The Winter Priestess

Kiora stands on the stone balcony, overlooking the sea of spectacular snow-peaked mountains. Made up of great and sheer grey stone, the mountains tower over the rest of the world. They are so high, in fact, that most of their summits sit above the clouds. The storms rarely reach this altitude. Though the valleys may be being battered by violent whiteouts, so thick and blinding that you couldn't even see your hand outstretched in front of you, there is a serene calm in the skies above.

A long, content sigh leaves her mouth as a soft, chilly breeze brushes past her. It tickles her skin and flutters her hair. She may travel across the world, bringing with her the winter storms, but the temple will always be her home.

"Sister," a quiet voice says behind her. Kiora turns.

"Yes?" she asks, facing another priestess named Alanis.

"The Sculptor would like to see you," Alanis says.

"Thank you for informing me. I shall go to her now," Kiora replies, bowing her head gracefully.

The two women walk back into the temple, their movements delicate and almost ethereal. They move in unison, their velvet cloaks trailing on the cold stone ground. As they pass other sisters, they bow their heads as a silent greeting. Some of her sisters sing. Low and gentle hums echo around the great stone halls. Beautiful female voices create haunting, ethereal harmonies as they sing of Winter. Hearing it calms Kiora and she can't help but smile widely.

Alanis joins the singing as they enter one of the main halls. Even after all these years, Kiora still looks upon the giant room with its great stone pillars and arched ceiling with awe. The songs sound louder here as her sister's voices echo off the smooth stone walls.

In the low light, their velvet cloaks glitter. The dresses sparkle even more. The Priestesses are a sea of pale blues, lilacs, silvers, and whites. Kiora reaches out as she passes one of her sisters. They clasp hands and smile at each other before going their separate ways. Kiora lets out a happy sigh, her smile bright and her body warm with love.

Kiora leaves the hall alone, Alanis staying to sing with her other sisters. The stone corridors are small and narrow. Ice runs along their rooves and trickles down the walls. Icicles hang down, glittering from the low blue flames that sit in the ice-covered candelabras. Soon, Kiora is walking into the large cavern where the Sculptor works.

Her eyes immediately fall on the figure in the centre of the room. The smile falls from her face and she gulps. A strange, heavy feeling consumes her body and a bitter taste fills her mouth. She frowns and walks closer. Standing on a bed of glowing white ice is a figure. Her body is translucent, the ice clear and pristine. There is a soft, silvery glow surrounding her.

She is beautiful. Her eyes are shut. It looks as though she is peacefully sleeping. Long hair falls down her back, hanging perfectly straight. Her facial features are soft, with a little button nose and high cheekbones. She is small, her figure slim.

Kiora's jaw clenches as she stares at her peaceful expression. That bitter taste fills her mouth once more and she frowns, confused as to why she feels so strange.

"What do you think?" a voice asks behind her. Kiora turns as the sculptor enters the room.

"She is beautiful," Kiora replies. "I look forward to meeting our new sister." Her voice cracks slightly and her smile is forced. If the sculptor notices her strange reaction, she doesn't show it.

"She is almost ready," the sculptor says, coming to a stop next to the priestess.

"That is exciting," she replies, her voice sounding a little too high-pitched. "How long have you been sculpting her?"

"Twenty winters," the sculptor replies.

Kiora nods her head. "You wanted to see me?" she asks, wanting to change the subject.

"I did," she replies, her smile warm. The sculptor reaches out and gently touches Kiora's face. She lets out a long, content sigh. "Of all the priestesses I have sculpted over my thousand years, you are my best work," she says softly.

Kiora chuckles. "You can't say that," she scolds.

The sculptor laughs and runs her hand through Kiora's hair. "You took me fifty winters to perfect," she says.

"I know. You remind me every time we talk," Kiora replies with a soft, musical laugh.

They both turn back to the ice sculpture, quietening as they look at her. Kiora pulls at her hair as that strange, sinking feeling returns. She looks at her locks, the silver-lilac strands thick and glossy as they fall to her hips in gentle waves.

She blinks a few times and looks back at the priestess, her silver-lilac eyes watering slightly. Kiora frowns, still confused as to why she is having such a strange reaction to this priestess. She lifts her hand up to play with one of the little diamond charms of her headdress absentmindedly. It hangs elegantly around her dark silver horns which sit on the top of her head, slim and slightly curled with little points at the tips.

"Priestess," the sculptor says, her voice soft. "Two hundred and fifty winters you have been alive. Two hundred years you have walked the land of man, bringing with you Winter's great and wonderful storms."

"I love my job," Kiora replies, thinking about all she had seen; the snow-covered forests, the mountains and the great valleys. As those images fill her mind, her mood settles and calm takes over once more. She lets out a content sigh and smiles, thinking about the snow and the storms.

"I know, child," the sculptor continues. "But now it is time for you to start involving yourself in other roles within our precious order," she explains. Kiora nods her head, not looking back at the ice woman.

"She is almost ready," the sculptor says once more. "And I am asking you first, Sister. Will you take her under your wing when Winter gives her life? Will you teach her the ways of Winter? Will you guide her along her destined path? Will you act as her mother?"

Kiora stares at the sleeping sculpture. Soon, Winter will give her life. She shall gift their newest priestess with soft and glowing skin which could range from fair and pale, to rich and dark. Her hair and eyes shall also receive colour. Perhaps, it will be pure white. Or maybe it will be silver, purple, or blue. That is for Winter to decide.

The one thing Kiora knows for sure is that something is different with this one. That bitter taste fills her mouth once more and a deep, uncomfortable ache settles through her body. It makes her shudder.

Kiora closes her eyes and shakes her head. "I shall not," she replies.

They were told that when it was time to accept the role of mother to a new Priestess, they would feel it. Upon looking at the sculpture, they will feel their body fill with warmth, and they shall feel a love that they had never experienced before. Kiora has felt love. This is not it. She can't decide what she is feeling toward this new priestess, but she knows for sure it is far from love. Kiora clenches her jaw and looks away from the sculpture.

The sculptor nods her head. "I understand," she says. "You are still young. Perhaps the next sculpture. Though I hope she doesn't take as long this time," she jokes.

The sculptures could take anywhere between ten to fifty years of work until Winter decides they are ready. The sculptor receives guidance through Winter and will spend many a meticulous hour carving the ice into Winter's next daughter. That is how a Winter Priestess is made. They do not have muscles, a heart, lungs, blood, or bones. They don't even have a brain. Their life, their light, comes solely from the magic of Winter herself and they will serve her for many, many years.

Priestesses do die, of course, but only when the time is right. When a new Priestess is given life, another must pass. One of her sisters shall soon be giving her life back to Winter. Kiora wonders who it will be. Which one of her sisters shall feel Winter calling for her to return? The idea of one of her sisters giving her life for this sculpture to awaken sends bolts of angry heat surging through Kiora's body. She stumbles away awkwardly, shaking her head to try and rid herself of such horrible feelings. She shouldn't be feeling such horror at the thought of a new sister being awoken.

The sculptor reaches out and presses a reassuring hand to Kiora's shoulder.

"Fifty years Winter demanded I spend carving you. Do you really think she'd call you back after two mere centuries?" she asks, thinking that Kiora's reaction came from the fear of being called back to winter. Kiora forces a smile onto her face and nods her head.

"Winter has great plans for you, Priestess," the sculptor assures her.

"I'm not sure about that," Kiora chuckles awkwardly.

The sculptor laughs and shakes her head as if she knows something the Priestess doesn't. "Come," she says, changing the subject, "let's go and see the High Priestess. I know she wanted to speak to you as well," the sculptor says.

The sculptor links arms with her and the two begin to walk back through the maze of stone corridors.

Despite being over a thousand years old, The sculptor looks like a young woman. Her pale blue eyes are old and have seen much. Her icy grey hair is a stunning contrast against her warm skin. It falls down her back in thick and tight ringlets. A headdress made of metal wraps around the back of her head and curls around the side of her forehead and ears, keeping her wild hair from covering her face.

"When do you think a new sculptor shall be born?" Kiora asks.

"Are you trying to get rid of me?" she says, raising a white eyebrow.

Kiora laughs and shakes her head. "I am merely curious, Sculptor," she replies. The sculptor chuckles and sighs, the smile still on her face.

"I do not know when Winter will call me back, but it won't be for a long while. I will have to spend years sculpting the Priestess and even more years training her. I suspect I shall live for another three hundred winters, at least," she explains. Kiora smiles.

"Good, because I'm not ready to lose you yet," she says.

The sculptor laughs. "Perhaps," she begins, "I'll live to see you become the next High Priestess."

Kiora scoffs and shakes her head. "I won't be ready for a long time," she says. "The High Priestess has a lot to teach me still."

Two hundred and fifty winters ago, the High Priestess looked upon Kiora's icy frame. Her body filled with magical warmth and her soul with love. When Kiora was given life by Winter, the first thing she saw was the bright violet eyes of the High Priestess. Since that day, the High Priestess has taught her and guided her through what it means to be a daughter of Winter. Now she has reached her two-hundred and fiftieth year, it is time she starts learning of what it means to lead her people.

They come to a large stone door, covered with intricate swirls and patterns. As they approach, the door slowly opens with a heavy groaning. Even now, Kiora still feels awe when she sees the hall.

Of all the rooms in the temple, this one will always be Kiora's favourite. As she gazes around the circular room with its smooth, marble-like pillars that reach up to a domed ceiling, Kiora lets out a sigh of relief. The strange feeling dissipated and she grins, marvelling at the way the sun shines through the ice-covered roof, sending shards of bright lights dancing around the room.

Opposite the door, the room is exposed. Stone archways make grand windows that look out to the spectacular snow-peaked mountains beyond. Standing in the middle arch is the High Priestess.

Slowly, she turns to face them. Her skin is dark and faultless, and it shimmers with silver glitter. Her hair is pure white, and it falls to her hips completely straight. It shines like silk. Silver horns protrude from her head, sleek and curling. A large, sparkling headdress weaves around her forehead and horns, decorated in amethyst and diamonds. Silver paint sits around her glowing violet eyes. Her dress is white and pristine. The sleeves go over the shoulders and are connected by silver clasps. Her arms are exposed and decorated with silver twirling metal. The dress flows elegantly to the floor, trailing around her. It shimmers and glitters in the sunlight.

Even now, Kiora is breathless at the beauty and power that her high priestess holds.

"Sculptor, Kiora," she says, her voice rich, and deep, cutting into Kiora's thoughts.

"High Priestess," they both say, bowing their heads. The High Priestess approaches them. She lifts her hand and gently caresses Kiora's face. Kiora leans into the comforting touch.

"You wished to see me?" she asks, looking into the bright, violet eyes of the High Priestess.

"I did," she replies and looks between the two with a warm smile. "You did not bond with the new Priestess," she states.

"I did not," she replies.

"Perhaps the next Priestess," the High Priestess says.

"I hope so."

"How long before Winter gives our new Priestess life?" she asks the sculptor.

"I predict by the end of the week," the sculptor replies.

"Wonderful," the High Priestess smiles. It is a beautiful smile. "Thank you, Sculptor," she says. "I shall like to speak to you later, but right now, I have matters I wish to discuss with Kiora," she says.

"Of course, High Priestess," the sculptor says and bows her head before leaving the room.

When she has gone, the two women walk to the arches in silence. Kiora smiles as she looks out over the mountains. The clouds beneath them are thicker and darker now. There's a storm in the valley below. Yet up here in the mountains above the clouds, the sky is blue and clear, and the breeze is gentle.

"This will be your first winter in the temple for two hundred years," the High Priestess says to her.

"I shall miss my travels," Kiora replies with a sigh. Her chest aches at the thought of not venturing out into the world and exploring all the wonderful sights as they are consumed by winter.

The High Priestess nods her head. "I understand. I too loved the days I would travel across the realms. I never felt freer than when I was calling upon the great winter storms and becoming one with the blinding and howling snow," she says, her voice going distant.

Kiora closes her eyes, thinking back to her travels. The Winter Priestesses had many tasks bestowed upon them by Winter. One of them was to summon great storms throughout the realms during the months her season reigned. Thousands upon thousands of miles they would walk. Through forests, over mountains, across frozen lakes and vast open plains. Kiora has seen so much of their beautiful realm. She had been to every single one of its countries. She had ventured to other Realms in her travels also, but none of them compared to The Second Realm, in her opinion.

Her body feels heavy with sorrow at the thought of not travelling anymore. The High Priestess smiles softly and leans forward. She places a delicate kiss on Kiora's forehead.

"I know what you did with all those children," she says softly. Kiora's eyes widen and the High Priestess laughs. "I am not angry. Children do not understand winter. Sometimes they need help, and I am glad you were there to guide them back to safety."

"You aren't angry I risked our exposure? You aren't disappointed I let mortal children see me?" she asks, her voice shaking a little.

"No. I would be a monster if the rescuing of scared children angered me," she explains, then smiles sadly. "You rescued many in your years."

"I couldn't leave them," Kiora replies, her eyes stinging with tears as she remembers hearing their panicked cries as the cold started to consume their little bodies.

"I am glad you did not," the High Priestess tells her. "It is qualities like that which make me believe you will make a wonderful High Priestess after me."

"Then why do you look so sad?" Kiora asks, her voice shaking a little. The High Priestess looks into her eyes.

"I have the strangest feeling, daughter," she says. "It sits in my stomach like lead, twisting, and weighing me down. I fear something is wrong."

"Why?" she whispers, stepping closer.

"We are so close to our next priestess gaining life," the High Priestess explains, "but none of our Priestesses have felt the call back to Winter. When it is time for a priestess to pass, she will feel it for months, even years before the time comes. Yet, all our sisters have denied being called upon."

Kiora's stomach clenches at the mention of the newest priestess and that horrible, angry heat spreads through her.

"Could it be that our newest sister will be born without a passing priestess?" Kiora asks, frowning, wondering if that is why she is having such a strange reaction to her new sister.

"That doesn't happen. The birth can only happen with an exchange of Winter's light. A Priestess cannot gain life without one of her sisters passing," the High Priestess says. Her brows furrow and her lips pull into a tight line. Never had Kiora seen such worry cross the High Priestess's features before. It has fear bolting through her, causing her hands to shake.

"Is that all that troubles you?" she asks tentatively.

"No, daughter," she says, looking back into Kiora's eyes. "I have heard some distressing news from the valley folk."

Kiora gasps, her eyes widening.

"What?" she asks.

"They claim that a group of mortals were seen trekking through the area."

Kiora shakes her head. "That doesn't mean anything, surely?" she asks. "Humans like to venture into the mountains every now and then to test themselves."

The High Priestess shakes her head, her lips pulling into a tight line. "Not this far, Kiora," she says. Kiora opens and closes her mouth, not sure what to say. The two go quiet for a moment before the High Priestess turns to face her. She looks directly into Kiora's eyes.

"We can't be sure if these mortals are a threat. You may be right, they could just be on some sort of training exercise. But I was informed that they arrived using a portal weaver."

Kiora's eyes widen. People who can create portals are a rare bunch. She'd only come across two in all of her travels and both of them worked for the Kings of Orthanya.

"Yes. The mortals are Orthanyan and of some kind of King's guard," the High Priestess elaborates.

Kiora shakes her head and bites at her lips, her mind fuzzy with confusion.

"Why would they be here?" she asks.

"I don't know, Kiora. But we need to be alert. The reports I've received from the village folk say that they were going around asking about our temple."

Kiora's face pales and her eyes widen. "What?" she squeaks and a deep, unsettling ache churns in the pits of her stomach. The High Priestess nods her head slowly and turns to look back out over the mountains.

"Everything is fine," Kiora whispers, more to reassure herself. "I am sure of it. Even if they find our mountain, there is no way they'd be able to climb up here."

"I hope so," the High Priestess says, her voice distant.

The ache only grows. It gnaws at Kiora, making her shift uncomfortably.

The High Priestess takes in a deep breath.

"What is it?" Kiora gulps, not sure she wants an answer.

"I have a very bad feeling, Kiora," she says, her tone grim. "Tomorrow is the Summer Solstice. We shall do our morning prayers as usual. Then, I will call back all of our sisters. Once they have returned, I want the temple locked down."