mind and body weren’t enough? Very well, at the crux of her knees were dotted three moles, another two at her ankles. She could see now the smooth curve of her hip boaster a scattering of freckles, too. A treasure map that led up her body and into places she could not see, but had felt with her hands and knew to be lacking in discomfort or sharpness. She’d heard poetry of goddesses with breasts like two moons—seen their statues, too—and pale as snow. Her long habits had kept most of her body out of the sun’s reaches, apart from her bandaged hands. She’d heard drunken stories in her childhood of various pink places on a woman’s body. Those places used for pleasure. She’d seen them, too. She knew they were there. Was there something missing in her? A fault? A disfigurement that her qualifying ignorance prevented her from knowing in herself?

To reach out to another woman meant threatening the very oath that kept her pure. But how was she meant to know—

How was anyone meant to know how good they were without practice?

Anger seared inside her like a branding iron and she swore the next thing she touched would fizzle with steam. But she pulled on her clean habit and furiously tied her boots, departing from the promise of a day spent lounging around.

There was only one person she knew would give her a story. Even if it wasn’t the full truth, at least it was a fresh perspective. This island creaked with age, and groaned with the same voices, day and night. If this was what it took, giving her ear to a siren’s song, then that was what it would take. She’d resisted it before. She could do it again. 

*****

“I’m going back,” said Eva, standing at Mother’s side, overseeing the sisters in the garden gossip among the ruined rose trellis. Mother didn’t stir. “Last time, I wasn’t there on my own terms, and I overpowered her. I think I can do more if I went in boldly.” Mother listened, tight-lipped, a Eva attempted to justify the adventure. Every word that spilled bravely past seemed to lose its meaning when faced with another pair of ears. “You told me once, the sirens draw their power from the night.”

“I did.”

“If I face her in the day time, I’m sure to have an upper hand.” She could sense she wasn’t being terribly convincing, but time was running out, both in the day and in the week. Mother looked over her shoulder but there was nobody there. “If I fail, I will escape. And then we can ask for help from the hunters on the island.” She stepped forward and stood in front of Mother. In her boots she was almost tall enough to see her eye to eye. 

“Let’s not agitate the people more than they already are. This storm was of the monster’s making. They shouldn’t have to face her when they are still so weak. If I succeed… it will be like she was never there. She can disappear quietly, without disturbing us all any more.”

Mother didn’t meet her eye, looking through her as her nostrils flared.

“How do you intend to kill her?”

Eva balked. The idea of killing Phoebe was one she had intentionally avoided. “I don’t know,” she confessed. “But—But I know I… I will know once I’m there. I felt something in that cave last night. Something I think I’ve been waiting to feel for a long time.” She sniffed, folding her hands behind her. “Someone out there was looking out for me.”

“The gods were said to feast on the blood of sirens.” Mother’s face was deadpan, lips hardly moving, her voice more like a stage whisper, reciting an ancient lecture. Or the hissing smoke of a snuffed-out candle. “When they came down from the sky to part the seas and the land, sending them all slithering into the depths, the monsters overflowed back onto the shores. To ensure they couldn’t return the gods drank their blood straight from their mouths and tossed them back.” She blinked slowly as if overcame with memory, as if she had seen the whole ordeal. “Their bodies formed the islands. The drops of blood that spilled down the gods’ chins razed canyons and rivers, nourishing our forests and farms. Their death was a bounty from which we got life.” Mother took a deep, satisfied breath, relaxing as she caught Eva’s eye. 

“Some survived,” she continued, reaching up to stroke Eva’s shoulder through her habit. “Their tongues forked down the middle where the gods’ teeth nipped them. One of the duties of the old priestesses was to capture those that stayed alive when they became too bold and infiltrated our world. To kill them.” A shiver ran up Eva’s spine as a chilly wind from the west drove through her skirt and between her legs. “Over time they learned too much about humans. Our weaknesses, our pleasures. Only the strongest of us… Only the best of us could see their forked tongues and the poison that dripped off them. We are not gods. We cannot survive their kisses, Eva.”

“I didn’t—I…” Eva tried to pat out the fire that sparked in her cheeks. Phoebe’s poisonous kiss. Her acid lips. Her deadly tongue. She hadn’t even gotten close enough to see the split in it yet, but the picture in her mind—

“My daughter,” said Mother, lowering herself an inch to peer into Eva’s eyes. “You are the best of us.”

“I am?”

“You survived her once. You and I are one with the old priestesses. They knew what it took to please the gods. To make this world one they would be proud to return to for good. You, my dearest, have given me hope.”

Cleanliness, self-control, patience, boldness, devotion. They ignited inside her, but the flame didn’t catch. There were no clouds in the sky, still. Nothing to see but a vast and empty blue. But whoever was out there, watching her, invisible but for the heat she’d felt in that momentary pit… 

She couldn’t fool herself any more. She was doing this only for herself. They had had ten years of her life and would have the rest of her eternity. Today. Tonight. It was for her. The answers would be for her. The gods could reap the fruit that grew from that seed when the time came. 

“I will make you proud,” said Eva, stepping backwards away from Mother’s release. She felt her burning gaze following her through the ruined rows of roses her sisters had all but given up on. Eva passed a platter of food laid out, waiting to be delivered for lunch to the survivors on the terrace, and snatched one loaf. The crust snapped, releasing warmth into her hand, and she fought the feeling that she would have to use it as bait. One thing was certain: Whatever Phoebe was, siren or not, was deserving of respect like any other god. She had accepted an offering before Eva even knew her name. 

Eva had fallen to her knees— 

She had called her a monster to appease Mother but the sound had left a sour taste in her mouth. No, this bread was the least she could give to broker the necessary peace. An offering it would be. She could only pray, as she stumbled down the path to the beach at low tide, that after last night’s rupture, it would be enough. 

Chapter Text

“Hey, sweetie,” a sing-song voice carried over the shallow dunes and stopped Eva in her tracks. She sank her heels in the sand and looked over her shoulder where the wobbling figure of Bella stood knee-deep in the tides. “My house is the other way,” she laughed. 

Eva felt a tugging at her heart, pulling her towards the far side of the beach, where the prickly black teeth of the cavern were only  just sprouting from the sand like springtime flowers. She scrubbed her face to find a smile, but could only force one. “Good morning,” she said, turning her body. The sun was behind her now, but so was her destination. “Sorry, I was so busy this morning I forgot to check in on you.” She invented some chore that would have brought her there. “We’re short on straw for making up a mattress,” she said, plucking at the long grass spilling out of the bank like hair, then gave up when she saw Bella wasn’t even looking at her. Eva planted herself a few steps closer to the shoreline. “How are you feeling?”

“Better now,” said Bella, cheeks red with sunburn. Her hair blew in wisps around her face and her eyes were tired. “Jaime had a bad morning, but he slept well. I guess the storm’s passed over us.”

“Praise be to the gods,” said Eva instinctively, then cleared her throat of a sudden itch. Bella looked at her sideways.

“I meant to ask you if you found that girl.”

“What? Oh—oh, the girl. No, I didn’t.” Eva wondered at how easy it was to lie. It was almost like her mouth was moving on its own, as if she really believed what she was saying. Was it this easy for other people? 

“I would have headed over there myself if I didn’t have Jaime. When he’s like this I can barely leave the house.” Bella chuffed. “Few more days of this and we’ll have cleared out the pantry.” Eva thought of the bread tucked into her pocket, and shifted her skirt better to hide it. 

“There’s plenty to spare at the temple, Bella. You know you won’t be a burden.”

Bella considered her, biting her lip. She looked out over the water, listening for its input. The viscera gurgle of the waves fed back an ambivalent response, and Bella tutted to herself. “One of these days I’ll not think twice about leaving this view.”

She looked like a sturdy oak in a desert. Unchanged, unmoved, braving the harsh, dry soil and the blistering sun. Somehow, despite everything, she was still here. Eva felt a pang of guilt. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” asked Bella, the horizon captivating her. “The ocean.”

“It is,” Eva admitted. “It’s also terrifying.”

“What’s not made more beautiful with a little bit of terror?”

Eva bit her tongue and said nothing. 

A minute of silence washed over them. The tide was swelling around Bella’s thighs, her dress billowing heavily around her legs with each inhale and exhale. Finally, she put one hand on her hip and sighed, a long and exhausted sigh that spoke of defeat. “You’re right, though” she said, stirring Eva from the dreamy scene, the sound of the ocean’s breathing reminding her of those sleepless nights as a child, listening for someone out there, who was in turn listening to her. “I’ll pack up some things for the night and… wake Jaime.” She stepped over the little waves on her way back to dry land, the blissful smile fading fast from her face. “Maybe we can have a sleepover, huh?” she joked, but there was no mirth between them. 

She didn’t wait for Eva’s response before dragging her wet dress away to her shack, leaving Eva stranded, alone, feeling like she’d made a mistake. The ocean retorted, tide tickling the hem of her freshly-cleaned habit. Had it been a mistake? She’d only extended the hospitality she was trained to give. Storm or not, in times of need the temple was supposed to be there for the people who needed it. But tearing Bella away from the ocean, from her home, felt like a disservice. 

Eva thought about the temple, how it had housed her for ten years, and only at the end of them had she begun to feel homesick. The ocean whispered something to her that could cut across the mile of land between it and the priestesses’ dormitory. Something she was still trying to hear clearly. Had Bella heard it, too?

But she thought of the years they had spent apart. Bella had fallen in love by the ocean, had been married and raised a child here. Eva couldn’t boast the same connection. The Island’s interior—the Temple—was her home, her coming-of-age, and this affair with the ocean, with this siren, would soon come to an end. And who knew what would come after that?

She defied the call of the tide for another, finding her previous route again as she turned her eyes to the west. 

*****

Eva wondered if the grandiosity of the cave would ever fail to impress her. Those great black jaws, opening for her, vaulting ceiling like the roof of a beast’s mouth or a temple at night. She studied its face, craters in the upper roof that hollowed out like eye sockets. For years nothing had roosted there. The whole mass had a deathly aura. But now, approaching it, Eva spotted the beginnings of some gull nests, and heard the shrill cries of the birds calling to each other across the skull. Even the gulls’ nests on the temple were cleared out seasonally, swept off the roof and left to shatter into splinters on the grounds before being tidied away like they were never there. Eva winced at the comparison. 

The creases the cave’s lips were lined with moss or algae, giving a morbid sense of rebirth to the entire scene. It coloured more as she neared, the beginnings of a habitat for something or other. The beginnings of a system. 

She couldn’t help feeling like she was taking her place in it. 

She wielded the bread before her like a shield, two-handed, and stepped into the cave with the confidence of one more thoroughly armed. Somehow she felt safe, still. In truth, Phoebe hadn’t actually tried to harm her. It made Mother’s comments feel undeserved. 

The path towards the centre was the same as the last two times, but she made it more slowly, listening all the time between footsteps for signs of the siren within. At last coming upon the central chamber, she looked around and saw and heard nothing more than the dropping of late morning dew from the stalactites. 

She dropped her shielding stance.

Perhaps she was gone. Not a stir in the moat, reduced again to dark, clear water that encircled the central platform. Just smooth rock, and a sense of life within and without. Eva sighed and placed the bread down on the overhang where Phoebe had stood last night, speaking soft words to her. Her spine tingled where she’d been touched by Phoebe, between her wings, the base of her neck that felt constricted like never before by that pesky button and that ribbon. She mut have tied it too tight in the rush to find Mother after her bath. Her wrists, too, felt stifled. All of her did, breathless down here as if the chamber was stuffed with steam from a hot bath. 

The one this morning had been less satisfactory. 

Eva pulled at the ribbons and balled them up, stuffing them in her pocket as she descended to her knees. She laid her palms flat on the tops of her thighs and closed her eyes, beginning a prayer she’d memorised since childhood. Her lips barely moved with the speed of it, but she caught herself and started from the beginning, slower and with meaning. 

“Gods of the island, of its lands, seas, and skies, impart to me your wisdom,” she said, gulping down thick mouthfuls of air between the verses. “I offer to you the bounty of my hands, and ask only for the bounty of your minds. Give me strength to seek answers in the light and not to fear the dark.” Her lips were dry when she concluded the prayer, and opened her eyes. She didn’t know what she was expecting. It wasn’t like she’d had an answer before. 

Close to giving up, she inhaled the scent of the fresh bread. She’d had to miss breakfast, and on account of a smaller dinner, was quite hungry. If she’d had any other distraction, maybe the temptation of the load in front of her wouldn’t be so crippling. Self-control threatened to slip as she tore the bread down the middle. The soft meat of it was plush under her fingertips. She pressed the pulp together and it stuck, still warm from the oven and her pockets. This would have fed a hungry survivor in the temple or town, or even herself.

The bandages on her hands were tied tight. Mother was no stranger to healing, but Eva felt the sting of the wrappings against her wounds were a wordless scold. Did they need to be this tight? She felt too hot, too hungry, too empty. The cave ceiling stretched up into the boneless dark. Any manner of things could be up there, watching her, waiting for her to slip up. It would only take one crumb, one morsel to wet her tongue and then all would come tumbling down on her head.

“I always felt the gods tortured those they expect to love them.”

Eva dropped the halves and jumped to her feet. The food bounced on the ledge of the overhang and she heard a soft plop a second later, little creases in the water sailing sideways away. Her breath trembled as she inched closer, peering over the edge. But the only thing she saw was the bread, soaking up the water’s surface and falling, inch by inch, to the bottom. 

“Offerings are usually made in fire,” said the voice, and Eva spun around, certain that it came from behind her. Or maybe it was in her head. Perhaps above? 

“I came to—I’m here to talk to you,” she said, trying to sound more confident that she was. All bravely left her when she heard Phoebe’s voice again. It was that tone, like the ocean’s depth, old and unrevealing, that made her legs buckle and threaten to send her down, pathetically to her knees. 

“You already have,” said Phoebe through the air. “And made your intentions clear enough. If you mean to kill me, I’m afraid I must disappoint you again.”

“I didn’t mean that.”

“Of course. Humans never say what they truly mean.”

Eva bit back a retort. How could a siren teach her about speaking true?

“I’m here for answers. Once I have them, you can leave this place. I have nothing more to do with you.”

“It’s inspiring how much power you think you have over me.” Phoebe’s laugh sounded all around. For a second Eva thought that sound could inspire green to bloom in the darkest of crags. She got the inexplicable, overwhelming urge to make her laugh again, even in pity. 

But the allure of this was like the scent of bread. She knew she couldn’t live with herself if she tasted it. “Mother told me about sirens like you.”

“There is nothing like me in the world,” Phoebe shot back. “Not for a long time. Not since people like you ran it.”

“Than why did you bring me here?” Eva demanded at her own reflection, for lack of other subject. The waves distorted her face, spinning her words as they left her mouth. “I thought—Maybe you…” She groaned and put her head in her hands. “Come out here so I can see you. I’ve had enough of your games.”

“Games?” Phoebe laughed again, and it felt like every one of Eva’s muscles were relaxing at the same time. “You are proving me wrong with every word. I thought you were smarter than this. What else did your brilliant mother say?”

“That the sirens crawl the ocean.”

“I see.”

“That they breach the water to twist us and prey on us.”

“Brilliant.”

“That their kisses are poisonous… Their forked tongues… speak lies and—and speak lust—into our ears.”

“Lust?” came a hiss in her right ear. She flinched, hands by her sides. “Your Mother is a clever woman. You ought to listen to her. Much happiness is gained from following the paths of our elders.”

“You’re telling me this is all true?” Eva asked firmly. “That you beguiled my sister and dragged her out to the cliff—” 

“Don’t be so simple, Eva—”

“That you beguiled me, too.”

“You’re proving it wouldn’t take so much effort.” Another swirling shape appeared in the water. White as angel wings, the hem of a linen sheet. Eva’s eyes stung with the strain of keeping it in sight, as if even blinking would make her dissolve into mist. “Humans long for an easy answer. They never want to put in the work to understand the world. That is why the gods stay put. Who would bother to walk among the same beings that think all there is is water and sand and nothing in between?” Phoebe stepped into view, clad in white, her skin touched with the pink of liveliness, and fury. Her pearl-drop eyes glistened with daylight long since passed over the cave’s own skylight. The cloth whispered past Eva’s ear. She fought the instinct of leaning into it. 

“Then tell me the truth,” said Eva. “That’s what I came for. I won’t leave without it.”

The picture in the water stirred unusually. Something from the depths rose up, and Eva realised the bread had disappeared. “The truth?”

“Yes,” Eva spat. “I w- I want to… I need to see you.” Her breaths quickened as she leaned down, face nearer to the water. “Please.”

Phoebe’s voice dropped to a mutter, like a sound made from human lips. She was standing by her side but only in body. Eva knew there was more. When Phoebe next spoke it was tinted with uncertainty. The game she played—of claiming there was none—was over. “You aren’t ready to see me, Eva. Not after—”

“Please,” repeated Eva, almost without a voice. “Please, I must see you.”

“Eva…” Phoebe’s reflection knelt by her side. She raised a hand to her back, but drew it away before it made contact. Eva wished she didn’t long for that action to play through to the end. The feeling of her touch was a regretfully pleasant memory. One she had too quickly sworn off. 

“You’re right. I know nothing. I seem to know less every single day,” she confessed. It felt, for the first time, like her prayers were being heard. “But I know one thing:” a tear drop fell into the water. “You didn’t come when I wanted you to… to ruin me.” She bit her lip hard until it bled. She couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth. Nevertheless they flowed like water. They fell like rain. Finally set free after a drought. “This morning, I wanted to throw it all away. And I—I wanted you to be the one… the one to take it.” Phoebe was motionless even in her quivering reflection. “I don’t know who you are. I don’t even know if you’re a siren anymore. Human, goddess, demon… you make me want to ruin everything and—and I need to know if I’m damned for it. If I’ve been damned all along.”

She tore her eyes from the image below, coming face to face with Phoebe. Mouth agape, her eyes were kind and sympathetic, looking up through dark eyelids. Her hair stuck to her temples coldly, slick as night and just as beautiful. That stinging urge returned, deep in her gut, demanding—thrashing—to be released. Phoebe raised a tender, cold hand, and laid it gently on Eva’s jaw, her thumb stroking along her lower lip. A droplet of blood from the split skin fell on her, and she considered it sadly, then met Eva’s eyes again and smiled, the faintest of smiles. Eva could tell she was holding back. There was something she wanted in this cave, whether as a predator longs for its prey, or a starving pilgrim to break his fast. 

Eva had understood, from the moment she saw her on that not so distant morning, that there was something dreadfully strong between them. She never thought she would come face to face with it in tears. But if this was what being damned felt like, Eva wasn’t so sure she wanted to see heaven.

As Phoebe’s smile wilted she turned Eva back to the water, leaning down by her side. They looked in together, the water stilling as they did.

“I could never ruin you,” Phoebe whispered. 

Half of the image changed, the shape rising from the water taking form. 

“I could never damn you.” 

The pressure—feather-light—on Eva’s chin and jaw fell away with the next breath, but her eyes were locked down. 

“Because…” 

The Phoebe beside her was all but gone, a fine mist and a voice like sea-foam. From the depths of the water Eva found a new face, a new Phoebe.

“You were always…” 

Only the eyes and the lips were the same, but the daylight danced on her skin in a totally new way, like it was coming from every direction, lustrous as a diamond. Sickeningly beautiful. 

“Mine.”

*****

She sat across from Eva, the white cloth strewn across her chest in a single band that cascaded down her torso and covered her lower half, giving her the appearance of being cross-legged under a blanket. But Eva now knew the truth. They sat mirroring each other on the damp ground, the light of day falling in orange beams through the humid air, casting a sheer, warm screen over the scene, like a warm summer dream. 

That might have been it, Eva considered, listening to Phoebe speaking. Hardly anything registered for more than a moment. She was overcome with so much… everything. It felt like ten different emotions battled within her, but the most dominant voice, time and time again, recalled the sight right in front of her. The skin had returned by degrees to its usual colour as Phoebe talked, and the hair all the same, still slick and soaked though it must have been in the sun for an hour at least. Her eyes all the same, half-lidded and serious.

“…It’s a nice feeling,” Phoebe rattled on, “having that promise of companionship. A priestess,” she sounded out, seemingly talking to herself by now, lecturing herself on some conduct Eva didn’t care for. “A priestess and god are meant to have a bond that… no two other creatures can ever have. The idea, when it was presented to me was… far from objectionable, to say the least. I’d been the last of my kind for almost a century.”

Eva realised she had been smiling when her cheeks became sore. She composed herself and tuned in to what had been a one-sided conversation for gods know how long.

“A century? Mother told me the seas were still riddled with sirens.”

“I wish that were the case. Those that died in hiding far outnumber those that were murdered.” She picked with long, lithe fingers at a lock of hair, scrutinising every strand. “Safe to say, apart from my storms, the past hundred years have been utterly silent for me.” Her mouth turned up at the corners in a futile attempt to smile. “But I don’t want your pity, and I’m sure you’re bored already.”

Eva stifled a yawn. “Not at all, hearing you speaking again is…” In all honesty, she had dreaded the hours to come when she had to return, to swear (and lie) to Mother that her task had been complete, and never see or hear her again. She was content to fall asleep here, and never abandon the melodious voice that operated on the cave walls like a glowing ivy, dancing down and into her ears, tying up all worries and distractions. She realised she hadn’t finished her sentence when Phoebe laughed. 

“I’m getting to my explanation,” she said. “What was it you wanted to know first, remind me?”

“Oh! The girl—the other priestess. Was she like me? I mean—did she have the same dreams, the sleepwalking?”

“She was nothing like you. That is to say, neither of us knew what she was until it was too late. I’d never had a priestess before, and she was the first of them to be sworn to a patron not welcome in the temple.” Phoebe sighed, exhausted by memory, but continued. “I reached out to her from the outside, reaching in as far as I was allowed. I sent her dreams where I tried talking to her but there was only so much of my power that the walls of the temple allowed to seep through. She, in turn, did her best to reach out to me, once she understood someone was out here with messaged.”

“And the storms?”

“Thunder sounded out her every step as she made her way to me. I didn’t cast the storms, be sure! They have been following me since the last of my sisters died. I have no theories as to why, but they are always stronger in the nights I spend in this cave.” She gesticulated as if to swat away a wayward cloud. “Last night must have been rather quiet.”

“It was. Did I scare you away?”

“No. I thought you needed space to think. So did I.”

“I am sorry about my… outburst.”

“Who can blame you? I realise I haven’t been entirely open with you. If I’d adhered to the promise I made ten years ago, it never would have come to this. I’d have stayed far from these shores, and weathered out my storms in peace.”

Eva darkened. “You didn’t want me?”

Phoebe looked as if she wanted to spring across the space between them in protest, grab her by the shoulders and speak sense into her. “Hardly! I was trying to protect you. Seeing what it was like to be committed to me… what it had done to her… I never wanted to subject another person to that.”

Eva wondered what her life might have been like, without the storms and the dreams, the caves, the beaches… Without Phoebe.

“Before she died,” Phoebe continued, “I knew there was a second. You probably don’t realise this, but the markings on you have an effect on who you are claimed by. They can change, if the received is unwilling.” She read Eva’s mind. “You would have gone to some other god than me,” she explained.

Some other god… and at the cost of five years? None of the shame, the fear, the feelings of inadequacy. “I am sorry, Eva,” said Phoebe. “I worried about telling you this. Oftentimes, during a bad storm, I wondered if it would be better for us both if I just let you go.”

The sound of that was like a death sentence, but Eva swallowed her fear and asked, “Why didn’t you?”

Phoebe licked her bottom lip. Eva was caught off-guard by the subtle nick down the middle of it. She felt heat rise in her cheeks and forced herself to look away. 

“One night, after she died… I returned to where it happened. The cliffs just above us. I thought I was alone, but then I heard another cry. Down on the beach, between the dunes, facing the ten-foot tall waves like they had something to say to her, was a girl. Her tears were mightier than the storm and I saw in that moment, someone who I could share the sea with. Because of our grief, I saw…” She looked defeated by her own words. “As much as I tried, I couldn’t let you go. Then you went off, hid away from the waves in the temple. All I could think of whenever I reached out to you was how I knew I could bring you peace.”

“Peace?” asked Eva. “With the ocean?”

“You’re not afraid of the ocean. I see it in the way you walk knee-deep in a rising tide.” Phoebe laughed, but she looked with admiration. “I can’t bear to think why you’ve been hiding from it for so long.”

“I’m not… hiding.” Eva wasn’t even convincing to herself. She hugged her knees. “My parents died at sea,” she said. “I felt shame.”

Phoebe inched closer and placed a comforting hand on her knee. “Shame?”

“I thought I was meant to hate it. I thought I would listen to the tides at night and hear their screaming. I couldn’t. There was only a… a song, like a lullaby. It made me so angry. Why couldn’t I feel the right things?” As she spoke, Phoebe stroked her knee, shuffling closer until she was by her side. Eva felt the urge to huddle closer as if for warmth, but her habit was stifling enough as it was. She couldn’t justify it…

“Even now,” she continued, “my head feels like it isn’t screwed on right. I loved my mother and father so dearly. When I heard how they died… I couldn’t even cry. I think—I think it was… that I envied them.”

Phoebe’s eyes widened. “Oh, Eva. Did you wish you were the one that died?”

She shook her head. “I wished I could be as close as they were to the ocean.” She let the silence fall between them like snow. “I suppose you were right. I was hiding in the temple. From a lot of things.”

“From me?”

Eva turned to face her, feeling how her hand slipped off her knee and onto her thigh. In the orange light her irises were like two burning discs with a still black pool beneath them, sea-deep. “I’ve been looking for you for ten years,” Phoebe.”

Phoebe rose to her knees, the cloth re-arranging on her hip and shoulder to bare the pale skin of her breast. Her face was bright and still like a lake that held all the stars in the daytime, a secret from the sky. How many secrets hid beneath her skin, Eva wondered?

“Despite everything,” Eva said through half-parted lips, “I am glad I waited.”

All she could see was Phoebe. Even when she tried to look away, to gauge the time from the colour of the sky, she found she couldn’t tear her gaze away for more than a moment. Phoebe drew her back like she had a gravity of her own, like looking at her was lucidity, and everything else a dream to wake from.

Finally she cleared her throat, Phoebe’s other hand having found its way to the back of her neck as she fingered along the ridge of her braid. “I suppose I was right to bring you the offerings.”

“The bread?” Phoebe smiled. “Yes, that was a nice touch.”

“I wish I could offer more, but there’s only so much these pockets can hold.”

“Yourself is more than enough, my Eva.” They both coloured at her words. “What I mean is… the moment I saw you… the markings on your back… It’s been ten years since I last saw my name written in this way.”

“Your name?” Eva gasped. “That’s what it says?”

Phoebe giggled and touched along the collar of her dress. “But of course. How else would I know you were meant for me?”

Being hers, being hers by name. The thought was intoxicating. Eva rose up to her knees as well. They were eye to eye when she asked Phoebe, “Do you want to see it again?”

*****

Her hands worked slowly at first, but then proved they knew exactly what they were doing, as if they had had ten years of practice rather than anticipation. Phoebe undid the button on the back of her collar first and, unimpeded by the ribbon which was still in Eva’s pocket, easily unfastened the hidden clasps along the length of her back. Shivers ran up the spine, an earth-shattering impact with every clasp that was released, freeing her lungs to breathe the scented air.

She was sitting on her knees facing the cave entrance, already half-obscured by water. She would have to wait until the tide went out, until nightfall, to be able to tread it again. Finding it in herself to feel disappointed at that wasn’t favourable in the moment, so she sank into the feeling of Phoebe’s hands undoing her dress. 

At long last those hands reached the small of her back and instead of brushing the sleeves off her shoulders, Phoebe took a moment to take in the sight. A long, drawn-out silence, wherein Eva could feel her eyes on her, and considered looking behind. It had been only a minute but that was a minute too long with Phoebe out of her sight.

Her patience and control, however, paid off when at long last the cool of Phoebe’s palm came into contact with Eva’s skin. She was transported immediately to last night, to being half-submerged in knee-deep water and naked save for her soaked underwear. The thin slip vest she wore under her nightgown had vanished in the water when she slid the whole arrangement off, and in her haste she hadn’t even bothered to find it. 

Now, it was as if it never existed. The only layer of her clothing had come undone at the woman’s hands, and Eva was torn between wishing there was more for her take off, and wishing it was all gone that very second. But Phoebe was taking her time. For a long minute she didn’t even move her hand, listening to her pulse through her skin. Eva leaned back, attempting to be subtle about the fact she needed, more than anything, to reconstruct what had happened last night, with no mistakes this time.

This was her goddess, she admitted for the first time to herself, and paused mid-lean. How could she allow her to see Eva acting this way with less than a week left before the ceremony? It was her life’s work to protect her virtuosity, not to flaunt herself in the daylight like this.

But then again, what was it Phoebe had said?

I could never ruin you…

Her spirit deflated. When Phoebe’s hand didn’t move away, it was more than confirmation of her fears. She hadn’t come to her when she called this morning. She wouldn’t take what was in front of her. All those nights, those tossed and twisted bedsheets… they were a test after all, a call to motion but only to the cave’s entrance. She shrank away from Phoebe without realising, but only made it half an inch before she felt a new sensation that made her stop in her tracks.

A plump and plush set of lips at the base of her neck, planted and just as swiftly retracted. Eva uttered a soft gasp and bit her tongue. Sparks of hope flickered and caught.

“I’m so sorry,” Phoebe said, but Eva could hear the smile in it. “I shouldn’t scare you so. I was admiring you and—I don’t know what came over me.”

“Admiring me?” It was all backwards, Eva was the one meant to be admiring her, revering her. She had brought no more offerings and couldn’t until the morning… what was there to admire? Truly she had been the worst disciple imaginable.

“You,” said Phoebe, humming as she brought her mouth close to Eva’s skin again. “I could stay here forever, reading my name on you. You make it look so much prettier than it sounds.” She giggled again. Eva felt her breath on her neck before another kiss was plucked, longer and deeper, above Phoebe’s hand, which now trailed slowly down the centre of her back. 

“Tell me,” she whispered, out of earshot of the rocks and the shadows. “What were you waiting for this morning, in the bath?”

Eva’s teeth drew blood from her bitten lip. She should have known she was being watched. Wasn’t it that which made it so thrilling? Now it felt like her sins were being counted in front of her. 

She repented, “Nothing—Nothing.”

“Surely not nothing?” Phoebe purred in her ear. One hand on her back, the other busy untying a band that kept her hair tied up. As Eva came up with a defence it fell loosely down her back. Phoebe set about unbraiding it, loop by loop.

“Not nothing,” she finally confessed. 

“As I suspected,” Phoebe said. “Such a proud display of your virtue couldn’t come about unprompted.”

“Why did you watch?” she attempted to turn the interrogation towards Phoebe, but didn’t anticipate the secret addition in her mind, and why didn’t you listen to my calls?

“It’s not often a patron gets to see their priestess spread herself out like that. Just… for… them…” She arranged the unbraided hair in two halves over each shoulder. The relief on her scalp was magical. Eva felt like she was laying on a cloud, and noticed she was leaning again into Phoebe’s embracing arms. “Had I been there, in the temple, in that bathroom…” 

“I wish you were there,” said Eva, against her better judgement. What sick game was this? Leading these questions, which Eva knew any other priestess daren’t even answer in her own mind, never mind out loud, and to the person for whom they were being kept pure.

“Did you picture me there?”

Eva held firm. She didn’t answer. Not even when Phoebe kissed her neck again, kneading her shoulders. 

“Did you picture me between your legs, when you spread them open?” 

Her face burned and she was sure in a second the rest of her would set on fire. Still she bit back the words and the breaths she would have uttered until her vision was swimming with pent-up energy. Another kiss, and then another, plotted strategically on her back to prod at the most sensitive places she didn’t even know she had. 

“Eva,” Phoebe whispered. “Need I remind you, you’re mine?”

“N-no. I know.”

“Then I ought to remind you, every immortal priestess lives and dies to please her god?”

She stiffly shook her head, tresses stirring in her lap. She had quite forgotten how long her hair was when loose. Even in the bathroom she’d braided it by habit before getting herself dressed. 

“Why, then, are you not answering my questions?”

Eva made a bundle of her hair, wrung her hands in it and wrapped it around her fists. She would live and die for Phoebe. Had done so the past decade, and now realised she would endure another ten if it meant what she had waited for would come to be. Heaven, with her, the ocean, with her, nights and storms hand-in-hand with her. 

“I have to wait,” she said, her hands shaking against their bounds. Shaking with how much she wanted to comply, but knew she couldn’t. 

Not even for her?

“I still have four—three—three more days.” She sat fidgeting like a half-shelled pea, dress unsticking from her damp body at the elbows, yet the urge to re-dress was only a brief suggestion. “The ceremony won’t work if I’m not a virgin.”

“The ceremony?”

“At the end of the week,” she reminded Phoebe. “When the gods descend on to the island to claim their priestesses.” She looked over her shoulder at her puzzled expression. “This is the basis of our priesthood. We practice self-control all our lives so that when the gods do come, they see only the best in humanity. In us.”

“But,” stammered Phoebe. “Why wait for the ceremony? I’m already here.”

“I—I know. But our markings will disappear—”

“Only if you lose your virginity to someone other than your patron,” furthered Phoebe. She cocked her head. “I am your patron, am I not?” Eva swallowed, but did not reply. Phoebe turned again to the markings down her back, petting them softly with the tip of her finger. “This is my name, as I recall. It hasn’t been so long that I forgot it.”

“Right,” said Eva definitively. She was quickly running out of excuses. She thought of the temple, her sisters and Mother toiling away before the ceremony. She thought of Bella, whom she’d left alone on the eve of what might be the hardest night of her life. 

Then she thought of Phoebe, nestled behind her, so close she could feel the white cloth sash whisper between them. Her touch radiating down her back like sunlight. A thousand places she ought to be right now, and a thousand chores delegated to someone else. Her stomach was empty and she wished her head would be the same. 

Suddenly Phoebe pulled away. “Eva,” she said. “Do you know what to do?”

Head swimming, heart thudding, she softly shook her head. 

“Everything I know is what… you showed me.”

Those stormy nights, where her hands had made charades down her body, and another’s will had puppeteered, were all the lessons she’d ever received. 

The laugh that Phoebe restrained made the room cold. “So,” she said, “when you tried that man’s door, what did you imagine would happen?”

Eva hid her face in her hair. “I wasn’t thinking then!”

“Do you want time to think now?” Phoebe removed the hair and set it loose down her back, where she occupied herself with picking up certain strands like she was scanning for the best ones. “In all my centuries,” she followed on, “I’ve come to know a thing or two.”

“Is this what all the gods do with priestesses after they claim them?”

“I don’t know about all of them. And as for priestesses, I’ve only had two. You’re technically my first, too. We’re equal.”

Eva wished that were the case. She wished she’d had centuries of experience, to see and hear and practice, purity be damned, if it meant she could be as well-versed in Phoebe’s pleasure as she was in the scriptures of the island. All of that meant nothing here. She felt like she’d surely wasted the past ten years yet again. 

But if it was her body she wanted, Phoebe would have it. No matter what it took. 

“Will you…” Eva cleared her throat. “Will you… show me?”

Chapter Text

Her clothes could have fallen off at any point. Joined to her habit only at the elbows, it was a precarious act simply to stand up, but she did it anyway, trusting that her virtue would at least be protected until the final moment before she gave up control. She folded her hands in front of her, counting on her hair to keep the rest of her front obscured while Phoebe made preparations.

These were swift, and consisted of her unwinding herself from the simple cloth outfit Eva had provided her that first day. Eva sharply inhaled as she saw once more the full figure Phoebe had enveloped in the cloth. Taking each inch of her in turn, she allowed herself to feel perverted for a moment, grazing slowly down her body as if committing it to memory. Long, lithe limbs, that moved like the lacy trim of a tidal wave, shook the cloth loose and laid it down for herself. When she bent at the waist, her long arms reaching down past her knees, Eva stopped breathing. The black lengths of her hair pooled on the cloth a moment, disappearing into their own locks like midnight rock pools, then unravelled again as she stood up. 

“I should be the one making you comfortable,” said Eva halfheartedly. 

“In case it wasn’t clear yet, I don’t intend to make you my servant for eternity.” She glanced down at Eva through her hair. “You’re far too pretty for that.”

Eva thought she was already blushing, but it must have been the overbearing heat from the afternoon sun. Before she could disguise it, Phoebe was in front of her. “I’ll undress you myself,” she said affirmatively, and didn’t wait for Eva’s eager nod. “After that, I won’t touch you. Not unless you ask me to.” She suddenly looked serious. “If you still want to wait until the ceremony, this is how it must be. I won’t touch you, and you won’t touch me.”

Eva paused. “But, how will I—If I can’t touch you—”

“There are other ways to gain pleasure, Eva,” she smirked. “And… In my experience, you ought to know your own limits before you allow someone else to test them.”

“So, you’ll be making me… do it?”

“Yes,” she said finally, closing the gap between their knees as her hands worked to unfasten the buttons at Eva’s wrists. They came undone like they’d been waiting for it, and Eva wondered if, when the moment came, she would do the same. Phoebe seemed to master every obstacle as it was presented, untangling Eva from the bounds of her habit in a fraction of the time it usually took Mother to do it. Clothes which had made her unassuming and plain all these years, protecting her from unwanted eyes, fell away like dry leaves in the wind. The dress lagged for a second on her hips, but then fell and pooled at her feet.

Phoebe took her right hand and helped her step out, and maintained it as she toed off her boots and socks. Eva eyed her with suspicion, wondering why she stopped when there was only one more garment left. The sun wouldn’t stay in the sky forever, and the pressure of the incoming night weighed heavy on both their heads. Soon Eva would have to show herself at dinner, report to Mother, and head to bed with the rest of the flock. Whatever she might say to steer Mother off Phoebe’s scent hadn’t come to her yet, but she felt this matter was second-most pressing when Phoebe sank to her knees before her, her whole demeanour changing from calm determination to feeble restraint.

“What are you doing?” Eva asked.

Her eyes were wide, lips parted, revealing the bottom row of pearly-white teeth and, Eva was amused to rediscover, a split, dark pink tongue. “You have to take off the last one yourself,” said Phoebe. “If I do it…” She gulped. “If I do it, I won’t be responsible for where my hands wander.”

Her restraint was as thin as the fabric that covered her from the waist to the tops of the thighs. A dark patch of moisture had rendered the undergarments, rendering it nearly see-through, giving access to the view of a dark mound of hair. 

“Oh,” whispered Eva. “I’m sorry…”

Phoebe didn’t break her stare, eyes locked on the bulging patch of cloth.

“Take it off,” said her lips, silent with focus. Her brow furrowed with each second Eva didn’t comply. “Take it off.”

Hooking her thumbs into the waistband, Eva set about pushing the underwear off of her hips. They rolled down into a white band, which she shuffled off inch by inch, keeling over with effort. The conflict ended at her knees, where they fell loose around to ankles like the leg-cuffs she’d seen in paintings of prisoners. She stepped out of those and flicked them off the blanket with her big toe, revelling in the amount of movement that was available out of her habit. The priestesses’ clothes were tailored to fit, to be unassuming yet restrictive. The only freedom they had with their own bodies was when they were naked, and for a few blessed minutes as they bathed, they were never alone to relish in it.

Eva suddenly wished she had access to a mirror, so she might see herself as nature had made her.

But she didn’t say anything. Phoebe didn’t say anything. Neither of them spoke, as if waiting for the other’s lead. At last Phoebe moved, to cover a smile with her hand. Eva folded her arms across her exposed chest.

“Are you trying to break my heart?” she asked nervously. Was this the end before the beginning? Now that she saw Eva as a whole, she didn’t like what she saw. Of course, Eva knew looks didn’t last forever—the younger priestesses whispered about it behind her back. She was, after all, the oldest sister, second only to Mother, whose wooden features seemed immortalised in critical glares and smiles that evacuated the foreign land of her face as soon as they appeared. Eva peered over the ledge into the water but it was too far to see herself in it and try to correct whatever impurity Phoebe had spotted that her morning bathe didn’t reveal.

“You are so beautiful,” a new tone drew her out of her spiralling, and she came to the full realisation of what she was doing: standing in the nude, her hair loose behind her, before a kneeling siren in her makeshift seat, like an empress on a silk cushion. Her lips tight together, Phoebe had pressed her hands between her knees, eyes moving nervously around her extremities. Eva’s imagination might have been playing with her, or she was unconsciously grappling for any sense, but she could swear she saw Phoebe blushing. Like a human would, but she knew Phoebe was far from that. Though she was the one looking up at Eva, the difference in elevation couldn’t erase the clear divide between them.

Eva was a human, Phoebe a god, and yet the way she looked at Eva could have convinced anyone of the reverse. Her mouth slowly opened, but lacked in words as Eva surrendered her chest to her view. How curious, she thought, how words often fail once the call to motion has been answered.

Emboldened by this fact, she spoke the only words she could commit to sound herself:

“Will you?”

Phoebe met her gaze, remembering her promise. “Oh, yes! Take a seat.” Phoebe shuffled backwards, giving Eva room to get comfortable on her half of the ‘cushion’. Eva sat on her bottom, knees together on her side, propping herself up on extended arms that stretched taut behind her. She leaned slightly, the tension in her body forming an arch in her spine, baring her breasts to the sun like two pale dunes. The contours of her body wove together like a jigsaw of muscles and flesh in sunset tones. Dark hair twisted into blackened rivers over a map of her shoulders and neck, warm dew of perspiration feeding into them like saltwater springs. 

She wondered what she would taste like. On cue, Phoebe’s snakelike tongue dashed across her bottom lip, savouring the lingering taste of her kisses. Eva could still feel them on her back like impressions on a wasteland, biding their time until a storm came to turn them into pools of memory, or pale scars in a drought. 

Phoebe was restless but Eva felt the world shrinking comfortably around them. The tide was high enough now that nobody would dare try to reach them even if they knew what was happening here. Aside from that, the only fissure in their shell-like hideout was the open pore in the cave’s roof that winked out into the bare sky. The infrequent flash of a bird’s wing as it sailed away to some other distraction served as their audience.

It was only quiet and saltwater from here.

Phoebe deflated, like a limp lily petal carried downstream. She tucked her hands under her knees and exhaled sharply. Eva could see she was just as nervous as she had been, skittish once the coolness dissolved away. Her own body seemed to reject the sunlight in favour of letting it illuminate Eva all the brighter. Still, she had that cold, silvery glow of her own that reduced any shadow across her silk-like skin to a dark mystery. The shade welled between her thighs and into the dips of her hips and collarbones, depths Eva realised she had yet to explore with little more than her eyes. Less that four full days left, and she would be free to map her out until the death of the sun.

So she pushed her own terror into the hole that had been burning wider in her own gut, extinguishing it, and broke the silence. 

“Can I see your face again?” 

Phoebe tipped her dimpled chin down. Softly, gravely, she said, “Eva…”

“Please,” she said. “It’s the only thing I ask.”

*****

“Will you accept my offering?” 

Drawing one long arm out towards Phoebe in an offertory gesture, holding out some invisible libation, Eva waited for their ritual to begin. She surrendered herself, mind and body, as a ship with no sails surrendered to the tides. 

Phoebe caught her feathery breaths on Eva’s cheek as she gazed into her eyes, her own pearly irises the only part of her that hadn’t changed. Her fingers, stroking through her hair restlessly, were longer and more slender than before, curling in the sea-deep blackness of the long locks, that now fell heavy in pools around her waist. Her hair veiled her ears and neck, but Eva could still see the markings on the sides of her long throat, from jaw to collarbone. Dark blue stripes like gashes in her skin. Gills that flared as her chest heaved full breaths of wet air. The skin stretched over her ribs was coloured like the ocean if the sunrise were viewed from under the water. Or as if the moon were encased in green glass, fluid and solid all at once like molten dreams. Eva thought if she looked hard enough she could see through her, straight to her heart, beneath two glossy breasts, pearled with dark blue nipples like the peaks of stormy waves.

She looked light-headed, her frill-lined eyelids fluttering as Eva offered herself to her. Phoebe held her breath, admiring the empty well of Eva’s palm, then, looking up through wide, bright, pearly eyes, briskly nodded.

In a once-barren cave, on the forgotten outskirts of the god-abandoned island, she felt at once the true meaning of the rocking waves: to carry them all, one by one, to their own corner of its depths. For too long, the tide had been fought against, by rules and habits: walls constructed out of fear. From the fruitless faith Eva found rich soil and dug her teeth into it, dug her feet into it, and gave herself up to nourish it further. 

Her extended arm felt light, floaty, as her light-headed surveyor accepted her offering. It rose up high over her head, fingers curling around a lock of her hair. She swept it forward over her shoulder, the foreign touch tickling her sternum as it fell. She twisted it where it pooled, sweeping little touches over her arched torso, fingertips casting long shadows over the sparse dark hairs under her belly, and disappeared under the thicker mound between her thighs.

That same morning she had thought indulging in this—throwing her inhibitions to the wind—meant throwing everything she had worked for away with them. Now she saw the truth: this was everything, and more, and she wasn’t throwing it away. With the same hand she cupped under her breast, she picked up the bounty that had been waiting for her for ten years. 

She came to this realisation as a sudden thrill wracked through her at the first touch. To think she had promised to venture down here to kill the being that knelt before her like an enraptured admirer, wide-eyed, looking starved—for her. To think she even once considered her an obstacle and not the very thing she had worshipped in ignorance. Well, she would worship with her full mouth now, and full heart. 

Her puppeteered hand stroked the swell of her breast and squeezed, moulding the tender flesh to a peak that eyed Phoebe as if anticipating her reception. 

Little by little, Phoebe’s invisible hold unfurled over her body like a waking fern, spidering over her limbs, cradling her and guiding her to things she never knew about herself. The dewy breast slipped from her soft hand and was caught in a pinch, suspended over her chest by the pink bud of her nipple. A soft gasp sputtered when she realised the hand she felt was not the one she saw. Though she could see it attached to her arm, it felt so foreign, as if it truly was Phoebe that touched her.

She closed her eyes and imagined that was the truth, but didn’t entertain the illusion for long. Blinded, she couldn’t see Phoebe when she shifted in her seat, knees tucking behind her as she raised herself up to loom over Eva’s reclined shape, smearing an undeniable patch of wetness in her wake. This was no illusion. It stirred something in Eva’s gut that wanted to reach for more, another look, but already it was out of sight, and a sharp tug at her nipple distracted her from daring to break free for a second glance. 

Eva had rolled the sensitive pearl between thumb and forefinger, cupping the underside with her open palm. Phoebe had a scrutinising look, but said nothing.

“Is this good?” asked Eva. Phoebe merely furrowed her brow, eyes grating over Eva’s body as she made her bent legs shuffle apart, baring Eva to the mercy of the world. She shivered, her warm, slick fluids catching at the cold air as they melted down her inner thighs. She knew, if she looked down, a mess to rival the one Phoebe had left in her wake would meet her. Shame filled her—the shame of countless mornings, waking wrapped around her bedsheets instead of the other way around, an inexcusable patch of slick coating whatever corner she had found in her sleep. How she longed then for a room of her own again, to chase the savoury friction to its explosive end, to clamp her legs around anything that offered purchase and grip, tight, slide along the writhing length, a substitute partner in sin.

Phoebe was deep in study. She placed her hands flat on the ground between Eva’s legs and bent forward, bringing her face close to Eva’s knees. 

Eva swallowed her surprise when Phoebe’s gills flared in a deep sigh. Was there something wrong with her? Her… she wasn’t meant to give it names. That was for her patron to decide. Everything was down to their pleasure, or disposal. If Phoebe found a fault in her, would she do the same?

“Phoebe?” she asked timidly.

“Yes, love?”

“Is it good?”

She smiled, but it faded fast. “Yes, it is good.”

“Alright,” said Eva. “Are you sure?”

“Why do you ask, pretty girl?” Eva’s feet swept as far away as they could go. The strain in her thighs kept her alert as the arm behind her kept her upright. “Do you think I do not find you alluring?”

Eva bit her lip. The pinch on her nipple tightened. 

“I don’t know what to think, when you don’t tell me anything.” Suddenly Phoebe looked up and Eva regretted her bluntness. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Phoebe said, flustered. “I was lost in thought. The truth is I’ve haven’t seen anything like you up close in a long time. A woman, I mean.”

“But, are you not a woman, too?”

“I suppose to you, I appear to be. I have a woman’s name, at least. I hold a woman’s shape because I see it is the one you desire.” Eva blushed deeper at the accusation, but she couldn’t deny it. “For your fallen sister, I did hold a different one. I am merely adapting to your preferences.”

“I don’t- I don’t have… preferences.”

“Is that so?” 

“What ‘shape’ did… my sister prefer?”

Phoebe smiled, lost in recollection. “A young man from her village. A woodcutter. Husband and father, she knew he couldn’t be hers, so she took advantage of having her markings, and through that decision, found me. I helped make her fantasies come true.”

Against her better judgement, Eva’s eyes wandered down Phoebe’s chest and stomach, honing in on the parts she had assumed they had in common. True, she had averted her gaze more often than not, but now she looked more closely she saw nothing more than a smooth, hairless mound at bottom of Phoebe’s middle. Phoebe covered herself diligently with her free hand, but could do little to disguise an absence of key components. 

It looked like she wanted to stroke Eva’s face, to press a finger between her brows and untangle her thoughts. But she thought better of it, and her hands came together between her knees again. “We’ll get to that later. My apologies, love, I got carried away.”

“I like hearing you talk,” said Eva, “even under these circumstances.”

“Does the subject make you jealous?”

“No,” she said sharply, as her nail dug a crescent into her over-sensitive flesh. 

“What would you change about these circumstances, my love?”

Nobody was watching. Nobody was listening. Just her, and the words were meant for her. Her body was here, here for her. Everything for her. 

“I wish you could touch me,” she confessed.

“Soon,” said Phoebe placatingly. 

Eva’s fingers released her nipple, her breast falling into the nest of her palm only for a second.

“Soon,” Phoebe promised. 

The valley of Eva’s sternum heaved with a sharp inhale as her hand flattened on her chest, making a slow sweep like a falling tear down her ribcage. Her fingers came together over the bumps raised by the cold, smoothing warmth over them, and still she shivered. 

“Eva?” said Phoebe, halting the descent, and Eva nearly protested. “This form pleases you? Really?”

Eva nodded. “You’re beautiful.”

“But in my human form… It might be easier for you to—”

“All of you,” said Eva. “Show it to me. That is all I want. For now, this is all I want.” Her voice wavered, desperation and impatience seeping through. “Please.”

“Alright,” said Phoebe, nodding shortly. “Alright.” With another deep inhale that flared her gills, she squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip. Eva wondered if she was in pain, but her expression soon turned to one of relief as her lower half morphed. Her textured skin seemed to run in layers, as one peeled back revealing folds where Eva first expected. But the transformation didn’t end there, as Phoebe’s breathing hitched, her knees trembling. Eva could see more clearly how wet Phoebe was. It filled her with delight, as evidence her actions hadn’t been fruitless. 

From within the slick, ocean-coloured folds, protruded an uncertain shape, probing into the cavern’s air like a browsing snake. It was pink in colour, the same as Phoebe’s wet tongue, and darted a little from side to side on a beat like a pulse. Eva’s eyes and mouth watered, her body responding inadvertently to the sight of the growing length. There was very little distance between them and Phoebe distracted, none the wiser that if the pulsing thing kept growing, within seconds it would be probing at Eva’s own wetness. A bead of slick dripped off its pointed tip, an eye-like duct dropping clear fluid in a ribbon that carried on down its smooth pink length to its buried base.

At last it slowed, and ceased growing, a hair’s breadth from tickling Eva’s pubic mound. Phoebe opened her eyes, watching with impossible reserve as her cock twitched as if to leap across the barrier, to take advantage of the meal held under its mouth. Eva thanked every god for the invisible forces keeping her still. She had long dreamt of a day like this, and having to refrain from reaching out of her own accord would have surely killed her.

Now she could pine and long for it, and grip at the invisible bars, and yet be safe.

Soon, she knew, soon, she would have all she wanted. 

Phoebe’s cock nestled neatly between her slender thighs, to Eva, not looking at all out of place. It came to just above her knees. Smooth, blushing all over like a shy voyeur, cinched slightly before its arrowhead, and glossy with Phoebe’s wetness, supplementing itself with more slick from its winking eye. 

Phoebe was talking, but Eva didn’t hear at first. 

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” said Phoebe nervously, hands hovering above her newly unsheathed cock. “Soon, love, I’ll improve—I’ll make a cunt as beautiful as yours. Not this odd thing.” She gestured to herself like a patchwork of  mismatched pieces, but all Eva could see was one whole, one beautiful, unchangeable lover. 

Eva looked across her at the goddess, the siren, taller and ethereal, looking like the moon and ocean’s offspring itself, and finally felt they were on equal footing. 

“Touch yourself,” she heard herself saying. “Do it with me.”

*****

Phoebe’s fingers wrapped around her cock so daintily it was almost possible to forget that in the real world (none of this felt real and at the same time the only real thing) it was a force to be reckoned with. Her slender fingers wrapped once over its smooth width, and she held it at the base, watching for Eva’s reaction before proceeding. She moved her hand up her length in a drawn-out stroke, and Eva jumped at the sensation in her own groin. Enchanted by the sight, she hard forgotten her own hands.

Her knuckles were buried in the dark hairs between her thighs, but burrowed deeper, in the deep wet heat of her folds, her fingertips found a pulse. She checked with Phoebe, who watched her intently. A quick nod passed between them; Eva knew she was in safe hands. She surrendered once more as Phoebe dragged her slick grip down the length of her cock once more.

“D-Do you feel it?” Phoebe stuttered. “Your pussy, does it feel good?”

“My pussy,” Eva echoed. “Yes.”

At that signal Phoebe unfurled Eva’s fingers, the middle and ring finger spreading as she felt a fresh trickle of drool running her cunt. A small puddle formed on the level ground between her legs and Phoebe’s knees, their fluids merging drop by drop—contact where they couldn’t have it. 

She dragged lines up and down her folds, circling the hot button she was familiar, but not acquainted with. The little button that caused her too much trouble on late nights when she sat for prayer and the folds of her underwear gathered against it, rubbed it with each step towards her bed. It was finally getting what it wanted, and Eva didn’t feel defeated, but vindicated. 

She met it with a kiss. Her fingertip tapped it and swiftly drew back. Phoebe’s hand had rested at the end of her cock, making a ring just beneath the cinched head. She watched Eva intently, a silent look or warning or preparation, avidly ignored as Eva begged with her eyes. “Please,” she breathed, and hardly inhaled again when a gentle moan interrupted her thoughts.

With two fingers only she drew back the warm hood, then impatiently rubbed her clitoris. Sloping down, then up, she was mirrored by Phoebe’s hand which only stroked over the head of her cock, lips parted. A drop of drool beaded at the corner of her downturned mouth. Eva watched it fall down her chin as she rubbed her clit, time slowing with the late descent of that droplet. As the string holding it up snapped, Eva suddenly snapped forward involuntarily.

Phoebe smirked. “There?” Eva nodded, knowing next to nothing about what had happened, but when the feeling returned, pleasure in a heated burst, she braced herself. She no longer leaned back, each pounding of her fingers sending her rolling forwards. Rather Phoebe had rocked backwards, like a see-saw, to accommodate her. She braced herself with her free hand as she knelt over the goddess. Phoebe held her cock upright, each stroke threatening to smear slick on Eva’s taut belly. 

“Good?” Phoebe asked between breaths. Her mouth’s lips and gills fluttered as she approached a peak. Eva couldn’t answer. Speaking would only break that oh so fragile ascent, send her tumbling down into an impossible darkness. She was chasing, chasing after an invisible beast, discovering and rediscovering more of herself with someone else’s eyes. She needed this to finish, for the first time—last time, even, she just needed to know what end was in her sights.

She bit her lip but didn’t close her eyes, which were trained on the flesh twitching underneath her. One slip, on shift of angle, and there would be no going back. One shuffle forward, and that broad emptiness inside her would be filled. Her fingers stroked mercilessly around her clit. In clipping, irregular beats that held away her climax, she circled the sensitive button with practised delay. 

Phoebe’s breath was hot on the top of her head, so she looked up. Such deep longing in those eyes, such bright dreams in those pearly irises. Her nipples perked with each inhale, inches from Eva’s mouth. 

Soon, soon, she remembered the promise, but the voice that had uttered it was the one in her dreams, not the one struggling to speak her name. “Eva,” said Phoebe. “Eva.”

“Yes,” Eva responded, finding she was struggling just as much to form a coherent word.

“Do you know… what you feel like… on the inside?”

Forgoing an answer, Phoebe forced Eva’s fingers away from her throbbing clit. She cried out at the loss, feeling a sting deep under her skin like an insect bite needing attention. She expected her hand to come away entirely, but no sooner was that sting discovered than the heel of her hand came over her clit, pressing more forcefully over it. 

“Phoe- Phoebe,” she moaned, her supporting arm shaking. Her two wet fingers had followed the motion and dipped lower, lower than she had even thought to explore in stolen minutes in the temple. She felt a tightness, tension in her body and her mind, but had no words to speak it before both fingers were buried to the first knuckle. Pain seared between her legs but she could not remove them. Sensing it, Phoebe paused her own strokes, her leaking cock falling back into her lap.

“Go slow,” said Phoebe, half to herself. “It will stretch.”

It must, thought Eva, eyeing the reddening cock with suspicion. If she was ever going to fit that in there, it must. She nodded knowingly, and took another deep breath. Phoebe picked up her cock. It left a slick thread from its tip dangling down to her knees like a spiderweb, and Eva almost laughed, but it was cut off by the feeling of her fingers scissoring past each other, still buried inside her. The pain was boundless, neither shallow nor deep, like pulling a tight elastic not knowing when it would snap. She wriggled her fingers, lips firmly pressed together, and waited.

Phoebe waited, too. “You’re so tight,” she said. 

“Is that bad?”

“Not at all. The opposite.”

Comforted, Eva endeavoured to relax. It was as Phoebe had said. Her boundaries, her limits, all needed testing and pushing before she could be good for Phoebe. She bared her teeth at them, snapping silently at the ropes holding her from laying back and pounding her fingers inside herself. She would be good. She must be good.

But Phoebe was gentle. She was kind. She hummed sweetly into Eva’s draping hair, her whispered encouragements sweeping over her head like a tide she was all too eager to drown in. Despite her eagerness, the pain subsided before Eva’s second knuckles were buried deep within her. 

“Good?” said Phoebe.

“Good,” said Eva.

“More?”

“More.”

Though both were reduced to monosyllabic replies, Eva felt close to losing her words entirely, as the lithe length of her fingers entered her, the heel of her palm ground down and not relenting on top of her clit. Before she could become adjusted to the new feeling of fullness, her fingers moved again, curling knuckles deep inside, tearing out a groan from her mouth. Her sensitive fingertips grazed over something inside her, like a little cushion. Phoebe smiled, pleased to have made such a discovery so soon.

“Good?” she asked again, and Eva wondered at her inner workings. Was she feeling simultaneously through Eva’s hands, shaping herself as she felt around her? Looking down, Phoebe was no less fixated on her than she was on the cock in her lap, which she stroked in time with the curls of Eva’s fingers. Thick beads of fluid dribbled down, her thighs forming a slope Eva wanted to trace with her own hands. But bound to her spot, she could only watch. 

Soon, she recited, but shook off anticipation. Here and now was what mattered, so when she felt more fluid spurt out of herself, all thoughts of the future washed away. Phoebe fucked into her with a merciless pace. Eva’s palm smoothed over the leaking pussy as Phoebe masterfully guided every inch to where it would deal the most pleasure. She twisted Eva’s fingers and wrist just right to drag echoing moans out of her, and block any thoughts which didn’t revolve around the siren. Eva allowed herself to be pushed and pulled until her limbs felt not her own. She was sure, somewhere along the way, her fingers went numb, and it felt like Phoebe herself was stroking her from the inside. If it weren’t for the cramp building in her wrist, she might have left the cave with that delusion in tow.

Her fingers were so coated in slick she wondered how there could be any friction to stoke the heat building inside her gut. The wet sounds filling the space crescendoed with the rising flame, as Phoebe sped up both of their paces. In a moment of lucidity, Eva became aware of something prodding at her gut from the outside, in time with the merciless pumps of her own fingers. She briefly opened her eyes to see the red-tipped cock leaving slick smears on her skin. Phoebe was unaware, biting her lip, her hips bucking up into her still hand. She fucked herself madly and didn’t even notice she had broken their rule, and Eva wanted nothing more than to do the same, to reach out and grip that cock with her own fingers, to merge their wetness together, to share heat—

“Eva,” Phoebe whimpered, eyes still clamped shut as she crammed herself into her hand. Eva longed to break free of her voluntary spell and fill in the cautionary gaps they had left for themselves. She could feel herself tightening around her fingers and silently begged Phoebe to use that, to use her to finish. She wanted to be nothing more than something for Phoebe to fuck against, to chase her own pleasure. Her mind grew slow, latched onto the thought of the siren’s cock stretching her thin. Eva’s eyes watered, her lips hung empty with need as Phoebe cried out her name, the force of her climax sending her bucking up into Phoebe’s space as she dragged her pulsing length across her torso, painting her with wet white streaks that glittered in the dazzling light. 

The sight was all Eva could see before her vision blurred, and all her muscles tensed as she felt a final burst of heat erupt across her body. With gritted teeth, she held her breath, her fingers fucking relentlessly even as the light faded. Wave after wave of pleasure was drilled into her. She heard the telltale sound of Phoebe collapsing on the wet ground.

Eva’s hand was soaked up to the wrist, fluid still dripping between her thighs as hot tears skidded down her reddened cheeks, mingling with cold sweat on her neck. Her fingers hurt. Her wrists hurt. The hand holding her up was numb up to the wrist, and the one between her legs felt like it was ripping her down the middle. Her climax had come and gone, then come and gone again and again until she had no idea what was pleasure and what was pain anymore. All she knew was the sound, the feeling, the smell of Phoebe’s complete and total control of her. 

She pictured herself now, shaking with pleasure and exhaustion, hand buried deep between her legs, leaning forward on her knees but suspended away from the woman she longed to touch, now watching her with darkened eyes. Phoebe reveled in the sight, and the look she gave was almost enough to take Eva away from it all.

She swallowed hard, her dry throat barely able to form Phoebe’s name. She begged with silent and chapped lips, unaware what words she spoke or even if they were words at all. Phoebe’s cruel lustful gaze didn’t leave her as her cock retreated  in the folds of her skin. As soon as it was gone Eva regretted not attempting to break free before and doing everything she’d had in her mind that had thrown her over the edge of countless orgasms.

As she began to lose feeling in her knees, she saw Phoebe wriggle herself out from under her, and then the feeling of weightlessness, as her vision went dark. 

Chapter Text

The blinking sky above the cave was lavender, and mild on Eva’s sensitive eyes as she waked. Her body was tired, but mind sharp as soon as she was roused by a playful twirling of her hair. She looked down at herself, and found her body wrapped in the white cloth she had first gifted to Phoebe. It looked now more like a veil or shawl, and offered little in warmth, but shielded her from the prying eye of the cave’s open ceiling. 

Her heavy head was cradled on something soft and warm, and she found her ear pressed to Phoebe’s dry thigh. Her first thought was to jump up sharply, that they had broken their promise and touched. She felt foolish, it was all her fault for falling asleep. If she had stolen some breakfast for herself, or not wasted time in the bath and missed breakfast, she wouldn’t have…

Her mind fell silent as the memories returned to her one by one. Despite the lack of breakfast she felt rather full, as if she’d eaten, not just inhaled, the ocean air. She felt her cheeks warm and colour as the rest of the morning returned to her, arising in harmony with a soft melody from above. Phoebe was singing in a language Eva didn’t know, but sounded familiar, like the ones from all those distant dreams, having at last escaped the confines of a wave’s glassy shell. Her skin was the same colour as when Eva lost sight of her. Blue and green like the tempers of the ocean itself.

Sleep called to her again. With a weary body, she was more than half inclined to heed its call. She latched on to the gentle lullaby, to the feeling of Phoebe twirling a lock of her hair, to the feeling of being clean, warm, comfortable like she hadn’t been in a long time, or ever. 

Then she got up. 

Phoebe ended her song. 

“I…” Eva began, before realising she had nothing to say. “That was…”

“Good?”

“Yes,” she agreed, giving a curt nod before unwrapping the shawl rom around her shoulders. “Was it to your liking?”

“Very much,” smiled Phoebe. “You did very well. I wish you could have seen yourself with my eyes.” She bit her lip as if reminiscing, and Eva blushed deeper. “My love,” she said, stopping Eva before she could slip her clothes back on. “You are so hasty to leave me.”

Eva’s heart might have shattered at those words, though Phoebe said them so innocently. 

“My sisters will break their fast soon and the gates will be closed,” she explained. “Will you be here tomorrow?”

“I’ll be here until the last star turns cold if you wish.”

Eva didn’t have a response. Her hands held her folded clothes at arms’ length like they had forgotten what they were doing. 

“My storm will be with me tonight,” warned Phoebe at last. “Its company is far less stimulating than yours.” Eva turned her back on her to pick up her boots and socks, and heard a hissing intake.

“What?” she scrambled to look over her shoulder. Phoebe’s face was expressionless. “Is it the markings? Are they still there?” 

“Of course they are,” said Phoebe hurriedly, then chuckled at Eva’s worried expression. “I told you nothing would happen so long as it was…” She trailed off when she saw Eva’s worry sustained on her face as she laced up her boots. “What’s wrong, my love?”

“Nothing. Nothing.” She gathered her hair in her hand and began braiding it back. Something about the action made her feel like she wasn’t coming back.

“You forget I am not one of your sisters, Eva. I am not so easy to deceive.” Phoebe followed her to her feet, the tall, slender body drifting to her side once more. Images of the hours that passed returned in quick succession. All the things Eva had muttered under her breath, or stopped before they could come to words. She thought with the heat of the moment subsided that she could pass them off and go about the rest of her day like normal. But when Phoebe took hold of the braid and began to fix it (Eva had made many knots in her clumsiness) Eva couldn’t pretend any longer. 

The thoughts and feelings she’d forcefully restrained weren’t gone at all. They came back with twice the strength and volume in her mind. She still yearned for those practised hands and agile body, longed to press herself against her…

And those lips. That poisonous tongue.

“I just…” Eva bit her lip, a confession bubbling in her throat. It pushed its way back down, but the tender look Phoebe gave her, patient and comforting as she twisted her hair into its place behind her head, teased it out of her. “I made a promise I didn’t keep today.”

“I see,” said Phoebe knowingly, stroking her cheek. “To your Mother.”

“She believes I came here to kill you.”

Phoebe didn’t stop her tender petting. After a while, she held Eva’s hands in her own. “You love your mother.”

“I do, deeply.”

“Do you love me?”

“I do,” she said, alarmed at how easily the words came out. That didn’t make them less true. “Of course I do.”

“Do you feel that your love is pulling you down different paths?”

Eva was stumped. For the longest time, she had followed her rules, obediently. She had believed that love was obedience. Now, with her hands in Phoebe’s and a fullness in her heart and body, she felt like all of her past love had been a lie. Did that make what she felt for Mother wrong, or simply not real? What about her sisters? Was the betrayal they would feel when they found out (for there was no doubt she could keep her secret forever) simply one of the fancies of their age, or was Eva truly a villain to their love now?

No matter how she looked at it, she could no longer call herself pure of heart. Her virtue was cracked, a barely-there fissure no thicker than a horsehair had tainted her purity. And yet the structure held. How long until it failed? How long until the cracks would show?

She had only four more days to patch them up or watch her composure fall entirely. Looking at Phoebe, she felt less and less sure which was the path of least resistance. 

“I love you, Phoebe,” she said finally. “That is all I do know.”

The siren gave a weak smile and brushed a stray hair behind her ear. The sensation sent shivers down her spine, but she wasn’t afraid. It felt more like Phoebe was preparing her for battle, where she was the only one armed. “Look for me in the storm,” she said. “I know how lonesome the nights can be when there is love in your heart.” She spoke from experience, and Eva felt a pang of guilt, that it was her leaving Phoebe in the damp cave, all alone, instead of the other way around. If it were up to her, she could gladly sit here, with only the stationary stalactites for company and the sound of dripping water to keep her from losing track of time, if only the promise of Phoebe’s return loomed in view. 

But Eva had no power, and as she watched the low tide retreat, clearing a path for her to return, the feeling of betrayal ebbed inside her. She cast a final glance at Phoebe, who had taken the cloth and put it up to her face, inhaling the remnants of Eva’s scent, before she tore her gaze away and turned out of the cave. 

*****

Walking back, Eva felt like porcelain. Her knees wavered on every step and threatened to topple her weight at the slightest gust of wind. She expected another storm tonight, couldn’t wish for anything else now that she knew they meant Phoebe was near. But she foresaw a sleepless night, thoughts now hurried away by heaving breaths returning in the lonesome dark. It wouldn’t be the guilt that would keep her awake. No, something much worse. 

She stood in the doorway, a light drizzle foreshadowing the thunder and heavy winds yet to come, as the weary and unhoused shuffled single-file through the temple gates. Her arms were laden with blankets. Two sisters at her side held more, and handed them out to whoever needed them as they directed them to the spare rooms within.

Eva allowed herself to fall into a thoughtless routine. There was nothing she wanted more now than to simply listen to the rain falling on the domed temple roofs, bouncing along careless as it washed them all clean. She pictured the grey sky as seen through the cave opening, moonlight dripping down into the glowing moat. Would Phoebe stand under it? Wash herself clean as she’d cleaned Eva as well?

She didn’t feel clean now. Sanitised, dry, perhaps. Every fold of her clothes dragged over her skin like a rough canvas. Over-sensitive, she flinched at every change. When her braided hair fell out of its pins she nearly jumped out of her skin. 

As she tried to pin it back one-handed, a dark feeling came over her, like something incredibly heavy had rolled to her side, forcing the whole world to lean one way. Two hands, strong yet subdued as if the body they belonged to was holding them back, picked up her long hair and set about fixing it in place. Mother’s expert hands made quick work of her, and when Eva turned to thank her, she found she had been abandoned by her other sisters. 

“You’re back,” said Mother expectantly. “In one piece.”

“Yes,” said Eva, feigning confidence. “We won’t have any more trouble from… her.” Mother’s hand slid down to Eva’s shoulder and stayed there. 

“I won’t trouble you for the details,” she said, and Eva all but collapsed from the relief. Her mind was working at half its usual speed, like she was already asleep, perambulated around the world by her limbs alone. “I’m very proud of you, dear.”

“Thank you,” said Eva shortly. The silence hung between them like a plague, neither willing to break it, both expecting something else of the other. With company, though they slipped past unusually fast tonight, the storm hurrying them alone, made it difficult to speak openly. Eva watched the end of the line fast approaching. A familiar face came up at the rear. 

“You can stay inside the temple tomorrow,” said Mother. Eva’s head snapped around to her. “You deserve some peace and quiet after this.” Mother glanced down. “What happened to your bandages?”

Eva’s heart dropped. When had they dropped off? Even more, the gaping wounds that ached this morning were gone, and she was too distracted to even notice… her mouth stood agape, but Mother was ecstatic. Before Eva could come up with a response Mother’s hand was shaking her shoulder. 

“This is a fantastic sign,” she said. “Fantastic, my dear.”

“Really?” said Eva in as big a voice as she could manage, hoping this little miracle would distract her from the lack of ribbons around her wrists and throat. They sat still bundled in a ball in her pocket…

“Indeed, indeed!”

The few people left in line stared awkwardly as Eva tried to dole out the last few blankets. She couldn’t help but feel like her pride was infecting the innocent bystanders with some sort of expectation. By now her name and face were the subject of rumour. She wouldn’t be surprised if bets had already been taken about her fate at the ceremony. Faces passed, most of them sour, like most of the world had bet against her. Somehow she found it in herself to feel she’d let them all down.

The final face met hers with ignorance. A fresh pair of eyes, slightly downcast, but in fatigue more than shame. Bella stood half-drenched, arms laden with her child, back laden with some provisions. “Hey, you,” she said brightly. Eva wanted to smile and hug her, but Mother’s steadying presence kept her nailed in place. 

“Welcome,” said Mother in her stead. “We’re so glad you made it to us.” Eva baulked. She never considered Mother even knew of Bella’s existence.

Bella looked just as surprised. She’d addressed herself to Eva, though Mother seemed to be talking for both of them. 

“Jaime doesn’t like to be away from the house,” she explained, shaking her head uncertainly. Jaime’s head was limp on her right shoulder, gazing dreamily out towards the ocean. “Even in storms like these. But looking at the sky this morning… It was a bad omen.”

“You did the right thing,” said Mother, gesturing her through the doors. “Our rooms are warm and far from any danger. You’ll be with your friends and neighbours.”

Eva followed by Bella’s side, offering to take her bag. 

“Actually, I’d hate to be a bother,” said Bella, “but I think Jaime would feel safer around more familiar faces. He doesn’t see many people from town, funnily enough, and Eva’s been a more or less regular one.” Mother’s smile faltered a degree, almost unnoticeably, but Eva’s heart skipped a beat, and she wanted to shut Bella up. 

“Has she?” said Mother. “That’s funny, she’s never mentioned you before.”

“Oh,” said Bella. “I don’t blame her. You lot are always so busy. But I do wonder if we could have a room close by, just so Jaime could see—I promise we won’t bother anyone—”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” said Mother dismissively, showing her through to one of the less populated chambers where already a dozen or so people were rolling out their bedding. Bella lingered in the doorway, bending under Jaime’s weight. 

“Maybe we should go home,” she considered out loud. Jaime perked up at the mention of home. On cue, a boom of thunder rattled the window panes. 

“Maybe not,” added Mother with a cocky smile. “Seems you’re stuck with us. I’m sure little Jaime will be more comfortable here. My daughters worked very hard to make everything perfect. 

Eva stepped between the two as they stared each other down. “Actually, if it makes Jaime feel better, I wouldn’t mind… just… for one night…” Mother’s sickly sweet face hardened into a stony glare, disarming Eva of her voice. Her gaze fell to the space between her feet and she reluctantly blacked away, tossing Bella an apologetic look. 

“No matter,” said Bella. “Thanks anyway.”

With an air of defiance she picked her bag out of Eva’s hands and strolled casually into the bedroom. The door fall closed behind them and Mother exhaled her relief. “What a piece of work your friend is.” 

Her defensive instinct failed her. She hoped Bella could tell that she’d wanted to defend her. The thought of spending a night out of the dormitory was thrilling. A change of scenery for the first time in ten years. But Mother might as well have cut out her tongue, for she could barely utter the prayer as they broke their fast that later that night. Eva’s spirit was defeated, and hear heart still wandering out in the storm.

*****

Somehow, she did manage to fall asleep. The night began with noise: the shuffling feet of her sisters speeding home from dinner, past the locked doors where strangers and friends lay presumably sleeping or awake, listening to them like a mythical procession of angels. Finally, the click of Mother’s key turning in the lock, casting another barrier between her and Bella, and Phoebe. 

Eva tried not to think of distance that much. She tried not to think of anything much. Phoebe was in her heart! The fact she wasn’t here for her to hold, to touch, see, hear… it should have meant nothing. But there was a Phoebe-shaped indent on her heart that beat in a different tune to the rest of her body, and the searing presence of what she now knew was Phoebe’s name… she felt as if she’d abandoned her post. Laying there, lazy, awake, while her patron had seen and come short of using her as she was meant to be used.

Eva closed her eyes and listened, but no sound came. Not the voice she’d begged and cried to hear that same morning. Not the one whose commands she’d heeded, stripping bare and abandoning caution. There was something, out in the winds, but it wasn’t the voice she was searching for. 

Stroking her face with hands smoother than they’d ever been, Eva listened to the disjointed lullaby, and crawled—not fell—into an unsteady sleep. 

*****

She fell asleep to noise, and woke up to thunder. For a moment, filled with hope, she wanted to keep her eyes closed, waiting for that once-dreaded moment when another voice, other than her own, would rain down into her ears.

But this was no usual thunder. The pounding wind on the temple walls drummed a beat like a feverish pulse in her head, but it was layered over with something closer, tempest of voices, and cries.

“Go fetch her,” came an exasperated tone, and Eva opened her eyes at the sound of Mother’s demands from just outside the door. Golden light spilled into the dormitory in a long stripe, and her sisters were all sat up in bed, listening out to the disturbance in the hall. The bed nearest to mother was also empty, and at that moment Gora wandered sleepily back in, making a beeline for Eva’s bed, as all eyes turned to her.

But Eva was already springing out of bed and slipping her feet into her untied boots, not caring to fasten them as she followed Gora out into the light. She squinted, ears assaulted by a flurry of noise.

“Finally,” said Mother, grasping her shoulders and shoving her roughly forward. She was met with the red, tear-soaked face of little Jaime in his mother’s arms. Their bags hastily packed, she stood like a pillar between one of the open spare rooms and Mother, face set and guiltless. 

“What’s happening?” asked Eva, but from the expressions of the sleepless neighbours already retreating into the room, she could guess. 

“Miss Bella needs to be escorted back to her own home,” said Mother, unwavering. The polite smile had dropped off her face and left no imprint. “Will you see to it she gets there safely?” 

“Of course, but surely we should wait until the storm passes.”

“It’s fine, Eva,” said Bella, wrapping Jaime close to her chest, thin coat hardly covering them both over their pyjamas. “We’ll be fine, you don’t have to come with us.”

“No, she’ll accompany you,” said Mother, more to the few people still watching, than to either of them. She shoved a set of keys in Eva’s fist. “It’s the least we could do.” Finally waving the rest away, Mother wasted no time dragging Gora back into the dormitory, leaving Eva and Bella to wrangle Jamie together. 

Bella finally dropped her facade, showing just how exhausted she was. 

“If they all didn’t hate me already,” she said, not bothering to finish her sentence. “I’m sorry for this.”

“Don’t apologise,” said Eva, wiping the tears out of Jaime’s eyes. She yawned, and picked up one of the bags off Bella’s shoulder, leading the way out through the trembling hallway. All around, only one or two walls separated this air from the raging storm, and still Bella walked as if she didn’t even know a light breeze was blowing. 

They walked in silence for a moment, Eva leading the way past rows of doors and portraits, statues, and inscriptions. She didn’t need to look at them to know what they said, but Jaime’s crying wavered when Bella brought him close, so they took their time. It wasn’t like the storm could get worse in the minutes it took for him to see them all. 

“Your Mother is... difficult,” said Bella. 

“I won’t deny it,” sighed Eva. “I really am sorry she didn’t let you sleep in our dormitory. Or let me take one of the spare beds. They aren’t any less comfortable than the one I have now.”

Bella chuckled, and Eva noticed the deep bags under her eyes. How long had she really been awake? Had she even slept at all? She seemed to be avoiding Eva’s eyes, and when they did meet, they flickered with sadness and then away.

Bella shrugged. “After giving Jaime one, there was only one left. We would have had to share anyway. Better we have our own…”

Eva’s heart skipped a beat. “Yes,” she said softly. “But, still… I’m not that sensible.”

“Ooh, look at you, miss. Watch out saying things like that with these people looming over you.” Bella pointed out one of the grimmer portraits, the disapproving glare of one of the more recent Mothers, whose brow was permanently knitted into one, and two beady eyes followed Eva no matter where she stood in the hallway. “You’ll land yourself in trouble.”

Eva groaned, “You know, I never asked anyone else what it’s like to be in the temple. Growing up here, I feel I still have no idea…”

“It’s grim,” said Bella. “I regretted coming here as soon as we stepped trough the gates.” She took each portrait one at a time, not a single face looked down kindly. Mother’s own face was yet to make it up on this wall, but imagining it now, she looked a combination of all their worst features. 

“These people watching you,” Bella added, “and listening. I’d start going mad. Thinking someone was listening to my thoughts.”

Her cheeks turned rosy and she cradled her son’s head in the crook of her tanned neck. “Not that there’s anything bad up there,” she said. “My head’s as clear as… well, I can’t compare it to tonight’s sky.”

Eva laughed warmly, leading her down the last stretch of paved floor, up to the door. She took a minute finding the right key, almost laughing to herself. This was the first time she’d actually been given permission to leave at night, and it took longer than when she was sneaking out unconsciously. All those escapades hadn’t developed any muscle memory.

She pulled the door open, and a puddle immediately formed on the ground as the rain barged in with a demonic will. Eva held her ground, relishing in the sharp feeling of the icy raindrops on her skin. It was almost familiar, almost soothing. 

They tread carefully down the slippery steps and over the gravel-lined path to the front gate. The porter had somehow been informed of their trek, and came out of his cabin to open the gate for them without being bid. Jaime had been silent since the first drop of rain touched his head. Eva hugged herself close, wondering why Mother hadn’t asked her to get dressed, and also why the storm didn’t feel so harsh as before. Her hands were even warm as they smoothed over her shoulders, spreading comfort throughout her. 

Something was happening to her body, and she had no doubt it was tied to Phoebe. But now was not the time to dwell on it, as she held Bella’s spare hand, guiding her down the uneven steps that carved through the dunes, dipping down to her house.

The cabin itself looked like an oasis among the whimpering waves, crawling ever closer to the shore, yet leaving the house untouched. It looked as if there was some invisible force holding the waves at bay, allowing only sea spray to get close. 

“Almost there,” Bella whispered, and Eva didn’t know if it was to her or Jaime, or herself. They pushed through the wind and finally took shelter inside, breathing a sigh of relief. 

Jaime was asleep.

Bella told her to sit down and struck a match into the hearth. The wet wood dried instantly, and within seconds a blazing fire was going.

“Dry yourself,” said Bella, “and I’ll just put Jaime to bed.”

But Eva was already dry. Her hair had loosened again from its braid, but she didn’t make an effort to pin it back, only undid it completely. Her clothes, too, had stuck to her skin outside and made walking difficult, but now were as light as fresh cotton. She looked through the windows at the ruthless waves just out of reach, and understood then why Jaime felt more comfortable within it than in the temple.

Bella’s husband had died in a storm just like this one. 

Eva wondered if Bella knew that it was he who was protecting this house, their son, and her. Earlier, when she caught Bella watching the horizon, it felt like intruding on a special moment, and one of many. She should have been a better friend in the few days they had together every year, when she still believed that each year was going to be the last. As she stared into the fire, Eva had the urge to get up and confront her, to make up for the years lost of friendship. This time, it was more than faith that made it feel like her last chance. 

It was Phoebe. And even though she couldn’t hear her now, she knew Phoebe was telling her to take that chance. To say a proper goodbye. 

Bella emerged from Jaime’s room, wringing out her hair over a still-damp nightgown. Eva’s words caught in her throat. Bella’s red cheeks bled down her neck and chest, where the low-cut gown held two breasts, weighed down by motherhood. With her coat off, the older woman move fluently through her own home, not needing to look up from her hair to wade deftly towards Eva. She wondered why Bella wasn’t fully dry, and then saw a glint of moonlight in the window and understood.

Even beyond the grave, her husband still loved her, and her form, and the lucid image of her brown nipples perked up in the chill air, tensing the folds of her nightgown. 

Do you like her? 

A shiver ran up Eva’s spine as Phoebe’s voice resounded in her head. She couldn’t bring herself to words. 

It’s okay if you do, she continued, teasing whispers down the back of her neck. She likes you, too.

“He’s out cold.” said Bella in a jolly voice, her hair sprawling over her shoulders. “Tea?” The nightgown was ten shades off what it used to be. Eva guessed a dark blue. It sat against her copper skin now like a frosted midnight, making her appear warm and inviting. Gentleness radiated off of her, and her round lips glossed with rain and the sweat of effort as welcoming as if they were glazed with syrup or honey. 

Eva averted her eyes and nodded quietly. Bella set about finding a kettle and filling it with water, her hips swaying comfortably as she manoeuvred around her kitchen. The dress clung close to her hips, hugging every curve the older woman boasted without even knowing it.

“I thought Jaime would never speak again after his father passed,” she said idly, stuffing some tea leaves in the pot. “He says the odd phrase now and then, but he mostly cries. I do my best to figure out what he needs when he needs it. I just knew tonight he needed a friendly face.” She beamed as she set the kettle on the flame. “His father loved storms. They have that in common. Me? I grew up on the mainland.”

“I didn’t know that,” Eva admitted through the lump in her throat. 

“I had no reason to talk about it. I almost forget it myself, sometimes. Nobody really takes an interest in the weird widow that always smells of fish and totes around her mute fatherless son everywhere.” Se laughed as she berated herself, the creases beside her eyes catching Eva’s attention. It was as if the rain had washed a mist out of her own eyes, making her see Bella in a new and dangerous light.

She felt ashamed once more, though the temple was invisible behind the storm now. She was disobeying something more concrete, not the temple but her goddess. She was supposed to be saving herself, body, soul, and mind for—

She wants you.

Eva swallowed hard. Bella was watching her. 

“Are you alright, Eva? You look pale.” Bella raised her hand and pressed the back of it to her forehead. “You feel a little warm. I shouldn’t have let you come out into the rain, I’m so sorry.” She urged the kettle to boil faster as Eva played off the faint feeling when she touched her skin.

Don't you want to give her a proper goodbye? 

Eva tried to silence her gasp at the idea, but couldn’t hold back the barrage of images sweeping past her imagination as Bella turned and bent over the hearth, baring her waist and round, firm buttocks towards her. “Just a few more minutes, I think,” she said out of sight.

Come on, said Phoebe, I give you my blessing.

But she had no idea what to do. She had no idea what to say, how to start. Phoebe wouldn’t trick her like this just to humiliate her. There was never any sign that—

Bella’s eyes darkened, her lips slightly parted in what Eva had thought was concern as she drew closer and took a seat on the bench beside her. “I am glad you’re here, though,” she said, and laughed at herself, “in a melodramatic way. Storms always remind me of him. I try to look for him in them, but…”

“He’s here,” said Eva breathlessly. 

“I wish I could see the world like you,” said Bella with a smile. When had she come so close?

“I should get going soon.” Eva swallowed, but her mouth was dry. Was this what Phoebe wanted? 

Kiss her.

“You’re right,” said Bella. “They’ll be wanting you back.”

Kiss her now. Eva wished she’d added on Pretend she’s me. She waited, Bella’s eyes burrowing down into her soul. She was sure Bella could hear Phoebe’s voice as well, because she kept smiling, patiently, as if she knew was was being discussed in Eva’s head.

I can see her lust, said Phoebe. And yours.

Eva denied it. Denied it with her whole heart, but their chests were almost pressed together, and the markings on her back almost burned. A fever was out of the question. She felt a lucid as on a clear day. 

But the markings…

It's alright. I’ll protect you.

“Are you alright?” asked Bella, a look of concern passing over her sweet features, but her voice was low, it burned like the heat of smoke on her skin. The storm raged, grumbling in the background. A lone soul out there kept peace within. A wet strand of Bella’s hair fell onto Eva’s bosom. 

“Yes,” she said at last, and felt something like a cold hand push her the final stretch of the way, pushing her into Bella’s warm kiss. The older woman inhaled sharply, but surprise melted as she locked lips with Eva, the smell of rain hanging between them like a barrier to cross. Eva inhaled deeply. Bella was wrong, she smelt of fresh herbs and dry grass, rustic and wild, free.

Her strong, plump chest thrust forward, and Eve caught her balance by wrapping her arms around Bella’s neck, allowing herself to be rocked onto her back along the length of the bench. Without hesitating she put one leg either side of it and allowed Bella to nestle there. 

Suddenly Bella broke the kiss, emerging wide-eyed above her.

“Oh gods,” she breathed, “I’m so sorry—I don’t know what I—I’m…”

Kiss her again.

Eva grabbed her face and swallowed her restraint, kissing the words out of her mouth before they could do more damage. Bella surrendered immediately, kissing back with passion, their lips tangling around teeth and tongue. It was a tempest of messy lips and uncertain mouths, but Eva allowed Bella to set the pace and followed. A cooling breath down her cheek alerted her to the third presence in this tryst, but Eva didn’t waste time on pining when she knew even this—even this—was worship.

So she put her morals aside. They hadn’t served her well these past ten years, so why serve them? She let her hands trail down Bella’s neck, sliding in the perspiration, down to the hem of her nightgown, and deftly undid the two buttons. As the second one came open, Bella’s breasts spilled own, enveloping her own. Smooth and heavy, Eva grabbed hold of them as Bella made do with palming the through her own thin gown. Eva had found another set of underwear in the laundry before changing, the first set still lost to this world (though she imagined Phoebe had retrieved it and was making good use of it now while watching them) but Eva wished she hadn’t found one at all, that she could feel with less barriers the strong hands palming her breasts, stroking over her still-sensitive nipples. The brush of the fabric over them sent sparks down her spine, a feeling that quickly trickled into her underwear. 

“I’m sorry,” said Bella, over and over, painting Eva’s lips with the words. Eva wanted to snatch the words out of her vocabulary forever.

“Don’t be,” she said. “It’s alright. It’s alright.”

“But your oath,” said Bella, her hands hastily finding the bottom hem of Eva’s nightgown and bunching it up around her waist. “You could lose everything.” She showed no sign of stopping, and Eva found she didn’t want her to. Not at all.

“It’s alright,” she kept saying, and finally Bella dropped the case as her hands found, buried beneath layers of thin linen, the heat between Eva’s thighs.

The feeling of being touched by someone else was oddly familiar. Her own hands had made the work fruitless all the years she’d denied herself the pleasure of completion, or even wandering too close to it. Bella’s touch wasn’t strange, but it didn’t feel as intense as even a slight lingering fingertip from Phoebe. She couldn’t find the energy to ask why, not now, when Bella’s eager fingers were hooked around her panties and wasting no time before swiping them away. Not now, when Phoebe whispered in her ear to shuffle down and Take one of her nipples into your mouth, to suckle them as Bella thumbed her pussy lips apart, feeling them easy slide of her fingers through the gathering slick. 

Her panties were still gathered at her knees but neither cared enough to take them off once Bella groaned at the heat her fingers had found. She plunged in with two, not teasing her as Eva had done to herself, or put on a show for someone else. Eva could still tell that Phoebe was pleased as she invisibly choreographed the whole scene, touching her hand and mouth with a cool lick when she wanted her to change, pushing her thighs this much apart for Bella to be able to grind her thumb down over Eva’s clit. 

“Fuck…Fuck me—”

Bella giggled. “Are those the words they teach at that school?”

Harder.

“Bella, please—Harder—”

Phoebe acted as director, stifling Eva’s moans as Bella located that cushion inside her and pressed down long and hard, feeling her inside and out. Her plump thighs lay down on her legs, keeping her immobile as she thrust and hooked her fingers inside Eva, milking moans out of her that Phoebe—unbeknownst to her—drank up like a warm drink. The kettle had long boiled but refused to whistle—Phoebe’s doing again. Eva couldn’t figure out why she took so many pains to ensure her peace as she let another woman fuck her priestess, but as her orgasm washed over her, and she spilled it into Bella’s soft mouth, she didn’t care.

Want to taste her?

Yes. Yes, she absolutely did. 

“I want to taste you.”

Chapter Text

The storm beat against the cabin windows and it felt to Eva as if another world had come knocking: one in which she never received any markings, never heeded an imaginary call away from the ocean. One in which she stuck around all year and never planned to leave.

The life she could have had after her parents died spread out in front of her as she kissed Bella roughly, hips grinding against each other. Bella walked backwards into the table’s edge and hoisted herself up on to it, parting her knees for Eva to stand between them, hands on her plump thighs. They pushed table settings and chairs aside silently as they could, but it felt like any noise they made rebounded on the ramshackle walls and returned to them, ears flooding with sounds of pleasure.

This would have been a good life. Outcast here, on the edge of the island, the edge of the world, looked down on by the rest of them but so, so happy. Eva couldn’t help but feel she was saying goodbye not just to Bella, but to the way of life she might have had, under different circumstances.

Would she ever had met Phoebe? Not too far from them, the mass of the cave loomed silent and still. Phoebe hadn’t said a word since that last question, but Eva still felt her over her shoulder, a calm presence to her nerves, telling her all was alright, guiding her inexperienced hands and mouth, steadying her breaths when they ran away from her. No, there wasn’t a stick-thin chance she could have given the caves a second glance, if this was what she would have had to trade for it.

Come to me the voice had said, and Eva had followed it, and it had brought her here, plucking wet kisses from the mouth of an older woman, someone else’s wife (dead as he was, and still watching them in silence), dragging her nightgown over her head and tossing it away. Eva started to kneel, but Bella stopped her, undoing the ties at Eva’s sleeves. It was a whole other deal to get the clothes off of her, and she could feel Bella becoming impatient, her breaths shallowing, heart racing, blood pumping. A snap broke and the sleeves came loose, and within the blink of an eye Eva was stripped down to her underwear, limp breasts facing Bella’s in a slow pause.

“Are you sure about this?” Bella asked, lips parted, mouth wet with anticipation. Eva nodded, not needing Phoebe’s voice in her ear to tell her what she wanted anymore. Phoebe had made her see clearly, hear heartbeats in the storm she never knew were there. Made her hear her own thoughts not as burdens or sins but opportunities. She had set her free and turned her gaze upon someone else. What could it mean?

Was Phoebe worried that their plan (still in scraps) wouldn’t work? Did she think Eva wouldn’t love her as herself, once she saw beneath her human disguise? She must have said something wrong this morning, there was so much more she wanted to say that simply saying ‘I love you’ didn’t suffice. Phoebe was in her head, but could she really see how much better her life was with her in it?

Maybe she was judging the situation wrong. 

Bella reached a hand up to cup her face. “What’s wrong?” she said. Eva folded cheek into her touch, but it didn’t feel like Phoebe’s. 

“I’m sorry, Bella,” she said. “I came here to say goodbye, and now… I don’t want you to think I’m leading you on or—or teasing you…”

“Teasing me?” Bella laughed. “Darling, how fragile do you think I am?” Eva bit her lip uncertainly. “I know what this is. If this is goodbye, I want it. I knew when I… When I realised my feelings for you, I knew how it would have to be. If ever there was something between us, this is how it had to be—”

“There’s someone else,” Eva blurted out. “I need to tell you something.”

“Someone else?” Bella furrowed her brow. “One of the priestesses?”

“No, not one of them.” Eva chipped away at a chapped lip until she drew blood. “I found my patron. My goddess.”

Bella’s eyes widened, her eyes flicking to the darkened window behind her, where the reflection showed the dark winding marks down Eva’s back. “How are they…”

“My goddess is… not like the rest of them. She permits me… wills me to—to do such things.”

“Permits you?”

“She’s the one who told me to do this.” Her hands stroked lightly up Bella’s thighs. “I don’t know why. She said she gave me her blessing, to give you a proper goodbye.”

Bella smiled and trailed her hand down Eva’s throat, letting it fall feather-light to her nipple. She pinched it, causing Eva to shiver and inch closer. 

“I like the sound of her,” said Bella. “Do you like her, too?”

“I love her,” said Eva softly. “Which is why I’m so confused. She’s the one who made me see how… how much I want you. How much I wanted you. It feels so cruel, but I can’t imagine her being cruel to me, not willingly.”

“Darling, this isn’t cruelty.” Bella pinched her other nipple, leaning forward to plant a soft kiss on her hairline. “She’s letting you know she’s not like the other ones painted on the temple walls. The ones in the statues and portraits.”

“How do you mean?”

“Can you feel her here? Watching you?”

Eva swallowed hard, comforted by the knowledge that Phoebe was with her. In this vulnerable state, naked in the midst of a storm, just that knowledge made her feel safe. 

“I can.”

“Do you feel watched?”

“No.”

Bella kissed her lips lightly, then her jaw, and left more kissed at the nape of her neck. “I think she’s showing you the type of love you are signing up to.” She kissed her lips again. “Openness,” she said. “Honesty. Freedom.”

“I have no idea what any of those things feel like.”

“Maybe… she sent you here to find out.” Bella dragged Eva’s hand up to hold her own breast. “What’s her name?”

“Phoebe,” said Eva. The name filled her mouth with sweetness. “Her name is Phoebe. It’s written down my back, in her language.”

Bella’s fingers wandered around her ribcage, teasing touches around her shoulder blades. “Phoebe,” she considered on a sultry exhale, looking around the room. “What do you say to me helping your dutiful priestess have a taste of freedom?” Her teeth caught on Eva’s neck as her hips were hugged by Bella’s knees. “Your pretty little toy.”

Show her.

“Show me,” Eva whispered.

Use her.

“Use me.” 

Bella sucked at the tender skin of her throat, a surge of blood rushing to that spot, as Eva felt fresh dampness gather between her legs. 

Fuck her.

“Fuck me,” Eva said, the syllables stuttering out in a low whine, breathless and pleading. Her skin snapped out of Bella’s mouth, a warm soreness alerting her to the bruise that would surely appear there soon. She didn’t have time to dwell on how it would be covered up come morning, as Bella leaned out of her touch. She tried to chase another kiss, but Bella caught her face and held it still, thumb digging into her cheek until her teeth almost pierced it.

Bella reclined and propped herself on her elbow, then, winding Eva’s long hair around her hand, grinned and said, “Open your mouth.”

Eva obeyed as if Phoebe herself had commanded it, opening her lips wide. It wasn’t long until drool leaked out the corner as she inhaled Bella’s lustful scent. She was dragged down to her elbows, bent double at the table’s edge where Bella’s pussy leaked slick fluid between her folds. Reddened and bloodshot, her clit peeked out, inches out of reach of Eva’s eager, wet tongue. She stuck it out, drool dripping down it, out of control. 

Eva struggled against the hand holding her back, suspending her just like a snared fox, thrashing and wailing, a wild thing. A thwarted predator.

“Pretty thing,” crooned Bella. “Why don’t you give your mistress a show?”

“Please,” uttered Eva, a bubble of spit popping against her lips. “Please…”

“Please what?”

“Let me be good… I’ll do good.”

“For me?” Eva nodded. Bella spun her wrist, winding her hair back until Eva stared at her dead-on. “For her,” she said, nodding towards the ever-distant caves. 

Come to me. 

“For her. I pro-promise. Please—”

Come to me.

Eva looked down at Bella’s patient clit, engorged with want. With need. For her. 

Come to me. 

Eva watched a string of drool land on the innermost flesh of Bella’s thigh, mingling with a glossy sheen of slick, and finally felt Bella’s hold ease on her hair, just enough to let her lower herself down and flick her eager tongue over the swollen bud.

Taste it, said Phoebe. Taste freedom.

Eva flattened her tongue and licked, slow and deliberate, over Bella’s clit, following the motion of her hand as she held Eva down. Her knees shook, and she moved to support herself on Bella’s thighs, burying her hands in the curves of her hips and waist, fingers spidering up her stomach to pinch and pull at her nipples.

“Fuck, that feels so good, darling,” Bella hissed, fingers gripping at Eva’s scalp, encouraging nudges that Eva heeded as she licked down and back up her clit, this time exploring every curve and crevice of Bella’s sopping cunt. The taste was beyond words. Beyond senses. Bitter and sweet and savoury as the sweat of summer’s toils, yet easy, light and polished as honey or liquid gold.

The fire crackled loudly as a log snapped in half in the hearth, and Eva’s composure broke in the same moment. She grappled at Bella’s breasts for purchase, kneading the fat flesh of her tits with lithe fingers as she hugged her thighs like her life depended on it. She opened her mouth wider and wider, tensing in the confines of the hand in her hair. She stretched her tongue out as far as it would go, craning her neck to venture lower, lower, until she discovered that tight little hole she was searching for. 

She tried to speak through heavy laps up the line of her pussy, but her words melted in the nectar her tongue couldn’t get enough of, leaking out as ‘Mmph…Mmfgh…ampfh…’

Finally Bella’s hold faltered and she released Eva’s hair, allowing her to come up for air, threads of wetness lining her cheeks and chin. “Put your legs up,” she gasped, and dutifully returned to her duty. As Bella heeded her request, bringing her feet to rest on the edge of the table, she made plenty of room for Eva to dive beneath her folds. She touched the tip of her tongue to the rim of Bella’s wet hole, envisioning what it would feel like for her, to have the hot, agile tongue of a younger woman administering lust-filled kisses and moans on the most sensitive place on her body. 

She knew this was a sacred duty, a form of worship. Phoebe’s patient eye was on her as she took in the taste for a moment. Then the moment passed, a drop of arousal dribble down her own leg, and she snapped out of her dreamy haze. She licked her lips and buried her tongue deep into Bella’s cunt. 

The taste was divine, as was the sound that filtered through Bella’s teeth as she winced against the sudden presence inside her. Eva wasted no time locating that spot she knew (now) to be most pleasurable, and tapped her tongue against it. Bella’s hips bucked up, smearing wetness on her chin, and Eva delved deeper, teasing her clit with the tip of her nose as she fucked Bella’s insides with her willing tongue. 

Dropping into a crouch, she wrapper her arms around Bella’s knees and dragged the helpless woman closer, as close as the table edge allowed her to bury her face in her pussy. She squeezed around the meaty thighs, loving to grip them, loving to feel them, soft as clouds and twice as dreamy, though often she lost control of them, and they hugged her ears too close to hear the breathy “Oh, Eva, fucking gods…” that plastered the walls of the cabin. 

“Right there… right there, so good. So good, darling. You’re doing so good.”

You’re a natural, sweetheart.

Pride swelled in Eva’s gut, swirling with pleasure though she was untouched.

Do you love it? said Phoebe. Fucking her juicy cunt with your tongue… Doesn’t she taste good? Doesn’t she sound simply divine?

She did. She really did. And if Eva had any leftover composure to put it into words, she would have. But her body felt hot all over, all her energy funnelled into her tongue, and managing to keep breathing as she nosed over Bella’s clit. Her charged moans did the talking for the both of them, now with every breath Bella gasped and groaned in bliss. Her volume soared, yet was unheard by anyone except Eva and Phoebe’s who’s spiritual presence tickled them both. She filled the room with an air that made them light-headed, lucid with pleasure.

“Yes, yes—f-fuck, sweetheart, keep going. Don’t stop—Don’t fucking stop, Eva.”

Bella’s hand grasped the back of her head tighter than before, just as Eva took a deep breath, ready to chase Bella’s finish. She pulled her tongue out and gave her cunt a preliminary lick, and before Bella could react, stabbed her hole as deep as she could go. Bella shrieked behind tightly closed lips and pushed Eva’s head down, who diligently took it as a sign that she was close. 

Eva listened. Her tongue pumped into Bella’s wet cunt as she felt streaks of precome run like tears down her cheeks.

Beautiful.

The table under Bella wobbled on its weary legs, screeching as it was pushed back a little, but Eva didn’t lose focus, following Bella’s body even as she pulled away. She locked her arms around Bella’s thighs, maintained the unrelenting pace and force of her fucking, and as she heard—and felt—Bella come to climax, didn’t let the pace subside.

“Fu-uuck, Eva. Oh my gods,” she whimpered, voice barely above a whistle. “Oh fuck, fuck, fuck—Eva—”

Bella lost control of her limbs, legs falling by Eva’s ears and clamping—hard—around her head. Eva could hardly hear, see, or even breathe, but her tongue never ceased its fucking, sending Bella into spasms with every nudge of her nose against the older woman’s over-sensitive clit. Her fluids gushed into Eva’s mouth and spilled out, falling in wet streaks down her chin and sliding down her neck, glazing her lolling tits. 

“D-Don’t stop,” stuttered Bella, releasing her head at last, as Eva could now see she was struggling to keep from sliding off the table. Her knuckles were white and tense at the edges of the table, her toes struggling to hold up her weight on the ground. A sudden surge of will gave Eva the strength to grab her by the hips and drop her back, pinning her ankles to her thighs. She lifted herself up as well, and leaned over Bella’s shuddering form. Her copper skin was glossy and coated head-to toe in sweat, sticky from hip to knee.

Eva inhaled her scent, kissing her strong pulse at her neck as she ground her hips into Bella’s, applying pressure on her clit and rolling in her juices. 

“Please, Eva,” Bella gasped. “Please…”

Give her one more.

“One more?” asked Eva, pulse like a drum in her ears.

“Please,” begged Bella. “I need to have one more. You can’t leave me like this.” The desperation was colouring her eyes, half-lidded and tearful with the intense orgasm and her intense need. Locked on Eva, they pleaded for her touch. 

Eva couldn’t resist. She dropped down again, mouth encircling her brown nipple and nipping hard as she inserted two fingers into Bella’s needy cunt. She rocked her hips forward, using the momentum to dig in deeper than her tongue could go, reaching into the depths of her sex to draw out more jittering moans.

Eva sucked her tits, smearing them with Bella’s own fluids and licking them clean like she was savouring her last meal on earth. Even now she could feel her strength failing, her knees growing weak with each trust, a dull ache in her gut pushing on her lungs and making any breath deeper than a gasp as sharp as needles. Her brain felt foggy on little sleep, and the effects of her fasting not hard to recognise.

She clamped her hips down, grinding in little circles against the cushiony spot inside Bella, working that spot ruthlessly as Bella’s moans reached rapid fire rate. Come streaked her cheeks and had sprayed into her hair which stuck to every part of her sweaty neck like a hangman’s rope. Yet she endured. She worshipped Bella’s body, Phoebe’s self, like she never worshipped anything before. With awe, with belief, faith, that what she loved was as real as the body wrapped around her fingers, as the clit her thumb ground against, as definite and debauched as the fluid leaking from her own cunt as her thighs slid against each other in the fire’s heat. 

This is real, said Phoebe, as Bella’s staccato moans reached climax, her walls tightened around Eva’s fingers and a fresh spray of come expelled from her cunt. This is our love. 

“Eva,” moaned Bella, eyelashes shiny with fresh tears. “Don’t leave me.”

Her words slurred as she drifted in and out of pleasure-induced drowsiness. 

“Please stay,” said Bella, grappling for her arm as Eva’s fingers left the plush warmth of her sodden pussy. "You can be happy here. With me," she sobbed. Her fluids covered the ground at Eva’s feet.

Eva slid her hand off easily. Her grip wasn’t strong. They were both exhausted.

She wiped her face and neck with the sleeve of her nightgown, which she located some distance away, and used the very same to clean around Bella’s still twitching thighs. The thin fabric ghosting over her clit sent her into fits and Eva struggled to maintain her composure as she cleaned the older woman up. She found the tea kettle, almost cold, and poured a drink for them both to share. She fed Bella small sips between getting her clean and getting them both dressed, then sat her down on the bench as she began to tidy up the rest of the kitchen.

She found Bella where she’d left her when she was done, eyes locked onto the ground, looking empty. Her cheeks were flushed and whole body drooping with tiredness. Eva sat by her side after dressing herself and emptying the cup of tea, though she’d wanted to keep Bella’s taste in her mouth as long as she could. Her throat was dry from breathing hard for so long.

“I’m sorry,” said Bella, her voice hoarse.

“It’s okay.”

They sat in silence for a moment, Eva leaning into the older woman’s embrace. The fire had burned the whole time without either of them stoking it, but now it began to flicker, as Eva realised the room had almost fallen into darkness around them. She could hardly see the far wall or the door they’d entered through. The storm still raged outside. She couldn’t have been in here for more than an hour, but she had overstayed her welcome.

Bella suddenly sniffed loudly, wiping the tears in the corners of her eyes as she painted on a bright smile. 

“I’m happy for you, dear,” she said, nodding confidently. “You found a special thing. A gift. Not many women like us find it in our whole lives. I did and it was taken away from me.” She took Eva’s hands in hers. “Never let go of yours.”

Eva nodded knowingly, and leaned forward to give Bella a final goodbye kiss. Her hands unfolded in Bella’s own, revealing the crumple fabric she’d concealed. Bella drew back, but Eva held it out to her. In her hands she held a pair of white underwear, sporting a wet patch at the groin.

“I want you to keep them,” said Eva. “So you’ll remember me by something. I wish I had something more meaningful.”

Bella’s eyes flashed a wild shade as she eagerly took the garment from Eva. She held them out in front of her, then laughed to herself. “This will do just fine, sweetheart. Thank you.” 

She gave Eva a hug, wrapping her arms squarely around the younger woman’s shoulders. Eva thought she might begin crying again, but when it was over, Bella stood up, pocketed the gift, and offered Eva an old coat to walk home in. 

They didn’t say goodbye again. Eva left the house knowing that they never would get the chance, but she didn’t mind. She felt good about how she’d left Bella, and sure that neither would ever forget the other, or tonight, so long as they both lived.

She left the cabin into the searing chill of the storm, eyes set on the never-extinguishing light of the temple. She never wavered from that sight, not even when the whispers of the wind bellowed into groans from the cave she’d longed to return to ever since she left. Though she wanted to see Phoebe immediately, that wasn’t where they were going to meet tonight. 

Eva had another idea, and if it worked, neither of them would ever need to step foot in the shadows again. 

*****

Eva crossed through the gates without a hitch. The porter nodded her through from his own window, and as she locked it behind her, passing the key under his front door, she was comforted by seeing the candle he watched her by snuffed out. 

She trod wetly through the garden, the rain carrying the smell of summer roses towards her, beckoning her towards the outer wall, telling her nobody would bat an eye if she climbed back over. There was still time, the night was young. But she resisted their call. 

Come to me.

She wanted to say out loud, “Wait, you will come to me,” but smiled secretly to herself. She passed through the temple door, back into the hallway, but turned left instead of right at the end of it, where two secret doors were tucked behind the tapestries. On the right, a depiction of Ama and her calves grazing on lush fields. Behind that was the door that led to the priestesses’ dormitory. 

On the left, however, was another tapestry. One she faced every morning as she emerged from the dormitory, still half asleep. One through which twelve sisters had passed through, and only one emerged year after year.

That tapestry concealed the entrance to a waiting room, where every year the priestesses would wait, lined up, for their names to be called, after which they would say a final goodbye to the women who had been their constant company for the past year, and emerge into another life. 

Because beyond that small waiting room, as Eva would soon be reminded, lay the heart of the temple, the eternal flame, around which the whole island was built, and was said to never stop burning until the gods themselves came down to snuff it out. 

Eva unlocked the first door, entering into the cool of the waiting room, and swiftly closed it behind, dropping the tapestry back. Everyone would be asleep by now, nobody had heard her.

She wasted no time in the waiting room. Already she could feel Phoebe’s presence dwindling in her mind. The distance from the storm was sickening, and she felt heavy on her heels. She pushed haphazardly out the opposite door, into a wide, circular atrium, encircled by pillars casting long, black shadows on the far walls. 

In the middle of it all, high on a marble dais, burned the eternal flame. 

Eva removed her boots, shivering in the cool that drifted down through the open roof, though no rain fell beside her or the flame. She dropped her gaze, shaking all over, as she padded closer to the forbidden sight. Only one other entrance led to this place, but it was locked, and only open to the public one day a year. She dropped Mother’s keys behind her with her boots as she forced her heart into her throat.

“I come to give an offering.”

The flame surged, roaring high to the ceiling, then subsided. Eva cowered in its heat, hiding her face, as she timidly hiked up her nightgown. With cupped fingers she dragged her hand up her thighs, holding her breath as she gathered the persistent wetness between them. Her fingertips brushed along her clit, and the flame surged once more. The markings on her back burned with a fire more livid than the one before her and she winced as she let her nightgown fall, raising her open palm forward.

She took the final steps towards the flame, light, pearly fluid dripping from her fingers like the sweetest and richest of honey that the ancient scholars would have given in return for divine knowledge, though the cost of such knowledge was often far beyond a handful of honey. 

Eva shut her eyes tight, anticipating a blinding light, or worse, as her fingers were stroked by the flame. She bit back tears, and put her hand into the fire. 

Chapter Text

Picture a dead woman. Floating somewhere close to the shoreline, in barely two feet of salt water. Picture her bloated, grey, devoid of gore or the heat of what once was her life. Picture her drowned, but not drowning. One must never imagine how a body died. A body is a body. And she is not a woman but a body. A doll has always been a doll.

But picture life being inhaled back into her, exhaled by something just out of sight, yet you know it is massive and dark and it fills you with awe and fear and love. Imagine this body blushing. Imagine it chokes back to sanity, wild bloodshot eyes and fingers twitching with the bliss of once more being conscious, having forgotten death and pain. 

She speaks the words ‘Come to me’ like she calls to life itself on the brink of death. 

*****

Eva opened her eyes and felt as if every drop of her blood had been drained and funnelled back into her veins through a very fine straw. One hand cradled the other, returned from the flame, yet bore no mark of being burned. She took ten deep breaths as tears welled in her eyes and fell heavy and hot down her cheeks. 

“Eva?” said an uncertain voice behind her. Eva choked a sob of glee, knowing she had been right, and from this moment on her future would unfold in front of her like a buffet she could pick and choose from. She turned on her heels.

“It worked,” she gasped. 

Phoebe stood on shaky legs as if the paved temple floor was sharp as broken glass. She was not the image or the evidence of Phoebe, not her goddess in the mirror but the woman herself: solid and divine at the same time, and Eva reached out to her before falling to her knees like she had that first time she saw her in the cave. It felt like lifetimes ago, or a lifetime someone else had lived for her before handing her the reins through the orange flame, ready to take control and live the rest out as it ought to always have been. 

“What did you do?” said Phoebe, her face seat and expressionless, toeing forward, testing the waters. As she stepped forward the flame surged, but Eva knew it was in approval, not warning. 

“You got my offering.” 

Phoebe smacked her lips together. 

“Your… offering…”

“We’re only supposed to do it on the fifth day of fasting, but—But I couldn’t wait that long. I had to do it tonight. I needed to know it would work, and it did.”

“What did you do, my love?” 

“I prayed. To you. I gave you evidence of my worship. I gave you part of myself, like the old priestesses did.”

Phoebe looked mortified. She glanced down as Eva’s hands and wrists, but they were unblemished and unburnt. “How… did you do that?”

After all this, the events of tonight and the one before, Eva never thought she still had it in herself to blush. She timidly raised the skirt of her nightgown, showing off the gloss still running down her legs. Phoebe deflated with relief.

“Oh—Oh, you clever, brilliant, beautiful thing,” she laughed, stepping forward and raising her from the ground. Her head bent forward, blue skin shimmering in the light of he flame, and Eva wondered if she was going to kiss her. 

She wanted to. Eva saw that she wanted to, every fluttering eyelash evidence of her dwindling resolve. Her mouth opened and closed every moment, and her pearl-coloured eyes flickered down to her mouth uncertainly, but every moment that passed that she didn’t release Eva from her grip told her all she needed to know. 

So Eva kissed her first. Her body, newly living, reincarnated into the real version of herself, took hold of what it wanted. She wrapped her arms around Phoebe’s waist and pulled her in, deepening the kiss as soon as Phoebe retaliated, plucking her lips with her own, kissing her so deep their cheekbones started to hurt. 

Phoebe’s long black hair brushed past her knuckles, cold and soft as silk, and she took a handful, stroking it gently down Phoebe’s back, smoothing her hand over it like a cloud passing over the black ocean. It was then she notices Phoebe was dressed differently, more like one of the statues down the hallway. The white shawl she’d made from the cloth Eva had given her was wrapped daintily around her waist, one fold of it thrown over her shoulder and returning over the other. Her back was left bare for Eva’s fingers to dance over her soft cool skin.

She finally broke the kiss, cheeks stained with exhilaration and happy tears, which she saw Phoebe had reciprocated, filling her gorgeous eyes with crystal-like dew. Eva kissed her again and again, each time feeling like the first and last. 

“I called for you,” she said. “And you came. You actually came.”

“Always, my love, always.”

“Do you know what this means?” Eva asked, holding Phoebe’s face in her hands, though it meant raising them high above her own head. Phoebe’s height seemed even more impressive among the high columns encircling them, and the light of the eternal flame. “You’re in the temple.”

“This is the temple?”

Eva nodded energetically. “The heart of the island, and now, my heart is here with yours.” She hugged Phoebe close, but Phoebe’s eyes wandered over the plain surface of the walls beyond the columns. It didn’t take long for her to absorb it all, and once they did, her eyes returned to Eva’s own with a laughing look. 

“I’m here,” she said, “with you.”

“The ceremony,” said Eva. “It’s going to work this time. After all these years, that was all I had to do. Ha!” She tossed her head back in triumph, and Phoebe dipped down to kiss her exposed neck. She remembered the mark Bella had sucked on it, and was alarmed that Phoebe aimed for the exact same spot. A flash of pleasure—or its close memory—cooled her over-excited body and mind.

Phoebe looked at her in the eyes, suddenly stern. Her eyes darkened. 

“Now I’ve been called here,” she said slowly, “I can find my way back. All you need to do is call me. All you need to do, Eva, is pray to me again. I will come find you, I swear it on my life.”

Eva nodded along, tracing the shape of Phoebe’s beautiful features in the natural light. The cave made her look like a lost moon-drop, ethereal yet displaced. Now, here, she saw her in all her godly glory. Adorned with the dress, she looked like a work of art, the fabric peaking over her breasts, slung loose over her hips and waist and gathered neatly over her neck. 

Eva wanted nothing more than to unwind it from her body, to unfurl it from her form and see it all—all—in the light of the eternal flame, against the backdrop of the temple. She wanted to worship it and nothing more, in the holiest of settings, as she deserved to be worshipped. 

“My love,” said Phoebe, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said with the smallest shake of her head. “Nothing at all.” Her hands unwrapped fro around Phoebe’s waist and traced the shape of her through the fabric, stroking over the swell of her thighs. “Everything is just as it should be.” The wandering hands circled to Phoebe’s front, one travelling upwards, over the dip of her hip-bones and under the light fabric cradling her breasts, wile the other thumbed down the front of the skirt.

“Eva—the ceremony, I thought you wanted to wait—”

“I want you more. More than that.”

“Are you sure?” Her eyes were wild. An untamed animal perched on its back legs, waiting for a twitch, a signal to pounce. 

Eva felt movement, subtle as a change in the breeze, beneath her lower palm. She smiled, having found her prize.

“More than anything.”

Eva rubbed her hand up and down the front of her skirt, each stroke stumbling over a hardening form underneath. She listened to the steadily shallowing breaths hot on the top of her head, her predator slowly harnessing her purpose. 

“Eva,” she breathed. “If we do this, you understand I—I—”

“I know,” Eva promised. “I-I think I’m ready. For everything. For you.” She gripped Phoebe through her skirt. “With you, I’m real. With you, I’m something.”

“You’re… everything,” Phoebe’s voice strained under the effort of keeping herself in check. But under the eternal flame, burning mockingly bright behind Eva, casting ever-shifting blurred shadows on Phoebe’s form, restraint felt like a sin in itself. 

This was justice.

The moment they both realised it, the flame surged, as their two bodies entangled and became one. Eva dropped to her knees, her arms wrapping around Phoebe’s waist as she kissed every exposed inch of skin, pushing aside the skirt when it came in the way. Phoebe keeled over her, bent in half over Eva’s shoulder, as her hardening cock sprang free of its feeble bounds. But even as Eva took hold of her cock, Phoebe became mesmerised by the patterns curling down Eva’s back. She grappled at the nightgown, clumsily dragging it inch by inch until the hem was hers, and she stopped Eva to take it off completely.

“I wish you could see this,” she said. “I wish you knew…”

“I know,” said Eva, placing her hand on Phoebe’s thigh. She lightly stroked it, the soft skin slippery with perspiration. Eva bit her lip, turning a question over and over in her head. The head of Phoebe’s cock bobbed up in front of her face, and she stared it down, mouth watering. 

“What’s wrong, my love?”

“No-nothing,” said Eva quickly. She looked down at her other hand, wondering if this was the right time for questions. “It’s just… It can wait.”

Phoebe looked breathless already, eyelashes fluttering in anticipation. “What is it, Eva?” she said kindly, crouching to cover herself with the last of the cloth still hanging off her. “We can still stop, if you are—”

“No!” Eva pleaded. “No, it’s… I was wondering… my hands.” She held them palm-up to show her. “They’re healed.”

“Yes. Of course,” said Phoebe, beaming with pride. “Of course they are. And I kept the rain from giving you a cold, too. Did you notice?”

“You did that?”

“Yes,” she echoed, suddenly nervous. “Did I overstep? Do patrons not take care of their priestesses like that? I am sorry if that is the case, I only meant—”

“No, it’s perfectly fine,” said Eva comfortingly. She clasped her hands, palms together, as Phoebe came down to her knees. “You're... very powerful.”

Phoebe sighed, her head wrapped in dreams. “All thanks to you,” she said. “Your offerings, your dutiful work. I feel new. Happier and stronger than I’ve been in a century.”

Eva’s heart set on fire at those words. To think it was her hands, her words, her actions that revived this once-awe-inspiring goddess to even an inkling of her former glory, was astounding. She herself felt taller, more full of life than ever before. Her wandering hands were those of a real priestess, a real disciple. 

But at the same time, more questions surfaced, that she felt had to b answered tonight, or never come up again. She could see Phoebe shiver with need—need for her—but her mind was reeling. 

“When I first saw you, you were bleeding. But the blood disappeared,” she said. “What happened before I came to the cave that day?”

Phoebe’s dark tongue flicked across her lip. “I was transforming,” she said, “into the shape you saw. After such a long time, and being so weak, it was rather painful.”

“Is it painful to transform now?”

“Less so,” she admitted. “But if you wanted me to, I’d do it in a heartbeat. What is it you want to see? To feel?”

Eva was horrified at the implication. This—what she saw before her, was beyond perfection. Phoebe had usurped the image of perfection, power, beauty, in her mind for ever. But was this also a disguise, to dull down the siren side of her, a beautiful face to lure her in and catch her off guard?

“You,” she said finally. “The real you.”

Phoebe stalled. She glanced behind Eva, through her, to the flame. It sat still in wait for her to act, speak… The gills on her neck flared in an indecipherable expression. “It will scare you.”

Eva shrugged. “Let it be so. I know in my heart who it is I love. But I must see you if I am to give myself to you completely.” Phoebe looked unsure. “Let me be clear,” she added. “My answer will not change. I am yours, for now and for ever. I am and will be your priestess, forever. Regardless of the form and shape you take.” She held Phoebe’s hands in her lap. “I feel you, Phoebe, in my heart. Let me see you, too.”

Phoebe’s hands were cold, long fingers unsure which way to curl. The wildness in her eyes seemed docile now as she shed a salty tear. Eva leaned forward to kiss her, their knees touching in the firelight. She closed her eyes, feeling the transformation before she saw it. 

Phoebe’s nails grew longer and sharper, her fingers, too. Her lips wetted, nose flattening against Eva’s damp cheek. A breath of cold air blew across Eva’s shoulders, and she finally dropped back. Phoebe winced, not in pain, but focus, as if unearthing herself from years of repression. How long had it been since she held enough power to claim her own body? How long had she been compressed in a smaller vessel, clawing at her confines?

Her body unfurled, growing in size as it did in power. Her skin remained ocean-blue, but her hair became like ocean waves, glimmering with the reflections of starlight. Her breaths were like the rolling tides, washing over each other in a comforting pace. Her purple lips parted, exposing a row of sharp white teeth behind. Eva’s heart skipped a beat as she realised she longed to be between them. 

Besides the row of dark purple gills, Eva spotted another set, stretching below her breasts like a second rib-cage, curving around her sides and behind her. She was within arms’ reach, so Eva reached out, stroking them with gentle fingers. Eva winced at the touch, releasing a rolling moan from her throat. Eva didn’t remove her hand, biting her lip at her discovery.

But perhaps the most intriguing discovery began when Phoebe shed the white shawl entirely. It fell and was quickly forgotten, as she sat on her side, her legs joining together to the right. As Eva watched, they fused together, becoming a single shifting limb, long and snake-like, save for the sheer fins dressing her sides like veils. They were green, glassy and lacy at the same time. From the navel to the tail-tip, some ten or twelve feet in total, Phoebe’s body was smooth, slick, and green as a field of algae. Her cock stood to attention, but something else stirred in that dark wet slit from which it protruded. 

Eva was lost for words when Phoebe finally opener her eyes, mouth stretched in a pained smile and chest heaving. When she spoke, her voice was deep as a trench, and shook Eva to the bones. Her hands shivered, still petting Phoebe’s ribs tenderly.

“You see me now,” said Phoebe. “Do you still—”

Eva cut her off with a kiss that nearly sent her topping, for all her size couldn’t hold her back. They were chest-to-chest in seconds, Eva straddling her tail, knees far apart to accommodate the added girth of her body. Phoebe kissed back after a moment’s hesitation, and when she did Eva wasted no time seeking out her tongue. She gladly would have sucked the poison from it now, would have sliced herself on those teeth and let Phoebe feed on her blood until she was drained, empty as a doll. She would have been fulfilled even then.

Phoebe’s cock swelled with a rush of blood. It was loud, commanding, swinging against Eva’s stomach as they kissed passionately, making itself undeniable between them. Eva giggled into Phoebe’s mouth just as Phoebe’s slit slipped against her folds, and she yelped. Pulling away, she covered her mouth. The sharp sound echoed as it had through the lonely cavern, and she glanced to the side entrance to the temple. The door was closed, covered by yet another tapestry. Woven out of rich silks, Ama’s smile seemed more like a disapproving grimace now. 

Phoebe clasped Eva’s hand and pulled it away, thumbing a sharp talon over her lower lip. “You don’t have to keep quiet, my love,” she said. “We’re alone.”

“But what if—”

“I’ve protected you this long, haven’t I?” Phoebe squared her shoulders, dropping her hands to Eva’s waist. “We’re safe here. We can play.” Her voice dropped low as she leaned in, whispering against Eva’s lip, “Let’s play, pretty girl.”

 Eva’s pulse bolted, blood rushing below her waist as her breath hitched, lip captured in Phoebe’s teeth. She nipped, pulling Eva back towards her, her large form overshadowing her, but the sense was like being wrapped in a warm blanket. She felt safe, the niggling feeling of being watched every time she entered the temple done away with. The funereal din of shuffling footsteps in the stone hallways was the stuff of memories. She could pretend they were back in the cave if she liked, to please Phoebe.

But when the siren  released her lips to lick at the sweat welling between her collarbones the image shattered and she was once again pulled back into the fire-lit temple room, with its garden of columns and statues and its grandeur. She was reminded that this was worship and this belonged here. The eternal flame had ceased its twitching, as if acknowledging them at last, and admitting, carry on. 

A smile bloomed on Eva’s face, and one on Phoebe’s to match, as her lingering inhibitions vanished, and she took hold of Phoebe’s shoulders, standing herself up. Once standing, she reached down and guided Phoebe’s cock by the head towards her leaking entrance. Phoebe gasped, biting back her grin. 

“I’ve waited so long,” said Eva, bending her knees. The head itself would have been enough, she thought, large enough to breach her and press against that spot she’d recently discovered, but she felt greedy, wanting more. Wanting more for her and for Phoebe, wanting the whole connection, to be one, at the core. She lowered herself on shaking knees even more, Phoebe’s steadying hands adding to the pressure as her fingers dug in with gentle force. 

“I know,” Phoebe said, unwavering. “I know.”

Eva felt the stretch of her cunt like a nettle sting, unrelenting as she soldiered on, pushing Phoebe inch by inch. The stretch didn’t end as she felt her insides contort to accommodate the mass of it. Her cock had grown with the rest of her, and Phoebe seemed aware, her brows worrying together even as she bid Eva to endure, to push even lower, assuring her she could take it. All of it. 

She wouldn’t hurt her, Eva was as sure of that, more so that she was sure of the pain blossoming between her legs. Before long, yet feeling like hours trapped in the middle-ground between pain and pleasure, she felt the cool smoothness of Phoebe’s tail touch her thighs, and looking down she saw she had reached the summit. It dawned on Eva that she was utterly dwarfed by Phoebe’s massive form. Her shoulders no less than twice as wide, and torso the same difference in length. Just one of her breasts stood to attention, the same size as Eva’s head. She knew if she looked behind her she would see the curled length of Phoebe’s tail, writhing and twitching in anticipation.

But herself… Small, insignificant, yet now the vessel of Phoebe’s pleasure. 

She smoothed a hand over her stomach, and immediately drew it away. The shape was foreign, so she blinked the tears out of her eyes and focused. A thick, bulbous form protruded from beneath her once-taut skin, the fat of her tummy contorted around to accommodate the girth and length of Phoebe’s cock. The feeling of fullness was divine, and yet as she began to wiggle her hips ever so slightly she could tell the hot cock hadn’t yet reached its full size.

The thought made her shiver, drawing a hissing intake of breath from Phoebe, her gills flaring. 

“I—I wondered,” said Phoebe, shoulders slack, “if you wouldn’t want... Something more familiar to you.” 

“Familiar?” asked Eva. “I’ve been dreaming of your cock every second since last night.” She began pushing her knees back up, inch by inch the cock drew out of her body, but its inflated length meant it would only release half-way when she stood on tip-toes. She laughed at the image of her stomach, rounded with mass. “Aching for it,” she added wistfully, pressing the head through her skin. “For this feeling.”

“How does it f-feel?”

“It makes the past ten years feel like a blur,” Eva said, lowering herself down again. “Like I’d gladly do it all over again, if I could end up back here. Exactly where we are now.”

Her legs felt weak, voice even weaker, at the end of her short speech, and the agonisingly slow descent made her too aware of that. She grappled for Phoebe’ but she was out of reach. At last she caught a strand of her hair and reined her in, their lips aligned. Her words dripped from her lips and rose towards Phoebe like smoke. “Take me now,” she mumbled, dream-like, grasping for reality, all in one breath, “do with me as you please. Let me pleasure you. Use my body, all of it, as you like. I knew what I was meant for when I met you, and this is it. I surrender, all of me, to you. To your beauty, to the divine purpose of your pleasure. My—my star, my goddess…” Her breath failed her, and upon inhale it was not air but the sweetness of Phoebe’s tongue that breathed her lips, the long, winding snake licking around the cavern of her mouth and tickling her throat.

She choked on it, feeling something wet drip down her throat, her heart fluttering at the idea of her insides turning to mush under Phoebe’s poisonous aftertaste. She pulled on Phoebe’s hair, impaling her throat deeper with that toxic tongue, thinking of all the sweet promises that it had uttered to get here. That she would wait for Eva until the final star turned cold. Well, the icy pain between her legs might have signalled such an advent had the sweat down her back also vanished.

She held her breath as Phoebe tasted her from the inside out, not realising she had been pushed further down, bottoming out against Phoebe’s tail. Phoebe may as well have been trying to reach her middle from both ends, seeking pleasure from her every orifice. Eva wanted to fall slack, to let her body do the work bid of it, but Phoebe refused to let her, holding her strongly around the waist as she pulled her up to meet her kiss, then down again to engulf her pulsing cock.

All the prayers in the books passed out of her mind, pushed out by the force with which Phoebe dragged her down on her cock then. Every tenet, philosophy, and order, flimsy as a rose petal against the solidity of Phoebe inside her. And Eva was sure she would survive if the only thing that ever filled her mouth was Phoebe’s tongue, and every whisper of a prayer died before it could even be heard like a sudden flash of lightning. Seen, then forgotten, disregarded.

The temple walls seemed to crumble as Phoebe pulled her closer, leaning herself forward, locking her great mouth around Eva’s until she gagged as she hugged her priestess tight. With one hand only she wrapped her fingers around Eva’s waist, cinching her around her cock. Eva’s ears rang with blood as Phoebe’s cock brushed hotly against that most sensitive spot on its way to hammer at her cervix. But she was sure she was far beyond that, changing the makeup of her body to suit her needs. She longed to see, more than to feel, how Phoebe had outfitted her body, engineering her just right to fulfil her own promise. 

Black spots began to dance around her vision, and Eva envisioned the black poison leaking through her body, even capturing her eyes, until all she could see, hear, taste, feel, was Phoebe herself. It was beyond erotic, this consumption, how every capillary in her seemed to thrum with Phoebe’s name. The markings on her back burned, but the burn wove across her body, until they were a noose around her neck, a hand on either leg splitting them apart, whispering to her she never needed air and never would again…

She fell heavily down on Phoebe’s cock again, but instead of wrenching her up once more, Phoebe held her down. Eva opened her eyes, the black spots dancing out of sight, as she mourned the retreating pressure pushing at the walls of her throat. Eva coughed up what she thought was bile, but it came away white and salty and smelling like the sea before a storm.

“You’re doing so well,” praised Phoebe, and Eva wondered how her stomach still had room for butterflies to fly around as if in a panic. She rubbed herself as well as she could on the folds of Phoebe’s slit, soaked with her own slick and Eva’s, but it gave no more pleasure than a gust of wind. It was then she recognised the tint of cruelty in Phoebe’s voice. “Though impatient,” she commented. “Let me, my love. You’re mine, so let me, only me.”

“Only you,” Eva echoed. “Only for you.”

“Only for me.”

Eva relaxed, Phoebe’s dark tongue returning to lap up the spittle around Eva’s lips, then clean up the foaming drool dripping down her chin like a rabid dog. She felt numb, hot and cold at the same time, her body stretched beyond its furthest limits and yet Phoebe demanded more, and Eva would have rather died that not comply.

The invisible hands returned, spreading her thighs as far as they could go, and Eva prepared herself to ascend once more, hands braced on her stomach to add what little pressure she could. She had long since abandoned the prospect of her own climax, unsure if she had had one yet, or already broken past her third. All was a blur of senses, and nothing was solid, not liquid, not light. 

But she wasn’t pulled up again. Not yet. Instead Phoebe took hold of her thighs and swivelled her around. Phoebe’s cock pulsed more at the feeling, every rush of blood ballooning against her insides like a rhythmic tap on her most sensitive place. If she leaned the right way, she could… 

But she stopped her thoughts there. Partly because of the oath she’d sword no more than ten seconds ago, but partly because she felt something prodding between her thighs, testing the length of skin between her tightly-stretched cunt and…

Oh. 

Oh, no.

“Phoebe—wait—”

But her words were unheard, even by her, as Phoebe’s thumb joined the fray, hooking roughly into the muscular circle of Eva’s tight ass, hooking not unlike a hook in a fish’s mouth. Eva hardly had time to acknowledge it with a grunt before she felt a near-ripping force drag her upwards, and she was forced to comply, stretching her legs up to meet the new direction. She felt like a puppet on a string, dancing around in the air to no avail or audience.

“Phoeb—” she whined, biting her tongue when Phoebe pulled her down, digging her thumb in to the next knuckle, this time stretching her hole more severely, as if preparing her for something yet bigger… “Phoe—Fuh—fuck… Phoebe…”

Eva felt pulled in all directions as Phoebe pumped into both her holes with merciless force. She couldn’t tell what her mouth was saying, or even if there were words beyond the arrhythmic bursts of pleasured moans, but it was clear her body was no longer her own. Finally.

“I watched you,” Phoebe gasped, a smile to her words making Eva shiver. “I watched you with Bella. She made… the sweetest sounds. I could hear her over the storm, all the way from here.” She gave a low, rumbling chuckle. “This… you… well, pretty girl, there’s no comparison.”

She withdrew her thumb. Eva gasped, pleading wordlessly for its return, her back arching in search of it, pressing Phoebe’s cock deeper within her. 

“I heard her begging you, did you hear?” Phoebe purred behind her left ear. “Begging you to touch her, taste her, mmh, to make her come. You were too distracted. Dutiful little thing.” Her voice sent vibrations through Eva’s body, whirring through her limbs and deep into her cunt. “You didn’t hear, but I did. I heard her begging for you to stay. Do you know what she was prepared to surrender for that? More than anyone has ever given for a prize such as this—the right to a priestess’s little hole. How about both of them?” Her long tongue hissed, snake-like, up the back of her neck. “Or all three? Will you make me beg, my sweet?”

Eva’s head shook in staccato, her hair tangling around her face like a web. “N-no. Not… you. You… have me.”

“I’m afraid that’s not enough,” Phoebe said. “I want to hear it again, dear. A pretty girl, again, begging for me. For my cock to fill her wet little hole. To stretch her from the inside, fucking her nice and hard. Don’t you want that?”

Her hand wrapped loosely around Eva’s throat, restraining her as she desperately tried to nod her consent. 

“Yes,” she gasped. “Yes, I want—I want that.”

“What, my love? What do you want?”

“Y-you,” she strained, tongue tangled in her mouth. “Fuck-fuck my l-little hole. All of them. All of me. Please,” she gasped, as Phoebe drew out ever so slightly, punishing her for the hitch in her breath. She coughed to clear her throat and began again, eyes and cunt weeping for release, and for more. “Fill my pretty hole with your cock,” she heard the words roll off her tongue like she’d rehearsed them, “and-and stretch me, i-inside out. Fuck me hard—”

Phoebe pulled out until just the head of her cock remained lodged inside her, then giving no time to adjust she pushed back in, the whole length in one push. 

“Like that?” she asked, a naughty tilt indicating she was preparing to pull out again when Eva least expected or wanted her to. Already she could see the slick rolling off of Phoebe’s smooth tail, telling the tale of multiple lost climaxes—lost to the thrall of chasing Phoebe’s. 

“Harder,” Eva whispered, her voice barely a whistle. 

“What was that?”

“Harder,” she said loudly, harshly. “Fuck me harder… please.”

Phoebe pulled out and slammed inside again with another grain of force than before, but still not enough. Not enough.

“Hard—Harder, Phoebe.”

She pulled out, waiting a blink longer before shoving her full length inside of Phoebe. She wavered as she pulled out, pausing as Eva felt her twitch against the lining of her stomach. 

“Harder,” she said again without hesitation, but this time when Phoebe fucked inside her, it was slower than before, for all the control she held with both hands around her waist, she used it to tease, still. Eva felt the ring of her ass pucker open again, but once the thumb’s length was inserted, it didn’t stop. Something long, slick and cool was climbing up inside her, rubbing through the thin membrane against Phoebe’s cock. Phoebe held her still, but Eva’s whole body spasmed as she felt the thing climb deep inside her, the girth widening and stretching her hole. Not so thick as Phoebe’s cock, but seemingly endless.

“What is that?” Eva shrieked, wrenching against her bounds, but Phoebe nuzzled comfortingly against her back. 

“It’s me,” she said, shushing her sweetly, “only me, I promise.”

Eva tried to relax, but it took many attempts. Each time she thought her body had acclimatised to the sensation, it twitched again and she felt like running water, unable to keep still on a slope. Phoebe helped. She held still when she sensed she needed to, and moved when the coast was clear, and finally after what felt like hours, Eva was no longer in fight-or-flight. The tentacle swirled inside her tight hole as Phoebe fucked into both of them, slowly at first.

It wasn’t long before Eva’s voice returned, unprompted, as the sole melody against the solid temple walls. 

“It—It feels so good,” she said, surprised. “I can feel it, alive inside me.”

“Relax, sweetheart,” Phoebe punctuated her thrusts with praise, “you’re doing so well, taking it all like that. Perfect.”

“Phoebe—I—I think I’m…” Her words died in her mouth as heat swelled from every inch of her core. It was that signal that made Phoebe regain the ruthless pace of before. 

“Me, too,” she could only say, overcome herself for full sentences.

Souls united. Bodies merged. Together.

“Together,” said Eva. “Inside me… please.”

“Are you sure?”

“Come inside me,” she said again. “Please, Phoebe.”

The pleasure swelled, having been known on the fringes of her night, but not in the forefront. Not like this. It flooded her mind, her mouth and limbs, entwining with Phoebe’s. Phoebe’s own encroaching climax battled against the air inside her lungs like humidity, forcing itself in like there was nothing else that could possibly belong there. It absorbed and consumed, as Phoebe fucked mercilessly into her cunt and ass, the tentacle matching their pace.

Eva’s exhales were punctuated with rough moans, ‘ungh, ungh,’ as she felt her legs turning numb, vision blurring. She closed her eyes, picturing Phoebe’s monstrous face behind her, tongue lolling, hissing against her back. Was it sweat or drool that dripped down, drizzling between her buttocks?

Phoebe’s firm breasts, pillowing Eva’s back as Phoebe pulled her in, arching her as her cock fucked more shallowly, directly slamming onto that miraculous cushion behind her entrance. Eva felt her clit screaming with want but her hands were pinned at her sides by Phoebe’s grip. Each thrust down merely teased, Phoebe’s tickling against the soft furs covering her cunt, but not offering relief to her swollen clit.

Phoebe wrapped her arms tight around her, pressing her face in the space between Eva’s shoulder blades in an achingly soft embrace, even as she used the motion to force herself deep inside her. Eva was completely engulfed in her massive body, the air leaving her lungs in a sharp moan between clenched teeth. Her jaw was set, tight, teeth grinding against each other as her body was set aflame. Her thighs came together, body tightening around Phoebe as she came still, thrusting forward a final time, piercing Eva’s depths and throwing her over the edge of climax. Her body froze, stiff, as her cunt clenched, but couldn’t hold back the stream gushing forth against the blockage of Phoebe’s cocks. 

All was still for the briefest moment, a souring patience spilling out of Eva’s mouth as she grunted in discomfort. Then, she felt it. Phoebe pulsing inside her in thick waves breaking through her. Her swollen belly became tighter still as she and Phoebe cradled it together. A membrane, a synapse, snapped overhead. Eva’s head was swimming, stars flashing around her vision, the fire overtaking her own body heat. 

In that moment she remembered a tale, told too many times and memorised in many voices, that once the gods decided to return to earth, they would shine so brightly that there would be no need for stars or the moon at night. There would be many discreet signs, but the final and most obvious one was that on the final night before they returned, the stars would fall from the sky and light up the depths of the ocean.

Eva smiled, a toothy and wet, predatory grin, baring her teeth skyward, as if they would snap at the falling flashes as the sky emptied of its many eyes. The empty, black sky, even as it swam with storm clouds, appeared more massive now, heavier. She blinked slowly, bloodshot eyes stinging as the rest of her body became accustomed to the swill of come swirling inside her. With every blink she could swear the sky itself was lowering its gaze, getting closer… closer… within seconds it would be upon them like a blanket. 

Her hot skin complained, steaming. The arms hugging her tight were like a straitjacket, and she felt the need to run and collapse in fatigue at the same time. Her mind reeled, panic setting in. Pressed from the outside in, she sought escape.

A gentle breeze, a whisper behind her neck, “Shh,” soothed her burning senses as best as it could. Her body chose for her, muscles failing in their attempts to escape, no longer her own. The last thing she was aware of before losing consciousness was the feeling of Phoebe once more taking over her body, and then descending into an all-encompassing, starless night. 

*****

You must wake up, my darling.

Eva groaned, eyes glued shut. She wasn’t in her bed, she knew that much. And she was cold. Cold all around, but for the space between her thighs, blanketed by something warm and soft. She didn’t need to look to know the feel of Phoebe’s hair, draped over her thighs. That must mean her head was—

Eva lurched forward at the feeling of something brushing against her swollen clit. A wave of timid arousal making her legs clamp together, trapping Phoebe where she rested, laid on her front.

Wake up, dear, the night is not yet over.

Her dry lips unstuck from each other enough to choke out another moan as Phoebe’s long tongue slipped pointedly into her tired cunt. “Do as you will with me,” she rasped, “but let me rest, please, Phoebe. Don’t make me get up.”

Her mouth was tired to the teeth, and skin all over numb and stiff with cold and fatigue. She hadn’t the energy to try and figure out how long she had been unconscious, and the urge to recover that time fell away with another gentle swipe of Phoebe’s tongue, right against the swell of her womb, and she fell asleep once more.

The next time they opened, her eyes fell against the bright eyes of Phoebe, half-lidded in bliss as her tongue swirled in Eva’s swelling depths. Eva’s breaths were ragged and short, thighs tangled around Phoebe’s head and hands tangled in her hair, pulling her closer, chasing the sweet pressure of Phoebe’s lips on her clit. Eva’s eyes opened more fully, and she gasped at the monstrous sight before her. In all her godly glory, Phoebe’s eyes flashed with a depravity Eva hadn’t thought possible on a human. Her shoulders were wide, skin a deep ocean blue, and her teeth—

They were the fangs of a shark or something even more predatory, and Eva flinched to see them graze too near her thigh, legs jumping swiftly out of Phoebe’s hold. Having regained control of her writhing limbs, Phoebe resumed fucking her with her tongue, and Eva looked again, seeing once more the meek, yet regal, pale girl she had discovered in the cave. To her sex-tired mind that was enough of a resolution, though she fell asleep with the shame of having let herself feel fear at the image of her goddess.

Each orgasm punctuated her sleep, blood rushing to her head and fluttering her eyelids until they were forced open, a turgid limb crawling deep within her to coax out climax after climax from her docile body. And yet with each waking she felt like it was the first time again, or some grand space of time between. Sleep was wonderful, meddling memory with time and feeling. She knew she did not dream, but each waking was like walking into another dream, with all five senses and something more she had only ever dreamt of—until now. 

She felt safe, like this, with Phoebe. The city below the temple disappeared, as did the walls of the temple itself, and the impending doom of the ceremony, and even the thought of the sunrise that surely would stir them from this endless loop of pleasure, of bliss beyond the world. Phoebe had her. Truly had her. Her body was in her hands, a mere puppet to her pleasure, as Eva had always dreamt of being. One time she woke to Phoebe straddling her shoulders, her heavy cock, returned to normal size, dragging wetly in the crook of her neck. Eva had merely smiled and given it a kiss as it brushed past her lips, flicking a tongue over it every so often to keep it from getting dry. 

If Phoebe had spent herself in her hair, Eva wasn’t to know. She felt clean as a whistle when she finally woke, comfortable and warm, yet still tired, with her head on Phoebe’s lap. A gentle, lulling melody sang from above as Phoebe braided her hair. She was dressed in her nightgown, though now missing her underwear. A lavender sky boasted the end to a successful storm behind the roundness of Phoebe’s head. 

It was morning.

Phoebe said nothing, stroking her cheek, which yet dared to blush when Phoebe came into focus.

“I did well,” Eva whispered, more to herself. 

Phoebe nodded, drowsy herself. 

Eva sighed, taking in the morning. “You are growing more powerful.”

“We are near to the time the gap between the world of men and gods is narrowest,” Phoebe explained. “But thanks to you, my love, I am already closest to what I once was. I feel what I am thanks to you. And because of this I no longer fear what is to come.”

“Neither do I.”

“So you know what must be done, when the time comes?”

“I do, Phoebe.”

The goddess bowed her head, pressing a cool kiss to Eva’s forehead. 

“Perfect,” she whispered against her. 

Chapter Text

Eva was the first awake the next day. Though the sisters usually woke at dawn, this morning Eva could still wade through the soft snoring and dreaming. She got up and stretched, her muscles sweetly sore, now rested. She petted her belly, a little discouraged by its sudden flatness. It seemed she had only blinked, and the round, jelly-like bulge that sported Phoebe’s mark was right there. Now, no mark was left. 

Eva toed off the bed, a cool breeze running between her knees, and she napped her legs together. Phoebe had forbid her from dressing beneath her habit anymore. In her words, submission didn’t have a time frame. She ought to be ready to be ravaged whenever and wherever Phoebe wanted her. Eva blushed as she silently undressed and found her clean clothes in the chest by the foot of her bed. Phoebe’s voice was silent now, but Eva knew it could call her at any second. The thought gave her a thrill, and she imagined a thousand different moments she might be called upon to service Phoebe. 

While dressing? She slipped her stockings on, lingering as she pulled them over her knees. Her heart raced as she fastened the button at the base of her neck and sleeves, needing no assistance. Her nimble fingers felt encouraged by their previous business. Both Phoebe and Bella in one night, they boasted enough that a simple button and a few ribbons shouldn’t be such an obstacle anymore. 

The first of her sisters stirred as she pulled her boots on. Gora blinked at the midday sun, realisation hitting when she saw Eva already dressed and stood by her bed. It wasn’t long before the rest of the priestesses were shoved out of bed by Mother, her eyes similarly wild, a tremor returning to her hands which Eva had only seen once or twice. Of course, the trouble was on all their minds, but Eva was at ease. There was a sense in her mind that despite the appallingly late start, everything would be all right.

The middle of the last week was a special occasion. The temple was open - grounds and all - for visitors from the village. This year, the masses would be bigger, as they were to accommodate the shipwrecked merchants as well. The first of the visitors would be finishing their short pilgrimage at the closed and chained gates, a terrible start to what was already the busiest day in the priestesses’ calendar. 

Mother’s head swam above the rest, her stature never drooping, and she spotted Eva already dressed, hands folded behind her back. She waved her over and they fled through the unlocked door. 

“How did this happen?” she breathlessly asked as they whisked over the paved corridor, past the statues and portraits. A sudden glimpse of the tapestry Eva had snuck beneath last night sent a shiver up her spine and she blushed, her face reddened already by the effort, and the lingering weariness in her legs, quickly fading. She could feel Phoebe’s power in her still, mending and tending to her aches and pains from afar. A smile stretched across her lips, which caught Mother’s eye.

“You’re my second in command today, girl,” she snapped, “and you’d better get your act together. We’re behind schedule, behind breakfast. Oh, gods above, my head is pounding. Through here, take this.” She opened a cupboard and threw a wide basket in her hands, filled to the brim with white cloth garlands. “Put these up around the garden so it looks like we’re almost finished inside.” She stopped and held Eva’s shoulders. “Work slow.”

*****

Within ten minute Eva had finished garlanding the gardens with the white streamers, hooking the snowy fabric through the branches of the trees, shaking the branches ever so slightly so the breeze could carry the perfume towards the gates. Already a few dozen people were gathered and peering through the bars of the gates, eyes wide with anticipation. The visitors from last night had emptied out as Eva worked, the gates opening and shutting behind them. The priestesses had been careful to look busy as they filed out, curious eyes scanning the halls as they did so. 

Eva passed around the front garden, past those peeping eyes, wondering if they could see the difference in her spirit. If they could somehow tell that beneath that sweeping skirt, there was nothing to protect her from the elements. She could feel every brush of her dress against her hips and nipples, that soon formed into stiff little peaks against the fabric. 

With an empty basket, she made like she was inspecting the flowers, cupping a full-bloomed rose every few paces, trimming some with her nails, or plucking a few browned petals out of sight. This way she passed like a lily gliding over still water, towards the shaded back gardens. The traced an uneven path towards the sisters’ dormitory, the building which butted unnaturally into the little glen. Beside it stood a squat cylindrical room which held Mother’s private bath, and just off it, steam rising from the vent near the top, the laundry. 

The harried voices of the sisters twittered and fretted as they hurried to steam tablecloths and banners which had been hung up to dry the evening before. Eva rested her back against the hot stone wall and listened to it all. 

The scent of the roses, the cradling shade of the fruit trees dotted around, the warm perch she’d found, made her body feel full of light. She closed her eyes and breathed a prayer of thanks. To nobody in particular - Phoebe was always on her mind now, but she gave thanks for her in particular. Eva seemed to direct her prayer to everything that blessed her: sky, grass, clouds, stones…

A twig snapped somewhere to her left, and she bounced off the rock, alert and on guard. Someone had made it into the garden. But how? The gates hadn’t been opened since last night, and closed after her… 

Perhaps the porter had dozed off, and someone from outside snuck into the garden then, or slipped away while the guests were being herded out. Either way, they had to be found.

Eva was suddenly very conscious of how exposed she was. From afar, behind the gate, it was impossible to tell her state of undress. But up close, and if confronted, all it took was a simple glance down - even on accident - and it was undeniable. 

She swallowed her fears and exhaled, hoping her deflated chest wouldn’t perk up so much, and pushed off around the wall, following the curve with her left hand. More footsteps. Away or towards her? She was in no state to give chase to anyone. Perhaps she could convince whoever it was to hide until the time came to open the gates, and slip back into the crowd unnoticed. The last thing they needed was for someone to know they had let their guard slip for even a moment. 

“Who is there?” she called softly once she was out of earshot of the laundry.  “The garden is off-limits until the feast.”

An airy, feminine giggle rang from behind her, but when she spun around, there was nothing. If this was one of Hanie and Gora’s ideas of a joke, she had every right to reprimand them. How could they be so careless on such an important day? Even they must have known the strength of the temple’s influence depended its reverence. They might be young, but they couldn’t be seen frolicking in the garden when there was work to be done. 

Eva put on her most Motherly tone. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing here, but there’s work to be done. Get back inside now.” Of course nobody had got in. She recognised that sly giggle. It had an air of superiority all about it, however young and foolish it sounded among the brushing of the leaves. Eva dropped the basket, spilling pink and red petals over the grass like an interrupted snowfall, and sped up her pace. 

“I won’t ask again,” she demanded. “Get back inside- Oh…” 

“I pity the girl you thought I was,” said the creature she found around the next bend. “What reprimands await her, I wonder?”

She thumbed a rose by her side, the flowerbed leaning into her touch. To the naked eye she might have been a lady from town, draped in a deep blue corseted dress that fell to her ankles cinched her waist, and hugged her long, lithe arms snugly. The square neck of the bodice framed her pale, smooth chest like a painting, over which her slender neck arose, a tall and regal head on two strong shoulders. Shadows braided into a long strand of hair which fell down her back and to her waist.

And over her shoulders she held a snowy white shawl. 

“My- my lady,” said Eva, tongue catching behind her teeth in shock. She looked around, but the commotion of the crowd seemed miles away. Still she knew they weren’t safe. Any moment now someone - even Mother - could come looking for her, to call her to do her duties at the feast. 

“You don’t look happy to see me,” said Phoebe, a pink smile on her lips. She came forward, taking Eva’s arm in hers and turning her around. “Maybe I really am in trouble.”

“No,” said Eva. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard you,” she replied. “How come you didn’t tell me today was a feast day? That the temple was open for visitors?”

“It must have slipped my mind.”

“Of course,” she laughed. “We were rather busy last night.”

Eva’s mind was full of thorns. She cringed and suppressed the urge to put her hand over Phoebe’s mouth. “Someone will hear you.”

“No, they won’t, my dearest. Everyone is simply too busy. They’re lost in their work.”

Eva’s heart dropped. “It was you who kept us all asleep,” she said, as Phoebe picked up the fallen basket and scooped some petals back inside. 

“You needed it, darling. You should have seen yourself, the bags under your eyes every time you woke up. Barely had the energy to moan my name—”

“Shh,” she hissed, actually reaching up to cover her mouth. They were passing under the laundry vent. To anyone else, they looked like old friends taking a pleasant walk in the garden, hiding from the harsh morning sun, and sharing a joke. But Phoebe’s eyes darkened like the moon passing behind a cloud. They both stood still, Phoebe’s lips parting around her finger. She could feel the edge of a tooth, her skin giving way to a solitary fang. 

The perfume of the flowers and the fruit was intoxicating. The brush of fabric on her skin, her dress swelling with her breaths once more… Phoebe’s eyes, drowning her like a deep, silver ocean in the moonlight. 

The moment lasted an age, and then Phoebe released her finger. A drop of blood emerged like morning dew and dropped onto her tongue.

“Like I said,” said Phoebe, hushed, “I will protect you. However, there is a sweet little thrill to the risk of being found.” She unhooked her arm from around Eva’s and twisted it around her waist instead, the priestess wobbling to her will and dropping straight-backed against the very same wall she had rested on. Just around the bend, an arm’s length to the right, she would be in full view of the enthusiastic crowd, searching for a glimpse of a red skirt to entertain them. 

“It’s too dangerous here,” she whispered, steam rising with a gentle hiss above her head. “Are you sure?”

“Do we have to be sure?” Phoebe asked, snaking her hands onto either side of Eva’s hips, teasing the skin just beneath. “Good girl,” she purred, “always ready.”

Her knees might have buckled under her weight with how weak that voice made her. There was hardly an inch of air between the wall and Phoebe’s lips, but she ached to leap across it, to match her and join her. But the ever-present twist in her gut, that told her she had duties in the daytime, stayed a fizzing voice in her head. 

“If you’re still worried about being caught like this,” said the woman between her legs, “you can keep watch for us.”

But then Phoebe’s hands were on her thighs, squeezing the soft flesh between them through her skirt, every inching movement shifting the hem higher and higher up to her knees… Words failed her, but was there any wonder how, when the tide of Phoebe’s breaths was a lacy chill on Eva’s throat, that chilled the sentiment behind her tongue? 

It unfurled in a breathy whine, swallowed up into the midnight black of Phoebe’s braid. The beat of Eva’s heart crescendoed into a hammering to match the intensity of Phoebe’s look, veiled with nothing but sheer lust that made Eva’s blood run hot. 

Phoebe held her skirt in two clenched fists, eyes peeled, darting left and right, though even if she did see something, couldn’t have paid it half her mind. 

“Often I heard the bell ring in the temple for meal times,” Phoebe said. “I learned that the rest of the island set their tables when they heard it. This morning I walked from my cave and joined a starving crowd. I knew drool would drip from their dry lips once that first toll rang.”

Eva’s mouth was likewise dry.

“I wonder,” said Phoebe in a low voice, “what tune will set you drooling, my love?”

Eva’s breath hitched, chest tightening and knees shaking. 

“What triggers to shatter your inhibitions? A phrase, or word… my darling.”

“Phoebe—” Eva uttered, and pinched her lips together. 

“Yes, sweetheart?”

Dew rolled off her tongue into the well of her mouth, but with her knees apart there was nothing to break the fall of warm slick down her inner thigh. Her body stiffened, cowardly eyes not daring to look down, cowardly lips fearing her kiss. 

Pearly white fangs peaked over Phoebe’s snarl. “There she is.”

She slung the hem of Eva’s dress over her hips, pinning it up under her body and pressing herself into her. One hand came up to cup her jaw, the other sliding through to her slippery folds. Eva looked darkly up at her through furrowed brows as Phoebe slipped the sharp nail of her thumb between her lips.

“Don’t choke, darling,” she whispered, forked tongue lapping up where drool already slicked the corner of her mouth. Eva couldn’t take it anymore. Not twenty paces away the crowd awaited eagerly, dry-mouthed and high-spirited with eyes peeled for the harbingers of divinity to finally open their doors. Not even twenty paces away were the eyes and ears that could ruin her - and she knew they wanted to, she knew it would only entertain them further to catch her like this. 

But twenty paces from that world, Eva had already found her prize, her salvation, the name she bore on her body, mind, and soul. Their mouths crashed together, wet lips pushing soft dry ones to reach the piercing fangs close behind. She cut herself on Phoebe’s teeth, blood mingling with drool and lust as Phoebe drove a slick, long finger into her ready cunt. 

Does the smell of roses arouse you?

One night - it felt a century ago - she’d torn her hands on a ladder formed of roses’s stems, ripped herself on the thorns and drawn blood, all to escape these very walls and see her again. 

Does the taste of blood entice you?

Blood ran down her throat and Eva realised she’d been swallowing mouthfuls of it. A worrying thought shook her. She didn’t want to stop. 

She wrapped her arms around Phoebe’s neck and pulled her in closer, stabbing her lips with those razor-sharp teeth. Then she pulled away, caught Phoebe’s lips between her own. 

Do it, she said. Have a taste.

A sprout of eagerness unfurled inside her and she set her jaw, clamping down on Phoebe’s bottom lip. A sweet sensation flooded her tongue and coated her cheeks, but it was gone too quickly. Phoebe detached from her, lips unlocking from each other. They came apart with only a sticky red threat hanging from their mouths to prove they’d ever been entwined, alongside the still-writhing finger buried inside Eva.

Phoebe grinned, a smear of red across her chin. 

“Bloodthirsty,” she said. “I knew I was going to ruin you some day.”

“More,” Eva mumbled, a bubble of red spittle popping on exhale. “Give me more.”

She gripped Phoebe’s wrist and drove her deeper inside her, chewing her inner cheek to keep from making any further noise. Though she’d put the world out of her mind there was little power in her body to do any more than plead. Overpowered by her goddess with a simple manoeuvre, a sleight of hand trick across her entire being, she could only accept, and ask for more. 

“More,” she begged. “More.”

“More,” echoed Phoebe. “Your dress is such a pretty colour.” 

Her mind shrilled a lunatic’s scream, but her mouth only asked for “More.” Her mind honed in on the single word. Intoxicated with longing, and with sharp perfume swelling every sensation, nothing else mattered. 

A second finger joined the first, and Eva’s heart flared, eyes rolling back behind their lids. A high-pitched mewl escaped in a cluster of breaths that had clustered in her throat, which Phoebe caught on her tongue, slipping it down Eva’s throat in a soul-piercing kiss. 

You better keep quiet, my love. Someone might hear us, after all the trouble I’ve been through to protect us last night. Today we have to be quiet.

She fisted Phoebe’s dress, white-knuckled, as Phoebe drew pleasure from her pulsing walls. A thumb wandered upwards, tickling her sensitive clit, and last night’s escapade may as well have been aeons ago. The ache she felt unravel in her gut seemed to have petrified over decades. The faults were showing now, not crumbling yet, as she felt her orgasm building. A pressure on her stomach alerted her to Phoebe’s pressing her body closer to her. A scrap of a noise fizzled out of her chest, winding up Phoebe’s tongue. She tasted of blood, both of theirs, and Eva’s own tongue rested on its underside. She wondered if it gave Phoebe pleasure, too, beginning to stroke her tongue with her own. 

Good girl. Have your fill.

The coppery taste consumed her. Her vision turned red, head swimming with molten metal as her body tensed, more solid than the wall she was pinned against. She held her breath to still the urge to moan, which didn’t fade as Phoebe increased her pace, grinding her thumb hard against Eva’s stiff nub, her breasts pressed against Eva’s stiff nipples through her bodice. 

Have your share of me. Feel it running down your throat. Let it swell inside your heart. Keep me there, as I keep you in mine. 

Her hips bucked into Phoebe’s hand as she lost control of herself, lost sight of where her limbs were. If she made any other sound, she didn’t know. Her mind and body burst with pleasure, heat radiating off of Phoebe like sunlight as the fabric of their skirts brushed past each other, their chests flush together. Eva gripped the back of Phoebe’s neck as she felt her tongue retreating out of her mouth, the thrill of her orgasm not yet receding. Lips met lips alone like two waves merging into one under a terrible sky, and not long after, the bitter sweetness of blood was just an aftertaste. 

Tears fell and dried down Eva’s flushed cheek as Phoebe cleared her hands of slick on Eva’s thigh, then pet her softly. Eva breathed hard, catching her breath. Ribbons of light danced across the sky, magic or illusion by her over-spent mind. 

“Remember my story,” Phoebe instructed, kissing her cheek softly. “Find me again tonight after the festivities. If not, I’ll find you.”

Eva caught onto her sleeve as she drew it away. “Do you promise?”

“I swear it.”

*****

Bella didn’t come to the feast. Nothing stirred on her side of the island all day. Eva spared a moment here and there to cast a glance through the gates and down the hill, hoping against hope that a mismatched little pair would fumble its way up to her like it had every year before. Like clockwork, she could rely on it.

But not this year. Events of last night flit through her mind as she went down the rows of tables with her sisters, filling goblets and making conversation. She remembered nothing, not even the prayers, until it came to evening. A violent, violet sky palled the air above the temple when the doors opened again and the bell above them rang to close the festivities. Eva had almost laughed out loud when that same bell had run that morning, a mere minute after Phoebe had left her, and she could practically see the crowd salivating at the promise of a meal. Her power was growing, and it never failed to astound Eva just how quickly that was the case. To think a kiss from her, an easy fealty, could do so much in terms of enriching a goddess, endowing her with magic beyond this world…

It scared Eva. But it thrilled her more so. She smacked her lips often, chasing the lingering taste of blood. Her own lips had healed by then - Phoebe’s work - though the memory was fresh and sturdy in her mind. How power radiated off of her like a steaming aura. How Eva knew it grew larger every day. She found herself praying at odd moments, once the priestesses caught up to their duties and worked at their usual pace, that it would engulf the entire island. 

Shaken by her own thoughts, she retreated to her work, rubbing the remaining wetness between her thighs with a soft smile. 

She was clearing the table after the meal when Mother approached her with Gora at her elbow. Her smile dropped as she could see from the lack of creases at Mother’s brow that she was preparing for an interrogation. Mother paused just half a step off her, waiting for Eva to stand to attention from where she sat, folding tablecloths. She didn’t stand.

“Your sister informs me you didn’t return until late last night,” Mother said, like it meant nothing, but her body language caged Eva, stopping any chance of escape. The two or three other priestesses in the dining hall slowed their work in order to overhear. “But the porter claims you did return shortly after you left. Which is it, Eva? Who here is the liar?”

Eva swallowed the lump that had been forming in her throat and said a very brief prayer. The blush of that morning’s adventure hadn’t cooled from her cheeks yet, but she maintained her innocence. 

She cleared her throat and said, “Neither one, Mother.” Mother’s brows knitted together, and Gora stared her down. She didn’t wear her usual scornful grin, she didn’t want to catch Eva out on something. There was something genuine about her manner that made Eva afraid of her getting in trouble. 

“Then you did come back, and didn’t return to your bed,” Mother deduced. “Would you mind explaining where you were in the meantime?”

“In the temple,” said Eva. She stood up and put the final folded tablecloth into the basket at her feet. Her hands still bore the perfume of the flowers she’d picked. “I couldn’t sleep after being in the storm, and was worried for Bella and her son, out in the very middle of it. I would have stayed and prayed there, with her, but I felt it would be impertinent not to come back.” The sisters sighed impatiently, no doubt having geared up to see the perfect older sister finally scolded for something. She smiled inwardly at how ‘holier-than-thou’ she sounded. “I came and prayed in the temple for a few hours and felt much better. I’m sorry for causing concern.”

“No, it’s alright,” said Mother, petting Gora’s tied-up hair softly, but Gora flinched at the touch, her moon face pale, eyes still locked on Eva’s. “No harm done, my girls. Eva, seeing as you’ve had so much excitement on the island, I wonder if you’d take over some of your sisters responsibilities inside for the rest of the day?”

 Find me… if not, I’ll find you.

“Of course.”

“Good girl,” said Mother. Eva’s smile, which she’d maintained through force alone, started to falter as she felt her mouth start to water. “Oh, dear, what’s wrong, darling?” Mother inched closer warily. “You suddenly look ill.”

Eva swallowed the saliva down as the warmth grew between her legs. Droplets of slick beaded out of her cunt, stretching as if Phoebe’s fingers were still inside. “N-Nothing. I’ll go relieve them now.”

“Oh, alright,” said Mother uncertainly. “You can greet the guests in the temple. The flame should never be unguarded with strangers around, you know.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Perfect, thank you again, my love.”

A coil inside her gut sprang free, shoving her into action before she could react. With a yelp she broke free from Mother’s attention, knocking over the basket as she went, leaving half a dozen shocked faces in her wake. She rushed down the hallway, towards the temple, while she furiously cursed the guests for bothering the building with their presence. She ducked into the little waiting room behind the tapestry, careful not to show it to anyone, and finally slumped on a bench against the wall, her back flat to the cold stone as if it could douse the fire newly kindled in her body. 

She pressed her thighs together, palms shoved between them, pushing her skirt down. How could she have forgotten? Fuck, she was suddenly so wet. When Phoebe had mentioned making her drool, she didn’t only mean her mouth. Evidently not, as she felt a patch of dampness slicking her thighs anew. No amount of pressure she applied, or how hard she tried to steady her breathing, between the huffs of her breath she could almost hear Phoebe’s sultry, rolling laugh like a secret squall in her chest. Every beat of her pulse sent her closer to the edge, but the voices and footsteps on either side of her hideout hurried her along, and she w forced to get up and walk shakily into the temple, pent up and red-faced. 

She approached her sisters, who stood either side of the flame, greeting the pilgrims as they came up the short steps one by one. They didn’t see or hear her coming, and continued their conversation between well wishes. 

“After seeing this whole spectacle every year,” said the one on the left, “I wonder what keeps people coming back. I mean, how is it different if they worship in their own homes?”

“It’s the spectacle,” offered the one on the right. “They never get to see what we’ve been privy to for a year.”

“And that Eva,” said the first, “she acts like it’s her first time every time. Heh, if I was the gambling type, I’d—”

“But you’re not, so let’s put an end to that.”

Eva was disheartened to have her fears confirmed again and again. Even her own sisters were betting against her. Her fists clenched. She would show them. This year was her year. Phoebe seemed to perch on her shoulder and goad her on, telling her to startle them from behind. But she held back, listening.

“It’s no secret Mother has a favourite. Does she ever call us ‘darling,’ and ‘sweetheart’ and ‘my love?’” Three beats of a drum between Eva’s legs. Her clit throbbed with each strike. “No, it’s only ‘my child’ if we’re good and ‘silly girl’ if we’re bad. I’ll wager she has some sort of deal with Ama to let her keep her favourite back for years and years.”

“It would be compelling if that were the case for previous Mothers,” countered the one on the right. Eva recognised the voice of Faja, one of the youngest among them. “But there’s no record of a Priestess being rejected so many times, not even once.”

“You mean to say the gods simply don’t want her.”

“No- that’s not-“

“What other explanation is there? The flame still burns, and according to mother, her markings are as bright as any other’s. If there were a god in the sky that wanted her, surely she would have been claimed by now? No, I think there isn’t, and they’re simply too merciful to let her down harshly, so they let Mother have her. You’ve heard the expression, ‘a face only a mother could love.’”

A cold shadow passed on Eva’s left side, and before she knew it, Mother stood behind the two sisters, a firm hand on either shoulder, dismissing them sharply. They were both pale as they turned to lave, but turned ashen seeing Eva as they went by.

She joined Mother beside the flame, its warmth separating them like a wall. An elderly man - she recognised the porter - hobbled up the steps with his wife and they knelt before the fire’s glow, leaving behind the same prayer he did every year. When he left it was as if he had never left his post, as that was exactly where he would promptly return, and remain for another year. 

“They were out of line,” said Mother, as another pilgrim came up, just out of earshot, immersed in prayer. “It seems my hold on them is slipping year by yer. I’m sorry you had to listen to that, darling.”

Eva’s lip twitched, her knees growing weak. Emotions swilled inside her. Shame, guilt, arousal. A deadly, poisonous concoction that brought tears to her eyes and made her throat close as it had around the length of Phoebe’s tongue-

“We have so many new faces in our congregation this year,” said Mother. “It was a blessing in disguise, that shipwreck, I’m sure of it.”

Eva croaked, “I’m sure.”

“Gentlefolk from the mainland, I assume. They are all so elegant. Perhaps they’ll spread news of our traditions when they return home.” She pointed one out, but Eva’s head was bowed, listening to the crackle of the fire in her hear, but trying to ground herself with it was as easy as grasping the flame in her hands. “That lady, there. She’s some sort of royalty, or looks like it. Even dressed in rags, there’s a gracefulness to her.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“And that child, look how he walks. A little prince if ever I did see one.”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

Told you I’d find you.

Eva’s head darted up, but all she could see was a waning crowd of strangers, wobbling uncertainly in single file towards the head of the stairs. She wouldn’t… not so close to-

“Reminds me of when I was younger, before I got my markings.” Eva had never asked about that. She knew Mother still had her markings. It was easy to spot them through their sheer nightgowns. Rippling, faded scrawls. Someone else’s name. Ama’s mark on her. Somehow it felt more like shackles on a poor, ageing body, than Eva’s own markings. Those felt like wings. 

“So obsessed with looks, I was…” Mother said slowly, watching the woman clambering up the steps. She was with child, and took great efforts to get to the top. “Jewellery and stockings, all sorts… It was more stressful than rewarding,” she said. “Keeping up with all of the fashions. It was a hard blessing to receive, but in the end, the habit freed me. I could never want for more. Even when I learned of my fate, when I heard Ama’s call to me, like you did—”

Eva froze.

Did Mother believe the goddess that chose Eva was… the same one that chose her?

“I knew I was spared a fate that any other girl would only dream of,” she maintained her monologue, not registering the horror in Eva’s face. “I knew my place was here, with my Mother, and then to become a Mother myself.” She smiled so warmly, so fondly, as she painted her picture of Eva’s future. 

“You don’t know how happy it made me to hear what you said in the dining hall. Even if you were sneaking around,” she laughed softly. “Your heart is in the temple. I see a lot of myself in you, I always did.”

Every word was a dagger through her heart. She thought of Phoebe, of their love, of the cave. She thought of her voice in her head, her fate. How could she have been given a destiny so cruel that to accept it would mean breaking the heart of her Mother, who raised her in her image, but to reject it meant abandoning everything she’d been working towards in that time? 

What fortune lay ahead if she rejected Phoebe? Another year - another lifetime waiting in denial for a god that did not want her? To be someone’s second choice once even Phoebe gave up on her?

Her chest was tight, heart frozen still, blood running cold. 

“Oh, look, darling,” Mother purred as another set of delicate feet climbed up towards her. “She looks perfectly divine.”

“Good evening,” said the guest, and Eva’s eyes began to lose focus. Her lips were tight, eyes filled with tears, and horror, because she could still see the colour of the woman’s dress, midnight blue. And her hair… 

“Welcome,” Mother greeted pleasantly, a sweet tongue that shattered any hope of Eva advancing towards her future in peace. “How are you finding the island?”

“Oh, it’s splendid,” said Phoebe, her voice rattling in Eva’s chest as the first tear fell. It was torture, terrible torture, to come here, stand within arms’ reach, and make small talk with her… her captor. 

“I’ve always seen it from afar, on my ships sailing by,” said Phoebe. “But the temple… it’s invigorating.”

“The gods are close,” said Mother. “Closer here than any other place on Earth.”

“Yes, they are. Your daughters know that best. They have been most hospitable.”

The snowy white shawl - originally a tablecloth - slung around her shoulders must have alerted Mother. There was no way… she had seen Eva folding one mere minutes ago. But Mother’s smile was carved in stone. 

“I’m glad to hear that.” 

Eva felt anchor-less and lost at sea, steering herself between two ports, with no choice but to crash into one or the other. 

“She’s been such a dear,” said Phoebe, eyes darting down to Eva’s skirt with a smirk. “A real sweetheart to us all lost souls.”

Her words swelled inside Eva’s cunt, invisible forces pressing against her sensitive spot with each syllable. A wet drop lined down from thigh to knee. 

“Poor dear, she looks exhausted.” Mother reached over to pet he shoulder. “We all had a rough night. These storms are unrelenting. But fear not, we always have clear skies on the night of our ceremony. A ship from the mainland should come to fetch you home the following morning.”

“That’s a relief,” said Phoebe in disguise, her voice a thinly-veiled joke. “Not that I won’t miss your hospitality.”

“Than you must visit us again, perhaps in a milder time of year.”

“Oh, these storms seem to follow me wherever I go,” Phoebe laughed. “Unfortunately, I’m taking a long journey once I get home and won’t be able to return for many years,” she said sadly. “If only I could have one of your daughters along for the trip. I did grow to admire them while under their care.”

Mother stopped laughing, plastering on her smile with a shocked hum. 

Eva felt faint. Mother’s drilling eyes were set on Phoebe. Did she see? Did she feel what she was? 

The flame behind them roared steadily, sweat dripping down Eva’s back from its heat, while pre-come coated the inside of her legs. 

“My daughter is unwell,” said Mother suddenly, not parting her glare from Phoebe. “As I said, she has had a lot on her plate, and little sleep for us all. Will you go find some easier employment in the dormitory, my dear?”

Phoebe’s smile stretched wider, a darkness filling her eyes, as Eva felt the penultimate twitches of a building orgasm. She couldn’t speak, or she would merely moan. So she nodded and stepped backwards out of sight. As she did, Phoebe came slowly to her knees before the flame. Though most bowed their heads in reverence, she chose to look up. Up past the flame, up to Eva.

Be well, my love, she said, and Eva caught herself on the tapestry that girdled the outer wall as her walls contracted around noting, sprays of fluid raining on the inside of her skirt. She ran into the secret room and thanked all the gods that it was empty as she collapsed onto a bench, legs pressed together and eyes streaming. 

Phoebe’s power was nothing short of terrifying. How she could pierce her thoughts, insert herself into every one. Her voice… it stung her, her mind and body, invisible shapes snaking into her every pose, pleasuring her without a single touch of her hand. And Eva, completely at mercy.

Her mind reeled, a hundred contrasting feelings assaulting her until all she could do was cradle herself on her knees, having slipped off the bench in a light-headed haze. She pulled at her skirts, towelling herself with them, but as the hem brushed against her already-sensitive clit, she felt possessed with a red-hot rage.

If only she had these duties and a normal life. If only she could have both of her fates - a Mother she loved and a goddess she loved to serve. If only she didn’t have to lie. 

Without thinking she pushed two fingers into her soaked cunt. The image of Phoebe just on the other side of the wall, on her knees and looking hotly up at her, made her feel drunk, starved, exhausted. Her hand was sore as she brought herself to orgasm the way Bella had.

Oh, Bella. There was a third life. A third fragment of something ordinary she might once have had. She wept as she came, spurting over her dress once more. In the come-down from her orgasm, she sat numb in a heap on the floor, and sobbed silently. 

Chapter Text

My dear. My darling. My love. Sweetheart. Good girl. 

Eva sat on the edge of her bed, skirt wrapped around her legs, mummified. Orange sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows, colouring the walls in edenic shades, blurring against the steel frames like they were bleeding through the templates. All was warm and soft and gentle, but a chill flowed through Eva’s veins as she gathered up the discarded nightclothes her sisters had forgotten to put away in this morning’s rush. 

Her hands moved robotically, one over the other as she folded and tucked each identical garment. It seemed she’d been doing it for hours, but looked down and saw merely half of the job was done. Another pile of pure, virginal white lay forgotten at her feet. She’d been folding and unfolding the same one. 

The sisters she’d relieve of laundry duty were more than grateful to get some sun and fresh air after a long day working at double speed. She hauled dirtied habits from the bedsides to the laundry room, where hot steam and the smell of soap replaced the acidic thoughts trickling through her mind. Her senses dulled as she inhaled the wet air, undoing the ties at her sleeves to push them up. 

But the steam cleared her sinuses, and as she took deep gasps of air she could once again smell the blood on her breath. 

She could taste it, too. The sweet redness, black now in her stomach. Her stomach lurched, but she held it all down, dizzy with the effort. She worked er fingers raw over the laundry, rubbing suds into non-existent blemishes until her nails were red around the edges with effort, though careful not to break through the skin. There had been enough blood shed. 

And Phoebe… where was she now? No doubt she knew of Eva’s doubts, but she’d been silent since that final quip, Be safe, my dear. She’d projected it through the flame, as a blessing of sorts. Her poisonous tongue - yet not poisinous, or else Eva would be dead… perhaps a slow-acting venom, then. Would it get her in her sleep? Acting faster on a full stomach. 

Hunger had set in once more, despite her stomach being full of… Well, she was full. Did this count as breaking her fast? She didn’t know. Neither did she pay it to much mind. She’d sinned plenty today. She’d touched herself, brought herself to orgasm. Phoebe was nowhere to see then, but then was is not for her? Did she not worship with every breath that passed through her body? She lived. All - all for Phoebe. 

Eva put her head back and swallowed down the acid on her tongue. 

And Mother… so bright, so certain of the days they would spend together. So certain that Ama had taken pity on Eva. Could she take that existence, if it was the truth? Could she live out her days, existing only out of charity? Not wanted, not yearned for, never touched again?

She hauled the laundry out and hung it on lines, pressing pegs with sensitive fingers. It took all of ten minutes and she once again found herself without employment. She hurried herself out of the garden, out of the orchard and again into the dormitory, careful of the shade and perfumed air where Phoebe had lurked last. 

And why was she avoiding Eva now? Did she gloat in the discomfort she’d trapped Eva in? That spectacle in front of Mother, the curse she’d placed, to bewitch her like that, writing a spell all for her, using words of love. Will she ever hear those words again without the torture they insinuated? 

Where was Phoebe now? Eva questioned. For all her power, why didn’t she linger? But she knew the answer. Phoebe had to be summoned still, she wasn’t so powerful yet. Was it… perhaps… time to put an end to her power, before it got too much? To sever the tie and still ensure her safety, her purity?

To remain forever a charity case. 

The mere thought of it felt more sinful than murder. Phoebe was her goddess, for better or for worse. She’d hurt nobody, killed nobody. All evidence against her came from a lone voice, one that… wanted to keep her. Her own jailer. 

Eva handed out the folded nightgowns, placing them square in the middle of the made beds, ending at her own. There were two nights left. Two more nights to pass in this bed. Beyond that, a wall of fire blocked her view. 

Fatigue, worry, chaos for a hundred lifetimes, weighed on her shoulders, and she held on to the carved bedpost with both hands, pressing the cool circular topper to her womb. 

A decision had to be made. Between bliss and… the island. 

Eva bit her lip, tongue circling the scabbed-over wounds of Phoebe’s teeth. She teased the skin, the coppery taste a mere hint. To think that now, Phoebe’s blood swirled alongside her own. It had flooded her heart. It had throbbed inside her, warming her from the inside, reacting to words of love…

She pressed harder, hands wrapped around the carved base. It was smooth, solid, natural and lifeless all at once. The chest at the foot of the bed could act as a foothold if needed. She looked at the bed. The sheets tucked under the mattress so tightly they may as well have been pressed with steam. Covers and pillows which knew the heat of her passion well without knowing the secrets of the past few days. They knew of her tears as well. Her aimless longing. They sang a strange duet together, she and the stage of her ten years’ despair. 

Without noticing, her hands had wrapped around the base of the topper. She could just one hand around it. Her mouth was dry, heart in her throat. 

So what if she sinned? What if her heart turned black with poison? What if the fangs that pierced her lips would one day grow in her own mouth? It was a better fate than being trapped in this bed for another age. Even another minute seemed like an eternity. 

Let Phoebe come. Let her come into this very chamber and fuck her until the end of her days if it was her will. Let her bleed into her mouth and every orifice, let her poison her from the inside out—

Let her come to me, said Eva. Come to me. 

Eva’s knee bumped into the wooden chest. She stumbled forward, bracing herself on it. Her dress obstructed her, catching like a parachute around the shape of the bedpost. The ball dug into her womb from the outside as Eva’s breaths grew hotter. The mishap in the waiting room had lasted no more than ten seconds—it meant nothing, surely. Phoebe’s eyes were still on her, cutting through the obstacle of the wall between them, her voice still in her head. 

This was a taunt. Eva slid one leg onto the chest, slinging the other over the bed, straddling the top rail of the footboard. 

Bella had told her to cherish this. She had called it ‘freedom.’

So, surely, there was nothing wrong with this one sin?

Nobody was around. Nobody in the temple. If she wanted to, she could sneak to Mother’s bedside and slip the keys out of it, lock the door. But there was no need. The guests were leaving now and they had to look over the whole temple for stragglers and lost things before the gates could close, and the priestesses even think about retiring. 

So she had time. 

Eva held onto the rail like a saddle. Her cunt was still sore with the memory of her own fingers and the invisible orgasm, so when she came down onto the rail, even through the added layer of her skirt, the sensation was familiar. Her lie for the past two days had been comprised of orgasm after orgasm, yet how could she not get enough of it? Was this depravity - this insatiable thirst - could it be the shape that love took? For her?

Phoebe was watching. Eva could feel her, locking eyes with her ghost as she pulled the skirt aside. A guilty giggle bubbled through her throat, as if to say, Like what you see?

We haven’t made love on a bed yet, she thought. Will you let me steal this first time from you? From us?

She began to stroke the rounded bedpost, the balls of her hands pushing at the ridge, warming the wood. It was far smaller, but then again, it was a meagre substitute, it didn’t have to be an exact replica to stir jealousy. 

Jealousy? Was that what she’d reduced herself to? Playing at making love alone in her room, substituting her goddess for a lump of carved wood? Maybe that was it - the idea she could be replaced. That’s it. Not that Eva believed it, of course not. She couldn’t imagine…

But she could feel it working already. 

A silent thunder, heartbeat thrumming in her chest, but it wasn’t her own heart. Phoebe’s blood inside her, telegraphing her approach. Eva raised herself again, pressing the wooden ball against her clit. The pressure was solid, cool, unlike flesh, like a body made entirely of muscle and no fat, no softness to grip or grind against. 

She pressed the ball between her folds, coating in with her come like polish until it glistened. The smooth surface gave her nothing, no friction to chase after the spark of lust still flickering between her legs. It was about the spectacle. The blood that beat behind er eyes, threatening to burst the vessels.

“Come to me,” she said out loud. “Or would you rather watch?”

Come fuck me, she added silently. If you’ll do it out there, you’ll do it in here. Come on, or are you scared we’ll get caught? Don’t just haunt me, come here! 

Suddenly there were two arms wrapped around her waist. Two arms holding her tight, moving her roughly back and forth, driving her clit across the smooth surface of the bedpost ball. Pale arms, pale fingers clutching her below the rumpled skirt of her dress. The breath left her in a gasp, and just as quickly as the rage had boiled, it simmered down. With Phoebe’s grasp on her, she had to wrench herself to look behind her where Phoebe’s face was perched on her shoulder.

Her expression was unreadable: eyes wide, lips tight, nostrils flared. A dark, guilty power radiated from her as her hold tightened. Eva grasped at her wrists, clawing at them, but they wouldn’t give out even when she dug in her nails. 

“What are you doing?” she gasped, suddenly cool with fear. “Let me go.”

“And sit here, watching? Compliant as a little pet, right?” Her voice burned, the marks on Eva’s back singeing until she could almost smell smoke through her dress. She tried again to worm out of Phoebe’s hold, nearly falling forward. The bedpost sat threateningly against her opening. She kept as still as she could. 

“Where would you have stopped, my love?” Phoebe purred in her ear. It rattled in her chest like a broken drum. “Would you have ridden this ball for an age until your sisters returned? All in hopes I’d come relieve you?” One of Phoebe’s hands freed her, but the other proved strong enough to keep her in place. Phoebe travelled down, along Eva’s sweat-coated stomach, treading unkindly over her sensitive clit. She pressed her palm over it, covering it without a sense of movement. 

She took control. 

“What if I didn’t come,” she asked. “What then? I overlooked that little adventure in the waiting room, didn’t I? Another priestess might have left that with shame, thankful not to be found out or reprimanded. Why didn’t you?”

“I—I—“ Eva couldn’t formulate a single word, the arousal swelling inside her like an overripe fruit under a heavy sole. “I—needed—“

“What? What, dearest?” Phoebe snapped, teeth catching on the shell of her ear. “You needed me? Is that it? You needed my cock to fill out your little hole? My, my. Just one night with it and you already can’t pass a day without it.” She chuckled darkly, a rolling wave swilling around in Eva’s gut at the sound. “I have every right to punish you for that.” She lifted her hand to pinch Eva’s clit between finger and thumb. Eva yelped in pain and shock.

“The thought excites you,” observed Phoebe, and Eva had enough sense in her now not to lie. “Good gods, what a depraved little slut you’ve given me. She lusts for pain. I suppose I did ruin you, didn’t I?” She murmured against Eva’s neck, snakelike tongue licking a wet stripe along the tendon. “I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

With the turn of her wrist, Phoebe overpowered Eva, pulling her body in towards her. With that single motion, the head of the wooden bedpost breached her entrance, pressing directly against the core of her pleasure. With a dull and consistent pleasure, Phoebe held her out of reach of her climax, fanning the flame without letting it spread. 

“You serve me. Your pleasure is at my disposal.” The goddess’s growls took root and pushed tears over her cheeks, tracing the same paths as those recently dried. Eva could only think thankyouthankyouthankyou even as her body was stretched beyond the limits of patience. She had been heard. How many times, across ten years, had she uttered the same prayers and thought them unheard? The power that held her at bay no longer terrified but filler her with hope. 

This was love. Being heard, and answered. The tears were tears of joy, and though they burned, she did have wings. 

“Yours,” she gasped, losing control of her trembling legs, so Phoebe had to pick her up and push her knees up to her chest, folding her in half and increasing pressure around the wooden ball. “All yours.”

“You must understand, then,” Phoebe continued, “that I can’t let you come yet.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, but it’s too late for that. I can’t give you pain, my darling. I’d never wish to hurt you. But a lesson must be learnt.”

She lowered Eva’s body, inch by inch, onto the bedpost. She could feel - see - the head travelling through her skin under her belly, bulging as it pressed through her cunt, and against her cervix. 

Eva’s fluids ran in thick droplets down the polished wood, gathering in a puddle and flowing between the stone slabs. Like a ragdoll, all she could do was watch. Watch as the pleasure ticked by inside her, and just as it dimmed, her body growing accustomed to the intrusion penetrating her, Phoebe would manipulate it again. Another stroke over that spot, or pulling it out completely to venture two fingers into her cunt, dragging her to the very cliff-edge of climax, only to squeeze the bedpost back inside, the coolness dulling the sharp point, as the climax fizzled out of existence. 

Eva lost track of how many times she was edged. All she could see was the growing puddle of her pre-come. All she could feel was the angry heat of her clit, swollen with blood and anticipation. Her nipples were sore as her eyes came into focus once, and she spotted two thin tendrils latched onto them, wound around them like suckling lips. They tightened and loosened, corkscrews that burrowed the tender flesh of her breasts.

Phoebe’s teeth were perpetually latched onto her neck, sheathed behind her soft wet lips. If she ever tried to wriggle free, to grind once more than was allowed onto the wooden cock, Phoebe was sure to let her teeth sink in just enough to give a proper warning. The rest of the time her lips just sucked at the flesh coating the artery, honing the excess pleasure around her there until Eva was light-headed. 

Hours may have passed, but Eva knew it wasn’t right. Any minute now her sisters would flood into the dormitory, ready for bed, and see her there, her bedpost buried in her cunt and near-pleasure pooling at the foot of her bed. Held aloft by a demon goddess, debauched and… ruined. 

Her heart was tired with the feigned rise and fall of her heart rate. She wanted to beat it into submission, to tell it not to be fooled, not to be exhausted. She had to entertain her goddess as long as she could. Even if she held her longed-for climax out of reach, even if she faked her out, a hundred or a thousand times. Even if it stung every time she removed her fingers from her cunt, every mocking flick of her clit and scolding pinch was like an arrow through her neck. 

Even so, she bid her heart to humour her, and her body to obey her. And never again… never again to doubt her. 

“Have you learned your lesson?” Phoebe asked tenderly. Eva hadn’t noticed when her body had become so still. The ball of the bedpost was still against her sensitive spot, Phoebe’s fingers pinching her swollen clit so lightly. Even a slight pinch may induce an explosion. Eva’s words were stuck, her skin felt bruised all over. The pale arm around her stomach held her more gently, but she didn’t fall. 

She nodded. 

“I’m sorry to do this,” said Phoebe, with a light kiss over the patch her lips lad latched onto. “The sight of you like this doesn’t bring me any joy. I want more than anything to let you come.” She sounded genuine, and guilty. Eva shook her head, wanting to tell her it was alright. It was her fault. She was the one who disobeyed. “Oh, my darling. I’m so sorry for what I have to do.”

Before Eva could wrap her head around that, she was removed gently from her perch, the wet bedpost coming out with a pop as strings of pre-come hung off it. Next thing she knew, Phoebe was laying her down in her bed, undressing her. The cool air against her sore nipples was a small respite, but Phoebe’s face was drawn and severe. With sad eyes, she dressed Eva in her nightdress, hesitating before sliding on her undergarments.

“Why?” Eva uttered. “You—”

“I know,” she said. “I’m sorry for this. It’ll only be for one night. I promise.”

“But…”

Eva trailed off as Phoebe sat on the edge of the bed. Beyond her, the bedpost glistened, then as Eva blinked, the gloss disappeared. Her tired mind didn’t question it, or doubt that if she looked down, the puddle on the floor would likewise be gone. As if it never happened. But Eva would know. She still felt it. 

She still felt the tendrils sucking on her nipples, and the touches on her stomach, the pressure on er clit. When Phoebe reached under the covers to stroke up Eva’s thigh, it only added to the sensations trapped on her skin. Despite the cool sheets, her body was still hot. The fire hadn’t doused. Come to think of it, her clit was still sore and bloodshot. 

Phoebe stroked higher up her leg. Eva flinched when she teased her overworked clit through the fabric of her underwear, and when she pulled them aside, pushing through her folds with one finger. 

“Yes,” Eva gasped. “Fuck, yes.”

“Shh.”

She bit her lip, waiting for Phoebe to follow through, but she didn’t. Once inside her, her finger fell still. It went no deeper than the little cushion behind her entrance. Eva whined, a high and needy sound. She was so tired. She couldn’t sleep like this. She couldn’t face going back to face her sisters like this, red-faced and pent up. She’d barely managed a minute of it in the temple. 

A whole night?

She opened her eyes to see Phoebe perched where she’d been before, on the far side of the bed, both hands folded in her lap. But how…?

Eva lurched off the bed, back arching as something inside her - what she’d thought was Phoebe’s finger - coiled against that spot. She pulled the sheets off her, clawed at the underwear in fear, but Phoebe held her still. 

“I’m sorry, my love.” The coil sprung once more, powerful as the peak of an orgasm, but a single stroke before tipping over the edge. It sprung again, each time coming closer to a climax that never would arrive. “I’m so sorry. But it must be like this if you… if I get to keep you. I hope you understand.”

“N-No, Phoebe, please. I can’t take— th- th…” She bit her lips as another near-orgasm wracked through her body. “Please…”

“I suggest you find a way to keep your body under control. Against this, but also against the kind of urges that force me to use this punishment.”

“What?”

“Tomorrow morning, I’ll free you.” Phoebe’s eyes turned sadly away from her. The weight that marked her place on the bed disappeared. And the next time Eva blinked, she was gone, leaving only frustration behind. Eva prayed between wracks of pleasure, counting breaths and heartbeats between them like the moments between claps of thunder. They never waned and never released her.

She skipped on dinner though she was half-starved. By the time her sisters returned to check on her, she had almost managed to stop her body lurching with every pang, disguising them as hiccups or well-timed coughs. 

There was no way of knowing how and when she fell asleep. Every time her eyes closed she was awakened with a gasp and he illusion that this time - please let it be this time - she would finally be freed. Finally be given the orgasm she’d been denied for hours. As soon as Phoebe left, her undergarments had been as good as melted onto her skin. Any attempt at relieving the pressure herself was blocked. She couldn’t pull the fabric aside to touch herself, and as hard as she pressed, none of her efforts reached through the fabric. In the end, she endured the longest night of her life. The storm, as usual, haunted the temple and shook the ground, every tremor felt by the island doubled Eva’s frustration. 

Stuck in this cycle, all she could do was weep silently, sobs interrupted by muted moans. She bit into her fist to stop the sounds, until she drew blood around her knuckles. The blood was sweet on her tongue as she lapped it up like a hunger-struck dog. It offered no respite. Nothing to release her from the clutches, the agonies of anticipation.

*****

The sun rose. Angry red splashed on the walls of the dormitory, and Eva was alone in being awake. An hour, maybe two, of interrupted sleep had done its dirty work on her features. She looked and felt haunted, drifting out of bed on weak legs. She no longer reacted to the pains as she limped to Mother’s bedside. Without worrying about the noise, she pulled the bedside drawer open and took the keys out. Mother didn’t stir. 

The door came open. She locked it from the outside and slid the key back under. With bare feet she padded through the hallway, the snores of the guests carrying through the hollow walls. Tapestry gave way to another door, and she was again in the waiting room. The flame’s roar comforted her, soothing her as the pain returned after a few second’s pause.

She braced herself against the wall.

“Oh, my love.”

Eva put her forehead to the cool wall. 

“Let me help you,” said Phoebe. 

“Okay,” Eva said weakly. She sat on one of the benches against the wall, eyes closed. Phoebe’s presence was a comfort like nothing else, even as she knew she was the cause of this—

No. Eva was to blame. This was her punishment. She’d come closer to throwing it all away than ever before. The markings on her back burned, but they wouldn’t have been there if she’d actually gone through with it. All night, she asked herself, would I have done it?

In the end, she was happier that she never would find out if her lust was stronger than her devotion. After this, she could never let it get that far. Ever.

Without opening her eyes, she shifted her nightdress up around her hips and pushed her legs aside. Phoebe’s hands were as familiar as her own by now. Long fingers topped with pointed nails. They held Eva’s own, comfortingly, softly, for a moment. After pulling her underwear off, they returned there. She just held her. The pangs were gone. Eva inhaled the morning air, warmed by the fire next door. 

When Phoebe put her mouth on her, Eva winced. Her clit was beyond sensitive, but a night spend on the cliff-edge couldn’t end by simply walking away. The cliff marked her for life. She’d memorised every ridge and rock. 

No. The night would end with her going over it. There was no other way. 

Phoebe wrapped her lips around her clit and sucked. A little pressure at first, teasing only enough that Eva was prepared for what was coming. She gripped her hands tightly and relaxed her body. 

When the orgasm came, it had been coming for a hundred years. Eva didn’t moan, but sobbed in relief. It was cold, dry, and painful, and ended as Phoebe pulled her underwear back on. She joined Eva on the bench then, holding her while her tears dried. 

Never again. 

"Thank you," Eva sniffed, once she'd regained what little composure she could. "Thank you."