Last Born Of The Desdemona

Chapter 83: Chapter 83: Confession to the High Priestess

Chapter 83 – Confession to the High Priestess

Cassius and the High Priestess walked along the straight path, shrouded by red carpet, in a tense and suffocating silence.

The only sounds in that space were the tap of Cassius’s cane against the floor and the soft shuffling of servants’ feet; quiet sounds that became annoyingly loud in the stillness around them.

The inside of the Church of Death was exactly what one would expect from those who worshipped Death.

Black and morose, a scent of morbid love and deep faith blanketed the space on all sides, pressing down on anyone who dared step through the entrance.

Yet the feeling that entered one’s heart was not despair, as most might assume.

It was hope.

A hope of liberation that made you wonder where it had come from, until you understood with quiet certainty that it could only come from a god.

The hope of life after death. The hope of reaching a realm beyond suffering and pain, beyond sadness and anguish. Just living — tranquilly, peacefully — beneath the hood of the Lord of Death, who granted mercy and another chance at existence.

And within that hope was liberation.

The liberation of knowing this world was not the end. That somewhere, in a distant place, something else waited. A place those found worthy of Vorn’s mercy would be permitted to enter.

With these as the core pillars of Vorn’s faith, it was no wonder the Church gathered so many believers, especially among the masses, among the commoners, among those who had suffered far too much in this life and hoped that enduring it well might earn them a better one.

Love in Woe. Peace in Woe. Contentment in Woe.

All of it moved through Cassius’s mind as he walked three steps behind the obviously irritated High Priestess, flanked on both sides by rows of chairs. The servants of Vorn, wearing black nun-like robes, moved through the church carrying out their tasks.

And strangely, not one of them paused for even a moment to acknowledge the High Priestess.

Cassius said nothing, only his smile deepened.

The High Priestess appeared to sense it, because she snapped her head back and threw him a deep, spiteful look.

”Something funny, Desdemona?” She spat. ”Share it with me.”

His smile widened into something so innocent it was insufferable. ”Just thinking of my wife and smiling. Forgive me, I’m newly wed, so—!”

”I don’t care.” She hissed, cutting him off.

”So much for a Priestess.” He muttered, shrugging.

Knowing there was nothing she could do about it, the High Priestess chose to ignore the comment, turned back to the front, and led the Last Born of the Desdemona behind the large sculpture of Vorn at the far end of the space, where a small room rested.

Arriving at the door, she pressed her palm flat against it and circulated her essence. A black-red rune appeared, glowing briefly and fleeting, and the door clicked softly as it unlocked.

Pressing harder, she shoved it open with a yawning screech.

Without ceremony, she stepped inside. She said nothing to Cassius, but he didn’t need her to. He entered anyway.

He found himself in a simple, almost empty room. It was dark, shadows refusing to dissipate even under the white light at the ceiling, and coloured in black and red.

Nothing existed inside it except a small table of darkwood — a material found only in the Wastelands, near the Tuculur Tribe — with two chairs of the same material placed across from each other.

On the table and on the chairs was the Sigil of Vorn: The Scythe. And beside it, the sigil of his Representative Beast: the crimson-black weathered flies, known among Vorn’s believers as Dugub.

They were deeply respected. To a god, a Representative Beast was, in a sense, a messenger.

Every god had one. Just as every god had a Priest, a Historian, a Herald, and a Knight, each holding an important role in the faith, each a {Seat} coveted by those who wished to be closer to a divinity.

But all of these {Seats} sat below the Blessed, and were therefore subject to the Blessed’s authority.

Understanding that, Cassius understood why some faiths resented the prospect of gaining a Blessed.

He refocused, leaned his cane against the edge of the table, and sat in the chair facing the High Priestess.

He hadn’t done or said anything yet, and still she was looking at him with more hidden disgust by the second.

”Let’s stop pretending, Desdemona.” She said coldly, narrowing her eyes. ”Why are you here? To mock me the way your parents did a week ago?”

”I don’t know what you’re referring to, I’m afraid.” He said calmly. ”But yes, let me be direct and come to the point of my confession.”

”I’m listening.” She said, without patience.

”However, allow me to confess through a story, High Priestess. It will make it somewhat less embarrassing for me to speak of my actions.” Cassius said, and he watched her face twist into deep irritation. He pressed on before she could speak. ”It’s a story I believe you will find rather interesting. The story of a young girl born inside a church, who grew up alongside her father, knowing nothing of her mother yet wishing deeply that she did.”

The High Priestess went completely still. Her black eyes widened. Yet she made no attempt to speak, as if Cassius’s words had reached back into some distant time and taken her ability to do so.

”Still, that didn’t trouble the girl too deeply.” Cassius continued, tapping his finger against the table in a slow, steady rhythm. ”She wished for a mother figure but learned not to dwell on what she didn’t have, her faith helped her with that. She continued her life accordingly. She was young, pure and untainted by the world. Made even more so by growing up inside a place of faith.”

”A faith, especially, that teaches you not to let your vices overtake you. To resist falling into depravity. To not indulge yourself in the sins of this world to the point of dependence.”

He paused, looking at the solemn face across from him.

”But one night, this girl, unable to sleep, moved by a burst of devotion, decided to visit the prayer room of her father. She was curious. She wanted to learn how the High Priest prayed, so that she could do the same. Can you guess what she found when she arrived?”

”S-Stop.” The High Priestess said through clenched teeth. Her fists were tight, so tight her veins slithered and bulged against the skin like living things.

Her black eyes were shadowed by grief, by fear, and by something deeper still. A level of self-loathing and hatred that Cassius could not fully fathom. He shivered at the sight of it.

But he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop.

He gathered his courage, remembered his purpose, and pressed on.

”Let me tell you what she found, High Priestess.” He attempted a smile. Her body trembled harder. ”What she witnessed was her father, in the middle of an orgy with dozens of women. Some of them prostitutes from the back alleys of the Capital. Some of them innocent women from surrounding villages. All of them wearing the Church’s robes, which were by then in tatters and soaked in substances none would name, so that no one could guess the High Priest was indulging himself rather than praying to his god.”

”And at that moment, as if enlightened by the god himself, the girl understood at last why her mother had never been there. Why her father had never once spoken of her. Because she had been...”

BANG!

The High Priestess launched from her chair, sending it sprawling across the floor. She lunged forward, her right hand clamping tight around Cassius’s throat.

He could barely breathe.

Her face was flushed with rage, tears of both grief and fury running down her cheeks. ”I dare you, Cassius. I DARE YOU!” She bellowed, squeezing harder. ”You think I won’t kill you because of your parents? You would be a goddamn fool!”

”Who told you?” She gritted through her teeth. ”WHO?”

Cassius’s lungs clawed for air, his face reddening rapidly, yet he managed a smile through the crushing grip, and barely parted his lips.

”I... can help you.”

Her grip faltered at the unexpected words. Her body went still. ”W-What?”

”I said,” He coughed, sucked in a breath. ”I can help you.”

”HELP WITH WHAT?!” She yanked at him again, losing her grip on herself entirely, falling fully into the hysterical edge.

”Everything.” Cassius said. ”Your addiction. Your weakening authority inside this Church. And...”

The High Priestess began to shake.

”...finding your mother.”

—End of Chapter 83—