--- Priestess Alba POV

“Wake …”

I feel a pressure on my shoulder and yet I refuse to withdraw from the bliss, which utterly consumes me. She wraps me in her love …

“Alba!”

I blink my eyes. A Snake Kin face fills my complete view, our eyes connect and my prone body jolts. Alasse, High Priestess of Aphrodite hangs over me.

“Forgive me …” My paltry words stumble out between my lips. Caught. Guilty. My friend now Goddess, her embrace still lingers, and I wish to hold on to every moment … yet this stirring of memory, this joy fades like hands cupping water, drops slipping between my fingers.

“Apologies, Priestess Alba … many reported your sleep in, the drool … some even witnessed a lurid ecstasy upon your face, human or not, none could mistake it …”

Her green scales glow, is she embarrassed for me or because of me? I need to explain my condition to my High Priestess.

“High Priestess, I dreamt of the Goddess …”

Her tongue lashes out, jaws slightly apart. Humour? She throws her head back slightly, yes humour as Snake Kin would never expose their throat to another unless in complete safety.

“Your dream?” She shakes her head. “I taste her love in the air or the results of her love upon you Priestess.”

My thighs squirm under the blanket covering me, glad this human body felt the cold in this Great Cathedral prompting me to ask for such before bedtime. A hissing laugh though confirms my camouflage ineffective. My head drops in shame and almost immediately a warm finger is under my chin.

“The Goddess Aphrodite visited you in a dream Priestess, there is no shame in such contact only favour. As her servants we devote our lives and bodies to our Goddess, there is no compromise. Celebrate this past night … erm and half-day …” The face of High Priestess Alasse glows green as she speaks, there is happiness though, my good fortune is for all to savour.

So long in her thrall of rapture … the task, I remember. I sit bolt upright. My High Priestess adroit enough to avoid us butting heads. My mouth opens wide, I pause then close.

“Take your time Priestess.” Her tongue dances before my face, a motion left and then a motion right, like trying to lick the cheeks of my face … intimate, a sign of Snake Kin affection.

“Cardinal Pex, I must meet her. Yes, her image is strong throughout my dream.” I know this will hurt Alasse, their feelings strong, their separation difficult.

“You know where she is?” Excitement, clear in her voice until she manages to strangle the emotion towards the end.

“I must enter the dark, find the way, emerge into the cold and then find the dark again, the dream scenes fleeting. Repeating often and when I acknowledge them … a reward. Her love, flesh and bone, deep, overwhelming.” How do you explain perfect communion with your Goddess? How do you relay the sense of oneness and complete surrender in the holy perfection of safety and trust? When praying to Aphrodite, your experience limits the extent of the contact and emersion possibilities. To my delight, I discover the Goddess has no such limitations when she initiates the contact.

“The only dark in Cardinal Pex’s life, her prison,” whispers Alasse.

My eyes fall upon my High Priestess, the hurt on her face clear, yet to describe the facial features which indicate that, impossible.

“There is also cold, could furs be acquired?”

My High Priestess nods and slithers towards the doorway. She stops and looks over her shoulder. “You don’t realise the import of your dream, do you?”

Maybe because I am still recovering from the Goddess’ touch or what she asks is beyond my understanding, I can only shake my head in response.

“The Goddess walked amongst us, her presence our confirmation in her existence. We of the faith have been extolling her to all who would listen, perform miracles in her name and live by her teachings. Yet for all that, she has been missing for a long time.”

My brain catches up. “The Goddess visiting me in a dream suggests she is returning to us!” I shout.

“Yes, Priestess of Aphrodite, our Goddess has acquired enough Divine Power to return. Dreams I believe the first step, so we must do more now than ever, to recruit worshippers and empower her further and one day, hopefully, I am still alive, our Goddess will return to us, walking amongst us as I am with you now.” Her head tilts skywards and she dashes out the doorway of my room.

Springing from my bed my thoughts are solely of praise and veneration, imagining the Goddess in all her glory step into her Cathedral and being pleased. Mid-rapture, like a slap in the face a cold shiver between my thighs, returns me to the mundane. My damp loin cloth …

I draw my Priestess robes about me and consider that enough. Then I remember the cold trail that awaits. After a moment I discard my thin ceremonial robes and my damp loin cloth. From a trunk at the foot of my bed, I select my travel robes and fresh undergarments to dress in and do so. Strapping on sandals, I stride from my room and begin the step-climb to the topmost office of the Cathedral.

--- Cardinal Pex POV

[You have exited the Gateway Dungeon of Arsu.]

With that announcement Ottar and I stand upon beach sand, the door we exited no longer in existence behind us. I would like to think, if there were no other alternatives, we could petition Arsu to permit our return and provide refuge. The only mark against that assumption is Dungeons operate in line with their own mysteries, for example, why hasn’t Arsu unleashed all her minions upon the human invaders? Why is Arsu a Gateway Dungeon? Gateway infers she is a way through, to where? For whom? The only certainty I know is the Dungeons Arsu and Azizos gave aid to my Goddess when needed, so they are allies and I am certain they will do what they can within their respective meets and bounds.

The morning sun warms my skin, and that warmth sinks into my flesh and my body thanks me. Ottar on the other hand has droplets of sweat upon his brow. He raises his arm, pointing down the length of the beach. Following his guidance, well within sight, squats the round stone moulded Shrine of Aphrodite. The Goddess’ holy site waits for us to reinvigorate and reignite her faith this side of the mountain range.

“Others approach from the opposite side,” growls Ottar, while drawing his axe to hand.

“Who?” I ask.

“Like me, shorter, lacking a magnificent beard, but many.”

“If there is conflict?”

His gaze drops to my level. “I am more of a lover than a fighter, but I will protect you with my last breath be assured of that my Priestess.”

“To be utterly truthful, I am a Cardinal of Aphrodite and as such, I am inclined to ensure you don’t take a last breath as my champion.” I place my hand upon his Axe. “Goddess Aphrodite I call upon your Divine Power to deal death to unbelievers.” I cast [Bless Weapon]. There is a brief glow that slides towards the edge of the axe blade, coalescing, the residual light dancing in celebration. “Goddess Aphrodite I call your Divine Power to protect your warrior, acting in your name!” I cast [Shield]. A brief glow covers and the sinks into Ottar. The creasing of his brow gives way, his lips part to release a chuckle.

“I suspect the benefit of the first. The second blessing though, I know, I have my Goddess’ protection.”

“You obey your Priestess though, yes?”

“Frost Giants are brave. We are not always foolhardy, and I am used to pleasing my women.” I catch his smirk and shake my head as we advance towards our Goddess’ Shrine.

“Will we need to … you know run to reach the Shrine first?” I ask.

He chuckles and then scoops me up into his arms. I consider protesting until from the leisure like carrying position, ahem, one of my arms lays across his broad shoulder, I can observe our competitors. They labour hauling various equipment, some though are armed, their armour shining in the morning sunlight. My hand lingers against Ottar’s neck, and I cast [Mindlink] upon my gallant defender.

“You will know my will and I know your condition,” I hiss.

Upon reaching the Shrine he places me upon the upper reaches and my overview of the beach and possible battle site is complete. With a mental nod, he continues to advance.

I feel his joy as the humans advancing urgently halt, those at the back stumbling over those at the fore. From a distance his height in question, a large human to be certain yet beyond that hardly believable. This disbelief evaporating with every jogging pace he continues towards them. To their credit, four archers release upon my champion, their leader pushing and shoving them into position and then turning upon the rest to organise them.

Ottar releases his cloak, which waves him goodbye in the wind, landing upon the golden sand of the beach. His hand reaches behind him for his shield, all the while continuing to close the distance. The arrows are in flight as my champion charges while roaring his challenge and resting his shield above his head. The arrows fall behind him as will the second flight, which were released before his charge. The third flight is now aimed directly at him, and his shield lowers to protect while his body halts and squeezes behind the solid wooden bulwark. Two arrows fly over, the other two arrows glance off the wood. My champion is once again up and dashes wide to the right, dodging the next volley yet closing. An axe hurls towards the archers causing panic, catching one of the armoured soldiers loitering behind. The impact forcing him off his feet, his body crashing into those nearby. Silence. Mouths agape.

My champion continues to advance. A line of armoured soldiers, as one, step forward, then kneel in front of the archers who release again. Two arrows strike Ottar’s shield, one arrow completely misses and the last, well the last causes concern. A solid thigh hit, for certain, except the leather repels the arrowhead. Leather!

In ones and twos, builders or labourers nonchalantly walk away while looking over their shoulders, they then pick up their pace, jogging. Yelling from their leader, demanding they stay are simply words lost on the wind. Instead of releasing another volley the archers, eyes wide, they crowd behind their overseer ignoring his baton blows and screaming, his frustration double. First, the non-combatants running and now his archers cowering. The soldiers though set their spears to receive a charge, spearpoints high.

Within earshot my champion halts. I allow a time of silence. I feel the trickles of sweat flow down my champion’s neck, his heavy breathing and his rapid recovery.

“Why do you approach the Shrine of Aphrodite with tools?” he asks at my prompting.

The overseer pushes forward, slapping away the hands of his archers trying to restrain him and stepping through the single rank of soldiers.

“Why did you charge us? Since you know our language, you could have called for parley?” his retort.

I did wonder about his language, yet Allene as my captor would rant and rave in his native tongue and so with [mindlink], I can speak through Ottar the Oaf, my champion and wily melee tactician.

“My previous encounters with humans have proven them to be untrustworthy unless you open discussion from a position of strength. Do you agree you are at a disadvantage?”

He splutters and waves his hands about and I wait.

“Yes, or no?” Ottar growls, at my urging.

His head jerks up. His face a complex range of tells and movements, he is asking himself, what does an answer of yes mean, what does an answer of no mean.

“Yes,” he squeaks.

“Good, drop your weapons in a pile over there,” says Ottar while pointing off to one side. Disadvantage doesn’t mean trust.

While they obey, I slither forward until beside my champion. They slap each other and point towards me, some stumbling back. Their first encounter with a Snake Kin I surmise.

“Who are you?” asks the overseer.

“I am a Priestess of Aphrodite, guardian of her faith and protector of her Shrines. Under what authority do you bring tools and destroyers to her Shrine?” My tongue lashes out and I can taste their growing profusion of sweat on the wind, their fear is real.

He drops to one knee. “I do as I am bid, the Head Overseer of the Town commands.”

“What does he command you to do?” Wasn’t my question plain, why the obtuse response?

His eyes wander back to those of his company, and he gulps before facing me. “We, we are slightly short of stone and well …”

“The shrine is close by,” I finish.

He nods, eyes wide.

“Go back to your Overseer and tell him I wish to parley with him. If he proves treacherous, he will not survive his betrayal, even if his punishment should require my death. Know that my death in the service of my Goddess assures me a place by her side to live ever after in never-ending bliss. A joy, not a sorrow.” I smile, revealing my pointed teeth and lashing my tongue from side to side.

His eyes fixate upon my teeth.

“Now go!” I scream hiss.

--- Priestess Alba POV

I feel the High Priestess’ eyes upon my flesh as I change into the leather pants and shirt provided. The human body, strange and new to a Snake Kin for all her silence and restraint. The fur-lined boots are next and once on, she hands off the fur-lined coat, gloves and cap. The rune circle at the end of the passageway lights up as I apply mana.

“Good luck Priestess, may Aphrodite guide you and protect you.”

I pick up my backpack and step into the glowing circle following my Goddess’ dream.

“Welcome!”

The word booms out and I need to fling an arm out to steady myself. Before me is a belly button, the light blue flesh without goosebumps even though cold air assaults my face. Recovering, my eyes pan up and I stand before a female Frost Giant. Being in a magic ring on a finger didn’t prepare me for the obvious size difference and the sensation of being squashed. How did Aphrodite manage in times past?

“Priestess Alba at your service,” I manage to say, while my eyes take in the surroundings. The cottage seems to be missing a few walls, there are clean narrow paths through the otherwise worn flooring.

“Yes, we didn’t know the significance of this cottage until recently and decided to make the arrival point more obvious and open to um … well to avoid surprises.”

I nod. She offers a finger, which I shake.

“Initiate Svala, Priestess. I apologise if my welcome a surprise, but this is my third day straight, waiting on watch.”

“Yes, understandable,” I babble in reply. I take my first step towards what I hope will be the exit door from the cottage. Remarkably human-sized from the ground up, chair height, reach of shelves and the like, yet high ceiling to accommodate a standing Frost Giant. Svala a prime example, not needing to duck or scrunch down as she leads me out, rushing to the door to hold it open.

“Keep your hood and cap in place Priestess, you bare a remarkable likeness to our Prophet, with him being male and you being female, is impossible, is it not?”

I grunt a non-committal response, withdrawing my face into the hood of my coat while pulling my cap down. In my haste to be away from my escort, I slip and recover on the ice snow covering the ground. Not from bad luck, no, there is more at play here. There is the guilt of lie avoidance before a fellow worshipper and the resultant twinge of shame assailing my morals while my Goddess’ Truth rune tsks in judgement. Between two Initiates such a transgression could manifest as a simple misstep, being a Priestess, the reminder is more obvious.

---

The office of the Temple Priestess, unpretentious and functional. A desk in the centre, a plain high back chair for the Priestess, a low back chair for her guest, oversized to me of course and too heavy to shift. Shelves, full of scrolls and tombs cover the back wall and none other. I hear her enter and remain in my seat as she leans a bottom cheek against the side of her desk. This meeting won’t take a great deal of time then, it seems.

“Welcome Priestess, your visit unexpected and to be truthful unwanted.”

Plain speak then, no aversion to declaring her position. “I am following our Goddess’ wishes. I search for Cardinal Pex.”

“That you are, is the only reason I have greeted you, but you aren’t welcome to stay. Your face you understand, it will remind worshippers of a once glorious time and yet now all are aware of his betrayal. The truth will always win out.”

“I understand.” I half jump off my chair. “I will be on my way if you could but point me in the correct direction?”

Her eyes aren’t cold of emotion, she makes this decision based upon what is right for her Temple and those within.

“There is a pack of trail food by the door. I sense you haven’t ever hunted for a meal and while I must send you on your way for the good of all, I won’t allow you to starve.” A light smile graces her lips.

I nod and walk to the door. Looking back over my shoulder I ask, “How will you explain my presence?”

“Truthfully.” Her response, deadpan.

I collect and then hitch the backpack upon my free left shoulder and march out of a Temple of Aphrodite, feeling the most unwelcome, ever. Yet I understand. The path out of the village is clear, circling the lake easy until an obvious parting in the forest presents. Not so much a trail as the sole gap at the edge of the forest where no trees impede your progress.

---

The rest of the first day I spend travelling down the lonely ice snow trail, then under snowfall shiver in an overnight camp and finally waste most of the next day slogging across fresh snow to reach a settlement of huts and cabins offset from the trail. No smoke issues from any chimney, yet the presence of them suggests the possibility of a warm bed. I grab the edges of my coat and pull on them until they overlap and defeat the latest wind chill assault.

The trail lays before me, yet the night isn’t far off. Can I survive another night? Do I want to do so inside or outside? I edge from behind the cover of the snow heavy tree until in plain sight of any who may be on guard. The howling of the wind, snow flurries and nothing else. I eye the cabin closest to the trail and stroll towards the prize as if I belong.

My hand reaches for the wooden slot handle …

“Hold there, creature.”

Purring? I swivel about to face her. Deep voice yet feminine.

“Is it a Frost Giant who shrunk?” asks another in a deep masculine voice.

“No, its teeth chatter and no beard, definitely not Frost Giant,” says a third.

A Panther Kin, an Orc and a juvenile Frost Giant, not even a teenager, too short. What unites such a disparate group?

“Who are you?” asks the female Panther Kin.

“Surely the honour of introduction falls to the residents of this wonderful village?” I retort, with a mediocre chance of them actually agreeing but you can never underestimate flattery.

“Is that true?” asks the Frost Giant young one.

The Panther Kin rests her hand upon his shoulder. “Not entirely, yet we will indulge.” Her yellow eyes focus upon me. “Aline, Adept of Hera and who am I greeting?”

Well don’t that beat all, I sigh. “Alba, Priestess of Aphrodite.”

Like a trigger signal, the three before me spring into action, the orc drawing a sword and charging, the quickest by far to react to my announcement. The juvenile Frost Giant stands, his mouth agape. The Panther Kin mumbles and waves her hands, spell casting, probably Faith Magic, not offensive as her eyes are upon the Orc.

I reach into my pocket and the cold iron ball I search for finds my fingers. With as much force as I can muster, I throw the pellet at the charging Orc. The amusement dancing across his face a balance for the incredulous look the Panther Kin throws at me, while the young Frost Giant tilts his head.

At fifteen paces, my aim is true and the pellet smacks into his forehead with a wet crunch. Expecting anything else but what happens his look of amusement doesn’t have time to change before the pellet shatters a circle of bone and penetrates his brain. His lifeless flesh falls forward to smack into the snow. A helm may have made the difference, yet against bare flesh, the previously prepared Sorcery Spell [Damage Boosting] is final and devastating, if your throw is true.

I advance.

The Panther Kin cuddles the Frost Giant and shuffles him back with her.

As I sidle up to the orc and roll him on his back. I reach across his body where his sword lay, stand and swing down with all my strength to slice the top of his skull off aiming for the neat pellet circle on his forehead.

“You only have one,” she mutters. The disbelief in her voice complete. Then her paws, padding across the snow fill my ears.

I have two, one higher damage with a shorter duration of two days. The other, more modest damage and a longer duration of seven days. I stand, my hand wrapping around the second and pulling the pellet from my pocket I wind back to throw. Her eyes go wide, her body stopping yet still moving forward when the pellet smacks into her chest. If she wears armour under her robes, this could turn awkward. She falls back, her chest struggling to rise to take a breath, a rattling purring escaping her maw.

Before the Frost Giant decides upon any foolishness, my hand dives into orc brains, irk, warm. My fingers wrap around my first pellet as the Frost Giant releases a squeak of a roar. While the call is juvenile, the feeling of hurt is loud and clear. Balling his fists, he charges, as I stand and with haste, rethrow my first pellet. He grabs at his thigh; and with a grimace, he drags himself forward, his eyes now full of indignant anger. I lead him away from the Panther Kin while dragging the Orc’s sword with me. I cast Faith Magic [Haste] and dart around him to stand over the Panther Kin. Her eyes now open while furry paws reach for her chest, a glow begins to manifest. Healing Faith Magic.

I stab the Orc Sword down aiming for an eye. Focusing on her magic the attack is a surprise, the blade penetrating to the back of her skull. I glance towards the Frost Giant, tears stream down his face, determination unwavering. Does he not realise I am Gar; prey is prey and Gar fight to the death? A finger locates a neat hole in her furred lined jacket and digging into her flesh I feel the pellet, yet it rolls in her flesh and blood. I swear and regrip the Orc Sword jerking the blade free of the Panther Kin’s skull and smashing the blade tip down upon the now blood marked jacket. The loud crack of a rib bone, music. My hand reaches down, grasps the pellet and as I stand, I throw. The open hands of the young Frost Giant are joining as one at the thumbs while reaching for my neck.

His hands pause mid-air. His body teeters. I don’t wait for any other sign and stab the Orc Sword at his gut. He falls backwards the impaling sword standing up, marking his location. I glance about. Silence except for the wind in the trees. Standing over his body, dagger in hand I kneel next to his thigh. The dagger cuts away the straps of his leather armour, the blood smear beneath leads me to the pellet entry hole. I stab the dagger in. He groans. I shake my head in frustration and circle about, so I am looking down at his upside-down head. Kneeling I drag the dagger across his throat. Bubbling and gurgling carry on as I locate my first pellet in the deep flesh of his thigh. The second requires me to near strip him. I dig into his chest, near the collar bone to retrieve the second pellet.

While I would like to dispose of the bodies, this female human body is too weak, and dusk is approaching. As I turn towards my original destination, the cabin, I growl and cast the Sorcery Spell [Increase Strength]. I drag the bodies into the smallest cottage and after a frustrating time with flint start a smouldering fire. Swearing I enter another cottage and find as much dry wood as I can, to throw on the fire. Flames eventually grow reducing the level of smoke. Being dusk, the darkness of night should conceal my pathetic attempt.

Wet and cold I stumble towards my original destination, the cabin and wonder about their instant dislike of me. I suspect a Priestess of Aphrodite and a Priestess of Hera meeting as strangers, enough reason, yet they all acted as one. Did they expect the arrival of a Priestess of Aphrodite? Decide beforehand they would slay any they next meet?

All these questions disappear as I push through the cabin door and stumble into the cabin proper; my eyes spy treasure and I inwardly rejoice. A neat pile of cut wood on one side of the fireplace, twigs and kindling on the other side. Salvation at last.