Chapter 4
Maeveth stood before the mirror, staring at her reflection. Her body had fully developed into that of a woman, with full, round breasts, a slender waist, and curved hips. She had become the surreptitious fascination of the guards, their eyes lingering on her when she wasn't looking, filled with curiosity. They wondered what lay beneath the sheer crimson veil cloaked over her face. Though they were acutely aware that to see her face now, as the Bride of the Nameless One, meant to court death. Such was the immutable law of the Nameless One.
She was doomed to wear the veil each time she stepped beyond the edge of her room door.
Raising trembling hands to brush her face, Maeveth closed her eyes and relinquished herself to the memory of the moment she first arrived at Dirthamora Temple.
"Sleep well tonight," the Lady had said to her. "For tomorrow you'll need your energy for what awaits you."
"Tomorrow?" She raised her brow. "What will happen tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow, the Nameless One shall claim you as his Bride. You'll be bound to him in everything."
She frowned. "What if he doesn't?"
"Then he'll kill you."
The next morning, Maeveth was waxed, scrubbed, and dressed in a dark cloak, her face obscured beneath the hood. From there, she was ushered inside a carriage, confined for a godforsaken place.
"Do not fret, child," the Lady murmured when she observed Maeveth's trembling. She was shaking not only from the cold but from the panic coiling around her. If the Nameless One repudiated her, she would die. The thought made her shudder.
She turned to the Lady. Lady was the title the woman clothed in yellow had insisted upon. The Lady was human, her pale skin incised with wrinkles. Crimson paint stained her thin lips, and dark hair fell in waves. Opposite her sat Shirley, whose brown caramel skin was puckered with age. She was garbed in dark blue robes, her hair shrouded beneath a matching scarf.
"For many years," the Lady began, "the Nameless One has rejected only five Brides. Five young women whose lives ended in the great dark cave."
Nausea rose in Maeveth's belly. Were her words intended to soothe her? They only intensified her dread. What if she turned out to be the sixth Bride rejected by the Nameless One?
She turned her gaze from the women, staring through the carriage window at the dense forest enclosing the Temple. The sanctuary was built here to isolate the Brides from civilization. Escaping was impossible, especially when she had willingly come here.
Closing her eyes and lowering her head, she began to whisper the names of the old gods, an enumeration she'd adhered to in her gloomiest periods.
Serathena. Arames. Vores. Apades. Zhor.
Upon arrival, Maeveth stepped down from the carriage, and together they made their way to the cavern's open mouth.
Shirley advanced first, crossing the entrance. The guards remained standing by the carriages, barred by law from entry.
Pulling her cloak tightly around her, Maeveth staggered after the Lady, every hair on her skin rising in trepidation.
They stepped further into the darkness, their torches casting light against the gloom. The ground was craggy, strewn with protrusions and debris. When her gaze fell upon the remains of skeletons scattered along the path, her eyes widened in horror. She staggered backward, nearly collapsing to the ground.
The Lady turned, following Maeveth's gaze, and her eyes softened. She pulled her into an abrupt embrace. At her touch, tears burned Maeveth's vision.
"Skeletons," she choked.
"These are the remains of the rejected Brides."
"Can they not be buried?" Maeveth asked, her voice warped by pain and anger.
"No," Shirley spoke.
Tears rolled down her cheeks.
"It is admissible to feel trepidation," the Lady said, brushing her wet cheeks. "But we are confident that the Nameless One will accept you."
"He spoke to me... the day my parents died. I heard his voice. He already claimed me as his Bride."
The Lady laughed. "That was just your mind speaking to you. The Nameless One does not speak to his Brides before claiming them."
"I'm freezing," she murmured, teeth chattering.
Beyond the dark swathe lay a lake as dark as the void. Peculiarly, while the walls were encased with ice, the water remained thawed.
Her head felt dizzy.
"What is this place?" she asked, her brows pinching as she neared the shore.
"Some believe it is a portal to the underworld. But it is here that the Nameless One will judge your worthiness."
"If he rejects me... how will I die?" Her voice trembled.
"He'll pull you into the abyssal lake and masticate your flesh. What little remains of you will surface in the water and be washed to the far side of the cavern."
Panic pumped through her. She was only seventeen. Gods, she didn't want to die. But when she thought of the deaths of her family, she shook her head.
"This is one of the reasons the Brides must come to the Temple at the early age of seven, to learn the histories and enigmas of the Nameless One."
Ignoring her, Maeveth turned to the lake, staring at the endless dark water. "Why is it not frozen?"
"Sporadically, the lake will stir and simmer, beckoning the presence of the Nameless One," she said. "Now take off your cloak and kneel, Maeveth. Let us see if you are worthy of being bound to him."
"It's bitterly cold."
"You'll endure."
Shirley helped her out of the cloak, and when Maeveth knelt down, an icy wind blanketed her.
Shirley gave her something to drink in a cup, and when Maeveth tasted it, the brew was bitter. She was about to spew it out when the Lady warned her not to, or she would consume twice what was poured in her cup. After forcing the liquid down her throat, she shivered and handed the cup back to Shirley. Goosebumps pebbled her flesh. She swore she could feel the despair of those who had died there.
When Shirley began to chant in a language she didn't understand, both women took two steps away from her.
"You are the Bride of the Nameless One," the Lady murmured. "If you are bound to him, you'll learn his ways. You'll see things beyond a mortal's imagination. You'll commune with him. The elves will revere you. Your mind and body will be honed. But this will only happen if you are chosen."
"In this sacred cave, Great One, creator of the world and gods themselves, we beseech you to impart judgment upon your ninth Bride of this decade. Beside this infinite dark lake, we call you forth. O Nameless One! Impart to us if you deem this child worthy. Reveal if you'll grant her your sight and wisdom. Reveal if you'll bind her body to you..."
As the Lady's voice rose in incantation, Shirley withdrew a bell from her bag and began to ring it.
Maeveth's fingers were numb from cold. She could no longer feel her lips. Her knees were fused to the ground with ice.
"Nameless One!" Shirley cried, ringing the bell with determination. Again and again, the sound crashed into her ears. It was the only thing she could hear. It felt as though the brew was taking effect on her. A headache throbbed in her skull. Her eyes felt dizzy. The cavern was suddenly spinning, and it seemed the water would swallow her at any moment.
She lifted her trembling hands to her ears, attempting to shut out the sound. Groping for comfort, she pressed her hands to the frozen wall.
Suddenly, the cavern quaked as though seized by inundation. The water frothed as if it were about to claim her.
"He's here," she heard the faint voice of the Lady, followed by the tramp of receding footsteps as they disappeared outside the cave.
Wait. Please don't leave me here, Maeveth tried to say, but a violent ripple shook the cave, and everything went black.