T E N E B R A E
On my body, the grace of shadows
and in my heart: all Hells
and in my heart: all Hells
She had been looking up when he entered with his brothers. Her sights had been upon the dome of illuminated glass that sat nestled into the stone ceiling of the throne room. Outside the sun is setting, shadows lengthening and yet the dome, held high within the heart of the castle, catches the final rays of sunlight. It’s light pours down upon the floor below. It is liquid colour, utterly vivid and yet, untouchable.
He stops within its pooled light and feels the way the awakening stars peer down through the glass. They look upon his spine - do they see the criss cross of scars there? The whipmarks of a sinner, some more fresh than others. He continues to sin, being a monk, he is rapidly learning, makes him no more righteous than any other mortal. He was young and foolish to ever think otherwise. On the floor about him is the reflected colours of the glass, a myriad of colours, artfully painted, each one seen in the setting of the sun.
Tenebrae wonders what the new queen had seen there, what the glass had witnessed over many years. Its secrets must be plentiful. This throne room is a place of secrets and truths, of harsh rulings and yet compassionate decisions too.
From every corner Caligo whispers to him, the shadows of his magic reach out and blend with others shadows. The crimson ribbons of the queen catch in an small draft and sway as she slowly lowers her gaze to focus upon Tenebrae and his Disciple brothers. His eyes lower from hers in servitude.
Tell me what it is that the Night Order do? She asks of him. His magic swells in answer, it drifts bold, bolder than it should, up towards where she stands. All shadows breath with the Disciples, in and out, in and out. It is melodic.
“We dedicate ourselves to Caligo. In times like this, in times of peace, our work is focussed upon Denocte, helping where we can, wherever you will ask us to be. We worship Caligo and aim to discern her bidding for us.” Tenebrae trails off, the deep of his voice fading into the golden light of the room. It is as rich as whiskey and is deeper yet when he continues, “If peace should ever fail we vow to align ourselves with you, Sovereign of the Night Court.”
If the queen sounds surprised by his devotion to Caligo, Tenebrae does not show that he has noticed. There are many who are turning from the gods, many who have found them fickle, shallow and distasteful. WHat have the gods ever done for Novus? For Tenebrae, his mere existence is because of Caligo’s creation. “Caligo made the first of us and the Order are the descendents of them. We vow to her because we love her and because she is, ultimately, our creator.”
And Tenebrae does not blink, not even when the words feel more brittle on his tongue than they ever have before. Oh he loves his goddess, he has vowed himself to her more tightly than his very existence, but he can feel where that bond is fraying, where living and wanting have worried at those threads. Tenebrae is coming apart even as he ties himself together piety, tighter, tighter, tighter.
@Antiope :)
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