Wide steps climbed between the pillars to an entrance, but he circled the entire building to check for additional entries first. Seeing none, he unholstered his blaster and mounted the twelve steps. He’d counted a dozen pillars, too. He wondered if the number twelve held some superstitious significance.
Inside, he found himself in the outer rim of a windowless spiral. The walls themselves glowed, providing near daylight illumination. By his estimation—although it was hard to tell—he completed an entire circle before the passage emptied into a massive, round room as austere and uninspired as the outside. Just pure white walls, floor, and ceiling.
He moved to the very center and tipped his head back to peer at the dome. It was way the hell up there; the massive chamber itself could have accommodated several dragons in full shift—except for the narrow passage around the perimeter. Perhaps they walked in under demiforma?
“What a waste of time. Nothing to see,” he muttered. He hadn’t learned anything important. There was no point hanging around. Besides, being topside gave him the creeps. He still felt a little shaky after almost getting lost. Plus, he needed to take a piss.
He was headed for the exit passage when an idea halted him mid-step. A slow grin spread across his face as he marched to the middle of the room. Unfastening the front of his hazmat suit and unzipping his pants, he relieved himself on the white stone floor.
Now that made the trip worthwhile. The only thing that could have made it better would have been if the building had been something important.
Chapter Ten
O’ne got her first glimpse of Elementa on the view screen as the ship broke through the vog and descended toward the surface. Volcanoes spit fire into the sky, and lava rivers poured over black rock. Fumaroles spewed mighty puffs of gas into a vividly hued atmosphere.
Scenting the room with excitement, the acolytes converged on another view screen, their chatter lacking the decorum befitting servants of the Eternal Fyre. She couldn’t bring herself to chastise them because this planet was critical to their survival as a species. Elementa would ensure they continued to live. Not in eons had Draco been this geologically active.
She probably would have been excited, too, if not for the circumstances. After spending a final bittersweet day together, she and H’ry had said their farewell. As she’d feared, two days hadn’t been enough to store memories for an eternity. Their last kiss had devastated her.
The First City appeared below as a sprawling mass of gleaming white stone. With a wave, she increased magnification to zoom in on Prince T’mar’s sparkling crown jewel of a palace. Somewhere within those walls, H’ry would reside.
She closed her eyes, recalling his smell and taste, the solidness of his muscular body, the rumble of his deep voice, the seductive whisper of his fyre, and the joy and desire she’d experienced in his company. Would the time come when the sensory memories would fade until all she could recall was that once a man named H’ry had lived?
She did not want to forget him. Ever. But she would be doing a kindness to herself if she could. I should be grateful for the time I had. My purpose is to serve.
For truth was her desires mattered not. It only mattered that she had been claimed by the Eternal Fyre. When one had been chosen, one could no longer choose.
Eons would come and go, but the sacred flame would continue to burn. As it had always been, as it would always be. The past, present, and future united in singularity.
Zooming out again, she scanned the surface for the temple, finding it as a speck on the sunrise side of the First City. From this high in the atmosphere, the temple appeared close to the urban area, but, in reality, it would be quite a distance away. Removed from civilization. Isolated.
She switched off the screen. She didn’t need to see a close-up of the temple. Its domed and pillared rotunda design would mirror the one on Draco to exact specification. Even the rise it sat on would be the same height. If the hill didn’t naturally meet the requirement, it would have been altered to comply.
“Priestess…have you any instructions for us upon landing?” L’yla interrupted her contemplation.
“You must not ask. It is not proper,” R’nay hushed her.
Uncowed and unrepentant, L’yla retorted, “I ask so that I—we—may discharge our duties.”
Questions, always questions. Didn’t L’yla realize often there was no answer—that the question was the answer? Patience and acceptance had been among the first and hardest lessons she’d had to learn. What was the point of rushing through eternity? There was no place to go. Nothing to do or see. The Eternal Fyre was now, forever, and always.
Even this momentous occasion equaled no more than a blip in Draconian history.
Two days had not been long enough. Two days couldn’t be measured against forever. Squeezing her hands into fists, she hid them in the voluminous folds of her gown.
L’yla bowed her head but didn’t move. Brave, that one. Stubborn. A smidgeon of respect kindled, and O’ne realized her irritation stemmed from ambivalence. She should have been as eager as they to enter the new temple. Instead, she wished to delay it. She wished for more time with H’ry. That couldn’t be too much to ask for, could it?
“Upon landing, we’ll fly to the temple, whereupon the Eternal Fyre shall be rebirthed and will burn forever more,” she said.
“Our dragons will fly us?” R’nay asked.
She arched an eyebrow, a gesture learned from her daughters. “How else would you expect to get there?” she asked, although she supposed the surprised query was a fair one. Until this voyage, the acolytes hadn’t left the temple on Draco since they’d entered.
