I once saw a woman in white, she was most abused, I could feel her soul shatter. There was nothing I could do; she had chosen this path.

1st day of the 1st month 151st Year of the 8th era

Aife opened her eyes. Pain seared through her head. She groaned and sat up. She sat in the gathering field. The detritus of last night’s party was still strewn across the field. Lying next to her were two women who had shed their paint and paraded around last night as they had entered the world. They had found several partners to keep them company. She stretched and stood.

Today is the day. I am going through with it. She sighed as she saw her friend sleeping in the arms of a lover she had met that night. Ever since that eye-opening night at her father’s she had tried to be the good daughter, but she felt empty. I need purpose in my life, I need conviction. Maybe that will fill the hole in my life.

The door sat in the middle of the Mother Tree. Aife walked along the field, occasionally stepping over passed-out revelers in the arms of their companions. Each time brought a pang of jealousy. She came to the temple complex. In the center of the complex was the mother Goddess Meerat, a stately woman, nude and hands clasped. The father God Tareem, a powerful virile man. Together they signified the union with nature. The curse had brought despair to the dark elves and now Solimas, a whisper-thin woman with sunken cheeks standing cowed and hiding, and her counterpart Trath, a large man with a growing fat belly, were the major deities.

I could serve Tareem and Meerat and bring hope back to my people. With new purpose, she strode down towards the entrance of the mother deity and joined the end of the procession heading into the temple.

They entered the temple. The room was wide and cavernous, with many people arrayed on the floor sitting cross-legged. People from all walks of life had come to acquire the blessing for a new year. She saw many of the revelers at the back of the temple grounds, everyone with their paint needing a touch-up. At the front of the room, she spied her father and younger brother resplendent in fresh paint. She walked up the center aisle and sat beside them, crossing her legs and getting comfortable in the short grass of the floor.

King Caradec turned and smiled at her and then returned to face the priest beginning the ceremony. The priest brought forth a censer filled with incense and lit it and began to wave it as he began the intonation for the welcoming and beginning blessing. The smell of flowers and spice made her head spin, but she continued to smile. The high priest’s body was corpulent, reflecting more the God of Trath than that of Tareem, and his body was painted with broad white and purple stripes.

Aife glanced at her father who smiled back at her.

She leaned to his ear. “He has purple and white paint?”

“Yes,” he whispered back, “the high priest is meant to be a servant to the people and full of wisdom.”

“He doesn’t wear those colors normally,” she stated.

“That is because he can’t.”

Aife leaned away. What does that mean? He can’t be wise or a servant to the people?

The high priest finished the first recitation chant, and the congregation responded with the ritual chant. He then stepped back and sat down on a chair at the back of the vestry. He began panting and fanned himself. A woman in orange paint handed him a small fan and he smiled at her in relief. She returned to her seat.

Aife cast her eyes over the vestry. In the center was a large elevated altar, and to her left sat several women in neat rows, their paint a bright orange, their hair cut short. One turned her head and watched the high priest and suppressed a giggle with her hand.

A man emerged from a door at the far side of the vestry and stood behind the altar. His paint was a mixture of orange and purple. His body was firm and well-sculpted; his hair a wavy brown.

“Children of Tareem and Meerat, remember your pain. We must hold steadfastly to the faith and Tareem and Meerat will reward us for our piety. The curse is our shame, don’t forget it. Remember what we didn’t do and strive to live better lives. Learn from our ancestors. This day is a special day that marks the regeneration of nature and the blessing which we depend upon for our lives. Only with the fertility of Tareem and Meerat can we continue to live. It is their bounty that we share, and it is their grace we long for.”

As Aife watched him speak she felt a stirring in her chest wanting to spread the goodwill of the gods to all her people. As he preached, a woman who sat on the edge of the vestry rose and walked to stand opposite the speaking dark elf. She then climbed onto the altar and lay down.

What is going on? I know I haven’t come to services in years but when did this start? She turned and looked at her father who was watching the ceremony intently.

What are they going to do? There hasn’t been a blood sacrifice in many millennia.

The preacher then climbed up onto the altar and knelt in front of the woman. She spread her legs wide until they hung off the edges of the altar.

Aife watched in amazement.

The preacher then bent down and made love to the woman. Aife tried to look away but couldn’t take her eyes off the two. Once he was finished, he stood up and stood in front of the altar. “The blessing of Tareem and Meerat has been sought. May the gods bless your efforts this cycle.”

The people got up and began to file out.

I am so glad I am not the only one that found that compelling.

“How long has that ceremony been happening?” she asked her father.

“That happens once every hundred years.”

Can I ask him about being aroused during the ceremony? No, that was for me, what he felt is his own business.

“I hope you enjoyed the ritual,” the king said as he stood up.

“What happens if she conceives today?” Aife asked.

“The child would be an auspicious child. It would also mean that the gods have favored us, and we will have great harvests coming in the new cycle.”

Aife’s brother followed the king out and she was left sitting in the grass as her ardor slowly faded. Alone in the temple except for a couple of the orange-painted women tending to the woman on the altar, she arose and approached them.

“May I join you?” Aife asked.

They turned and looked at her. “You saw today’s ritual; we had no choice in it,” the one sitting on the altar commented.

A loud thunderclap pierced the room followed by the heavy drumbeat of rain on the tree and ground outside.

“I know,” Aife replied.

“It would be better for you if you didn’t join,” commented another, “we were not aware when we joined the ranks of the devout.”

“I am aware and would still like to join your ranks,” Aife said again.

An older woman painted with more blue stripes than orange came through the door on the side of the vestry.

“Mother,” One of the girls bowed, “this woman wants to join our ranks.” She indicated to Aife with a gentle wave of her hand.

The older woman’s face creased in a frown. She marched up to Aife until she was a mere centimeter from her. She looked Aife right in the eyes.

“You’re the princess.”

“Yes, I am,” replied Aife.

“Your breath smells like ale. You were among the reveler's last night.”

“Yes, I was,” Aife said. Am I being interrogated?

The older woman turned back to the others. “Take her below and scrub her thoroughly.”

Two of the younger women rushed over and flanked Aife.

“Caitlin, you will rest up, until we know if Faircheallach has given you a child,” she commanded.

“Thank you, Mother.” The woman sitting on the altar bobbed her head and got up.

Aife was escorted through a door in the vestry, into a corridor with two ornately carved doors on either side and then, through another door at the far end that led into a stairwell. They marched down the stairwell. One of the women led Aife and another followed. At the bottom of the stairwell was a large chamber with a small pool with running water trickling in from one end and then gently flowing out. To the right were a series of beds neatly made with a trunk at the foot of each bed. Along a wall near the beds was a bench with several pots of paints.

“What is this place?”

“This is the acolytes' rooms,” replied one of the women. “This is where you will stay until you are confirmed.”

“How long does it normally take?” Aife asked.

“About a year. But first, we need to get you ready. You need a wash and then we need to repaint you.”

It’s so good to have a purpose again.