They made better time without having to pull Vaara’s litter, and the thought filled Objo with self-loathing. She was still sleeping poorly, her dreams too loud, too violent. Her dreams were no longer limited to the dead, now that she had seen how precarious their lives truly were, and she woke up several times to count bedrolls and reassure herself her remaining sisters were still living. Zsa Zsa walked through their campsite in her dreams, unmade harpies falling before her, before she reached a once more kneeling Objo, trapped in bloody mud, it pulling her down, down into the earth she was once made of. ‘Don’t you want my gift?’ And then she was Nemia, and the god’s hands were burning magma, eyes heated, burning, hot hot heat against her throat, ‘you promised me,’ her words demanding and accusing all at once.
She took over from Ooi watching the witches, she still hadn’t spoken with her, it would have to be soon, before they reached home. They were almost back to the forest, where the others would be more at ease, and would be less likely to notice if she pulled Ooi aside.
‘Do you ever sing?’ The question caught her off guard. Nevin, the younger witch girl, the one Altul had said was an innocent, seemed less daunted by her eventual fate facing the goddess than the older witch Jin. But then, she presumably had less to answer for. Sheltered, Altul had called her. ‘It may seem ironic given your kinds’ hunt for us, but we watch birds, listen to their songs. It’s said that they bring tidings of what is to come. I think it’s a remnant of an older faith, before Zsa Zsa, blessed god of signs. But we don’t really talk about that.’ She was a chatty girl, and Objo had seen her conversing with Ooi, and even Daich would occasionally cave and speak with her.
‘An owl’s voice is usually a warning, but they can also be indicative of transformation, rebirth. I think I like that better.’ Objo mulled that over, what did it mean then, to be an owl? Was she constantly transforming? Or did she bring ill tidings wherever she went? ‘I’m not much of a singer,’ she demurred. Nevin grinned at her, ‘What about before you were a harpy? Back when you were just an owl?’ Objo was taken aback, ‘How do you know about that?’ That was a sacred rite, private and personal, it seemed almost invasive that someone from outside the harpies should know about it. ‘Oh! I didn’t mean to offend, I was sharing some of our customs and so Ooi shared some of yours, it wasn’t meant disrespectfully!’ Objo was pacified a little, if the young witch was sharing her sacred rites too, it did feel a little less unbalanced that she knew some of the harpies'' inner workings.
‘What rites did you tell her about?’ she asked, curious. ‘Well, we were mostly talking about the Innocentia. We’re what you call the sacrifices.’ Objo blinked, stunned. She hadn’t expected for there to be an entire subsect of sacrifices within the witches population. Though in retrospect, she supposed Altul had alluded to as much. ‘There are two main paths,’ Nevin continued, ‘the Innocentia, for which I was chosen, and the Culpa, which is the path for those that are chosen to pursue the blessings of the goddess.’ ‘So the ones that perform the sacrifice?’ Objo asked carefully, clarifying. Pursuing the blessings of the goddess seemed an awfully euphemistic way for saying murderer. Nevin nodded, ‘that is one of their duties. The Culpa are chosen by Zsa Zsa herself, the goddess of the silent voice weighs their souls on her golden scales against her own heart, and if they are the same weight, they are given to the path of blessings. Innocentia is different, we are chosen before birth, a witch will make a pledge before the tribe to dedicate an Innocentia, and then will cleanse herself of sin for a whole year before she tries to birth a new child for the path.’
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‘So, you’re born to die?’ Objo asked, trying to gauge the girl’s dedication to her fate. Nevin was unbothered by her needling, ‘we are all born to die. Even the Culpa must accept their eventual death, despite their practice of delaying it. The body of an Innocentia may be destined to die, but it is our souls that are dedicated for a greater purpose. The death of our body is just a precursor to the enlightenment of our soul. Blessed Zsa Zsa consumes our soul during the ritual, we are fated to join her. To become one. We are her most beloved.’
Her previous understanding of the witches was that those she now knew as the Culpa would sacrifice a family member to Zsa Zsa to seek power and wealth. But Nevin’s explanation breezed right over any benefits the Culpa received from Zsa Zsa, and focused on the Innocentia’s relationship with the goddess. Was her own practice with Nemia so different? She made dedications to the goddess with others’ souls. Wicked souls, that was what her goddess asked of her. It was a much more modest price for her devotion than her own soul. Was she akin to the Culpa then? Pledging another’s soul to a god for accolades? The similarity made her distinctly uncomfortable. And unlike the witches, her sacrifices were unwilling.
Trying to brush off the unsettling thought, Objo turned to the older witch, ‘are you a Culpa then?’ she asked. Jin shook her head, the beads in her braided hair gently clinking,
‘I walk neither path. Mine is a more unique one. The witches don’t accept men in the tribe past their age of majority, they either leave or become women. I chose the latter. I always knew I was a woman, so it was an easy choice for me, though it is not always. It’s not that those born men don’t follow the Culpa or are born Innocentia, but because of my identity another path was open to me. Those that are not able to carry their own children are able to become All Mothers, caretakers of all children in the tribe. It’s an important position, as all children are raised together, without ties to their biological lineages clouding piety to the goddess. She is the first of All Mothers, and it is through this path I worship.’
Yet another witch that didn’t follow Objo’s preconceived notions of witch society. Yet another witch that might face Nemia’s wrath undeserved. Would she be able to bear it? If Nemia found them guilty of their peoples’ practices, would Objo be able to stand by? ‘But the other one, Temero, she was Culpa, right?’ The witches exchanged a glance Objo couldn’t decipher, ‘Yes,’ Jin conceded, ‘she bore Zsa Zsa’s gifts. She had a silver tongue, stitched on by the goddess herself. Though it was apparently not enough to talk her way out of her fate. I wonder if we will see her lurking ghost, given she fell at the hands of your harpy sister, rather than to the dread goddess of vengeance herself.’ Objo cocked her head, ‘I’ve heard that is the price of the witches practice of kin killing, a lingering unhappy afterlife, rather than the bliss of reincarnation. Is that right?’ Jin nodded, ‘those that follow the Culpa accept that their extended longevity and riches are limited to this world only, and as such they must stay here even after death. Some find a way around their death, reanimating their own corpses, but it is frowned up. An eschewing of their faith.’
‘I hadn’t heard of that before, zombies, really?’ Jin played with her golden bangles as Nevin answered, ‘it''s a little taboo to speak of. But the pursuit of knowledge is a worthy pursuit. They are different from the zombies of the goddess Datura, who grants wisdom with the consumption of her heavenly blossoms, only to trap the devotee in their husks after the revelation has run its course. We learned about them in theology class at school.’
‘You learn about other gods? Does your goddess not begrudge you knowledge of other religions? Is she not worried you will convert?’ Nevin shrugged, ‘some might, I suppose, but I’ve never heard of it. There are many ways for a witch to worship, there can always be found a path that suits. And she rewards her devotees and acolytes with blessings plenty, as long as they bow before her.’ Objo recalled her own bow before the goddess. Had that been why she was spared, did the goddess see her slumped defeat as reverence? And she still wasn’t sure what gift the witch god had given her. What would Nemia say, when she heard of Objo’s accidental prostration? She shivered, wings rustling behind her as she shifted. Hers was a god of vengeance, would that mean vengeance against her own as well?