Lilith Shadowflame's Arc

Chapter 9 of 21

Morning came gray through the cave mouth. Lilith woke on the dais beside Damien with the altar still glowing faint purple across the hall. She sat up and looked at it. The stone was ready. The worshippers were not. Six villagers had drunk from the pool and carried her mark on their chests, but none of them knew what to do at an altar. They would climb the path today and stand there confused, and confusion in front of a goddess was worse than absence. She nudged Damien with her boot. He opened his eyes. "Get the offering ready," she said. "Fruit, wine, sweets. Candles around the rim. Put it on the altar before they get here." "Then what." "Then you show them how to feed me." He sat up. "Feed you how." "Kneel. Take a piece. Hold it up. Put it in my mouth. Drink from the cup and bring it to my lips. They watch you, then they copy." He did not answer for a moment. Then he nodded and stood. He worked fast. He came back with a wide silver bowl draped in black cloth. He arranged pomegranates and dark cakes and cherries around a tall chased cup, and set small candles at the rim and lit each one. He set the bowl on the obsidian slab. The purple veins in the altar brightened under it. The villagers arrived at midday. Six of them, the same six, their marks showing at their collars. They stopped inside the door when they saw the altar. One reached toward the fruit. Another pulled his hand back. Lilith sat on her throne. The dragon shifted on its ledge and watched them without lifting its head. Damien walked down from the dais and stood at the altar. He did not speak. He knelt. He picked up a pomegranate half, split it further with his thumbs, and climbed the three steps to her. He held it up. She opened her mouth. He set a seed on her tongue. He went back down. He lifted the cup in both hands, climbed again, and tilted it at her lips. She drank. Wine ran at the corner of her mouth. He caught it with his thumb without asking and wiped it clean. The six were watching now. One knelt first. Then the others. They came forward one at a time. They copied him. Fruit. Cup. Lips. Back down the steps. When the last one stepped away her crown was hot on her head. Brighter than it had been in days. The bond mark on Damien's chest had dimmed a shade to match. She looked at him standing at the foot of the dais with wine on his thumb and understood the shape of it. He had fed her in front of them. They had learned by watching him. Her worship now ran through his hands first.