We took into deep consideration what happened that night. A discovery of a female infant in a meadow empty, calm and peaceful. She was marked in a way that was undeniable to her origin. The child had been born of the gods. Had she been disowned, cursed and thrown into the mortal world to fend for herself? A damned godly soul locked up in a mortal body? Our questions were rampant that night.
Nothing had occurred within the last fifty or so years to suggest that the gods were upset with their mortal lesser beings. We pray, provide the proper means of thanks and honor to our gods for allowing our tiny existences to be undisturbed for the most part. The silence had been taken as a kind of peace and acceptance to the ways that man had adopted within the years. It was rare we heard the voices of the gods. Some had claimed that we had been abandoned and left to our own demise. That the gods had chosen elsewhere and no longer wanted to even bother with our petty existence. After all—what significance are we to them? Philosophers have thrown about the idea that we are simply amusement. Toys with minds of their own.
Digression, accept the apology of a priest's old mind. It tends to wander when thinking about the discovery of the daughter of the gods. The unanswered questions we had the night we found her remain as such. With out an answer and only more questions.
All that we, the lowly priests of Abri temple, have come to know and understand is that an event will occur. Perhaps several events. The knowledge of our star daughter is quite well concealed. However-heh—yes information never stays secret forever. Or maybe we are simply terrible at keeping it silenced. Many years back, roughly ten to fifteen, some of the public began showing up on the temple's steps begging for these magical abilities of the daughter of the gods. Claiming they heard word of her discovery. We had to dismiss this as rumor and speculation so often that it became a second answer to new faces at the temple. They were all greedy, selfish people that came in search of the gods daughter. Many were true and suffering from ailments or illnesses. Though what do you tell people about a gods daughter when she's been imprisoned by her own blood? That they have denied their own child the power and responsibility they had been born into. How is she to help the helpless . . . when she herself is just as helpless to the needy?
The star daughter's own locked away abilities is quite the burden on our shoulders as priests and priestesses. Abri temple has been tasked with trying to unscramble the tattooed seal that runs over every inch of her body. The gods were elegant, even in their means of locking power away. It is a series of marks, archs, images that wrap themselves around the flesh of the gods daughter. To an untrained eye, not that our own is, it appears as if it is simply a beautiful work of art decorating her skin as to her status. For all we may know, that might be all it truly is. Speculation of course denies it is simply symbolism of the gods mark and claim on this star child. The markings of the gods remains a mystery to this day.
In the current our king has come to our attention and decision that he has the right to this daughter of the gods. That he, the king of the lands, claims her as his sons bride. We have been striving to remove these bonds we are sure she has. Just as before, just as when we found her and just as it is now. No progress has been made. Researchers, philosophers, wise men, godly men like us have all convened and made attempt after attempt at deciphering those elegant black marks on her body. We are only human men with human ideas and assumptions. Of course all that we have to suggest is ideas, theories and speculation . . . and many, many more questions. Unfortunately the idea that we might find a means of translation in ancient text's, pictures, grave stones and the like . . . . dead end after dead end. It is as if it is a completely different . . means of . . . communication. Yes signs and gliffs and designs look like similar present day words and meanings. Line that up with what they translate in today's language and what do you have? Gibberish! Utter useless gibberish!
“Dasha, my lady, won't you join us out in the waiting room while your escort arrives?” A priestess asked of their star daughter.
Hesitant goldenrod eyes parted to look at the woman who stood at the door open to her chamber. Sitting in this room would be no longer once they arrived. She had spent her lifetime, up until that point of course, in this very chamber . . . . an odd childhood and adolescence but . . . a thankful one at that. Thick, dark lashes rose and fell slowly as thoughts tumbled through her muggy mind. Everything was processing so slowly and with greater care now. “I don't wish to leave.” Dasha said quietly.
The look on the priestesses face was sad and understanding. “I know my lady. It's torn at the hearts of us all here . . . we don't wish for your departure either. Father Manuel spoke the words we have all been feeling in our hearts when he said that nothing good can come of letting you from our protection. And . . and that, that you're a daughter to us all. Not some gods daughter.”
She forced a respectful smile onto her lips, trying to show that the gentle, loving words the woman spoke were truly dear and wonderful to hear. She felt loved by them as if she were birthed by a human woman. Not tossed from the stars and heavens of the gods. “Thank you.” Dasha said as she stood up reluctant to take the necessary steps out of her chamber, down the hall and into the waiting room.
Once her charge had made it to the door the priestess looked at Dasha with a slightly amused look in her eyes. “Do us all a favor, give that stuffy prince a hard time for taking our precious one from us will you?”
Dasha smiled in earnest. “I will try, for you all. The least that I can do for my family.”
The priestess escorted the daughter of the gods down the hall and into the waiting room where they received guests. She was seated on a large cushion and her robes straightened out for the sake of appearance. They had raised her modest and withdrawn, respective and kind. Though to the men that were to be at her side, she needed a more authoritative stance upon the first meeting if she were to convey some kind of air of control and power . . . that she had yet to come to terms with.
Dasha sat in robes that sprawled elegantly away from her feminine figure which was drowned in the several layers of white, baby blue and yellow fabric she was adorned in. Her long pale blond hair had been fixed simplistic with little effort, a few braids drawn back and fashioned with a small gold clasp. Her goldenrod eyes drawn forward and settled on the two large doors that were to produce their guests and her escort. She would do her best to bring a good, if not greater, name to the temple. As well as present an image to the human men that she was more than just a figure with a name and abilities that were still locked away. Such a dangerous detail she had been instructed to never allow it to leave her tongue, not until they had discovered a solution . . or she had unraveled the mystery herself.