Storytime Blog Hop - April 2022 - The Lost Priestess Bonus Scene

Free flash fiction from around the world!

As light returns to our world (at least in the northern hemisphere), let’s dip our toes into a bloody, dark world where magic is power and one woman is fighting all the traditions of her predecessors. Here is a bonus scene that didn’t make it into the novel The Lost Priestess, which is currently in the edit phase.

Enjoy! - and scroll to the bottom for links for the other stories.

In a temple full of short tempers and dark magic, aided by fear of the dark goddess, I planned for catastrophes but usually dealt with small problems. 

The lantern-lit hall, the black-veined marble underfoot, the midnight blue walls were normal. The closed, magically sealed door was not. Possible catastrophe, possible problem.

Either way, unacceptable. As the high priestess of Maldita, Vessel and Voice of the dark goddess Herself, every room in Her temple was open to me, even if I rarely used the privilege or power.

Maldita disliked defiance. She disliked closed doors and the sounds of a fight beyond. She disliked all these things enough to flex Her power. My muscles spasmed, locked. Every nerve burned with Her fire. My jaw clenched, keeping my scream inside my throat. Then I collapsed onto the floor, Her displeasure suitably expressed.

For now.

I panted, lurched upright. My hand found the doorknob and twisted. My magic found the door itself and pushed. The seal broke. The door opened a crack, and my blood-sister stood in my way.

 I tried to shoulder the door open.

Aimi, the next-most-powerful priestess in the dark temple and my blood-sister, pushed back with her shoulder and her magic. 

Someone had been practicing.

My own magic surged. Strands of my hair floated. My eyes prickled, shifted from blood-red to black, lid-to-lid, as the dark goddess found someone else to focus on. All the tones of hell echoed in my voice as She spoke through me. “Are you challenging me?”

Aimi's lips moved.

I fought the dark goddess back, took enough control to ease our hold so Aimi could whisper, “No… High Priestess…”

“Good.” I pushed her out of the way and discarded her; my hair still floated, my eyes still prickled, the goddess still surged forward to take control. But I held Her. That was what being the high priestess meant.

The room was in shambles. Two women, one Blue, one Green, were locked together, throttling each other, smashing against one wall after another. Two of Her high priestessi, acting like children.

Bleeding from scratches on their faces.

The dark goddess reached for their blood, intent on sucking them dry, sacrifices to Her damnation. I yanked Her away from them so hard my back slammed against the door, shattered it. From the hall, I raised my hand. Pulled the air from the entire room. From their lungs.

Time slowed. I held their lives in my hands. I could give them to Maldita, blood, bone, and soul. I could keep the air from their lungs until they died, solve this argument that way. Or I could let them breathe and attempt to solve their disagreement via persuasion.

My predecessor would have chosen either of the first two. Spite and stubbornness chose for me-- I would be different, bless it.

Better.

I let my magic drain away. Let the air back in.

"Now that I have your attention," I murmured into the silence, "let's talk."

The priestessi in the room bowed their heads, temporarily obedient.

The dark goddess grumbled, but-- resigned to my will-- she curled up inside me, waited for her next chance to strike.

And I-- I had neither given in to Maldita nor to my own dark inclinations. We would all live to see another day.

Success.

Barbara Lund6 Comments