Still,shereachedintoherpocketandclosedherfingersaroundafragilelittle
reminderofherhome.Theshapeofitwasburnedintoherpalm.Shewithdrewit
andslidherownofferingacrossthealtar:
Afeather.
Likethegirlherself,thefeatherwasnotremarkable.Itwassmall,adullgold,
bentandhalf-barefromweeksofthelittlegirl’sabsentmindedgrasp.
Sowhydidthisgift—thischild—capturethegod’sattentionso?
Thegod’sotherchosenhadbeengloriousmenandwomen,flowerspluckedat
theheightoftheirsplendor.Thisgirlwasprettyenough,butnogreatbeauty.Smart
enough,butnogreatwit.Perhapsheenjoyedtheuniquelymortalslantofhersmile
orthewayherfrecklesfellacrosshernose.
Orperhapsgods,likemortals,aresimplymesmerizedbytheirowndamnation.
Becausehepausedthen,peeringthroughtheveilbetweenworlds,atthislittle
girl.
Thelittlegirl,inturn,peeredback.
Inthebackground,thepriestsgrewtiredofhersister’sweepingpleas.They
tookholdofherarms,draggingheraway.Hersister’sprotestsandthepriests’harsh
chidingfadedintoahazyhuminthebackground.Sheliftedherchintothesky.
Andformanyyearslater—decades,centuries—thechildwouldnotforgetwhat
hergod’svoicesoundedlikethefirsttimesheheardit:
I see you, little one. Reach out your hand.
Themagiccametohersoeasily.Asifitburnedstraightfromherheartitself.
Thecloudsthinned,thehoneyedsunlighthotonherface.Onebyone,thecandles
aroundthealtarblossomedtoflame.
Andatlast,fireignitedinhersplayedpalm.
Ittooktheothersamomenttorealizewhatwashappening.Butbythetimeshe
heldtheflameinherhands,thepriestsweregaspinginawe.Hersisterwatched,
wide-eyed,silent.
Thelittlegirldidnotseeanyofthem.Shejuststaredupatthesky,cheeks
achingwithhergrinandwarmwiththeloveofhergod.Shehadfinallyfound
somethingthatshehadbeenchasingherentireshort,fraughtlife.Shewouldnot
knowhowtodescribethisforaverylongtime.Butthewordshewassearchingfor
was:purpose.
Thesungodthoughthehadreceivedanotherdevotedacolytethatday.Evenhe
could not describe what he found so charming about thechild,butwhatdidit
matter?Shewouldbeanotherchosenonetoaddtohiscollection,happytoreceive
hisattentionwhenitsuitedhimandeasytoputasidewhenitdidn’t.Shewould
followhimuntiltheendofitall,justasalltheothershad.
Hewasright.Foratime.
Butsuchaboringstorythatwouldbe.
Thisisthetaleofhowachosenonefalls.Shedoesitscreaming,clawingforher
oldlifewithbrokenfingernails.Shedoesitslowly,overthecourseofdecades.
Andintheend,shetakesthewholeforsakenworldwithher.