That evening, as Kharivanpa began the usual long climb toward the mountain where her grandmother lived, the strange vision returned to her thoughts.
The woman.
The blood.
The necklace.
Something was coming.
She could feel it. Only she didn't know if it'd be a blessing or a curse.
…
The night air was thick with the scent of rain.
Kharivanpa slowed her pace as the familiar outline of a small mountain house appeared through the darkness. Her lungs burned from the long journey, and she bent forward slightly, catching her breath.
For a moment she simply stood there, staring at the cozy little home perched against the hillside.
Then she called out. "Grandma! It's Khari!"
The door creaked open slowly. An elderly woman stepped into the lantern light, her lined face breaking into a warm smile.
"Just the person I was hoping to see," the grandma said. "My sweet girl, come inside quickly. It will start raining again any moment."
Khari smiled with relief and followed her inside.
Inside the Cottage
The warmth of the cottage wrapped around her like a blanket.
Khari placed a small bag of food on the wooden table and wiped the sweat from her forehead.
"I brought some supplies," she said.
Her grandmother nodded approvingly. "Always thoughtful."
Khari laughed softly as she fanned herself, "Maybe it's the mud, but the journey here felt unusually exhausting today."
Her grandmother chuckled, "I can see that." She poured steaming tea into a cup and handed it to Khari. "Drink."
Khari took a sip and immediately her body relaxed. "Gods… that's incredible tea." She stared at the cup with admiration. "There's always something special about it. What do you put in this?"
Her grandmother raised an eyebrow, "If I reveal my secret… will you reveal yours?"
Khari blinked, "You know I don't keep secrets from you."
"Sit."
They both settled at the table.
"Cardamom," the old woman began calmly. "Cloves. Dried ginger. Peppercorns. Cinnamon. All ground into powder."
Khari whistled, a sign of complete approval, "That sounds amazing. I'll try it when I get home."
Her grandmother smiled knowingly, "Now… your turn."
Khari shrugged, "I told you. There's nothing to tell."
"What about the woman from your vision this morning?"
Khari nearly dropped the cup. There were rumors below the mountains branding her grandmother a witch. It was the same rumors that forced her grandma to shift her residence to the top of the mountains. Now that she spoke of something which she had no way of knowing made Khari's mind to circle back to the village whispers, "H-how did you know about that?" She finally asked.
Her grandmother leaned forward, "What did she say to you?"
Khari stared at her uneasily, "You're starting to scare me."
"There's nothing to fear," grandma replied gently. "You can trust me."
Khari exhaled slowly. She had no other choice. To test her hypothesis, she had to be open. "She didn't say much." She replied, "She had blood on her hands. And when she opened her palms… she showed me a necklace, a golden necklace with a red stone."
Her grandmother quietly reached beneath her collar. Khari wondered what her grandma was reaching for. So when she removed a necklace, Khari's eyes widened.
It was the exact same necklace!
"What in the gods!" Khari exclaimed. She nearly choked on her tea.
"Is this the one you saw?" her grandmother asked.
Khari nodded rapidly, "Yes—but how did you know?" She leaned closer, "Grandma… are you actually a witch like the villagers say? Is that why you live here in the mountains?"
Her grandmother chuckled softly,"Drink your tea before it gets cold."
"I'm not thirsty," Khari insisted, "I'm curious. Are the rumors true?"
Grandma shook her head, "No. I am not a witch."
"Then what are you?"
The answer came calmly, "I am a priestess. The last priestess."
Khari blinked, confused. Her eyes clearly demanded more information than that, and grandma could read her like a book.
The fire crackled as the old woman began her story.
"Before King Zattal's reign," she said slowly, "the palace was ruled by priestesses. There were no male priests. My parents sold me to the grand priestess when I was only a baby."
Khari was puzzled. "You were raised in the palace?"
"Yes." Grandma nodded, "I learned everything I was meant to learn. And many things I was not." Her voice softened, "My life was good. At ten years old… I began hearing the voices of the gods."
Khari leaned forward, "You mean—"
"The grand priestess did not believe me at first," her grandmother said, "So I had to prove it.When she finally believed me, she took me into her inner circle."
Her eyes glowed faintly with memory.
"I followed her everywhere. She taught me astrology. Dream interpretation and the art of reading divine messages. By fifteen… I had mastered them all."
"Then why did you leave?" Khari questioned.
Her grandmother grew quiet. "Do you know why women carry children for nine months?" she asked.
Khari blinked, "I… think so?"
The old woman sighed, "One of the deputy priestesses fell in love with a common man. One night, after passion clouded her judgment… she told him the truth."
"What truth?"
Grandma's voice darkened, "The secret that keeps the royal family unconquerable. The rumor spread like wildfire. Soon an entire village knew. And when King Zattal discovered it…He destroyed the village. Burned it to the ground. And blamed us."
Khari felt cold.
"He sent soldiers to slaughter every priestess." Her grandmother's voice trembled, "The grand priestess knew she could not save everyone. So she saved me. She led me to the underground tunnels. And before sealing the door…" Grandma touched the ruby necklace, "She placed this around my neck. She stayed behind to die."
Khari stared silently.
"I was fifteen years old," grandma painfully whispered, "I watched my entire family die. I hear their screams till this day."
The room fell silent. Her grandma was somewhere in her mid-80s, but the pain in her face felt like the tragedy had happened just the other day.
Khari finally spoke, "I understand why you hid. But one thing still confuses me. Why did the king murder the priestesses?"
Her grandmother looked at her carefully, "You know the queens of Natron?"
Khari nodded.
"There were women before them." Grandma explained, "First wives. History erased them."
Khari frowned, "What happened to them?"
Grandma heaved an exhale, "They were sacrifices."
Khari's chair scraped loudly against the floor, "What?"
"The first wives were chosen from poor families." Grandma continued, "They were brought to the palace with their families. They lived in luxury. But on their wedding night…" Her grandmother's voice hardened, "They were sacrificed.Their families were executed next. And the prince would marry another woman soon after the ritual, the woman he actually loves."
Khari shook her head,"No… that can't be true."
"It is. And it has been happening for generations." Grandma emphasized.
Khari stared at the ruby necklace, "Why did I have that vision then?"
Her grandmother's expression shifted to worry, "Because they are coming."
Khari stiffened, "Who?"
"The priests. They are coming to your home. With a marriage proposal. The king's youngest son is eighteen. And he needs a first wife. It is the season of blood. The gods demand the sacrifice of a virgin." Grandma's gaze sharpened, "They have chosen the virgin."
Khari whispered, "Who?"
"Your sister. Sirene"
The words struck Khari like lightning. She stood up violently.
"No."
"Yes. And our gods have chosen you as their vessel." Grandma placed the necklace on the table, "The day you were born…The grand priestess appeared in my dreams."
Khari shook her head furiously, "I don't care about any necklace." Her voice cracked, "I only want to save my sister."
Rain began pounding against the roof.
The storm had arrived.
Khari turned toward the door.
"Keep the necklace."
And without another word—
She stormed into the rain.
..