Closed to Herald
----Flashback 150 years ago-----
How dared they…. how could they! With this they have killed their last hope, with me they shall perish, a congregation to feeble to expand, without me…. they are nothing!
Rage boiled inside her chest like a furious lion ready to retaliate. It was hopeless not to accept her designed fate, the head priestess, the Dray, had spoken, and opposing her would be opposing Haskara herself.
They lived in near seclusion, a group of priestesses composing of less than twenty maidens. As she was taught; In the far away arid lands of Fallien, there is a tight group of priestesses that, to this day, run the nation under the order of the Jya their high priestess. It was rumored that upon the early creation of this group one of the young woman, called Daelea, was contacted in her dreams by a divine voice who she assumed to be Suravani, the goddess she so jealously served. She indicated the young woman to embark in a long journey, to leave Irakam and head for Suravani’s Oasis where she would reveal herself in her true divine form. The inexperienced priestess, unable to differentiate her divine patron from a possible misguiding demon, complied at the request and left at the midst of night. And after exactly seven weeks she reached the Oasis. and she waited valiantly for the divine spectacle. She waited for seven days, Full moon had already passed and it wasn’t until new mood that the spectacle appeared, but it wasn’t Suravani goddess of the moon, but the Queen of the sky, bearer of thunder and goddess of the wind Haskara. An elegant figure emerged from the shimmer of the stars and a gust of wind engulfed the coast. Daelea had witnessed the pure form of divine beauty, this was her reward, she had proven worthy of Haskara.
“Daelea,” Haskara spoke, “Travel north, to the promised land of Salvar, there, in the mountains, you shall find a rock, to which crest carries my seal. There you shall settle a temple in my name; if you succeed this task, the rewards will be great, and you will become the leader of a new era.” In a luminous tornado, she disappeared. Daelea had revoked Suravani as her goddess and accepted Haskara; she fell upon her grace and was ready to follow her petition. Seven year she spent, fighting the sea, the impetuous weather, the heat of the desert and the cold of the tundra until she reached the promised land. Seven years had been enough for Daelea to meditate about this symbol. After arriving at Salvar she headed for the forest bordered by the mountains and there she found a great mount who’s crest was shaped like the head of a stallion. And there at the foot of the mountain she settled, and build devoutly a temple as great as her hand would allow her. A second time Haskara appeared to her. She had completed her deed and fallen under her protection. Slowly but surely Daelea began to gather young girls from the surrounding villages to turn them into devout priestesses of her goddess. Only those with Green or Amber eyes had been blessed at conception by Haskara, and only these where worthy of belonging to the congregation. Three of the surrounding villages became devout of Haskara, they became her people, and so, a second temple rose, one of such delicate magnificence, yet of modest statue, became their sacred chambers and the epicenter of their devotion.
Why such unreasonable request from Haskara? Attica has been lively subordinate to her, requesting of human sacrifices where not her usual methods, it was not like her at all. There must be something wrong something gone astray in the heavens. Rumors had reached the deep of the forest about storms intensifying in the seas. Could this be somehow linked to these events? She loathed at her thoughts, what did it matter, she would no longer see the light of day again, she would never gloat with her joy of there morning strolls at the hills, or care over the gentle people of the villages. What did it matter now? She would be gone, a dim reminder at the back of someone’s memory. She had fallen pray of a swift plot.
The priestesses had already assumed their position in a ring of white silk and silver garnishments. A delicate light poured from the apex of the open marble dome. Seven columns rose up to hold the heavy rock walls. From the shadows she stepped into the light, a beautiful face craved by the contrast of the dark shadows and the modest rays from above. The delicate smells of perfumed incense floated about the slick chamber. At the imminent arrival of death, memories flashed through her eyes, modest, memories of a life of proud servitude.