The Stone by the Stream (Part 12)
After Lydia finished her story, a tense silence fell across the table. Ariston held his wife, his expression blank as she clung to him, her sobs growing softer and less frequent over time. Cynthia wished she could simply slip out of the room without being noticed, gather her thoughts, and figure out her next step.
In a soft voice, Lydia said, “You must stay away from the Temple, and don’t go visiting that stone again.”
Ariston looked like he was about to speak, but Cynthia replied in a voice barely more than a whisper: “I can’t do that, mother.”
Springing upright with fire in her eyes, Lydia demanded, “What did you say?”
“The Temple won’t just leave me alone,” Cynthia explained. “Not at this point. Things have already gone too far, they’ve already done too much. They would have Initiated me today if I’d have agreed to it. Even if they wanted to let me go, they can’t now. Not if they think I can be their oracle.”
“No, that can’t be right. With Sofia they — ”
“I’m not Sofia, mother! I’m not your little sister. I’m Cynthia, I’m your daughter, and I’m telling you they don’t want to give me a choice. It’s been years, things have changed, I suppose.”
“It makes some sense,” Ariston said to Lydia. “It’s been years since the Temple has had an oracle. They might have given Sofia more freedom if they were less desperate in those days.”
Lydia nodded, her hands trembling so she had to hold tight to the table’s edge to steady them. “But this is our daughter, Ariston! Our daughter! And you think — you both think! — we should just toss her to those vultures?”
“It’s not what I wanted for Cynthia — the gods know it’s not what I wanted! But for better or worse, our daughter is going to have to make her own decision. It’s earlier than I would have liked, and she’s much younger than I would have liked. But it seems like the Goddess has decided she’s not our little girl anymore.”
“Fine then!” Lydia said, rounding on Cynthia. “Go to the Temple if you like. Go ahead and join them. Go ahead and — burn… for all I care…”
Lydia broke down once again, burying her face in her hands and wailing. All at once Cynthia felt numb and stricken and wanted to throw her arms around her mother’s knees and beg for forgiveness. But Lydia spoke again, “No. No, I didn’t mean that. I just… all your life I’ve wanted nothing more than to protect you! And now… and now…”
“Oh mama…” Cynthia whimpered. “I’m not Sofia, mama. I’m not the one you lost. Look at me — I’m right here! Talking and breathing and living, right here before you. And… crying with you. I’m right here, and I don’t think my fate will be hers. In fact I think… I feel… I know… the Goddess doesn’t mean for me to join the Temple.”
Both Ariston and Lydia turned suspicious eyes on Cynthia to hear this.
They remained silent, however, so Cynthia went on, “I think I’m meant to go to the stone and try to speak to the Goddess. Sofia was right about that, mama, or she might have been: the Temple is not serving the Huntress, or at least not the way it should.”
“What, you think you can go against the Temple?” Lydia said. “You said yourself they wouldn’t let you have a choice.”
“Something isn’t right at the Temple… just trust me on that, there are plenty of things I’ve noticed. Maybe I’ll join them in the end. But I felt… an energy from the stone. I have to speak to the Goddess if I can.”
“And there you are, talking exactly the way she did! Talk to the Goddess? You’re only a girl! Go and join the Temple — at least you’ll be safe!”
“I’m not so sure Cynthia would be safe with the Temple,” Ariston said.
“And why not? Anything would be safer than trying to contact the gods!”
“Sofia said the Temple was working against the gods. And whatever happened, joining the Temple led to her death. Now Cynthia says the same thing. When two potential oracles agree on something so important… my instinct is to trust them.”
“My sister lost her mind,” Lydia said.
“Even if that’s true… the Temple could have made her that way,” Cynthia said.
Before Lydia could respond, a series of three loud knocks on the door caused her to jump.
Brows furrowed, Ariston stood up and headed for the door. Cynthia felt certain she knew who was at the door and her arms trembled in anticipation. As she got up to follow her father to the door her legs felt weak beneath her, and more than once she almost lost her footing.
Ariston opened the door before Cynthia could get there, but the familiar female voice from beyond the threshold told her that her suspicions had been correct.
“Yes, Ariston, is it?” the voice said. “My name is Agatha, from the Temple of the Huntress. Don’t mind my bodyguards, they’re only here as a formality. I’d hate to give you the wrong idea, ha, ha! Anyway, would you mind if I came in for a little chat? Especially if Cynthia happens to be in. You know we’re all quite fond of her over at the Temple.”