tenebrae
The work of the eyes is done.
Go now and do the heart-work on the images imprisoned within you.
~Rilke
Though I look up, the vial does not let me forget that it is there. It gleams, brighter than all around it. Pure sunlight, shattering, blistering the night. Looking at it makes me yearn, hungry, savage. Good, I need that for what comes next.
The Chief Magistrate looms close and all falls still. I cannot even see the shadows breathe. My brothers are still, I fancy i can hear their hearts pounding, like a herd of gazelle fleeing. But I think that is just mine, fighting, terrified. I would like to be brave for this, I would like to feel more ready than i said I was mere moments ago. But I am not. How can I ever be when I know this is the last thing that I see?
I look up, up at the magistrate as he uncorks the bottle. I do not know what I expected, but there is no noise, no grand spectacle. Sin not again The Magistrate tells me and I do not think i can say that I won’t. As a child I stood and took my vows and promised to love my Goddess my court above all else. But I grew up, I changed. I sinned. I know that things change, that time alters everything.
I close my lips. If death is what comes to me in the future, if i sin again, then so be it. But for now, I will love my goddess as much as I can. For that alone I am glad for this Blinding. That temptation will be removed, that i will live in darkness forevermore. In that way, this is a perfect punishment.
I tilt my head back and the vial tips. My breath catches in my throat, i see the first droplet cling to the lip of the vial and then… it falls. The agony is instant. I cannot help my cries. They echo, they sound like a whole army is crying with me. But I am sure my brothers are still and silent. I look up, up through the tears of my injured eye. I must look up, I must be proud and strong and - the second droplet falls and i am crying out again, writhing upon the ground. My cheeks are hot and wet. Whether with blood or tears or magic, i do not know. Beside me my shadows writhe too, bound to me, contorting themselves like a dog.
They wait for me, my brothers, until I have screamed myself into exhaustion and darkness. I am gasping, weary and broken. I see nothing at all. I can barely hear above my rasping breath. The air is cold across my sweatslick body. I feel nothing after a while. I do not even feel it when my brothers pick me off the stained, stone floor. They carry me out, away from the temple. I hear nothing, I feel nothing, I see nothing.
