The girl ran upwards into the temple of ash. A mighty cliff side—dazzling in darkness. Reliefs etched into the walls with stones of tourmaline and opal—memorializing a sacred sacrifice. The pristine sight depicted a plume of smoke rising upwards towards the sky.
Her father said the heat from the rising sun absorbed into the stones, turning the relief into a burning pyre. In this way, the devout too, may endure the scorching agony of Agni the Martyr’s sacrifice. But the girl avoided such a blessing by coming up when the sun sat at the top of mountain. Night shrouded her movements, ensuring no guard would discover her entering the cave of sacrifice. The cave sat at the base of the relief.
The sheer extravagance of this monument astonished the young girl. These dark gems still shined in the darkness of night—like stars. Fear broke her bewilderment however, as the pure darkness of the cave overtook her sight. She touched her quartz necklace—the last memento of her mother’s—for comfort. Legends tell of ancient carvings of demonic idols the ancient Ahura worshipped.
“Do not call them demons!” her father told her once. “We were never demon worshippers!”
The sting of her father’s slap still pinched her face. His fury outweighed any terror these caves might hold.
“That monument is forbidden to our people” her father once said. “That place holds ancient evils none of us can encounter.”
The girl moved forward, undeterred by her father’s warnings. Truthfully, Ahura and Deva alike feared this place. It is said to be possessed by spirits, despite having been purified by Agni the Martyr.
She fingered the walls of the cave for some type of torch. Shambling her way through the cave, her foot touched a cylindrical object on the floor. She knelt and patted her hand around the area, landing on some type of stick. The smooth object proved almost too big for her to grasp, which filled her with some confusion.
Ignoring its oddities, she tore a section off the bottom of her skirt and wrapped it tight around the odd stick. Ripping the quartz off her neck, the girl struck it against the wall. Her torch lit aflame, illuminating the black cave.
She gazed at the wondrous displays of worship and culture surrounding her. On one side, a carving of the prophet Parnam, slaying his brother Hagnis. On the ceiling, a painting of Rajago, the holy god who sacrificed himself for our land. His blood—painted on either side of the cave—lead her eyes to the other side. A depiction of the ancient soldiers burning themselves and the Ahura to purify this land. The girl glanced at her torch, white and skeletal like a bone.
The girl gasped, dropping her makeshift torch, and stepping back. Her bone torch clattered on the ground—still aflame. She panicked, hyperventilating at the idea of touching such an unclean object. Remnants of a rotting corpse curse the earth they touch; as beings of earth, humans are no exception. The concept of becoming cursed at such a young age made the girl’s head spin. Weight dissipated from her head as her legs became weak. She backed into the depiction of Parnam and Hagnis, sinking into the ground.
“Breathe” the voice of her father said.
“Capture air in your lungs and release.”
She breathed in, then out. Twice, thrice, four times. As many as possible to cleanse her mind of the potential corruption she may have brought upon herself. Slow and controlled. Such heresy must have a reason.
This is a place of worship, not a tomb. Wait.
The girl realized her foolishness. Many sects of Devastan sacrifice goats, pigs, even horses in major celebrations. An unsanitary practice, but not unheard of for the most holy temple in Tyagayastan.
For the Ahura, nothing tainted one’s soul more than the rotting corpse of a human. One must have their body put atop a dakhar to not poison curse the poison the soil beneath with haunting spirits and evil. But animals, though unclean, did not curse the earth like a human corpse. Animal corpses were dangerous, but their souls could never possess a human, and especially not haunt a holy sight such as this. The girl calmed herself, and slowly picked up the skeletal torch, and inched deeper into the cave.
With her torch, she illuminated the cave. This holy sight proved to be so much deeper than seen on the outside. The walls shimmered with fine gemstones and minerals. Gold, silver, turquoise, and emerald. The sheer wealth this one place made the girl marvel at extravagance of it all. Her family would likely spend this type of money on food or clothing.
She moved further along, carvings and depictions of flame and ash dressing the walls. Paintings of vultures being impaled by the horns of aurochs. Blood, ash, sacrifice, all haunting depictions, which should have made her blood cold. Instead, she became more curious. The girl’s wondering ended when she stumbled upon the golden idol of the martyr Agni.
Silver scaled armor sat on Agni’s idol. He held a scimitar above his head, whilst his other hand lay on his chest—fingers lit aflame. He stood atop his altar wearing a crown of horns; mustached and narrow nosed. Like staring at my father. An odd resemblance considering Agni’s war crimes against the Ahura. The man who single-handedly destroyed a holy altar of peace all for the sake of spite, resembled the same people he spited.
She stared into the gold and found her own reflection. A rounded jaw, and hooked nose, with long black hair—matted in dirt and mud. The girl’s full lips and bushy eyebrows proved to be the only exceptional thing about her plebian appearance. Just like my mother.
The girl’s mother abandoned her and her father at a young age, leaving only the quartz behind. Father said she disappeared into this mountain, but I don’t see her anywhere. This confirmed what the girl came to find out. Her father lied to her for some unknown reason. This disappointed the girl. Her father was many things, but in her ten years of life he had never lied to her.
“Honesty is the closest thing to holiness we can attain” she remembered him saying.
Liar. She now realized; no demon lurked in this cave. No dark spirits cursing the cave; simply idols of those long dead. The wind blew past her towards the idol, creating a whisper of sound, like wind passing through a tunnel.
The girl moved closer, grabbing the idol—listening for the source of the sound. She felt the idol for an opening. Her hand stumbled upon his scimitar, which pulled downward like a latch. She jumped back. Gears clicked into place, pivoting the idol forward. The door opened, revealing—nothing. The empty crevasse held no secrets or wonder. She inched inside, tripping over something. She pointed her torch towards the ground, revealing a mass of human bone. Skeletal remains, tattered clothing stained in blood, and human skulls. All laid about like a field of white.
The girl threw her cursed torch to the floor. Too horrified to comprehend the spiritual repercussions of handling a raw corpse like that, she made a mad dash outside the cave. Until a man appeared in front of her, like a dark spirit come to reap her soul. He grabbed her shoulders and knelt in front of her. The girl screamed.
“Stop” the figure said with a deep voice.
The girl’s screams outweighed his demands for silence, so he slapped her instead.
“Enough!” the man’s voice echoed throughout the mountain. He met the girl’s gaze with his own.
From the slap, the girl realized the man in front of her was her father.
“What are you doing here father?” the girl demanded.
“I should be asking you” he replied.
“I…” she lost her words. “You lied to me!” she changed the subject. “You said mother disappeared in the mountains, but I never found her!”
“Didn’t you?”
The girl’s rebuttal caught in her throat.
The corpses.
“Our people pray outside!” her father continued. “This is exactly how your mother died! Why did you not listen to me?”
Her father’s eyes welled with water. He’s afraid. His normally deep dark eyes were now so gentle He rubbed his balding head and tried to come up with words for her. The girl had never seen such terror in his eyes before, only anger. Anger towards her, anger towards the Deva, anger towards his wife. This new, softer, side of him made her conflicted.
The sun began to rise on the two, when an arrow met the throat of her father. His eyes held one last gaze of surprise, before blood gushed from his fat neck. He fell forward, crushing the girl underneath his weight. Another man, in scaled armor and a leather strap, hung his bow unto his shoulder. He pulled her out from underneath, dragging her by her hair, making her kick and scream against the rocks of the cave. Her clothing tared against the sharp edges of the cave, blood smearing skin and cloth.
The man dragged her all the way to the back of the cave, throwing her into the empty crevasse where the skeleton lay dead. He closed the entrance. The girl tried to flee, screaming at the top of her lungs, but her voice did not leave the tomb. The creaking of the flame was the only sound there to comfort her.
She glanced around, scanning for any escape from this hell she found herself in. She only found the rotting corpses and dripping blood running down her back. The girl’s eyes moved around the floor. The remains were so scattered that it was hard to know just how many people died in here. Small bones belonging to children, bones broken either by decay or force, and the remains of one hand, gripping a necklace. She inched closer to that hand, wrenching the necklace, and bringing it closer to the flame.
A quartz medallion, identical to hers.
“Mother”, the girl said.
The girl became lightheaded. Breathing became harder, and the torch was petering out from the lack of air. Looking back at the quartz, the thought of Agni; the martyr who burned himself alive rather than die at the hands of nature, came to mind. The girl shuttered at the thought. Unclean spirits haunted this place—festering in its walls and gems. All the other Ahura that must’ve died in the same way. Wind blew against the outside of their tomb.
The quartz glimmered in her hand, and the flame that lay close to her. Is this what they want? The chance to purify this area; to cleanse the evil and dread that existed in this cave, like Agni? She gripped the quartz so hard her hand bled. She stabbed the jewel into her throat and pulled the jagged rock across her throat, forcing it open and unleashing a crimson waterfall from her throat. Darkness crept into her vision, while her head fell next to her mother’s hand.
I will not give them the safety of purity. We will haunt this realm together.
The soft hand of her mother caressed her face, as last ember of the torch gave out.