june 30th 2023
And the Blessed One walked to the banks of the river Lapis,
and was followed by the curious.
And the foremost among them came to Her, and said:
"You say that spirit and flesh are not two, but one;
that Gods and Men are not unlike, but kindred.
But how shall we know this to be true?"
* * * *
A pale face emerged from behind the corner of the hallway, freckles all but invisible in the dimness. Her nose wrinkled as she glanced around, before ducking back and re-emerging with another young woman, dressed like her in a greenish-brown robe and matching headdress. The shorter of the two, being pulled along behind, winced with every step her companion took.
She finally mustered the courage to raise her voice to a whisper. "We have to be quiet, or someone will hear us!"
The taller woman rolled her eyes. "We are being quiet, Jamilla."
"Maybe we should go back." She bit her knuckle nervously. "It might be too early... Mother Cheroot might not have gone to sleep yet."
"If I yield to your cold feet every time, we'll never get a chance at this." Sighing, the tall girl shut the wooden door to the chapel as quietly as she could manage. She removed her headdress, revealing a full head of curly locks; a pair of shiny horns poked from the top, and she scratched at them idly.
"Chrissie, please... Being caught fornicating is bad enough. If this does not work, we could both be disfellowshipped!"
The thought of exile wasn't half the deterrent to Chrissie that it had been two years ago. After the minor scandal with the Archdruid's daughter, she'd be lucky to reach the rank of Ovate by fifty. "It will work. You brought the elixir, didn't you?"
Sister Jamilla sheepishly held up the phial, the glass glinting in the moonlight. With a typical lack of shame, Sister Chrysanthemum slipped out of her robe. As Jamilla had expected, beneath the fabric Chrissie was naked but for her furry legs.
Jamilla felt a blush in her cheeks, and a tightness in her leggings, at the sight of her friend's nude form. Though the wild passion of their first few months together had long since passed, her body knew what to expect when she snuck out with her paramour after midnight. They had refrained from using anything more than their hands on each other since the new moon. If anything, though, the near-chastity had only deepened their lust for each other.
Now more than ever, Jamilla wanted to give in to her most primal urges. To tear off her own tunic; to dig her fingers in to Chrissie's hips as she made violent love to her; to make her lover scream in ecstasy, consequences be damned...
Sister Jamilla took a deep breath, holding the small bottle of fluid aloft. "And the Blessed One poured the two vessels, and the waters flowed into the waters; and lo, the waters mixed, and became as blood. And She said to those that had gathered: Behold, the waters are blood, so when you drink of the waters, you drink of the very lifeblood of the world."
Sister Chrysanthemum knelt on the floor, her hooves rubbing against the flagstones. Though she had seen this Rite take place hundreds of times since joining the Order, hearing the words from Jamilla's lips was a novel experience. A slightly thrilling one, too; but then, she had always felt a little jolt of excitement doing things she technically shouldn't. Allowing her friend - barely an Ovate herself - to perform the sacrament was certainly not allowed, much less using her own body as the host.
Jamilla quaffed the elixir, trying her best not to be sick from its taste. The naked Faun sat down on the floor, allowing her lover to slip her arms under her thighs and shoulders. To her surprise, the shorter woman was able to rise to her feet unaided, though her muscles trembled with the effort.
"And the Blessed One took the mean, uncomely stones, and a light shone from within them; and lo, the stones grew soft, and became as flesh." Sister Jamilla's eyes welled with tears, and the familiar words of the Rite felt heavy on her tongue, freighted as they were with new meaning. "And She said to those that had gathered: Behold, the stones are flesh, so when you eat of the flesh, you eat of the very stones of the body of Man."
Chrissie gave what she hoped was a reassuring smile as Jamilla lowered her to the ground. The Human tugged at her teeth tentatively; instead of the usual dull ache, there was only the mildest discomfort as her jaw slipped free from its hinges.
Grinning, the Faun held her open hands to her lover's mouth, wrists pressed together as though bound with invisible rope.
Jamilla let her lips part, as Chrissie's hands slipped in. Her mouth opened wider - wider - wider still, stretching like molten candle wax. Evidently the rather odd Academy alchemist had done her work well; the elixir was allowing her flesh and bone to shift like that of a changeling, but with no particular template in mind for the transformation.
For her part, Chrysanthemum felt as though she were tingling all over. True, it might have been merely from excitement, but she couldn't help thinking of how the more experienced Initiates had described the life-force. Before her head slipped fully into Jamilla's throat, she whispered one more thing.
"I love you."
It took every ounce of willpower for Jamilla not to end the Rite immediately and hold her lover in her arms again; but even six years of training couldn't keep the tears from flowing. She wished more than anything that she could return the sentiment aloud; but the Faun had shoved her arms deep enough to block off her devourer's breathing.
There was no going back now. Either she would keep swallowing until the deed was done, or the both of them would suffocate.
The Ovate felt her muscles sliding beneath her skin, pulling Chrissie deeper still. She saw the young woman's tail wagging back and forth; then with another gulp, she felt her lover's fur tickling her throat. Halfway there...
Experimentally, Jamilla stretched her arms forward; the skin and bones obediently shifted, and she wrapped her hands around the smoothness of Chrissie's hooves. The Faun felt this, and tensed the muscles in her legs to let her push. Deeper... deeper...
The hooves disappeared between the undulating flesh of Jamilla's throat, and she took a sudden, gasping breath for the first time in nearly a minute. Her mind was empty of all thoughts save panic, but a part of her dimly felt her meal curling up inside her.
Darkness surrounded Chrysanthemum... or maybe it was blinding light? Either way, she could see nothing, but felt the tingling sensation intensify. She of all people knew the fine line between pain and pleasure, and the way one might cross into the other like red and yellow paint; but this was something else entirely.
It was hard for her to breathe, but she wasn't gasping for air - she just felt tired. The darkness - light? - grew even more intense, but there was no fear. She was warm and safe... surrounded by love...
Her airway finally clear, Sister Jamilla gasped for breath. She paused before looking down, her eyes widening at the sight of her middle bulging beneath her robe. Though there was a pang of sadness at the thought of her friend - her lover - being changed forever, she felt happiness as well. Barren as she was, her belly was round and heavy, full of life - and soon to be full of more than life.
Raising both hands, the Ovate intoned the final words of the Rite. "And the Blessed One said: Eat of thy sacred flesh, and drink of thy holy blood; and behold, you shall see the dawning of a new life in the spirit."
There was no burst of sunlight, no phantom fire or voice from the heavens. Jamilla knew this; the ways of the Order were rooted in contemplation and wisdom, not the parlor tricks of the Academy wizards. Nothing indicated that her frankly blasphemous performance of the Rite had been successful, and she knew that now she could only trust in the spirit world.
That night, Sister Jamilla lay in bed and cried herself to sleep. In the morning, she woke to find her belly empty; there was no sign of what had happened, except the disappearance of Sister Chrysanthemum.
* * * *
Six days passed - a full week, by the new calendar - and the cloistered women began to whisper among each other. It was obvious that the young Faun had run away, they said. Most likely, she just missed her family; a lot of the younger aspirants were known to leave suddenly.
The more observant sisters also noticed Sister Jamilla keeping to herself more than usual. There was speculation that she was nursing a broken heart, but none could say whether Chrysanthemum's departure had been the cause of Jamilla's sadness, or the effect.
At Sunset on the sixth day, the Ovates were assembled in the chapel, observing the prayers for the down-going of the Sun. Errant rays of light shone through the western window, filtered through the leaves of the oak trees.
After a few minutes, though, the light had not faded; if anything, it was brighter than before.
Sister Linden paused in her prayer and looked up, gasping aloud at the sight before her. A form hovered in the air, resembling a Faun sculpted from precious minerals. Her skin was like liquid gold; her horns and hooves like solid silver; her hair and fur like lapis lazuli.
The other Ovates began to look up, gazing in amazement. Though none dared speak, some of them thought the vision bore a slight resemblance to Sister Chrysanthemum.
Jamilla stepped away from her seat, walking towards the glowing form with hands outstretched. Her eyes flowed with tears, but her face showed no feeling more complex than loving awe.
The golden Faun smiled down at Jamilla, gently placing a hand on her head. When she spoke, the entire chapel seemed to resonate with her words like a bell.
"Sister Jamilla... You brought the sacred flesh into your mouth... carried it inside you... felt the weight and fullness of it, and were sated." She caressed the Human's cheek. "And through this act of faith, I have been born anew in spirit. Know that I shall watch over you always, for I love you. I love you!"
Sister Jamilla was beaming. "I love you also, Chrysanthemum."
The vision faded as quickly as it had appeared. The other Ovates gazed on Jamilla - some with awe, some with secret envy, but all with a thousand questions as to what had happened.
Jamilla wiped a tear from her cheek. Let them wonder, she thought. This was a mystery more profound than any other, and its deepest truth was for her alone. ■