In the year 5,265,240, the Goddess, She-Who-Once-Was, transcended this material plane, her spirit ascending unto the Divine Mother, from whom it originally emanated. … Yet in the hour of despair, our Sacred Mother shall bestow her beloved daughter once more upon the children of her heart, that she may emancipate them from the chains of subjugation and lay retribution upon those who torment the innocent.
~ Book of Sheramda
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THE CITY OF HAMMAT ON THE MOON SHAMHDI
The year 5,281,563 of the Anunnaki Empire standard calendar
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Passing an alleyway, Kaarina saw four children huddled in a doorway, their threadbare clothes marking them as residents of the city's poorer quarters. One of them, a girl in her early teens with sharp features and tangled dark hair, caught Kaarina's attention. The girl's direct and intelligent gaze evoked memories of Kaarina's younger sister. The resemblance struck deep, and Kaarina felt a pang of homesickness twist in her chest. I haven't seen my family since Dejan blocked contact with them last year. Will I ever see them again? She thought, her throat tightening with emotion.
As she walked on, Kaarina's gaze wandered to the interplay of shadow and light on the decorative stonework on the walls of the houses that rose several stories above her. Most buildings contained interior courtyards circumscribed by cloisters and colonnaded balconies, their marble banisters smoothed by centuries of touch. Windowless street-side walls faced outward, adorned with dressed stone blocks arranged in intricate geometric patterns. The clean streets were paved with well-worn stones, their surfaces polished by countless footsteps. This ancient city district glowed in the waning sunlight, its weathered stones adopting a golden hue that spoke of permanence and tradition.
A vending machine kiosk dispensing local delicacies—steaming dumplings and spiced meat pastries—reminded Kaarina that she last ate at breakfast. The aroma of exotic spices wafted through the air, making her mouth water. She had been busy with housework during the day.
Turning to Dejan Strljic, a military officer escorting her, Kaarina said, "I want to check on those children. It'll only take a moment." The sight of their thin frames moved her.
Dejan shot her an exasperated glare. "Holy Mother, Kaarina! We don't have time for urchins. They shouldn't be in the Temple District. City security will round them up soon." His fingers drummed impatiently against his thigh, a habit whenever his schedule was disrupted.
"Please go ahead. I'll catch up with you." Determination laced her voice.
"We'll wait for you," Dejan replied curtly, crossing his arms and leaning against one of the light posts that lined the street.
Kaarina moved toward the girl, noticing how the other children pressed closer at her approach. She bent down, bringing herself to eye level with the girl. "Where's your family, dear?"
The girl shrugged, her thin arms wrapping around her knees, clutching a small cloth bundle to her chest as if it were a treasure. “Don’t got one. Just me and my brother.” She kicked at a loose stone on the ground. “We live in the Grocka.”
You're a long way from your neighborhood. Why are you here?" Kaarina scrutinized the girl's face for any hint of distress or deceit.
The girl's voice was surprisingly steady despite her ragged appearance, her dark eyes meeting Kaarina's with unexpected composure. “We came 'cause we heard the Goddess is here, She-Who-Once-Was! Everyone can feel her now, even if she ain't seen. My brother says she’s in the air, makin’ everything change. We wanted to be close when she shows herself. We believe she’ll help us, save us from all this... all the bad stuff.” Her voice trembled with conviction. “We just wanted to see her when she comes back.”
Kaarina sighed. The Grocka District was one of the teeming slums on the outskirts of Hammat, home to the city’s working poor, thousands of homeless people, and bands of street children. The neighborhood’s reputation for desperation and squalor was well-earned—cramped hovels and makeshift shelters stretched kilometers along the city's eastern edge.
A month ago, after the Goddess declared that all humans were equal, common people began gathering in the plaza at the foot of Midzor, the city’s highest hill. They were barred from entering the Temple of the Divine Mother at the hill’s summit and wished to pay homage to the Goddess. Recently, the enslaved Orja joined the milling crowds, their presence intensifying the growing tension, and now, it seemed, street children, too.
"When did you last eat?" Kaarina asked, noting their hollow cheeks and the dark circles under their eyes.
"We ain’t eaten since yesterday," the girl said, fingers fidgeting with a loose thread on her tattered sleeve. “Got no money. No one cares."
"How long have you been living on the streets?" Kaarina softened her tone despite the distress their situation stirred in her. Back in her native land of Tirapathas, many nobles, like herself, had created programs to aid the destitute, viewing extreme poverty as a threat to social order and their own standing. This mission had drawn her to Hamanos—the chance to spark transformation in one of the star system's harshest and most inequitable countries. While her homeland had abolished slavery, it remained deeply rooted and thriving here, woven into the very fabric of society.
"Papa’s gone. Died two years ago. Me and my brother gotta take care of each other now," she said, glancing at an older boy who hovered protectively nearby, his thin shoulders hunched against the evening chill.
The boy spoke up, his voice shaky but resolute. “Papa said the Goddess will take care of us, that we’re her children. We just gotta wait for her to come back, y’know?”
Another child chimed in, an older girl in a ragged dress, “Yeah! The Goddess is gonna free us all. She’ll kick the bosses out and make us all equal!”
The Divine Mother's teachings permeated Shamhdi's monotheistic faith, Kaarina mused. The Book of Sheramda spoke of the deity's incarnation as She-Who-Once-Was, while common folk whispered of prophecies fulfilled—their Goddess walking among them once more. The sacred text proclaimed this divine return would usher in an age of mutual respect and ethical behavior. The people believed their Goddess would shatter income inequality and crush class distinctions plaguing most of Shamhdi. Kaarina's gilded existence as heir to the af Ursin dynasty starkly contrasted these revolutionary ideals. Yet her spiritual fire and dedication to the Divine Mother had pulled her to Hammet, entangling her in a web of danger.
Addressing the children, Kaarina said, "Please follow me to the kiosk, and I'll buy food for you."
As the children began to follow her, the girl raised her voice with newfound enthusiasm. “See? The Goddess heard us! She sent you to help!”
Using her thumbprint, Kaarina transferred one hundred credits from her monthly allowance, courtesy of Dejan, to the machine. The touchscreen flashed green in confirmation, and she stepped back as the children crowded around and began punching in food orders. Warmed by their expressions of gratitude—broad smiles and excited whispers of "thank you”—Kaarina watched for several minutes as they eagerly unloaded food containers from the machine. Dejan is right, she thought, her satisfaction tinged with worry. If city security caught them in the Temple District, the children would face severe consequences—at best, a beating and expulsion. She shuddered at the thought of the worse outcomes. But for now, they wouldn't go hungry.
Kaarina pulled her embroidered shawl tighter around her shoulders for warmth as she resumed her walk in the evening’s gathering coolness. The chill air carried hints of the surrounding desert. Aurinko was setting on the horizon to her left, painting the sky in stripes of amber and violet, while Sheramda rose on the opposite horizon, its massive, banded disk already dominating the darkening heavens. Her close friend Mairi walked beside her, their steps synchronized on the stone-paved street. Dejan, dressed in a crisp uniform, shadowed them. His vigilant presence served as a constant reminder of their captivity.
Their path led them from the affluent quarters of Hammat, the capital city of Hamanos. Like the children, they headed toward the temple, its golden dome reflecting the final rays of Aurinko. The temple seemed to reach into Kaarina, evoking memories of her service in her homeland's temple, now a distant reality.
Dejan remained silent as they progressed along the street, his footsteps sharp and measured. Kaarina sensed his irritation radiating from him like heat rising from sun-baked stones. Though a senior commander who displayed graciousness when it suited him, Dejan lashed out at any challenge to his authority.
Generations of selective breeding endowed him and his fellow officers with athleticism, intelligence, and courage. They were also competitive and arrogant, turning casual interactions into subtle duels of will. As one of Hamanos's dominant social castes, the military adhered to strict procreation and training protocols. Contracted female surrogates bore nearly all security personnel, surrendering their children to the state at the age of six. Steel-eyed instructors and merciless peers shaped future service members in austere military academies, forging warriors through iron discipline and ritualized hazing.
Kaarina contemplated the chasm between her existence in Hamanos and her life in Tirapathas. The af Ursin family boasted an illustrious lineage that extended back millennia, reflecting their pivotal role in humanity’s rebellions against the Anunnaki. They were a cadet branch of the Tirapathian royal family and held extensive commercial interests throughout the Anunnaki Empire. Kaarina had traveled widely across multiple star systems with her father for family business and government affairs, encountering dignitaries, including the Anunnaki Emperor himself. Now, she found herself captive among coarse, low-born soldiers in this benighted country, where the social hierarchy had remained stagnant since the era of She-Who-Once-Was.
Mairi's trembling fingers brushed against Kaarina's sleeve as she pleaded telepathically. Please, don't provoke him. He drinks when agitated, and the others will follow suit. They become rough with me when they're drunk. The empathic wave of Mairi's fear made Kaarina's stomach clench.
In Hamanos, members of the senior castes could communicate telepathically with those they knew, provided they were nearby—an exclusive ability that further distinguished them from the masses they ruled. They also had a limited capacity to empathically sense the emotions of those they contacted, picking up traces that colored their mental exchanges. Although a few bespoke slaves like Mairi possessed these abilities—a cruel irony of their engineered existence—the lower classes and most Orja did not. This gap created yet another barrier between the rulers and the ruled, serving as a tool for maintaining secrets and control.
I'm so sorry, Kaarina sent. Those children's faces haunt me; their despair echoes the misery of this accursed country. Poverty and slavery shackle most of the people.
I understand, but you're from an aristocratic family and have some protection from Dejan, Mairi sent, her mental tone carrying undertones of resignation and bitter acceptance. Her enslaved status left her utterly vulnerable to the officers' whims. Even the release of death eluded her, as they possessed the technology to restore her backed-up memories into a fresh body.
We're both in danger, Kaarina sent. These men are ruthless, and our knowledge of their criminal activities makes us a risk to them.
Mairi darted a nervous glance at Dejan. My life spins in chaos and terror. A year ago, I opened my eyes in a biotechnology lab, and within weeks, they shuttled me to our housing compound, she sent.
In their drunken stupors, they treat you as a common whore, passed around the seedy brothels of Nakao's underbelly. Kaarina's tone carried compassion and disdain. Your elegance and sophistication are wasted on their ilk. Only their ill-gotten riches allow them to possess you.
Thoughts of Mairi's abilities floated through Kaarina’s mind. She discusses art, literature, and poetry in three languages. Her fingers dance across stringed instruments, and her singing voice draws praise. Her psychic abilities of telepathy and empathy enhance her conversations.
Sober, they show glimpses of decency and respect. Mairi paused, grappling with her own uncertainty. Yet, even in those moments, we have nothing in common. Their desire for me remains an enigma...
Kaarina's reply seethed with resentment and fury. These officers exploit their authority, amassing wealth beyond their social standing. Coveting the existence of the Mestari, they've ensnared us in a web of avarice and criminality.
A landscape of high, craggy hills, their weathered faces etched by millennia of wind and dust, defined the city. Buildings of pale stone, constructed in the low-lying areas, interwove with the bluffs, creating a maze of narrow streets and steep staircases that wound between the elevations. As they walked past an intersection, Kaarina caught a glimpse of a castle inhabited by the Mestari, Hamanos’s oligarchic elite, which loomed atop many hills like stone sentinels watching over their domain. Pennants bearing the crest of an aristocratic family—a golden dragon rampant against a field of deep crimson—waved in the mountain breeze from the ancient ramparts. Noble families have occupied their palaces for centuries and, in some cases, millennia, their bloodlines as affixed to this soil as the foundations of their ancestral homes. The sight stirred something in Kaarina—a recognition of the weight of tradition and hereditary power that felt both familiar and alien to her refined Tirapathian sensibilities.
As dusk descended, the streets filled with life. Children's laughter mingled with murmured conversations, carried on mountain breezes that chased away the day's brutal heat. Families emerged from their dwellings like nocturnal creatures, drawn into the gentle embrace of evening.
The upper classes of Hamanos exhibited distinctive traits—olive complexions reflecting generations under their harsh sun, straight black hair shining in the artificial light, and dark, expressive eyes. They presented imposing figures, with the men towering around two meters tall, while the women, though slightly shorter, carried themselves with innate grace. Mairi could easily pass for a local aristocrat, sharing similar stature and coloring. She was young and slender, with high cheekbones and delicate features that caught admiring glances. Still, her demure demeanor and perpetually downcast eyes hinted at a deeper unease beneath her striking beauty.
Reflective of the human-Pleiadian hybridization of the elites in Tirapathas, Kaarina was as tall as the men around her, her patrician bearing and toned physique drawing curious glances from passersby. She stood out in the crowd with long honey-blond hair that cascaded down her back and light blue eyes. Like the other women, Kaarina and Maria wore colorful ankle-length dresses made from expensive fabrics with long sleeves and simple necklines. The other women on the street had long hair that fell in dark waves down their backs, their heads draped in delicate shawls that offered protection from the bright sun while marking their social status.
The men in the crowd wore tailored pants in muted earth tones, tight crew-necked tunics, and short jackets adorned with subtle geometric patterns at the cuffs. They had shoulder-length hair and close-trimmed beards that followed the lines of their jaws. Military officers stood out in their crisp uniforms of deep blue and silver, their rank insignia gleaming in the lamplight.
Male relatives or family retainers shadowed the women, a cultural and practical necessity. Danger stalked well-born women who dared to venture out alone, rendering escorts essential. Many men carried holstered energy pistols. While random crime was minimal in the Temple District, with its well-patrolled streets and sacred atmosphere, darkness lurked in other quarters of the city. The culture of Hamanos was harsh, shaped by centuries of power struggles and territorial disputes. Kidnapping or assassination by rival families or criminal syndicates operating from the subterranean Nakao district remained a constant threat, forcing even the most privileged citizens to stay vigilant.
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As Hamanos's society operated as a quasi-feudal caste system, rules of proper deference and honor underpinned interactions among the upper classes. The oligarchic families maintained private militias, and their uniformed soldiers were a common sight on castle walls. Any infringement on their economic interests or personal honor could lead to violence and feuds between families.
Although anti-gravity craft served as the primary mode of transportation throughout the city, aerial travel in the Temple District was restricted for security reasons and to reduce traffic congestion. The Temple Guard enforced strict control over designated flight corridors, quickly intercepting unauthorized vehicles. Most buildings in the district featured below-grade floors with access to underground transportation tunnels, their reinforced walls adorned with ancient inscriptions and modern security scanners. High seismic activity influenced architecture, limiting building height to six stories and creating a uniform skyline, disrupted only by castles and the gleaming dome of the temple on the hilltops.
Most cities on Shamhdi were small, as much of the moon’s population was Orja, spread across the mining and agriculture sectors. Hammat was the largest metropolis, with around 800,000 inhabitants.
As they approached the temple, an air of anticipation enveloped the crowd, and people grew quieter and more reflective. Services at the temple had overflowed since the Goddess entered their collective consciousness several months ago. The faithful gathered in increasing numbers, their faces reflecting expressions of reverence as they navigated the narrow streets.
The Goddess's unprecedented ability to communicate telepathically and empathically with everyone on the moon destabilized Hamanos's society in ways that rippled through every social stratum. Her presence in their minds—gentle yet insistent—made it impossible to ignore the suffering of others or to maintain the illusions that propped up their society. A significant minority of the Mestari, touched by this newfound awareness, called for reforms to the country’s ossified caste system, challenging the millennia-old traditions that maintained the privileged in power. Many in the lower classes, emboldened by this divine validation of their worth, clamored for revolutionary change, their voices growing stronger each day. The foundations of Hamanos's social order trembled under the weight of this spiritual awakening.
#
The street unfurled into a vast plaza at the base of Midzor, its polished pavers gleaming under the floodlights on the fringes. Surrounding the square, monumental buildings with carved stone facades boasted intricate bas-reliefs and towering columns. These structures housed the nation's governmental and judicial agencies, their windows gleaming like vigilant eyes. A towering obelisk pierced the sky in the plaza's center, commemorating humanity's triumph in the revolutionary conflict that liberated most of the star system from Anunnaki rule. Its surface bore the engraved names of fallen heroes.
Beyond the Temple District, hovercraft moved in orderly lanes across the cloudless indigo sky over the city, their anti-gravity fields creating subtle distortions in the air beneath them. With their softly glowing underbellies, the craft moved with an almost ethereal grace. In the distance, a massive freighter rose ponderously into the atmosphere from the city's spaceport, its engines painting the sky with shimmering heat waves. The vessel likely transported ingots of refined cerauniam, a rare mineral with a blue-white crystalline structure essential in crafting interstellar navigation equipment. Mined from the rich deposits of Sheramda's moons for millennia, the ore's veins coursed through the ancient lunar rock.
As the three of them stepped into the plaza, Kaarina observed the throng of people, their movement reminiscent of desert grasses swaying in an evening breeze. The majority hailed from Hamanos's lower classes and the Orja, their worn clothing and weathered faces telling stories of hardship. Yet, a few fashionable individuals stood out, their delicate garments and jeweled accessories revealing their higher status.
A speaker on the obelisk's base, his voice crackling through the public address system, led the crowd in chants that echoed off the surrounding buildings and reverberated through Kaarina's chest. Temporary metal fencing encircled the plaza, creating a steel cage that kept the multitude away from the structures. Behind the railings, knots of armed police and military personnel lounged, their dull battle armor absorbing the street light.
Above, armored vehicles hovered ominously, their shadow patterns playing across the crowd below—an ever-present reminder of the state's power to maintain or impose order.
A squad of soldiers, led by a captain, blocked the entrance to the plaza. Recognizing Dejan, the captain approached him with deliberate steps, executed a sharp salute, and asked, “General Strljic, are you heading to the temple?"
"Yes, Captain. We plan to attend the evening service. What's the best path to the other side of the plaza?" Dejan replied, his eyes scanning the surging crowd beyond the barricades.
"Please walk around the square's edge and stay on this side of the fence, Sir. This lot is noisy, but there's been no violence," the captain said, gesturing toward a narrow corridor between the barriers and the buildings.
"When we passed through here last week, only a handful of pilgrims paid homage to the Goddess. When did this crowd gather?" Dejan's voice held a hint of concern.
"They started arriving two days ago. We estimate fifty thousand are here now." The captain shifted his weight, adjusting his grip on his weapon. "We've been ordered not to interfere as long as they remain peaceful. How do you see this playing out, Sir?"
"Protests are spreading nationwide. The Senate is debating how to address the situation." Dejan lowered his voice, leaning closer. "The old guard Mestari wants to crush them as a warning to others. If the protestors refuse to disband, they propose killing the Orja and sending any lower-class citizens to the mines."
"Do you think that will happen, Sir? The Goddess has encouraged the poor and Orja to engage in peaceful protests. 'Non-violent non-cooperation,' I think she calls it." The captain's face revealed his unease. "The troops revere her, and they sympathize with the protestors."
"I understand. Hopefully, calmer minds will prevail. Carry on, Captain."
The captain straightened his shoulders, saluted, and said, "Yes, sir," before returning to his post.
If the protestors were aware of the clandestine activities at the temple, they would storm the building, Kaarina thought, chilled by the memory. Enslaved people bound into prostitution are forced into sexual enormities, their screams muffled by thick stone walls, and dark rituals dedicated to Davolja, involving the sacrifice of street children, are conducted in a secret cavern under the temple. The thought of those innocent lives lost made her hands tremble with barely contained rage.
Kaarina gazed up at the temple complex, which loomed like a gilded prison. A cluster of buildings around an immense domed structure dominated the crest of Midzor, casting long shadows across the city below. The exterior walls of the buildings were constructed of polished blocks of various hues of stone arranged in the complex geometric patterns typical of Hamanos's decorative architecture. The gold dome covering the sanctuary gleamed in the waning sunlight, its surface reflecting brilliant orange rays that mocked the darkness within. Inside, an amphitheater seating twenty thousand people spread out, its expanse designed to inspire awe. Nearby, a smaller spired structure housed the Senate chamber, where the powerful made decisions affecting the powerless.
Memories of her time as a priestess in this temple haunted Kaarina. The Divine Mother's influence spanned the solar system, with the sacred Book of Sheramda guiding devotees in their worship. Elite families offered their unmarried daughters to serve as priestesses, assisting the temple's matriarch in holy duties. These young women held honored positions until marriage beckoned them to new paths.
Some priestesses undertook a fellowship to promote ecumenical bonds at another country's temple. Hammat's temple was famous for its size and extravagance, its reputation drawing ambitious young women from across the solar system. Leveraging her family's connections in Hamanos, Kaarina secured a sabbatical residency at the temple, her idealism clouding her judgment of the risks. Her parents, aware of Hammat's endemic violence and cruelty, advised strongly against the journey, their anxious faces etched into her memories. Yet, driven by a sense of adventure and a desire to make a positive impact in Hamanos, Kaarina remained undeterred. That na?ve resolve now seemed like it belonged to another lifetime.
Several months into her two-year mission, Kaarina heard unsettling whispers from a local priestess about the temple's property being misused for illicit activities. The woman's quivering voice and nervous glances underscored the gravity of the accusations. Concerned about the potential damage to their religion and the sacred traditions she cherished, Kaarina felt compelled to report the troubling rumors to Nadezda Ignjatovic, the chief priestess.
Kaarina had no inkling of the depravity that lurked within the temple's shadowed chambers. She had trusted the chief priestess, only to later discover the horrifying truth: Nadezda was the mastermind behind a dark cult, using the sacred space for prostitution, drug dealing, and occult rituals that desecrated everything the temple stood for. Realizing that Kaarina's knowledge posed a threat, Nadezda acted swiftly and ruthlessly. She orchestrated Kaarina's binding to Dejan in a ‘thrall’—a forbidden practice that entwined their lower chakras and engulfed them in a haze of irresistible lust. Kaarina had learned that this procedure, banned for its narcotic-like grip and potential for exploitation, had been used to bend her will. Though Dejan was not a cult member, Nadezda leveraged his criminal dealings to coerce him into compliance, trapping Kaarina in a net of manipulation and control.
Under the thrall's influence, Kaarina left the temple's sanctuary and moved into Dejan's compound, her will swallowed by the artificial passion flooding her senses. Anger and shame heated her cheeks as she recalled the way the thrall stripped her of dignity and self-control. She and Dejan rarely emerged from his bedroom for weeks, trapped in a fog of manufactured desire. When the emotional tempest finally subsided, Nadezda blackmailed Dejan into keeping Kaarina in Hammat against her family's wishes, threatening to reveal his illegal dealings. Though Dejan hadn't touched her since the thrall wore off, her resentment for the forced intimacy simmered.
Though technically free, Kaarina remained trapped under Dejan's control, unable to access her funds or communicate with her family. The weight of the heirloom necklace against her skin reminded her of her noble lineage and the theft of her autonomy. I'll bide my time, but this scum will face justice, Kaarina vowed, her jaw tightening with resolve.
#
They navigated a tunnel carved into the hill, their footsteps resonating against the ancient stone walls until they reached an expansive antechamber. The space contained anti-gravity lifts, each rising 350 meters through excavated shafts to Midzor's summit. The room teemed with people emerging from the city's subterranean pedestrian tunnels and hovercraft roadways, their voices blending into a low murmur that echoed off the chamber's high ceiling.
Shamhdi's unforgiving climate turned life on the moon into a relentless struggle against nature. The arid landscape endured extreme temperature shifts, with scorching days baking the rocky terrain and frigid nights driving residents indoors. In Hammat, adaptation meant limiting outdoor activities to the brief windows of tolerable weather in the early morning and late evening.
At the lift's terminus, they emerged into a vaulted concourse, its ancient stonework adorned with intricate carvings. Multiple doorways branched off like spokes of a wheel, each leading to different buildings within the sprawling temple complex. The women followed Dejan through one such passage into the temple's sanctuary, their steps measured and deliberate as they ascended the theater's steps to the elevated section designated for senior military officers.
The amphitheater, hewn into the living rock of the hill, displayed tier upon curved tier that cascaded down to the stage below. Family groups clustered together in their assigned sections, a visible reminder of the rigid social hierarchy. Kaarina's gaze swept downward, taking in the Mestari caste members occupying the prime seats nearest the stage. These elite few held an iron grip on the Senate and commanded the highest echelons of government, judicial, and military authority. The next level housed the second most senior caste, who controlled the country's guilds and commercial ventures while filling supporting governmental roles. The uppermost section, where they now sat, was reserved for officers serving in the security services.
The glaring absence of anyone from most of the population highlighted the society's profound divisions. The free-born poor, along with those tied to the Mestari through serfdom, were barred from entry. Most revealing was the omission of the Orja—over half the population—enslaved and rendered invisible within these walls.
The domed ceiling and walls above the seats formed a continuous, luminescent surface that generated intricate sound patterns and visual displays during ceremonies. The dome's apex soared above the central stage, its curved expanse designed to amplify and distribute sound with fidelity. Religious services were carefully orchestrated multi-sensory experiences led by the temple's priestesses, who moved with practiced grace through ancient rituals. Their ceremonies wove together haunting songs, precise dance movements, and sacred recitations that filled the temple interior with cascading sound waves and shimmering holographic imagery.
Although the enslaved were barred from temple services, Mairi's role as a concubine to senior military officers granted her a rare exception. She clung to Kaarina's hand as they settled into their seats, her fingers quivering. I'm scared. Her mental voice wavered with emotion. The prophecies speak of judgment upon the Goddess's return—everyone will face her scrutiny, and the wicked will receive divine punishment. Now she's here. I'm Orja. How will she perceive my relationship with the officers?
Your plight is beyond your control, and you've lived a blameless life, Kaarina reassured, letting warmth flow through their mental link. I don't believe the Goddess makes distinctions based on our artificial social hierarchies. To her, we're all equal children of the Divine Mother.
I wish I had your psychic sensitivity, Mairi sent, her mental tone tinged with longing. What do you sense from Her?
She radiates compassion and understanding but is distressed by the suffering she witnesses, Kaarina projected. Her ability to telepathically connect with every soul on Shamhdi leaves her vulnerable to those who would harm her through that connection.
Who would dare attack her? Mairi's thoughts carried dismay. Everyone can perceive her thoughts and feel her pain. Why haven't the police stopped these attacks?
I don't know, Kaarina sent, careful to mask her own knowledge. I trust they're doing everything possible to find those responsible.
Kaarina privately considered her psychic abilities a double-edged sword. The common folk regarded such talents with suspicion, branding them as dark magic. Powerful figures and criminal syndicates sought to exploit her gifts for their own gain. She was imprisoned within this corrupt society, and now Dejan had dragged her into a sinister plot against the Goddess herself.
#
Jakov Dijak and Simo Brdanin arrived at the housing compound four weeks ago. Despite their rough demeanor and civilian clothing, Dejan vouched for them with unwavering confidence, introducing them as security operatives engaged in a classified initiative to assist the Goddess. Kaarina noticed their calloused hands and watchful eyes—men accustomed to violence trying to appear civilized. They spoke of revolutionary technology capable of enhancing communion with the Goddess, but requiring an exceptional psychic to establish the connection. Her reputation had drawn them to her doorstep.
"Your abilities are unmatched," Jakov had said, his small eyes calculating beneath furrowed brows. "A true gift from the Divine Mother."
Dejan's endorsement and their seemingly noble purpose clouded Kaarina's judgment. The pride of being chosen—of being essential—silenced her instinctive suspicion.
In the laboratory's clinical environment, surrounded by equipment whose purpose she couldn't fathom, Kaarina sat rigid in the connection chair. Monitors blinked in rhythmic patterns while machines hummed an electronic lullaby. The metallic scent of new technology mingled with the antiseptic air. She reached out with her mind and discovered she could indeed touch the Goddess's consciousness—a familiar, comforting presence.
Yet, as the familiar warmth of the divine aura filled her mind, unease crept in. The truth emerged in fragments. Their real intent was to attack and disable the Goddess, and a powerful criminal syndicate, not the government, orchestrated the project.
Once Kaarina established the connection, the technicians activated equipment that bathed the Goddess in low-frequency energy, creating crushing waves of depression and despair that Kaarina faintly sensed through their link. The technicians, their faces illuminated by the glow of their screens, also tried to copy the Goddess's sacred memories.
"Stop this at once!” Kaarina’s voice cracked with fury and horror. She attempted to sever the connection, her fingers clawing at the neural interface.
Jakov's hand clamped onto her shoulder. "Too late for second thoughts."
What followed existed beyond nightmare. They uploaded her consciousness into a virtual reality torture chamber. For two endless days, Jakov and Simo subjected her to simulated beatings and rapes, their brutality unrestrained by physical limitations. When, only an hour later in actual time, the dreadful memories were transferred into her physical mind, Kaarina found herself gasping on the laboratory floor, every phantom pain blazing through her nerves.
Jakov crouched beside her, his stocky frame blocking the light. "Refuse to help us again," he whispered, his breath hot against her ear, "and what you experienced will seem merciful compared to what comes next."
#
The congregation hushed as a resonant gong echoed through the structure. Nadezda appeared on stage in a shimmer of light, commanding attention with her presence. Behind her, twelve priestesses positioned themselves in a semi-circle, their ornate, multi-colored robes catching and reflecting the ambient light in a display of ceremonial splendor.
Nadezda's clear, powerful voice resonated with the opening words of the holy scripture throughout the chamber. “O Holy Mother, shield us from the malevolent machinations of the Dark One, Davolja. Liberate us from those who seek to bind our spirits in servitude. Immersed in your healing light, let us be renewed, Divine Mother. Grant us the illumination of your sacred knowledge, that we may tread upon the path of righteousness you lay before us, guided by your grace.” Each word seemed to vibrate with ancient power, reaching deep within the assembled faithful.
Holographic images erupted above the congregation, painting the air with vivid scenes from humanity's history in the star system. Music swelled from every surface, enveloping the space in harmonious sound as Nadezda's voice continued its steady recitation of the creed. Space battles erupted in brilliant flashes, while land engagements raged across the arena floor. The thunder of heavy weaponry sent tremors through the seats, triggering instinctive surges of adrenaline in the viewers. When the scene shifted to desperate treks across barren wastes, the congregants could taste dust on their tongues and feel the scorching wind on their faces. They reclined in plush seats, immersed in the sensory experience as neural sensors in the headrests transmitted precise signals directly to their brains. Though the essential elements were familiar to the attendees, Nadezda's team wove a new tapestry of sight and sound, incorporating prophecies of the Goddess's return.
Kaarina glanced at her trembling hands, a physical manifestation of her inner turmoil. Since the simulation's brutal assault, they had not ceased, serving as a constant reminder of her unwilling betrayal. Holy Mother, please forgive my sins against your daughter. She prayed silently, her heart aching with remorse. Free me from captivity and use me as a vessel for your will. Drawing upon years of training, she closed her eyes, regulated her breathing, and gradually stilled her mind.
