Devotia Ch. 15: Miracle

It's over.

She'd lost Mykah, she'd lost Junivere, and now she'd lost Calvin. It was time to accept that she had her fun, got to toy with the idea that maybe she deserved love, but that time was over. It would always and inevitably lead to her sobbing in the dirt and in the dark.

Callie cries for a long time, long enough to lose any sense for the hour. She's long past caring about the noise she makes, letting her hollow, heaving gasps ring out all around her. She's constantly searching for a new, dry patch of her cloak to stain, hating the feeling of the damp cloth pressing into her cheek.

She should never have let Calvin talk her into staying in Solva. Callie knew as soon as she was selected that she should run for the hills, and if she had listened to that instinct she wouldn't feel this tearing pain inside her chest. She'd let him convince her that things could be different here for her, but it was only a half truth. She was just as trapped as ever.

Groaning, Callie slowly lifts herself up from the floor, throwing a hand against the wall to steady herself as she rises. She stumbles forward, forcing herself to return to walking, lazily strolling home.

But as the large hill in the center of Solva comes into focus, with the Imperium and the Villa at its peak, Callie feels herself deflate. The thought of returning to an empty room is unbearable. The marble walls and flowing curtains that had slowly become her home make her feel sick to her stomach. Even worse was the realization she still had obligations for the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that, and the...

A decision wells up inside of her, obeying a need far outside of her conscious ability to make a decision. There was no need to deliberate it, no ability to question it. Her mind feels foggy and entranced, as though the world around her was nothing more than a dream, or some sort of nightmare to be escaped.

Her feet carry her forward without any direction from her mind. It was time to abandon all of this pain and her ambition of avoiding it. She was never meant to be Devotia. It was an accident, a cruel joke, and she had made a profound mistake in letting herself grow to enjoy it. Maybe her pastors back home had been right all along.

She stops some time later and stares up at the sign above her, slowly dangling back and forth in the breeze. The Fleeting Fox is as good of a place as any other to give up and start over, so Callie stumbles towards it and pushes the door open with abandon. It's warm and quiet inside. There's only a few tired guests huddled in the corners of the room, most of them closer to tomorrow's hangover than today's buzz.

Callie approaches the bar and slowly lifts herself into one of its rickety old stools. She crosses her arms and sets them on the counter, lowering her head to lay against them and close her eyes. Her body tingles from the exhaustion of crying and it's easy to think she could fall asleep on this counter just as any other drunk.

"Not sure I should ask," a deep voice above her mumbles quietly.

"Hey, Magnus," she croaks back.

"Hal Devotia," he whispers. "Can I get you anything?"

"No."

"Biscuit and tea, comin' right up."

A few moments later she can feel the soft vibrations of a small plate and cup being placed down on the countertop near her, quietly thudding against the heavy wood. Groaning to herself, Callie peels herself up from the surface, picking off a few bites of the biscuit and chewing them weakly.

"How do I keep ya' safe tonight?" Magnus asks, leaning his forearms onto the table and speaking so only she can hear. "What do you need?"

"I'm done, Magnus," her voice is shaky and it's difficult to get all of the words out. "Can I stay here?"

"Room's yours as long as you need it," he smiles. "Done with what?"

She's quiet for a moment. "I don't want to be Devotia anymore."

Magnus lets out a soft whistle, taking in the news. "Talk to me, tell me what's goin' on."

"I'm just done," she sighs. "I can't handle it any longer."

"You're tougher than you seem, miss," he raps a soft finger on her shoulder to encourage her. "It'll feel better in the morning."

"No it won't."

"It will."

"You don't know that."

"I do," he grins at her warmly. "Nothing ever feels like it'll be solved past midnight. So you sleep it off and tackle it tomorrow."

She takes a sip of tea, letting the comforting scent of peppermint fill her lungs and pour down her throat. "Can I work here again?"

"We'll save that question for tomorrow."

"Okay."

"Right now, you need some sleep and some space away from it," he pats her hand, giving it a little reassuring squeeze. "Here's as good a place as any for that."

"What room can I take?"

"Four's open."

"Thanks."

"Anything you need, just ask."

Callie nods, taking a few more quiet bites of the biscuit and rising from her seat, grabbing the hot cup of tea as she goes. She flashes him an appreciative smile and slips into the dark hallway on the ground floor, opening the door to her room and not even bothering to turn on the light. Room four's window opens into a small courtyard behind the inn, comfortable and secluded, and tonight the full moon illuminates enough of her room to see.

She sips the tea a few more times, placing it onto the nightstand and collapsing into the bed. Callie pulls her feet to her chest, curling up into a large ball and tucking herself under the slightly-scratchy blankets. She shuts her eyes tightly, waiting for sleep to steal her away from the cascade of fear flushing through her.

-- -- --

Callie rises in a trance. The moonlight through her window fills her vision as she slowly pulls herself out from under the covers. After two hours without being able to fall asleep she's given up on the task. She feels suffocated under the roof, as though the building had suddenly captured her. She stumbles out of her room and down the hall in the opposite direction of the tavern, making her way out into the small courtyard.

The air is cooler than before, and the chill breeze is a gentle relief from the stuffy warmth of the inn. She closes her eyes for a moment, basking in the freedom of the secluded space and the light of the moon above. A round, shallow fountain fills the center of the courtyard. It's remarkably plain, with no statute or feature in the center of its water. It's simply a round pool that reflects the light of the moon above. She sits on its edge and stares into the water, finding a strange satisfaction in the reflection of the night sky.

Her mirror image looks exhausted. Her eyes are red and puffy and her cheeks look gaunt and flushed. She swears that behind her pupils there's nothing left, no lingering feelings of anything beyond a sense of numbness throughout. If she could empty even the last holdouts of herself into this pool, she would. She would allow herself to splash into the water and become nothing.

She lifts her eyes to stare at the moon in the water, bright and round and perfectly still. The rim of the fountain is enough to block the weak breeze, so the pool maintains a perfect mirror of the firmament above. Callie glares at the celestial body, fixated on the pale glow basking around her.

Suddenly, it's as though the pool is a mirror that shatters. Deep cracks spread across the surface of the water, spiraling out from the center of the moon itself. But, unlike a mirror shattering, the image doesn't split into jagged edges. The cuts through the glassy water are rounded and curved, creating thousands of circles and teardrops and wings that arrange themselves into a beautiful interconnected pattern. They spiral out from the moon like a mandala, intricate and complex and breathtakingly beautiful.

Callie's stomach lurches, suddenly feeling the bubbling warmth of magic crashing through her body. She stands quickly, panting as the mirror slowly moves. Each individual rounded shard slowly rises into the air. Thousands and thousands of them suspend into the air, lightly chiming as they arrange themselves into the shape of a person nearly seven-feet tall. As the form of a woman slowly comes into vision, the glass jewels reform the shape of the mandala, spiraling over her shimmering skin. Her face maintains the reflection of the moon from the pool, radiant and ethereal, while the rest of her body glitters like stars.

"W-what are you?" Callie mutters, unsure if she's somehow drifted into sleep. She reaches a hand forward towards the woman, stopping short of actually touching the image. "Did I do this?"

"I have done this," the mirrored woman responds, holding her patterned hands open warmly. Her voice is resonant and soft, chiming quietly as the glass moves with her mouth. "It is good to meet you, Callana."

"Who are you? What are you?" Callie furrows her brow, still feeling the jitters of magic racing under her skin. "How do you know me?"

The woman holds a hand to her chest, bowing her head. "You may call me Yala."

Callie's eyes widen. "The goddess?"

Yala bows her head again in recognition. "I am she."

Callie scrambles, trying to decide if she should fall to her knees or escape or scream for help. She remains frozen in place, heart pounding loudly in her ears. All across her body goosebumps emerge, and she can feel every hair on her body slowly stand at attention.

Yala's hair is short and curly, slowly waving back and forth as though she was suspended underwater. Despite the curves of the glass, her body is blocky and stout, and her face has a wide jawline and firm nose.

"What do you want with me?"

"To meet my chosen," Yala replies simply. "It has not been easy to be able to speak with you."

"Chosen?" Callie furrows her brow. "I was anointed by Suul."

"A formality," Yala waves a hand to dismiss her concern. "My wife recognizes that your people move slowly with change so she called you for me."

"Yala doesn't-," she stops herself. "You don't have Devotia. Only Suul does."

"Don't I?" Yala smiles, tilting her head to the side. "I have chosen you."

Callie's mind races and she struggles to process what the goddess means. It was fundamental to Solva and its faith that Suul was the source of all magic, even for most other goddesses. No one believed Yala would need a Devotia, she simply acted in accordance with Suul's will.

"Why... why are you here?"

"I am many things, Callana," Yala opens her arms wide, feet hovering a few inches above the surface of the pool. "I am the moon, just as my wife is the sun. I am the attraction between things, just as my wife is the consummation of all. I am the love and the lust. I am the push and the pull, the reflection and the mirror. I am the luminous in the dark."

Yala floats forward, taking a few suspending steps towards Callie. "When I petitioned Suul as nothing more than a lonely man upon the earth, she loved me and blessed me. Her threads transformed me and gave me a new self, to change and be changed. To love and be loved. To long and be longed after."

Callie takes a tense breath, stepping away from Yala quietly. "What does this have to do with me?"

"You are my chosen," Yala smiles. "My spirit is your spirit, and yours is mine. You are my reflection and my mirror. I have convinced my wife that the time has come for a new way of being."

"New... how?"

"A new age of Devotia. A new dawn in the night, a new dusk in the day. Your heart knows it purely. A new age of magic." Yala steps closer, towering over Callie. "You have done well to prepare for it."

"I haven't done anything," Callie grumbles. "I'm leaving. I don't want this anymore."

"Listen, first," Yala chimes, reaching a palm out towards her. "Take my hand, Callana."

Callie takes a long breath. The constantly shifting and spinning image of the goddess is hypnotic and breathtaking. All around her the air seems filled with a blanket of soft energy, buzzing and intertwining between everything in the space, including herself. She timidly extends her hand, softly laying it on top of Yala's.

Immediately she feels as though she's been washed away into a river of magic; a flowing current of divinity courses through her, leaving her body ebbing and flowing as though caught in the waves. Her robes begin drifting in the air as though suspended in water like the goddess, and Callie feels her hair slowly rise and float.

It's magic, ancient and smooth. Inside of her body it feels like a cool breeze, terrifyingly unfamiliar to the burning heat of the magic she was accustomed to. Where Suul's magic feels combustive and energized, Yala's is full of tenderness and potential, as though anything at all could be possible in this moment. Yala rises up until the image of the moon in her glassy reflection aligns with the moon in the starry sky above. Moonbeams cascade through the courtyard, bathing Callie in the soft light.

"Open your lungs and allow yourself to drown in this power," Yala commands. Callie obeys implicitly, as though there was no fathomable reason to disobey. She opens her mouth and lets the air and light fill her stomach, slowly expanding until she can no longer breathe. It doesn't hurt, and she doesn't feel as though she's suffocating. It's as though her body always had the ability to survive on this magic alone and never needed air to begin with.

Callie drifts back down towards the ground as a new aura of magic erupts from her skin. Curving bands of icey blue light softly form along her skin, like glowing tattoos in spiraling fractals all over her. They cool her body, glowing brightly before softly fading out of view.

"Hal Devotia Yalania," Yala's voice announces, echoing through her whole being. "Go and bestow my blessings upon this world."

Yala descends down into the pool and the shards of glass drip from her form. As they fall they become water once more, and suddenly Callie is alone in the courtyard again with nothing but an empty fountain, a bright moon above, and a new peace in her soul.

-- -- --

Callie returns to the villa feeling like an entirely new person. The fog in her mind clears as she walks barefoot on the marble floors. Tumult remarked that she looked as though she had seen a ghost, and Callie simply replied that she may as well have. She stops in front of the door to Junivere's room, steadying herself enough to raise a fist to the wood and knock gently.

After a few moments the door cautiously creaks open, revealing a freshly awoken Junivere. Her shoulder-length hair is slightly ratty and tangled and her cheeks look warm and weary. She yawns widely, smiling at Callie through a look of confusion.

"What's up, Callie?" She asks, slowly and sleepy. "It's late."

"I... I need to talk to you," Callie vaguely peaks back behind her, looking for Silas. "Alone, if possible."

"Do you want me to send him home?" Junivere tilts her head, stretching her neck softly. "Or we can go somewhere else."

"If it wouldn't be too horrible of me to ask him to leave... It's..." She pauses, unsure of what to say. "... it's important."

"Of course," she gently strokes the side of Callie's face, wiping a thumb over her cheekbone. "Just a second."

Junivere slips back into the room. Callie can hear her speaking quietly with Silas, and after a little bit of rustling and a few candles being lit, he gathers his things and exits the room, nodding politely at Callie as he leaves. She gives him a vacant smile, ducking into the room behind him and shutting the door. Junivere sits on the side of the bed, leaning back on her elbows and waving her over.

"How's that going?" Callie asks nervously, dropping her cloak and laying down next to Junivere.

"It's alright," Junivere sighs, laying back fully. "It was a little strange at first, and sometimes still feels weird, but it's something. I think the novelty is wearing off at this point."

"I miss you," Callie mutters, turning on her side to look into her eyes.

"I miss you too." Junivere turns as well, shifting to be a little closer. "I was already thinking I'd stop seeing him every night and spend more time with you."

"I'd like that," Callie nods. "I'd really like that."

"Besides," she chuckles weakly, "he's not submissive like you. I don't get to have nearly as much fun watching him squirm." Callie blushes, letting Junivere lay a hand onto her waist and pull her closer into a sweet cuddle. "So what's happening? Why are you up so late?"

"Promise you won't be mad at me."

"What did you do?"

"I went to go see Calvin."

If Junivere is upset by the news, she stifles her reaction well. She takes a deep breath, nodding slowly and shifting her other arm to wrap around Callie's shoulder. "How did that go?"

"Horrible," Callie croaks. "I... I think things might be over with him."

"For good?"

Callie sighs. "I don't know."

"I'm so sorry," Junivere shakes her head. "Are you okay?"

"I wasn't. I thought I was going to resign."

"To be with him?"

"Not even," she closes her eyes, forcing herself to take another long breath before continuing. "I was just going to give it all up. Maybe leave Solva."

Junivere looks nervous. "But you aren't going to, are you?"

"No."

Callie hasn't really come to any decisions yet, but she's surprised that the decision to stay comes so easily. The encounter with Yala leaves her shaken and afraid for the future, but it does enough to make her think she should stay, whatever that may hold for her.

"Thank gods," she exhales. Callie knows that Junivere cares about her, but the relief in her voice is a welcome affirmation. "What changed?"

"I..." Callie struggles to find the words. "So you know how Suul never speaks to me?"

Junivere's eyes widen excitedly. "She finally spoke?"

"Not exactly... I... I met Yala."

Junivere sits up quickly, staring at Callie with an intense confusion. "Y-you met Yala? She appeared before you?"

Callie explains the floating shards from the pool. "She took on an actual form to speak to me. It wasn't just a disembodied voice."

"Callie," Junivere grabs her shoulders seriously, "that's... this hasn't happened in... I don't even know how long. This is rare, unfathomably rare. What did she say? What did she want?"

"I don't entirely understand, but she claimed that I'm her Devotia, not Suul's."

"What!?"

"That was my reaction."

"Yala doesn't have Devotia. None of them do."

"According to her, she convinced Suul to grant her this," Callie shakes her head and shrugs.

"You've been giving out blessings from Suul. They're indistinguishable from mine and every other Devotia. How is that possible? You can't have been her Devotia this whole time."

"Think about it," Callie tilts her head. "How else would we have two Devotia in Solva now? I don't know if I've always been Yala's Devotia, or if that's new, but that's what she called me."

"That's... it's impossible, Callie," she shakes her head in disbelief. "I want to believe you, I do.... But you have to understand that this is impossible."

"It seems impossible to me too," Callie rubs her face with her hands, enjoying the pressure. Despite being awake for so long, she doesn't feel tired yet. "I thought I was dreaming for most of it."

Junivere stands up, pacing back and forth in front of the bed. She runs her hands through her hair, pulling at the various knots and tangles while she thinks. All of this feels so strange and foreign to Callie, goddesses like Yala and Suul were strongly disliked back in Rookwell, dismissed as overly-indulgent. But Junivere grew up with love for Suul's pantheon, with a deep respect and adherence for the traditional rites and understandings of it.

"I'm sorry, Callie," she sighs after a while. "I don't believe you. I can't."

"I'm not sure I believe myself, if we're honest."

"It just... it goes against everything we know about Suul and the Devotia. They've only ever been conduits for her will and no one else. If Yala is somehow muscling in, who's to say other goddesses aren't as well?" She stops her pacing, crossing her arms tightly. "How do we know that this isn't a ploy from a gifted and cunning mage, trying to undermine you?"