Chapter Text
I ran as fast and as far as I could. The sand was hot and rough against my bare feet, and it was wonderful. All I could hear was the wind whipping past my ears, my own footsteps thudding across the sand. The chains at my wrists and ankles jingled, and I laughed, loud and hard. I was free. Free from my captors, free from the sound of dogs barking and metal sheets grinding against each other. I was running to the temple, where they could not reach me.
Running had always come naturally to the Duraine, and I was no exception. It looked so open, so bright in comparison to the gallows in which I was raised. The contrast was stark, but I welcomed it with open arms. My headscarf got caught in the wind and flew into my face, but I could not find it within me to be upset by this, because it meant that there were no rusted walls surrounding me on all sides, blocking out the wind, the sun, and any hope of escape. I could see the temple now, large and imposing, but so comforting.
My people had been ripped from this temple, from our home and our beliefs. We could not share our stories beyond faint whispers in the grubby corners of the gallows. I ran up the steps leading to the entrance, nearly tripping. I paused before the columns of the temple, catching my breath. I had dreamed of this moment since the day my sister had told me about our gods.
I stepped into the shadow cast by the setting sun, the stone pleasantly cool. I wandered inside of the holy building and felt such relief I nearly broke down into tears. I followed the trail my elders spoke of, the one that led to the heart. It was dark, save for the warm light waiting for me at the end of the tunnel. I stepped into the chamber, heat brushing my face.
I took off my headscarf and let my hair fall to my shoulders. It was as beautiful as the elders
had described. I walked down, uncaring of the hot liquid that lapped at my feet. I could feel the engravings on the ground dig into my heel. I reached up, and touched the stone chalice in the center of the chamber. The magma sang and the stone whispered reassurances in my ear. I hummed the tune so often sang as my people were forced to create their own shackles. The voices in the lava sang with me.
The rumble of the beast joined us. I could see the beasts’ children approach me, growling in a strange tongue. I reached my hand out, allowing them to brush their faces against my clawed fingers. I whistled in happiness, feeling my own chest begin to rumble in comfort. My people would be free, just as I was. Soon, so very soon, we could sing our songs not in sorrow, but in happiness. We could come home to the temple we had been ripped from. I mounted one of the Children of the Beast, gripping fur and feathers as it led me back out of the temple, towards my people. Soon, we’d be free.