Page 11 of Daughter of the Serpent

“I will not stand here and offer the spy of Lafar any penance. She should have been burned the moment she came from the womb.”

Hjalmarr was about to react, his fingers twitching around the hilt of his ax when another called from the crowd. “The snake is in her eye! She is marked!”

Not turning his head, Hjalmarr stiffened, his eyes burrowing into the Baldr’s. “Perhaps I have not been clear.”

Sliding the tip of the blade up his arm, Hjalmarr spoke again. “The further you insult a child of the gods, the further flesh I shall be tempted to take.”

“Alright! Alright!” Baldr conceded, lifting his fist from Sylvie under the watchful eye of the blade. “Have it your way.”

After another moment of hesitation, Hjalmarr returned the ax to his side. Looking at the girls, there was no need to speak. Gathering their skirts, Sylvie and Tara began to follow Hjalmarr from the cart and back into the crowd.

“Don’t yee lot show your faces here again! I will have no part in serving the Serpent's offspring!” He bellowed, now behind the cart once more. Sylvie turned to look at them. Molly’s eyes were filled with sympathy, but Baldr and the rest of the crowd - there was only hate.

Hjalmarr said nothing as they weaved their way through the angry crowd back toward the temple. He showed no sign of fear or intimidation, yet Sylvie noticed his hand never once left the hilt of his ax. As they broached the edge of the marketplace, breath lived in her again and she felt her lungs expand gratefully. She understood all too wellthe volatile nature of the people, and Baldr's outburst had been just one manifestation of their prejudice.

Sylvie pressed her fingertips to her cheeks, in a futile attempt to quell the rising tide of emotion threatening to overwhelm. Though she had tried to steal herself against it, the scorn of the crowd still pierced like a dagger.

They would never accept her.

She had tried so hard to be good, to be an obedient and compliant servant, just as her mother had requested. To prove herself worthy, with hope that one day she might discover some sense of belonging.

How foolish she was.

On days like this day - the weight of her reality became more and more clear.

She would never be one of them.

Sylvie looked to Hjalmarr at her side, his towering body moving along the path with purpose. If he hadn’t been there, she was sure things would have ended much differently. It hadn’t been so long ago since her skin was coloured in purple and blue, not that she ever showed it. The memories of those encounters lingered, their faint echoes etched into her skin, hidden from view but never forgotten. Despite her efforts to remain unseen, to blend into the background and avoid unwanted scrutiny, she found that attention had a way of finding her regardless.

"Thank you," Sylvie murmured softly, a gesture of gratitude for his unspoken support.

Not looking toward her, he nodded, the only sign he heard her at all.

As they cleared the village square, Sylvie stole a glance at Tara who now walked briskly beside them, uncharacteristically silent. One vein pulsed in her forehead and her jaw squared as she looked straight ahead, a clear indication of her temper. As they hurried along the cobblestone streets, Tara's footsteps landed sharply, each one a decisive strike that echoed her anger. Her breath came in rapidbursts, her fists gripping into her skirts, knuckles white with tension as she struggled to keep their steady pace. The weight of what had happened hung heavy in the air, and despite Sylvie’s gratitude for Hjalmarr, Tara’s emotions raged with a palatable force that she could feel oppressively descend. With the chaos that had swirled around them, Tara’s eyes were not only filled with fear, but anger.

Sylvie understood the source of Tara's distress. Tara had never encountered such hostility or danger before, and it deeply unsettled her. Life within the temple had been a sanctuary for Tara - a place where she found solace in her devotion to the gods and the comforting embrace of her faith. Within those walls, she was cherished and embraced, embodying everything Sylvie was not.

However, this sheltered existence had shielded Tara from the harsh realities of the outside world. She remained blissfully unaware of the cruelties and prejudices that lurked beyond the temple's walls.

“What an embarrassment!” Tara exclaimed, her hands flailing outwardly, as they approached the temple grounds. “I cannot believe Baldr would behave in such a manner, especially towards children of the light!”

Sylvie knew better than to speak, and let Tara blow off steam.

“It’s an outrage!” Tara continued, her fists unclenching only to clench them tighter again. “I must report this to the priests. Baldr should answer for his assault upon the gods chosen.”

“I doubt they will do much.” Sylvie said softly.

“Well they should!” Tara’s eyes had turned to flame. “I have never experienced such injustice!”

“It’s because of me Tara.” Sylvie reached for her, laying a hand on her shoulder as they briskly kept pace with Hjalmarr. “They reacted that way because of me. It had nothing to do with you. I should have known better than to accompany you today.”

Tara huffed, before finally mumbling. “It is not your fault. You can’t help it.”

As they approached the imposing temple gates, Hjalmarr swiftlyushered them inside, his hand deftly securing the heavy door behind them. With a firm push, the latch clicked into place, sealing them within the sanctuary's protective walls. The corridor stretched out before them, dimly lit by flickering torches mounted on stone. The grandeur of the interior unfolded, vibrant tapestries of old adorning the walls, and massive wooden beams weathered by time and carved with intricate patterns stretched overhead, their carvings crafting tails of heroic lives long lived, and the glory of the gods. In the main entrance stood the towering statue of Hallva, the All - Father, god of creation and wisdom. Before it lay sacred offerings of mead and bread, along with items of more personal nature for forgiveness or blessing. As they descended further, Sylvie could sense the dry and solemn energy that inhabited the space despite its magnificence, no doubt accumulated by the many students banned from the festivities that would shortly commence, confined to their beds with their faith and prayers.

As they weaved their way through the temple towards their private quarters, Sylvie felt herself questioning their evening plans.

After everything that had just happened, was it a good idea to test fate any further?

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