Chapter 5: Geien

I paced the interior of my celestial chamber, hands clenched behind my back. I had made a mistake, a grievous error. I had left my realm, but only for a moment.

A few seconds away from my throne and a creature under my protection had died. I had watched Helemoira bury the poor thing and I had wept for the both of them. I vowed then to never do such a thing again, cursed myself for my stupidity even.

That was – until Helemoira had stripped her clothing for me before her altar. I had never spied on her nakedness before, even though I easily could have. To have her disrobe willingly before my statue, as if she didn't care that I saw. Like a wife would bare herself to her husband. It was intoxicating.

I had gone wild with lust and nearly battered down the gates of the Night Realm to get at her. When I had finally made it back down to the Material Plane, it was as she laid down in bed. I had crawled in behind her and laid there for only a few moments before I felt the guilt stab at me and force me to return to my domain.

The damage of that second trip remained to be seen, though I'm sure it had done quite a number. I picked up a ceramic glass and smashed it against the wall, flicking my finger and returning it to the table a second later.

How could I be so selfish, so stupid? And why did I want to do it again?

I shook the thoughts from my head and resumed my pacing.

A loud pounding came at the door of my domain then, a familiar beating of fists that told me my sisters knew I was up to something. They were so infuriatingly nosey.

"Go away," my voice boomed out towards the door. They could beat their fists bloody, they wouldn't be able to get in so long as my barriers remained up.

I heard the iron groan and it gave me pause. Maybe if they were desperate enough?

I raised my hands and strengthened my barriers. Soon, the pounding faded into just a dull thudding that I could easily ignore. I huffed out a sigh and slumped into what constituted a modest throne by a God's standards. It was befitting the God of Death and Reclamation; old stone wrapped in the roots of a once ancient tree which were carved to look like waves crashing against the crumbling masonry.

I placed my jaw on my fist and tried to close my eyes and think straight. I had to fix the damage that I had done, if at all possible. Going down to the Material Plane for a third time was out of the question. Seeing her, touching her, was out of the question.

So why was I rising from my throne and approaching my scrying fountain? I waved my hand over the waters and pulled up the image of Helemoira. She was taking her breakfast in her room, reading over some papers as she chewed her fruit and bread.

Her free hand absently brushed her hair over her shoulder when it wasn't flipping through the pages before her. How I wanted nothing more than to move my fingers through her hair, fist my hand at the base of her skull.

I slapped my palm against the still waters and watched the ripples move across her image. Even distorted, she was the most beautiful female I had ever bore witness to.

"Oh, Helemoira." I closed my eyes and touched her image, reaching out beyond the edges of the Night Realm into her chambers. When I opened my eyes and peered down at her, she was alert, searching around her room as if she could sense my presence.

She closed her eyes and inhaled as I leaned in slowly, my face inches above the waters. Could she smell me? Could she feel me? Did she want to?

The image of her laid bare before me came rushing back and my more primal and baser natures surged forward. I wanted her, more than I had ever wanted anything. I needed her.

I blew on the waters and watched as a breeze blew in through her window, tickling her bare shoulders and cheeks. She smiled and sighed, licking her lips and sucking playfully on a ripe berry.

Were we so in tune that she could sense my desire for her, and did her desire match mine? I shook the thought from my head. She didn't even know what I looked like, didn't know me the way that I knew her. I was just a statue she ate lunch with once a week. I was her God–we were not equals. She couldn't feel such depraved things for me.

"Geien?" I heard her whisper to herself. "Is that you?"

"Yes," I said too quickly and clenched my fist. If only I could touch her, show her what she meant to me, what she had always meant to me. If I was Death and Reclamation, then she was my Ruin.

She looked around, as if waiting for another sign of my presence. I paced around the fountain, my body vibrating with indecision. I could give her a sign, a proper one. I could let her know I was there with her, that I was watching her. But would she like that? Would that bring her peace?

I thought better of it at the last moment, waving away her image before she tempted me further.

This was torture. I was tormenting myself, and for what? A simple priestess. No, a High Priestess. My High Priestess.. My sisters were right. I was obsessed.

I just hoped that they would one day forgive me for what I knew I was going to do.