It takes a few days longer than a week for the plan to fully take shape in Callie’s mind. Junivere had taken some convincing, worried for her safety and for what these actions might do in the city, but then she was on board. Calvin hesitated, pondered it for a couple of days, then sent word that he was willing to support it if she needed it.
She plans furiously for a scattered array of potentialities, keeping all of her ideas locked away in her mind so there would be no trace. It was dangerous, what she was planning. It could go horribly wrong.
But she needed to be free.
– — –
Gloriana knocks gently on her door, with the same casual authority that she always wields so gracefully. It’s a standard routine for her - ensure Callie is awakened and prepared for the day, then bring her to her morning meeting with Magister Velena.
Callie breaks the pattern.
She calls for Gloriana to enter and after a beat she does, stepping into the room with her armor carefully polished, her shield tucked onto her back, and her sword nestled in its scabbard and belted to her hip.
“Good morning, hal Devotia,” she smiles, bowing her head. “Are you ready?”
Rather than answer, Callie shifts to the edge of her beg, bringing her legs over the side. She pats a hand to a spot next to her. “Sit.”
Gloriana tilts her head. “We ought to-,”
“I would like to speak with you, Gloriana,” she says sweetly, innocently.
So, the paladin removes her sword and shield, depositing them into a chair nearby, and slowly lowers herself into place next to Callie. She hardly touches the bed, sitting as close to the edge as possible as though concerned about dirtying it.
She furrows her brow, a little worried. “Have I done something wrong?”
“Not at all,” Callie softens her face. She twists, bringing one leg up onto the bed and allowing her chest to face Gloriana. “I wanted to thank you for your loyalty.”
Gloriana lets out a relieved puff of air, now no longer fearful of having erred. “There is no need, hal Devotia, it has been my honor to serve.”
“But you have gone above and beyond in your role. I can’t think of a more faithful member of the Knighthood.”
Gloriana looks a little pleased with herself, grateful. “You’re too kind, hal Devotia.”
And, scooting a little closer, Callie drops her voice lower - lets just a whisper of suggestion enter into her tone. “I also wanted to ask about the blush upon your cheeks recently,” she says, eliciting a precious rush of color to the paladin’s face. “There it is,” she smiles.
Gloriana nearly chokes on her words. “It-it is nothing, hal-,”
“It doesn’t need to be,” she replies forgivingly. A little closer. She makes her voice gentle, supportive, and with just a hush of intention. “Do you consider yourself a woman with needs?”
Her face turns scarlet. “N-needs?”
“Needs.”
At that, the paladin looks away, shifting bashfully in place. She swallows with a mild look of panic in her eyes, and quietly coughs out, “Ahem. Y-yes, hal Devotia.”
“And do you feel they’ve been met, of late?” Callie gazes over her, letting her eyes linger in a few places that would drive a scattered array of flustering thoughts through the woman. “Do you have a girlfriend? A boyfriend? Someone to assist you?”
Quietly. “No, hal Devotia.”
“I’m surprised to hear that. A strong, noble, beautiful paladin like you? I can’t imagine you don’t have any offers.”
“Not of late,” she exhales. She holds herself tightly, as though her force of will was all that was holding her body intact. When she speaks again, she looks down at the floor, mournful to add, “I… I’ve been so busy here in the villa lately.” Then she perks up, face flashing with concern. “N-not that I’m not honored to serve-,”
“It’s alright, Gloriana. I appreciate your honesty,” Callie encourages, placing her hand on the paladin’s knee and opening her chest out more fully towards her. She leans in closer, letting the scent of her perfume reach out to her. “I feel sorry to be responsible for inhibiting your needs like that. You’ve been steadfast in your service.” A little more suggestion, and she bites her lip while staring at Gloriana’s. “Perhaps I ought to serve you, too.”
Gloriana’s panic overtakes her. She shuffles away, torn between her sense of duty and the thoughts pushing their way forward. “It-it wouldn’t be proper.”
Callie marches on. “Do you think of me?” She asks, which elicits an immediate blush from Gloriana. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she says proudly. “It’s alright, Gloriana. I like that you imagine it.” And, with just enough emphasis on her words, Callie breathes out, “I have.”
“Y-you…”
Callie gives her a radiant look of approval as the realization settles in Gloriana. The paladin swallows another dry gulp, her eyes affixed to Callie’s as though it would be a sin to look anywhere else. Callie adjusts her dress to ensure the woman would be sorely tempted.
“Now,” she crawls closer, causing Gloriana to place her back against one of the bedposts. “I can’t have my loyal paladin languishing away like this. If you are to protect me, I need you completely focused, free of distractions.” Her hand slides up her leg. “Don’t you agree?”
“Y–yes, hal Devotia.”
Callie brings herself to straddle Gloriana’s lap, wrapping her arms around her neck. She runs her hands through the short, cropped hair atop her head, then brings a soft hand down to her rugged jaw, lifting her breasts closer and closer to her field of view.
“You really are quite handsome, Gloriana, don’t you agree?”
An uncertain pause, then, “I…”
“Do you think you’re attractive?”
“Yes, hal D-Devotia.”
Callie places an affectionate kiss on her cheek. “Good, because you are. I think you are very attractive.” She tilts Gloriana’s chin up, cupping it with her thumb and lifting it to hover in the space just beyond the reach of Callie’s lips. She can feel the paladin fighting herself, forcing herself to remain motionless despite the part of her that wants to rush forward.
So, Callie brings her mouth down, holding fast to the back of Gloriana’s head to guide hers into meeting it. Her lips move slowly, sucking on Gloriana’s upper lip before kissing her fully, keeping her pace agonizing and taunting to drive her wild. She brings her body even closer, resting her soft skin and thin dress against the woman’s armor, once again loving the feeling of being held by someone so much stronger than her - yet having all the power in their touch.
Gloriana is frozen in place, receiving Callie’s affection one-directionally like it would be wrong to reciprocate. But Callie can feel her fighting herself, straining to succumb to the enjoyment of it, so she continues teasing her, kissing her neck, gently biting her earlobes, running her hands through her hair.
“Don’t be shy,” Callie purrs directly into her ear. “You can touch me.”
And Gloriana’s resolve breaks. She throws off her gauntlets, tossing one of them onto the bed and letting the other drop to the floor. Her hands pull Callie in tightly, squeezing her with a desperate desire as Callie’s mouth finds hers once more.
Practiced in the art of removing a knight’s armor, and hoping Gloriana doesn’t ask why she is, Callie skillfully begins removing the metal plates and depositing them to the side. She pushes deeper into the kiss, now letting each be a full movement of her body as she rocks against her.
She tilts back, enough to encourage Gloriana’s lips to find her neck, and she wraps her fingers around the back of the paladin’s head as she accepts her task. She sighs out into the room, a little more dramatically than she might normally, hoping that Gloriana couldn’t resist the sound of a woman enjoying her. It requires less effort to fake than she might’ve expected, her own skin growing warm and flushed to the touch.
“Oh, you have to be so brave, so commanding all day long, don’t you?” Callie exhales sympathetically, coaxing more and more of the paladin’s need forth.
She sits deeper into the straddle, then takes control of their embrace once more, pushing Gloriana back into the post and kissing her neck instead. “Well, not here,” Callie insists. “Not with me. Let me take care of you.”
Callie twists her around and pushes her back down into the bed, climbing over her and lowering the straps of her dress. She brings her breasts to Gloriana’s mouth, loving how hungrily her lips meet Callie’s soft skin. She continues petting a hand through her hair as she does this, smiling at Gloriana like she was more proud of her for this than any other service she’s performed.
And then Callie is crawling back down her, grabbing hold of her waist and hips, tugging at the belt-line of her pants. She pulls them free and slides them off of Gloriana, bringing her mouth to meet the smoother skin on the inner side of her thigh. A precious puddle wets the inside of her undergarments.
“Oh, dear,” she glimmers, “you really are in need of my attention.”
Her lips meet the fabric, inhaling the marvelous scent of a woman eager for her, and soon her fingernails are clawing at the edges of her underwear, her tongue spreading her lips even over the cloth.
“H-hal Devotia!”
Gloriana’s large hand braces against the crown of Callie’s head, her fingers sliding into her hair and grabbing hold, frantic, as though that grip is all that keeps her from falling.
Callie settles into the familiar feeling which never dulls - her breath blowing back against hot skin, her tongue tasting something that once was forbidden to her, her neck straining just to be nearer. She raises her ass in the air, lowering her skirt enough to give the paladin a salacious view if she ever opens her eyes.
“You’ve been so loyal, Gloriana,” Callie beams up at her, ensuring the woman meets her glare and can’t bear it. “It’s so easy to want to reward you.”
“Fuck.”
Gloriana’s head rocks back as Callie disregards her undergarments, pulling them aside to bring her face in deeper. She guides her tongue into her, sliding up and down the wet folds and adoring the soft, shivering gasps it pulls from Gloriana. One of her thighs tightens against Callie’s cheek.
“You deserve this. You deserve this feeling.”
And if Gloriana disagrees, her body denies it. Her hand grips harder in her hair, her fist tugs at the bedsheets. She moves with Callie’s neck, grinding her hips into her face on instinct and instinct alone.
Callie brings a pair of fingers into her, tilting them up at the tips and letting them beckon Gloriana deeper into her grasp, just as her mouth latches onto the woman’s clit and doesn’t let go. Gloriana rewards her with a delicious low moan, long and lovely.
“You’re - fuck,” the paladin attempts. She shakes her head, succumbing to the feeling instead of speaking. Callie grins.
And when Gloriana’s thighs are squeezing the sizes of her face, when Callie’s knuckles are dripping and aromatic, when her voice cries out into the room - Callie doesn’t stop. She continues, bringing her into a deeper and deeper pit of desperation. Once. Twice. Nearly a third.
Gloriana fights to steady her breath, forcing herself into long, deep inhales and hissing exhales, one hand on Callie and one hand holding onto the bed frame. She shifts in place, letting herself bask in the warm and welcoming feeling of her body’s gratuity for the decision, and Callie finally relents from the task. She brings herself up onto Gloriana’s chest, bringing her tired and excited mouth into hers once more.
And then she’s pulling the larger woman into her arms, petting her hair and encouraging her to rest and savor it. “Whenever you need me, Gloriana, all you need to do is ask. Understood?”
She bobs her head in agreement. When she speaks, it's breathless. “Yes, hal Devotia.”
A kiss atop her head. Gentle, affectionate. “I am more than happy to take care of whatever needs you have, even if you feel shy in asking,” Callie coos. “You don’t need to be ashamed about wanting this.”
“Thank you, hal Devotia,” she says - grateful, obedient.
Callie prepares herself for the turn, the moment where her agenda might accidentally shine through. As wonderful as it is to serve the woman, and it is wonderful, a small part of her knows it serves an ulterior motive. She lets her voice grow more serious, commanding, but never losing its warmth.
“All I ask of you is your continued loyalty.”
Her palm wanders its way down Gloriana’s abdomen, slipping into place. Gloriana tenses expectantly, but Callie holds her hand still.
“You serve me, and me alone,” Callie tells her, possessive, giving. “Serve me, and I’ll take care of you, Gloriana. I’ll take excellent care of you.”
Gloriana takes a sharp inhale and Callie can feel her hips pushing forth into her hand, but she doesn’t give her what she wants. She holds her hand steady, motionless, until the paladin is nodding and confirming, “I serve you, and you alone, hal Devotia.”
Her fingers find their way into her, and Callie is already kissing her once again. “Very good. Now, relax, and let your Devotia serve you.”
– – –
“Oh, fucking - Callie!” Mira calls out, her voice bouncing across the walls of the bathroom.
Callie presses her chest into the woman’s back, pushing her against the wall of the bath and loving the feeling of her squirming in her arms. Her wrist is tired, nearly burnt out from the effort, but Mira’s raised leg and heaving breaths is enough to never want to stop. She increases her speed.
The water sloshes around them, hot and steamy as though they needed the help. The sweat on Mira’s skin is indistinguishable from the bathwater, but as Callie kisses her slick shoulder blade she tastes a hint of salt. She licks across the skin, biting and sucking as she goes, giving the priestess no time to grow bored under her touch.
Mira squeals, high and restrained, shivering up into the lip of the stone wall and shoving her hips down on Callie while they jerk against her fingers. Callie shoves them as deep as she can, her other hand digging into Mira’s chest as she pulls her tightly, restraining her so she must give in to the bliss pouring through her.
When she’s finished, Mira’s already turning around and kissing Callie, her back upon the edge and a blessed grin upon her face. Gods, she’s pretty.
And Callie tells her the plan.
“Gods, Callie.”
“Will you do it?”
Mira looks around the room, giggling incessantly. “You didn’t need to fuck me for that. I would’ve done it regardless. The way they’re treating you is ridiculous.”
Callie brings her mouth in once more, loving the little moan that it pulls from Mira. She hovers in her breath, letting her desire stay clear upon her face. “Oh, I didn’t fuck you for that. I did it because you’re cute.” Her hand moves sluggishly through the water, but she still manages a playful swat on Mira’s bottom. “Round two?”
Mira rolls her eyes. “Is Civa in on this, too?”
“She’s my next stop.”
“And Willow?”
“I asked her over tea last night.”
“Salome?”
Callie purses her lips. “She has her own place in all this.”
The priestess furrows her brow for a moment, but shoves away her confusion. “Whatever you say, hal Devotia. I’m with you.”
“Good.” And then both of Callie’s hands are grabbing the backs of her thighs, lifting her up. “Now, up on the edge with you. I want to taste you.”
Mira mutters a swear under her breath, sighing lovingly. “I’m so glad you weren’t a celibate Devotia.”
– – -
She’s only visited Mykah’s room a few times since the probation, and the first visit had been mightily awkward. Her clumsy attempt to apologize for their last conversation - the kiss - was met with a gracious and bumbling apology from him for doing it. Then they’re both apologizing. Then she’s joking about kissing him again. Then he’s telling her he actually might be meeting a guy later, and she’s happy for him.
And then they’re back in the comfortable rest of their friendship, armored by the protective covering of years. Anything could be forgiven and forgotten. Anything could be worked through and laughed about later.
But today, when she visits, telling him the whole of her plan, Mykah paces around his room at the college, his intelligent eyes flicking through a variety of reactions.
“That’s… that’s a dangerous play, Callie,” he says at last. A crinkle of his nose tells her he means it. “That could really backfire.”
She takes his hand. Touch has become the primary way she’s learned to relate to people of late, and as she squeezes his palm, she pours all the honesty and faithfulness she can into telling him, “That’s why I need you.”
He frowns. Considers it. “Who else is in?”
“Gloriana, the priestesses, Junivere, Cirene, and Calvin, so far. I’m still asking more.”
“This is…” He squeezes her hand back and steps away, staring out the window that overlooks the main avenue of the college. Mages flick by on the streets, laughing, talking, sometimes showing off. The late summer breeze that blows through the room is full of potential.
And she can only think of the itch in her mind. The pull to action. The need to be free. Change is coming, and she intends to meet it prepared. All the skills she’s acquired as Devotia, all the thought of the game and of strategy and of the desperate need to be let out of any captivity someone tries to force her into. Rookwell was a prison, and she was not willing to have risked everything escaping it just to find Solva transformed into one as well.
Win, or lose, she would not be captive again.
“Callie, this’ll…” A sigh. A breath full of acceptance. “Yeah… I’m in.”
She throws her arms around him. “Thank you.”
And as he steps back, holding her arms and letting his gaze study her, study her familiarity and her metamorphoses, he grins. “You really aren’t the same person I knew back home.”
“In a bad way?” She tilts her head.
“Absolutely not. This is unbelievable, what we’re wrapped up in.”
She lets out a low noise. “That’s what I feel most of the time.”
He steps back to the window, a gentle press of her hand as he goes. “Well, they certainly were right, weren’t they? You’re going to be a Devotia that changes things.”
“I just hope it works,” she tells him.
“It will,” he smiles, so confident that she can’t help but believe him. “Now, what’s the move?”
– – –
They stop in the hallway. The stone walls of the North Tower of the college seem to oppress the air around them. The sparkling feeling when magic is around may as well zap into electricity around them.
“If either of you have reservations-,”
“I’m with you, hal Devotia,” Gloriana affirms.
“Mykah?”
He huffs. “This is a Magewitch we’re talking about. One of the most gifted magic-users apart from the Magisters themselves.” Mykah takes a low breath. “Forgive me if I’m wary.”
“If all goes well, she’ll be smart enough to avoid a fight.”
And then Callie is entering the room, leaving the two of them behind her. She shuts the door and is immediately subjected to the hushed fury of Dynasa’s frustration.
“Callana,” she looms over her. “Where have you been? Velena is furious!”
“I needed a morning free of being studied,” Callie says pitifully, placing on a mask with a necessary grace. “Gloriana took me to Mykah’s instead.”
She crosses her arms over her chest and glowers. “Without telling Velena?”
Rubbing a fist into her eye-socket, feigning exhaustion, Callie sighs. “I didn’t sleep at all last night. I must have forgotten to tell her.”
Dynasa marches forward. “Why didn’t you sleep?” She places the back of her palm on Callie’s forehead, checking the temperature. She makes a displeased noise. “Are you sick? Describe what you’re feeling, it could be important.”
Callie gestures towards her skirt. “It’s just uncomfortable,” she complains, trying to seem overly burdened. Sympathetic. “I wouldn’t have even come here today if it didn’t mean I’d get a break from it.”
Dynasa purses her lips, piercing, inquisitive eyes measuring her. “You ought to have told Velena you weren’t feeling well. Don’t do that again.” And then she’s strolling back to her notebooks, picking up the key that would open the cage. “Let’s begin.”
A few embarrassing moments later and Callie rejoices in the freedom from its weight. She sits, feeling her thighs grateful for the expanded range of movement with its absence.
“Now,” the Magewitch looms over her, a book in hand, “when we left off, we were testing the capacity of the magical reservoir within you. You mentioned the Yalani source was far deeper than the Solvavi source - that you’ve suddenly gone from a novice level of proficiency to having a basis of will greater than most graduating mages.”
“Correct.”
“I noted the sudden surge of power as consistent with a typical anointing, thus continuing to build evidence that Yala truly possesses the power to select Devotia for herself.”
“As I’ve been saying.”
“And we tested the resiliency of your wards, placing them under a variety of stressors to test their durability unde-,”
Knowing that Dynasa could continue uninterrupted in her study for some time, Callie simply waits patiently, tuning her out. The Magewitch rambles about the Standard Arcana’s theory to explain this, hypothesizes about the possibility once more of proving the Mirage Arcana, and mutters about a variety of subjects far above Callie’s knowledge.
And as she sits, Callie thinks about freedom.
And power.
Power, she muses to herself, was the capacity to assert freedom. Her own. She’d been a Devotia for months, and despite having a nominal power, she’d let others take it out of her hands before she’d even known what it was. Velena took the reins of her instruction and shaped her thinking because Callie knew nothing else. Dynasa took Callie’s political ineptitude, filled her with visions of an optimistic past, and began plotting to use her for her own purposes.
Those purposes might align broadly with Callie’s - the unshackling of the Devotia - but Yala gives her greater aspirations. A new age. A new future not only for the Devotia, but for all of the nation.
Which is why, at the end of Dynasa’s experimentation today, where she holds the cage back up and tells her, “Regardless, I’ve made an adjustment to the cage. With luck it’ll be less uncomfortable,” Callie finds herself saying:
“Thank you. That won’t be necessary.”
And her heart pounds in her chest, thumping in her neck, booming in her ears. She shifts in her seat, crossing one leg over the other and trying to keep her back straight and her chin high - and to not show any of the weakness she feels.
The Magewitch scowls at her. She offers the cage forward once, apprehensively, as though it were a test, then sets it aside as Callie continues staring her down.
“What happened to ‘a compliant Devotia?’”
Callie inhales sharply. “I am being compliant. To Yala.” And myself.
“Callana.”
Dynasa paces, a hand rubbing her cheek. It’s clear she’s fighting to maintain her composure. “We are in a delicate position. If we do not play out cards carefully, meticulously, we will lose any forward progress. I regret that it is inconvenient for you to wait, but we are talking about the whole of the city, and the nation. You cannot make hasty decisions.”
“I am done waiting at my own expense for change,” Callie insists. “It is coming. Now. Do I have your support?”
Dynasa’s eyes narrow, stare daggers into her. Her voice leaves her in a tight breath. “What are you planning?”
And Callie replies with a curt dismissal, a shake of her head. “This time, I require you to trust me.” A beat. “I will not be a Devotia used as a pawn. I serve the goddesses.”
Dynasa’s hand twitches. It nearly sparks with a spell. “I could make you.” Her eyes flick to the cage. In her eyes there is a challenge. Do you think your new magic is stronger than me?
And Callie knows the answer. A quick hand dismisses the noise ward in the room Dynasa had set as they entered. A gentle call leaves her, directed out towards the door.
Mykah enters, glowing tendrils of light in his palms. Gloriana steps in front of him, sword and shield drawn.
And Callie looks up at Dynasa, smug and dignified. “Could you?”
Dynasa’s back straightens. Her eyes widen. “This is a coup.”
“This is liberation of the Devotia. Change is here, Dynasa.” She stands, tucking her fear so far down inside of herself that it would never see the light of day. She’s still not sure the three of them could really take down a Magewitch. “You told me you wanted to be a part of it. This is your opportunity.”
Her mouth forms a tight line. “If you get this wrong…”
“I won’t.”
– – -
Callie basks in the moonlight, in the freshness of the night air. The heat of the day breaks away into a perfect evening, and she delights in the freedom of wearing a short dress and feeling the breeze upon her skin. The stars glitter above them, in the beautiful firmament of the sky, and Yala bestows a full moon for their purposes.
She marches down the main streets of Solva, loving the lantern lights and flickering candles of a city grateful for the cool temperature at last. People mill about, some laughing, some drinking, some sitting and eating meals out of large simmering pots or visiting street venders.
And they all turn to watch their Devotia stroll down the main avenue.
She smiles at them, waves at them. Loves them.
Callie knocks on the door, hearing Gloriana shuffle a few steps away behind her. The gathering crowd of onlookers keep their distance, mercifully, and Gloriana gives her privacy at the threshold, standing unthreateningly between her and the crowd.
Calvin opens the door, adorned in his ceremonial armor. She knows he hates it, but the occasion calls for its formality. It takes a great deal of restraint not to push him back inside the door and rip it off of him.
He smiles, laugh lines and dimples and bright eyes and all.
“Is it-?”
“It’s time,” she confirms.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
“It’s already in motion. I just have to see it through.” She looks down, taking a long breath and knowing that the future could hold anything for her. “Calvin, if this doesn’t work…” She allows her nerves to finally show, lets her voice be soft and wishful and full of all the feelings she’s been so afraid of. “Will you come with me?”
A breath.
Two.
Three.
And then he takes her hand. He brings it to his lips. “Yes.”
So Callie throws herself into his arms and ignites the tension between them, pulling his mouth to hers like it's the only place it could possibly belong. And she allows him to scoop her up, his arms across her back and lifting her off of her feet and into his body. Her hands are on his cheeks, grabbing hold of his face and letting herself be unmade by his touch.
The Magister’s knights, which should be out tonight, are conveniently ordered away from this street. Gloriana’s report to Velena leads them to believe Callie is tucked away in the villa - obedient, safe, and captured.
The crowd watches her, and she can feel their eyes latching onto this moment like history was coming alive in the flesh. A Devotia kissing her Knight-Commander, passionately, lovingly - full of romance and need and a clear history between them. A Devotia out in the night, far from the bounds of Suul’s light, kissing someone without any duty, without any obedience to the laws of the city.
A scandal that could break the very foundations of the city.
And she feels that hot feeling inside of her, aching for Calvin to bring her inside and make her cry out, joined by the cool softness of Yala’s magic. They mix together within her, swirling and twisting and baptizing her into a new era.
The beams of the full moon above them seem to melt into raindrops, sliding down from the air to find their place beside her. They shimmer with a silver fierceness, shining and glittering and bouncing off of all the other lights around, sending a cascade of luminance into their world.
And they wash over Calvin like a wave breaking on the shore, glowing against his skin and letting it shine like the mirrors of a pool. A blessing.
The first blessing of Yala.
She exits the kiss, beaming, and he looks as though he could never love a moment more than he loves this moment, like he could never love anyone more than he loves her. Her face hurts from smiling.
“That’s-!” He’s exclaiming.
“I was right,” she exhales, arms around his neck. She closes her eyes and savors the knowledge. Her forehead against his. “This is going to work,” she sighs, giddy. She turns back to the crowd, who look upon her with awe. Who look upon the miracle at work and seem to understand what it means.
“Gloriana?” She summons.
And with a kiss on the cheek, Gloriana bursts into light as well.
Mykah brings the priestesses to her, Mira and Civa and Willow and Salome, and they all hold one another in a space of silent divinity.
“Behold!” Mira calls out to the crowd, full of dignity and reverence. “Hal Devotia Yalani!”
And a cheer spreads through the world around Callie, rejoicing in her just as she gazes up to the moon above her and beams.
It was in the moonlight that Callie escaped Rookwell. It was in the moonlight that she felt her loneliness cry out for comfort. It was in moonlight that she met the goddess.
The full moon shines down upon her, and she bathes in its embrace.
The priestesses filter through the crowd, with the rest of her procession with her, and they call forth for the sick and the weary, for the ones most in need of Yala’s blessing. A blessing which Callie gives out with nothing but love and adoration in her heart.
A kiss on the cheek.
A burst of radiant light.
A kiss on the cheek.
A healing.
A kiss on the cheek.
A comforted heart.
A kiss on the cheek-
It takes a few days longer than a week for the plan to fully take shape in Callie’s mind. Junivere had taken some convincing, worried for her safety and for what these actions might do in the city, but then she was on board. Calvin hesitated, pondered it for a couple of days, then sent word that he was willing to support it if she needed it.
She plans furiously for a scattered array of potentialities, keeping all of her ideas locked away in her mind so there would be no trace. It was dangerous, what she was planning. It could go horribly wrong.
But she needed to be free.
– — –
Gloriana knocks gently on her door, with the same casual authority that she always wields so gracefully. It’s a standard routine for her - ensure Callie is awakened and prepared for the day, then bring her to her morning meeting with Magister Velena.
Callie breaks the pattern.
She calls for Gloriana to enter and after a beat she does, stepping into the room with her armor carefully polished, her shield tucked onto her back, and her sword nestled in its scabbard and belted to her hip.
“Good morning, hal Devotia,” she smiles, bowing her head. “Are you ready?”
Rather than answer, Callie shifts to the edge of her beg, bringing her legs over the side. She pats a hand to a spot next to her. “Sit.”
Gloriana tilts her head. “We ought to-,”
“I would like to speak with you, Gloriana,” she says sweetly, innocently.
So, the paladin removes her sword and shield, depositing them into a chair nearby, and slowly lowers herself into place next to Callie. She hardly touches the bed, sitting as close to the edge as possible as though concerned about dirtying it.
She furrows her brow, a little worried. “Have I done something wrong?”
“Not at all,” Callie softens her face. She twists, bringing one leg up onto the bed and allowing her chest to face Gloriana. “I wanted to thank you for your loyalty.”
Gloriana lets out a relieved puff of air, now no longer fearful of having erred. “There is no need, hal Devotia, it has been my honor to serve.”
“But you have gone above and beyond in your role. I can’t think of a more faithful member of the Knighthood.”
Gloriana looks a little pleased with herself, grateful. “You’re too kind, hal Devotia.”
And, scooting a little closer, Callie drops her voice lower - lets just a whisper of suggestion enter into her tone. “I also wanted to ask about the blush upon your cheeks recently,” she says, eliciting a precious rush of color to the paladin’s face. “There it is,” she smiles.
Gloriana nearly chokes on her words. “It-it is nothing, hal-,”
“It doesn’t need to be,” she replies forgivingly. A little closer. She makes her voice gentle, supportive, and with just a hush of intention. “Do you consider yourself a woman with needs?”
Her face turns scarlet. “N-needs?”
“Needs.”
At that, the paladin looks away, shifting bashfully in place. She swallows with a mild look of panic in her eyes, and quietly coughs out, “Ahem. Y-yes, hal Devotia.”
“And do you feel they’ve been met, of late?” Callie gazes over her, letting her eyes linger in a few places that would drive a scattered array of flustering thoughts through the woman. “Do you have a girlfriend? A boyfriend? Someone to assist you?”
Quietly. “No, hal Devotia.”
“I’m surprised to hear that. A strong, noble, beautiful paladin like you? I can’t imagine you don’t have any offers.”
“Not of late,” she exhales. She holds herself tightly, as though her force of will was all that was holding her body intact. When she speaks again, she looks down at the floor, mournful to add, “I… I’ve been so busy here in the villa lately.” Then she perks up, face flashing with concern. “N-not that I’m not honored to serve-,”
“It’s alright, Gloriana. I appreciate your honesty,” Callie encourages, placing her hand on the paladin’s knee and opening her chest out more fully towards her. She leans in closer, letting the scent of her perfume reach out to her. “I feel sorry to be responsible for inhibiting your needs like that. You’ve been steadfast in your service.” A little more suggestion, and she bites her lip while staring at Gloriana’s. “Perhaps I ought to serve you, too.”
Gloriana’s panic overtakes her. She shuffles away, torn between her sense of duty and the thoughts pushing their way forward. “It-it wouldn’t be proper.”
Callie marches on. “Do you think of me?” She asks, which elicits an immediate blush from Gloriana. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she says proudly. “It’s alright, Gloriana. I like that you imagine it.” And, with just enough emphasis on her words, Callie breathes out, “I have.”
“Y-you…”
Callie gives her a radiant look of approval as the realization settles in Gloriana. The paladin swallows another dry gulp, her eyes affixed to Callie’s as though it would be a sin to look anywhere else. Callie adjusts her dress to ensure the woman would be sorely tempted.
“Now,” she crawls closer, causing Gloriana to place her back against one of the bedposts. “I can’t have my loyal paladin languishing away like this. If you are to protect me, I need you completely focused, free of distractions.” Her hand slides up her leg. “Don’t you agree?”
“Y–yes, hal Devotia.”
Callie brings herself to straddle Gloriana’s lap, wrapping her arms around her neck. She runs her hands through the short, cropped hair atop her head, then brings a soft hand down to her rugged jaw, lifting her breasts closer and closer to her field of view.
“You really are quite handsome, Gloriana, don’t you agree?”
An uncertain pause, then, “I…”
“Do you think you’re attractive?”
“Yes, hal D-Devotia.”
Callie places an affectionate kiss on her cheek. “Good, because you are. I think you are very attractive.” She tilts Gloriana’s chin up, cupping it with her thumb and lifting it to hover in the space just beyond the reach of Callie’s lips. She can feel the paladin fighting herself, forcing herself to remain motionless despite the part of her that wants to rush forward.
So, Callie brings her mouth down, holding fast to the back of Gloriana’s head to guide hers into meeting it. Her lips move slowly, sucking on Gloriana’s upper lip before kissing her fully, keeping her pace agonizing and taunting to drive her wild. She brings her body even closer, resting her soft skin and thin dress against the woman’s armor, once again loving the feeling of being held by someone so much stronger than her - yet having all the power in their touch.
Gloriana is frozen in place, receiving Callie’s affection one-directionally like it would be wrong to reciprocate. But Callie can feel her fighting herself, straining to succumb to the enjoyment of it, so she continues teasing her, kissing her neck, gently biting her earlobes, running her hands through her hair.
“Don’t be shy,” Callie purrs directly into her ear. “You can touch me.”
And Gloriana’s resolve breaks. She throws off her gauntlets, tossing one of them onto the bed and letting the other drop to the floor. Her hands pull Callie in tightly, squeezing her with a desperate desire as Callie’s mouth finds hers once more.
Practiced in the art of removing a knight’s armor, and hoping Gloriana doesn’t ask why she is, Callie skillfully begins removing the metal plates and depositing them to the side. She pushes deeper into the kiss, now letting each be a full movement of her body as she rocks against her.
She tilts back, enough to encourage Gloriana’s lips to find her neck, and she wraps her fingers around the back of the paladin’s head as she accepts her task. She sighs out into the room, a little more dramatically than she might normally, hoping that Gloriana couldn’t resist the sound of a woman enjoying her. It requires less effort to fake than she might’ve expected, her own skin growing warm and flushed to the touch.
“Oh, you have to be so brave, so commanding all day long, don’t you?” Callie exhales sympathetically, coaxing more and more of the paladin’s need forth.
She sits deeper into the straddle, then takes control of their embrace once more, pushing Gloriana back into the post and kissing her neck instead. “Well, not here,” Callie insists. “Not with me. Let me take care of you.”
Callie twists her around and pushes her back down into the bed, climbing over her and lowering the straps of her dress. She brings her breasts to Gloriana’s mouth, loving how hungrily her lips meet Callie’s soft skin. She continues petting a hand through her hair as she does this, smiling at Gloriana like she was more proud of her for this than any other service she’s performed.
And then Callie is crawling back down her, grabbing hold of her waist and hips, tugging at the belt-line of her pants. She pulls them free and slides them off of Gloriana, bringing her mouth to meet the smoother skin on the inner side of her thigh. A precious puddle wets the inside of her undergarments.
“Oh, dear,” she glimmers, “you really are in need of my attention.”
Her lips meet the fabric, inhaling the marvelous scent of a woman eager for her, and soon her fingernails are clawing at the edges of her underwear, her tongue spreading her lips even over the cloth.
“H-hal Devotia!”
Gloriana’s large hand braces against the crown of Callie’s head, her fingers sliding into her hair and grabbing hold, frantic, as though that grip is all that keeps her from falling.
Callie settles into the familiar feeling which never dulls - her breath blowing back against hot skin, her tongue tasting something that once was forbidden to her, her neck straining just to be nearer. She raises her ass in the air, lowering her skirt enough to give the paladin a salacious view if she ever opens her eyes.
“You’ve been so loyal, Gloriana,” Callie beams up at her, ensuring the woman meets her glare and can’t bear it. “It’s so easy to want to reward you.”
“Fuck.”
Gloriana’s head rocks back as Callie disregards her undergarments, pulling them aside to bring her face in deeper. She guides her tongue into her, sliding up and down the wet folds and adoring the soft, shivering gasps it pulls from Gloriana. One of her thighs tightens against Callie’s cheek.
“You deserve this. You deserve this feeling.”
And if Gloriana disagrees, her body denies it. Her hand grips harder in her hair, her fist tugs at the bedsheets. She moves with Callie’s neck, grinding her hips into her face on instinct and instinct alone.
Callie brings a pair of fingers into her, tilting them up at the tips and letting them beckon Gloriana deeper into her grasp, just as her mouth latches onto the woman’s clit and doesn’t let go. Gloriana rewards her with a delicious low moan, long and lovely.
“You’re - fuck,” the paladin attempts. She shakes her head, succumbing to the feeling instead of speaking. Callie grins.
And when Gloriana’s thighs are squeezing the sizes of her face, when Callie’s knuckles are dripping and aromatic, when her voice cries out into the room - Callie doesn’t stop. She continues, bringing her into a deeper and deeper pit of desperation. Once. Twice. Nearly a third.
Gloriana fights to steady her breath, forcing herself into long, deep inhales and hissing exhales, one hand on Callie and one hand holding onto the bed frame. She shifts in place, letting herself bask in the warm and welcoming feeling of her body’s gratuity for the decision, and Callie finally relents from the task. She brings herself up onto Gloriana’s chest, bringing her tired and excited mouth into hers once more.
And then she’s pulling the larger woman into her arms, petting her hair and encouraging her to rest and savor it. “Whenever you need me, Gloriana, all you need to do is ask. Understood?”
She bobs her head in agreement. When she speaks, it's breathless. “Yes, hal Devotia.”
A kiss atop her head. Gentle, affectionate. “I am more than happy to take care of whatever needs you have, even if you feel shy in asking,” Callie coos. “You don’t need to be ashamed about wanting this.”
“Thank you, hal Devotia,” she says - grateful, obedient.
Callie prepares herself for the turn, the moment where her agenda might accidentally shine through. As wonderful as it is to serve the woman, and it is wonderful, a small part of her knows it serves an ulterior motive. She lets her voice grow more serious, commanding, but never losing its warmth.
“All I ask of you is your continued loyalty.”
Her palm wanders its way down Gloriana’s abdomen, slipping into place. Gloriana tenses expectantly, but Callie holds her hand still.
“You serve me, and me alone,” Callie tells her, possessive, giving. “Serve me, and I’ll take care of you, Gloriana. I’ll take excellent care of you.”
Gloriana takes a sharp inhale and Callie can feel her hips pushing forth into her hand, but she doesn’t give her what she wants. She holds her hand steady, motionless, until the paladin is nodding and confirming, “I serve you, and you alone, hal Devotia.”
Her fingers find their way into her, and Callie is already kissing her once again. “Very good. Now, relax, and let your Devotia serve you.”
– – –
“Oh, fucking - Callie!” Mira calls out, her voice bouncing across the walls of the bathroom.
Callie presses her chest into the woman’s back, pushing her against the wall of the bath and loving the feeling of her squirming in her arms. Her wrist is tired, nearly burnt out from the effort, but Mira’s raised leg and heaving breaths is enough to never want to stop. She increases her speed.
The water sloshes around them, hot and steamy as though they needed the help. The sweat on Mira’s skin is indistinguishable from the bathwater, but as Callie kisses her slick shoulder blade she tastes a hint of salt. She licks across the skin, biting and sucking as she goes, giving the priestess no time to grow bored under her touch.
Mira squeals, high and restrained, shivering up into the lip of the stone wall and shoving her hips down on Callie while they jerk against her fingers. Callie shoves them as deep as she can, her other hand digging into Mira’s chest as she pulls her tightly, restraining her so she must give in to the bliss pouring through her.
When she’s finished, Mira’s already turning around and kissing Callie, her back upon the edge and a blessed grin upon her face. Gods, she’s pretty.
And Callie tells her the plan.
“Gods, Callie.”
“Will you do it?”
Mira looks around the room, giggling incessantly. “You didn’t need to fuck me for that. I would’ve done it regardless. The way they’re treating you is ridiculous.”
Callie brings her mouth in once more, loving the little moan that it pulls from Mira. She hovers in her breath, letting her desire stay clear upon her face. “Oh, I didn’t fuck you for that. I did it because you’re cute.” Her hand moves sluggishly through the water, but she still manages a playful swat on Mira’s bottom. “Round two?”
Mira rolls her eyes. “Is Civa in on this, too?”
“She’s my next stop.”
“And Willow?”
“I asked her over tea last night.”
“Salome?”
Callie purses her lips. “She has her own place in all this.”
The priestess furrows her brow for a moment, but shoves away her confusion. “Whatever you say, hal Devotia. I’m with you.”
“Good.” And then both of Callie’s hands are grabbing the backs of her thighs, lifting her up. “Now, up on the edge with you. I want to taste you.”
Mira mutters a swear under her breath, sighing lovingly. “I’m so glad you weren’t a celibate Devotia.”
– – -
She’s only visited Mykah’s room a few times since the probation, and the first visit had been mightily awkward. Her clumsy attempt to apologize for their last conversation - the kiss - was met with a gracious and bumbling apology from him for doing it. Then they’re both apologizing. Then she’s joking about kissing him again. Then he’s telling her he actually might be meeting a guy later, and she’s happy for him.
And then they’re back in the comfortable rest of their friendship, armored by the protective covering of years. Anything could be forgiven and forgotten. Anything could be worked through and laughed about later.
But today, when she visits, telling him the whole of her plan, Mykah paces around his room at the college, his intelligent eyes flicking through a variety of reactions.
“That’s… that’s a dangerous play, Callie,” he says at last. A crinkle of his nose tells her he means it. “That could really backfire.”
She takes his hand. Touch has become the primary way she’s learned to relate to people of late, and as she squeezes his palm, she pours all the honesty and faithfulness she can into telling him, “That’s why I need you.”
He frowns. Considers it. “Who else is in?”
“Gloriana, the priestesses, Junivere, Cirene, and Calvin, so far. I’m still asking more.”
“This is…” He squeezes her hand back and steps away, staring out the window that overlooks the main avenue of the college. Mages flick by on the streets, laughing, talking, sometimes showing off. The late summer breeze that blows through the room is full of potential.
And she can only think of the itch in her mind. The pull to action. The need to be free. Change is coming, and she intends to meet it prepared. All the skills she’s acquired as Devotia, all the thought of the game and of strategy and of the desperate need to be let out of any captivity someone tries to force her into. Rookwell was a prison, and she was not willing to have risked everything escaping it just to find Solva transformed into one as well.
Win, or lose, she would not be captive again.
“Callie, this’ll…” A sigh. A breath full of acceptance. “Yeah… I’m in.”
She throws her arms around him. “Thank you.”
And as he steps back, holding her arms and letting his gaze study her, study her familiarity and her metamorphoses, he grins. “You really aren’t the same person I knew back home.”
“In a bad way?” She tilts her head.
“Absolutely not. This is unbelievable, what we’re wrapped up in.”
She lets out a low noise. “That’s what I feel most of the time.”
He steps back to the window, a gentle press of her hand as he goes. “Well, they certainly were right, weren’t they? You’re going to be a Devotia that changes things.”
“I just hope it works,” she tells him.
“It will,” he smiles, so confident that she can’t help but believe him. “Now, what’s the move?”
– – –
They stop in the hallway. The stone walls of the North Tower of the college seem to oppress the air around them. The sparkling feeling when magic is around may as well zap into electricity around them.
“If either of you have reservations-,”
“I’m with you, hal Devotia,” Gloriana affirms.
“Mykah?”
He huffs. “This is a Magewitch we’re talking about. One of the most gifted magic-users apart from the Magisters themselves.” Mykah takes a low breath. “Forgive me if I’m wary.”
“If all goes well, she’ll be smart enough to avoid a fight.”
And then Callie is entering the room, leaving the two of them behind her. She shuts the door and is immediately subjected to the hushed fury of Dynasa’s frustration.
“Callana,” she looms over her. “Where have you been? Velena is furious!”
“I needed a morning free of being studied,” Callie says pitifully, placing on a mask with a necessary grace. “Gloriana took me to Mykah’s instead.”
She crosses her arms over her chest and glowers. “Without telling Velena?”
Rubbing a fist into her eye-socket, feigning exhaustion, Callie sighs. “I didn’t sleep at all last night. I must have forgotten to tell her.”
Dynasa marches forward. “Why didn’t you sleep?” She places the back of her palm on Callie’s forehead, checking the temperature. She makes a displeased noise. “Are you sick? Describe what you’re feeling, it could be important.”
Callie gestures towards her skirt. “It’s just uncomfortable,” she complains, trying to seem overly burdened. Sympathetic. “I wouldn’t have even come here today if it didn’t mean I’d get a break from it.”
Dynasa purses her lips, piercing, inquisitive eyes measuring her. “You ought to have told Velena you weren’t feeling well. Don’t do that again.” And then she’s strolling back to her notebooks, picking up the key that would open the cage. “Let’s begin.”
A few embarrassing moments later and Callie rejoices in the freedom from its weight. She sits, feeling her thighs grateful for the expanded range of movement with its absence.
“Now,” the Magewitch looms over her, a book in hand, “when we left off, we were testing the capacity of the magical reservoir within you. You mentioned the Yalani source was far deeper than the Solvavi source - that you’ve suddenly gone from a novice level of proficiency to having a basis of will greater than most graduating mages.”
“Correct.”
“I noted the sudden surge of power as consistent with a typical anointing, thus continuing to build evidence that Yala truly possesses the power to select Devotia for herself.”
“As I’ve been saying.”
“And we tested the resiliency of your wards, placing them under a variety of stressors to test their durability unde-,”
Knowing that Dynasa could continue uninterrupted in her study for some time, Callie simply waits patiently, tuning her out. The Magewitch rambles about the Standard Arcana’s theory to explain this, hypothesizes about the possibility once more of proving the Mirage Arcana, and mutters about a variety of subjects far above Callie’s knowledge.
And as she sits, Callie thinks about freedom.
And power.
Power, she muses to herself, was the capacity to assert freedom. Her own. She’d been a Devotia for months, and despite having a nominal power, she’d let others take it out of her hands before she’d even known what it was. Velena took the reins of her instruction and shaped her thinking because Callie knew nothing else. Dynasa took Callie’s political ineptitude, filled her with visions of an optimistic past, and began plotting to use her for her own purposes.
Those purposes might align broadly with Callie’s - the unshackling of the Devotia - but Yala gives her greater aspirations. A new age. A new future not only for the Devotia, but for all of the nation.
Which is why, at the end of Dynasa’s experimentation today, where she holds the cage back up and tells her, “Regardless, I’ve made an adjustment to the cage. With luck it’ll be less uncomfortable,” Callie finds herself saying:
“Thank you. That won’t be necessary.”
And her heart pounds in her chest, thumping in her neck, booming in her ears. She shifts in her seat, crossing one leg over the other and trying to keep her back straight and her chin high - and to not show any of the weakness she feels.
The Magewitch scowls at her. She offers the cage forward once, apprehensively, as though it were a test, then sets it aside as Callie continues staring her down.
“What happened to ‘a compliant Devotia?’”
Callie inhales sharply. “I am being compliant. To Yala.” And myself.
“Callana.”
Dynasa paces, a hand rubbing her cheek. It’s clear she’s fighting to maintain her composure. “We are in a delicate position. If we do not play out cards carefully, meticulously, we will lose any forward progress. I regret that it is inconvenient for you to wait, but we are talking about the whole of the city, and the nation. You cannot make hasty decisions.”
“I am done waiting at my own expense for change,” Callie insists. “It is coming. Now. Do I have your support?”
Dynasa’s eyes narrow, stare daggers into her. Her voice leaves her in a tight breath. “What are you planning?”
And Callie replies with a curt dismissal, a shake of her head. “This time, I require you to trust me.” A beat. “I will not be a Devotia used as a pawn. I serve the goddesses.”
Dynasa’s hand twitches. It nearly sparks with a spell. “I could make you.” Her eyes flick to the cage. In her eyes there is a challenge. Do you think your new magic is stronger than me?
And Callie knows the answer. A quick hand dismisses the noise ward in the room Dynasa had set as they entered. A gentle call leaves her, directed out towards the door.
Mykah enters, glowing tendrils of light in his palms. Gloriana steps in front of him, sword and shield drawn.
And Callie looks up at Dynasa, smug and dignified. “Could you?”
Dynasa’s back straightens. Her eyes widen. “This is a coup.”
“This is liberation of the Devotia. Change is here, Dynasa.” She stands, tucking her fear so far down inside of herself that it would never see the light of day. She’s still not sure the three of them could really take down a Magewitch. “You told me you wanted to be a part of it. This is your opportunity.”
Her mouth forms a tight line. “If you get this wrong…”
“I won’t.”
– – -
Callie basks in the moonlight, in the freshness of the night air. The heat of the day breaks away into a perfect evening, and she delights in the freedom of wearing a short dress and feeling the breeze upon her skin. The stars glitter above them, in the beautiful firmament of the sky, and Yala bestows a full moon for their purposes.
She marches down the main streets of Solva, loving the lantern lights and flickering candles of a city grateful for the cool temperature at last. People mill about, some laughing, some drinking, some sitting and eating meals out of large simmering pots or visiting street venders.
And they all turn to watch their Devotia stroll down the main avenue.
She smiles at them, waves at them. Loves them.
Callie knocks on the door, hearing Gloriana shuffle a few steps away behind her. The gathering crowd of onlookers keep their distance, mercifully, and Gloriana gives her privacy at the threshold, standing unthreateningly between her and the crowd.
Calvin opens the door, adorned in his ceremonial armor. She knows he hates it, but the occasion calls for its formality. It takes a great deal of restraint not to push him back inside the door and rip it off of him.
He smiles, laugh lines and dimples and bright eyes and all.
“Is it-?”
“It’s time,” she confirms.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
“It’s already in motion. I just have to see it through.” She looks down, taking a long breath and knowing that the future could hold anything for her. “Calvin, if this doesn’t work…” She allows her nerves to finally show, lets her voice be soft and wishful and full of all the feelings she’s been so afraid of. “Will you come with me?”
A breath.
Two.
Three.
And then he takes her hand. He brings it to his lips. “Yes.”
So Callie throws herself into his arms and ignites the tension between them, pulling his mouth to hers like it's the only place it could possibly belong. And she allows him to scoop her up, his arms across her back and lifting her off of her feet and into his body. Her hands are on his cheeks, grabbing hold of his face and letting herself be unmade by his touch.
The Magister’s knights, which should be out tonight, are conveniently ordered away from this street. Gloriana’s report to Velena leads them to believe Callie is tucked away in the villa - obedient, safe, and captured.
The crowd watches her, and she can feel their eyes latching onto this moment like history was coming alive in the flesh. A Devotia kissing her Knight-Commander, passionately, lovingly - full of romance and need and a clear history between them. A Devotia out in the night, far from the bounds of Suul’s light, kissing someone without any duty, without any obedience to the laws of the city.
A scandal that could break the very foundations of the city.
And she feels that hot feeling inside of her, aching for Calvin to bring her inside and make her cry out, joined by the cool softness of Yala’s magic. They mix together within her, swirling and twisting and baptizing her into a new era.
The beams of the full moon above them seem to melt into raindrops, sliding down from the air to find their place beside her. They shimmer with a silver fierceness, shining and glittering and bouncing off of all the other lights around, sending a cascade of luminance into their world.
And they wash over Calvin like a wave breaking on the shore, glowing against his skin and letting it shine like the mirrors of a pool. A blessing.
The first blessing of Yala.
She exits the kiss, beaming, and he looks as though he could never love a moment more than he loves this moment, like he could never love anyone more than he loves her. Her face hurts from smiling.
“That’s-!” He’s exclaiming.
“I was right,” she exhales, arms around his neck. She closes her eyes and savors the knowledge. Her forehead against his. “This is going to work,” she sighs, giddy. She turns back to the crowd, who look upon her with awe. Who look upon the miracle at work and seem to understand what it means.
“Gloriana?” She summons.
And with a kiss on the cheek, Gloriana bursts into light as well.
Mykah brings the priestesses to her, Mira and Civa and Willow and Salome, and they all hold one another in a space of silent divinity.
“Behold!” Mira calls out to the crowd, full of dignity and reverence. “Hal Devotia Yalani!”
And a cheer spreads through the world around Callie, rejoicing in her just as she gazes up to the moon above her and beams.
It was in the moonlight that Callie escaped Rookwell. It was in the moonlight that she felt her loneliness cry out for comfort. It was in moonlight that she met the goddess.
The full moon shines down upon her, and she bathes in its embrace.
The priestesses filter through the crowd, with the rest of her procession with her, and they call forth for the sick and the weary, for the ones most in need of Yala’s blessing. A blessing which Callie gives out with nothing but love and adoration in her heart.
A kiss on the cheek.
A burst of radiant light.
A kiss on the cheek.
A healing.
A kiss on the cheek.
A comforted heart.
A kiss on the cheek-
