Chains of a Dark Goddess by David Alastair Hayden

possessions and wore only a simple peasant’s dress. We had no reason to suspect that she might be of noble birth.”
    His qavra heart racing, Breskaro stepped through the door. 
    Orisala .
    She lay on a sleeping couch, staring out into the garden. Unmoving. She had heard their voices outside her door. Her eyes flickered with hope.
    “Leave us,” Breskaro said to Artorio.
    The high priest bowed and withdrew.
    Breskaro walked over and gazed down upon the waste that was all that was left of his once-beautiful daughter who had so strongly resembled her mother, Adelenia. Her muscles had atrophied without use. Her skin was pallid and drawn. The plump cheeks Breskaro remembered were sharp and sallow. Her caregivers kept her hair cut short. She used to complain fiercely as Metra combed her long, dark curls each night. Only her eyes remained bright and alive. But she was here and yet breathed, just as Nalsyrra had promised.
    Those vibrant eyes followed him as he knelt beside her. He touched her arm. Tears rolled from his decrepit eyes. But beneath his sadness seethed a deep anger. An anger that wanted to break whoever was responsible for this.
    “Orisala. My daughter. How much I have missed you.”
    Her eyes swept across him, absorbing every detail. Her cheeks spasmed. Her lips trembled awkwardly as they curled up on the ends. And then, Orisala smiled.
    “My little dove. You must think yourself insane. How can I be here now?” 
    Tenderly he stroked her cheek. Her eyes glimmered, tears rolled.
    “I died, but Seshalla didn’t take me to Paradise. I was cast into the Shadowland where I remained until a week ago when I was given an offer to return to life. It’s a cruel half-life in a decayed body. I think I’m more sorcery than flesh. But I’m here. For you .
    “If I complete a difficult task for our benefactor, she will heal you. Don’t get your hopes up too much, for I will most likely fail. Our benefactor wants the impossible.”
    He hugged her. “If you can respond to me, I have a few questions for you. Give me one long blink for yes. Two blinks for no.”
    She took one long blink and the corners of her mouth trembled, attempting another smile.
    “Does my appearance frighten you?”
    Yes, she blinked.
    “You were always honest, to a fault. I remember.”
    Her face twitched, as if she were about to laugh.
    “Were you attacked?”
    She blinked once. Yes .
    “Was Kedimius with you?”
    No .
    “Was he alive when last you saw him? Were you still in love with one another?”
    Yes .
    “Have the Keshomaeans treated you well?”
    Yes .
    “I will see to it that you remain safe here while I go off to do what I must. But don’t worry. I will stay for a few days first.”
    He stroked her hair then looked out through the open doors that led from her room into the garden. Her view showed many flowers, a fountain, and a moss-covered statue of Keshomae. 
    “I wish I hadn’t campaigned so much during your youth. I should have stayed home with you. My devotion to Seshalla was a waste.” He placed his left hand on her chest. “What is left of my heart loves nothing but you.”
    She blinked rapidly many times. He took her hand. “I cannot tell what you want.” She stared at his chest and blinked. “The death wound? You wish to see that ?”
    Yes , she blinked.
    He removed his chest armor and shirt to let her see the jet qavra stone pulsing within the once-empty cavity. She blinked rapidly again, this time staring him at his face.
    “The death mask? I’m a waste. A corpse. In no way do I resemble the man I was. My face now is this bronze mask.”
    She continued to blink emphatically. She might as well see the truth , he thought. He removed the mask.
    She snapped her eyes shut then opened them a little, moment by moment, until she could look at him fully.
    “Nauseating?”
    Yes . And she looked away.
    “I’m a terror to look upon.” He replaced the mask. “And I will be a terror to our enemies. I will smite whoever