Thin scarlet seeped through a cut on her palm. The worst of the bleeding was over, yet her veins still throbbed rhythmically. A small droplet of blood fell into the water, and she stared intensely at it. The crimson started to diffuse into the pool; with each passing second she dedicated more of her focus on it. The back of her eyes became hot. Her heart beat accelerated. Suddenly, a wave of drowsiness hit her, and the blood began to concentrate again; for a moment, forming a neat orb just above the surface of the water before falling again and dispersing. Seemingly satisfied, she began to tightly dress her wound, and then took a step forward.
The cliff watched her.
Glowing silver and lapis eyes, all sharing a single grey face, seemed to stare and scrutinise the youth. Trailing down in delicate tendrils, the verdant hair of the face cast shadows upon the surface of the rippling water below.
“Dear mother Asethelas -“ the youth invoked the patron deity of her village.
Litha always felt calmest being here at this time, where nothing remained but her thoughts. Litha cast her gaze to the tears, glowing silver under the twilight, that trickled down the sheer rock face. This cliff was the face of Cúran-fahr — the twinkling eyes, stones of blue and white that were speckled on the rock. The great vertical giant that stood before her as a familiar friend and frontier, Cúran-fahr, loomed far over the trees and penetrated the heavens. Litha then looked to the ivory statue of the goddess, that stoically looked out beyond from her raised pulpit of stone. Light seemed to drape itself over the statue — the goddess seemed almost to breathe, yet remained completely still.
“In this village, we are safe because we are protected by the goddess Asethelas” - Litha remembered the way her father used to speak when she was younger.
“Lady Asethelas, guardian spirit of Maresán, I thank you for all that you have given to me today. And I hope to bring you, through offering, repayment for what you have brought for me in your vigil.”
Litha tread through the shallow water, and climbed up the rocks, where she placed a neatly made garland of flowers on the statue of the goddess.
“I thank you for protecting me and the village”
In these days, seldom more had her father mentioned Asethelas, and whenever the name of the goddess had appeared in conversation he became noticeably more anxious and fidgety. Because of his behaviour, the people of the village of Maresán often joked that the speed at which her father would attempt to change the subject rivaled even the quickest-drawing archers in the locale.
Litha stepped away from the statue and began to walk along the lightly tread dirt path to her home.