The Plague - The Maiden Guard (from Dead by Daylight)
Memory 4097:
May your voice reach the beyond; may your voice reach the beyond; may your voice... Adiris speaks this line until it becomes a single word, babbled in harmony with her fellow emissaries in faith. Ma-ya-voy-rethebe'on... Ma-ya-voy-rethebe'on... Thirteen women stand in a circle around a stone altar. Adiris' chant falters as time passes, her raw throat the only indication that she contributes. Each enunciation, agony. She's nearly forgotten the naked man writhing face down on the altar, leather straps binding him.
The high priest Haban raises a hand. Adiris, along with each of the emissaries, stops, bows her head. She reminds herself: Cherish the pain as a sacrifice to the sea goat, the God of Water and Creation. The emissaries disperse, and Adiris wanders to the man on the altar. Tears stream from his bloodshot eyes. She wants to lend comfort, assure him the gods love him, perhaps even pull him from the altar, away from the coming pain. She smiles at him as she would a child. If only you understood the importance of your sacrifice, you would laugh with joy. Tenderly, lovingly, she kisses his forehead.
May your voice reach the beyond.
Memory 4098:
The Invokist comes forward: a small, wrinkled man, buried under a scarlet—no, white but bloody—cloak. Adiris bows her head, joins the whispers around her. May you swim through sea and stars. The Invokist stands over the man bound to the altar. Nods. Pulls a sleeve back. Reveals a spear gripped in hand. Raises the weapon and... plunges! The tip pierces the bound man's lower back. He arches upwards and screams, shakes, convulses, lower body remaining immobile, bladder emptying onto the altar. The Invokist hefts his leg onto the stone slab, pushes the spear until—a gruesome snap. Shrieking... howling... pleading? Something beyond that—indescribable. A vertebra bursts from the gaping wound. Blood gushes.
Bile rises in Adiris’ throat as she turns away to stop herself from retching. Her fellow emissaries look upwards. Praise! Glory to the gods! Nothing is heard over the screams of the man. His voice will surely reach the beyond. Adiris composes herself, recites sacred text in her mind: The plans of the gods shall not be questioned, for they know beauty the human eye cannot perceive. The plans of the gods shall not be questioned, for they know...
Trust in them, Adiris, trust in them! She relents to her faith, joining the others to celebrate, but notices—Haban. He covers his face too late and she sees it: a tear spilling from his eye. A face that seems... heartbroken.
Memory 4099:
Adiris splashes water over the altar and scrubs. Red circle swirling bright... like the sun the day she was left at the temple door. Stifling heat, painful steps on burning sand. Mother and father... a missing piece in the memory, unfocused, replaced by... Haban. A crowd of imposing high priests, and only he peers warmly. She cries so he lifts her, removes his hood. In the courtyard he lets her touch the statues of the gods—Rishan, keeper of the stars; Ortares, sentry of the desert; Atil-Alara, mother of humanity—deities who would watch over and protect her. Haban becomes teacher. Father. He tells of their religion: formed by exiles who believed other faiths had become corrupted by politics. They brought new insights to the afterlife and unified all gods beneath the great creator, the sea goat.
She finds guidance in his teachings, meaning in servitude, comfort in knowing suffering is love. She may shudder at connecting compassion to bloody sacrifice, but she works continually to overcome her doubts. Yet, over the years, as her faith grows, Haban changes in a different way. She sees heaviness in his walk. Hears his voice trail off when he reads the sacred texts. While he once stood energized by generous sacrifices to the gods, today he shows anguish.
What darkness could snuff the desert sun?
Memory 4100:
Adiris sits in the courtyard, Haban seated across from her. Eyes are fixed on a game board between them. She rolls a wooden die, moves a black disc over the board's squares, lands on Haban's piece, places it to the side. No reaction from Haban. Adiris looks to him, sweet expression of concern. A joyous sacrifice this morning, would you say? The gods rejoice, praise be. Haban hardly lifts an eye. Mhmm... praise be. A cool breeze, birds chirp, unseen. Haban seems to scan the courtyard. Upon seeing no other occupants, looks Adiris in the eyes. He was a good man. A friend. And the world is darker without—
Adiris wonders if she’s being tested. She knows what to say, interrupts him with the line that’s been delivered to her thousands of times before: It was commanded by the gods; he swims in the wake of the sea goat now. Haban turns his attention to the game board, flicks away Adiris' disc and positions his at the end. It seems I have won... as was commanded by the gods. Adiris pushes her chair back, objecting. Haban sweeps the board off the table. I shall write the rules of Ur anew. I shall include decrees, punishment, theft, and sacrifice. And should anyone object, I shall preach those momentous words: It was commanded by the bloody sea goat and his damned gods. Adiris shakes her head, the shock of words she never thought she’d hear rattling painfully in her mind. This is... blasphemy! Deep bags under Haban's eyes seem to swell. Yes, the truth often is.
Memory 4101:
The Day of Virtue arrives, a monthly ceremony to purify the congregation of dire sins. A bell tolls. Adiris and the rest of the temple's crowd drop to their knees. Forehead touches cold stone. She peeks up, sees the Maiden Guard arrive, stepping through the crowd, guided by faith to seek out sinners. She waits, counts the scratches in the floor until—a scream. A woman pleads and... coughing, choking. Adiris looks up, sees a commoner dragged from the temple by her throat. She hardly notices two olive-brown feet step in front of her. Rise. Rise! Adiris shrinks under the Maiden's gaze, notices the hint of ripened dates from her open mouth. Under the eyes of the sea goat, speak of the evil you have witnessed. Deliver us thieves, adulterers, and blasphemers, so we may purge them. Shoulders stiffen. Adiris sees the face of Haban, the face of the man who raised her. She hears his gentle voice... and the agitated voice of a blasphemer. Indecision knots in her chest, tightening, twisting.
I have witnessed... no evil. By the gods, my eyes are pure. The Maiden examines Adiris. Seconds trickle by, ever-slowing, stretching reality to its seams, until—the Maiden nods. May you swim through sea and stars. She turns away, and Adiris summons every bit of strength to keep herself from collapsing.
Memory 4102:
Adiris sweeps dust from the altar floors. A set of hurried footsteps click along the stone, marching closer. She turns to see Haban, gentle face tensing. He hushes her. My daughter, curse the man I once was. I took you as a child and tainted you with notions of divine judgment and punishment. Now I see you struggle, as these thoughts nearly take hold. I beg you, cast my teachings aside and see the blood spilled in this temple. No cleansing can purify the horror perpetrated here.
The doctrine overflows in her mind: The will of the gods is law. No man shall question the divine. He who battles the tides will perish. But she surprises herself by remaining silent, and Haban seizes the moment. I am old and have wasted this life, but I cannot bear to destroy yours. Meet me here at nightfall in a fortnight's time, and we shall escape the clutches of deceit. If you have doubts, I ask you to consult with your gods. My daughter, may their silence be your answer.
Memory 4103:
Though Adiris' heart beats, she feels emptiness where it should reside, a hollow space dripping acid into her churning stomach. Knees bruised, she prays to the gods, pleading, silently screaming for an answer. Nothing. The wind remains calm. She is alone, surrounded by stone, looked down upon by statues of gods unmoved. Dust floats through the air, settling on her skin, more real than anything she ever believed. A lifetime of faith, security, crumbles. She feels unsteady, the only certainty in her mind that she must leave this place. She rises to her feet, turns her back to the temple, only then—
A whisper!
The hushed chitter in her head is unclear, inarticulate words passed through a forked tongue. But she feels it, understands a remarkable truth: she will never be alone. Ever.
Memory 4104:
Shame washes over Adiris as she retreats to her room. She dared doubt the gods. Within their chaotic whispers: pain, anger, bloodlust. ATONE! She removes her robe, reaches for the lash, a crude whip of thorns and bronze spikes. ATONE! She swings with great force. Spikes pierce her back, hooking into flesh as she pulls away. Through gritted teeth, she screams, keeping the sound in the base of her throat so no one can hear. ATONE! She swings, droplets of blood sprinkling to the floor. Spasms of pain, as skin tears off, hanging on pale threads. Braces herself and whips again, again, till the crimson pools. ATONE! How much blood is enough? Her body screams in agony. She thinks to drop the lash, run from these walls, but remembers the doctrine Haban taught her: Suffering is the heart of love. She tightens her grip and swings again.
Memory 4105:
Sweat weeps from Adiris' pores onto her bedsheets. Thick scabs tear from her flesh as she shifts. With great effort, she lifts her head, looking to the sound behind her. Haban. He kneels over her, wet cloth in hand. She's too feeble to speak, but the whisper does it for her, hissing, thrashing, communicating a hurried feeling in her mind. BLASPHEMER! He washes the blood from her back, bringing his mouth to her ear. Is this the doing of the Maiden Guard? What has their blind faith wrought?
She slips between consciousness, as the blasphemer takes her hand. I have failed you, my daughter. But no more. Have strength, and we shall soon escape.
Memory 4106:
Though Adiris' movements are met with pain, she lifts her head to the sky, thanking the gods for their guidance. Their whisper remains, further away, dissipating, yet still commanding, influencing. She opens her heart, allows the whisper to seize her body. She strides to the Maiden Guards' quarters and takes a uniform, confident no one will discover the violation, knowing the gods are on her side. A censer of sweet frankincense sits atop a table, compelling her to it. She allows her hands to move as they will, filling the censer with oil and glowing embers. She does not question the will of the gods, knowing all threads shall be woven and someday the tapestry complete. Trust in them, Adiris!
She steps into the moonlight. Nightfall. Smoke dances around her body. Bare feet carry her along a stone path to the mouth of the temple. As she peers inside, she sees through the shadows to the slight, shivering figure of the high priest Haban—the mentor, the father, the blasphemer.
May his voice reach the beyond.
