Confessions of a libra

Credit: Here

16.05.25

Before they came for me, I had seen it in the flames. First they came in the flames, then they came in my dreams. I recall the day clearly. I washed in the river behind the temple. Seeking to meet the day unabashedly. The air was crisp, the birds tweeting and the sun’s rays blessed every surface. It was during the bathing that a thought rang true, I need to scry the flames. The thought settled firmly as a knowing in the base of my stomach, and suddenly presence was impossible. Rushing through my ablutions, I returned to the temple. Within the sanctum right at the back and elevated, stood a sacred hearth. This hearth had existed long before I, or any other Priestess to have graced its walls. It was a living altar.

I approached the flames and began a low chant. The words spoken in a tongue older than my own, yet flowing out of me like it always had. The chant worked to place me in a trance like state. I chanted in reverence – allowing the feeling of heat to lick my skin – and the channel opened through me. It started with the intoxicating feeling in my spine. Energy moving up from my root to the back of my neck. My spine always felt the change before I did. My gaze softened and images flashed before my eyes.

I’m holding a wide chalice as two men stand before me in the sanctum. The flame creates a halo that makes me look otherworld. As though witnessed by the Gods themselves. The man to my right, is tall and broad. He wears armour that looks well-worn from war. His honeyed skin bears unhealed cuts and dirt. It’s as though he has been through a trial by fire to be here. His hair is the inkiest of curls, and his eyes burning with desire.

The man on the left was leaner, draped in finery unblemished. His skin a lighter sunlit ivory, his hair long and neatly tied by ribbon at the base of his neck. He kneels with one hand placed on his heart, as though making a vow. The hand in question had a gold ring – worn with a crest long-faded. It speaks to my soul as a vow remembered, but left unspoken. I can tell though in his eyes that before this moment, he felt a torment and in this moment, it feels like a revelation.

Sahir arrived first. His entrance as bold as his passion. It was in the middle of my meditation, that I heard commotion in the sanctum. Someone had been allowed in without asking for permission. I felt the dragon flame within my chest flare at the disrespect. As I approached the sanctum, storming in with my staff in hand I heard the loud wails of a man in pain.

“Please. I beg, let me have an audience with the Priestess. I beg of you!”

I found him on his knees, resisting the Temple guard with enough strength to knock a bull.

“Leave him,” my voice rang out before I registered what I was doing.

I approached this man, and upraised him. He had the same armour I had seen in my vision. Slashes in the same places, one across his bicep, the other trailing down his neck. His eyes were wild and feral and I pointed my staff to him. I pushed into his left shoulder, where blood was already pouring out of him. Nothing fatal, but certainly painful.

“Speak, soldier.” I commanded.

He didn’t flinch at my infliction of pain. He bore it and caught his breath before he speaking.

“Priestess Saphara, I have travelled a great distance to be able to make your acquaintance. A curse has been placed upon me, you see. I fear it is eating me from the inside out. I need you to help me, please.” He wailed and let a single tear drop.

My dragon spirit settled within me, choosing to back off and watch instead. “I don’t tend to help people who cannot respect this temple’s cycles. The temple was closed for a reason.”

The man swore under his breath, but I felt no offense. He seemed to be battling something greater than I could see with the naked eye. There something in him, particularly in the eyes. A restlessness, perhaps. He tore at his armour as though trying to rip it from himself.

“Stop it,” I kept my voice stern.

His hands stilled, another tear escaped. My staff slowly came down and I placed it gently beside me. I walked until I was right in front of him. I grabbed his face gently while looking down at him. The heat we elicited between us made me want to take a dip in the river. Looking into his eyes up close, I could see a disturbance there. Like he was struggling to maintain control of his very psyche. He doesn’t know, it rang in my head. He was led here through this curse so that we could meet, but he doesn’t understand it much more than that.

“What is your name, soldier?” I asked, my tone softening.

“Sahir.”