Page 236 of A Queen's Game
“The head of our temple, Nosokyma, is an Iros, and she performs the inking ritual, like this,” he said, gesturing to his neck. “The pain is horrible, worse than a normal tattoo, but that’s part of the process.”
Marietta’s face paled. She had never faced physical pain like that.
“Just trust the process,” he said, glancing at her expression. “And trust the goddess. No matter what, you can get through it. You simply must accept the pain.”
“Sure,” she mumbled. “But what happens? I’m tattooed, and then suddenly I have powers?”
“Therypon’s magic blesses the ink. Made from the ash of burnt serpents’ skin burnt at the goddess’s altar,” he explained, turning down another hall as they took another set of stairs. “The needle is a serpent’s fang, also blessed by the goddess. During the ritual, the other Iros channel Therypon’s energy and focus it back to you, hence needing other Iros here.” They came to a stop outside a door. “Ready?”
“No.” Her head spun, trying to digest the information he dumped on her. Gods, she should’ve asked sooner.
Coryn laughed, then knocked once. An elven woman opened the door, her face half-covered in tattoos, her eyes dark, long black hair extended down her back.
“Who knocks at the gate of Therypon?” she asked, her voice like silk.
“One chosen for the duality of pain and healing,” Coryn said, pushing Marietta forward.
The elven woman stood aside, letting Marietta pass into the low-lit room, an altar made of white marble sitting at its center. The only light came from a rectangular window set into the ceiling directly above them. Coryn and the elven woman joined the other handful of people who sat crossed-legged around it, all wearing the blue of Therypon.
An older elven woman, who must have been Nosokyma, stood next to the altar, her face lined with many years, the tattoos on her skin drooping with them. “Marietta Vallynte, we welcome you to join Therypon’s chosen guardians, the Iros,” she said in a deep voice. “The Goddess selects each of us herself, handpicked for reasons only known to her. Do you willingly accept the ritual brought upon you today?” She raised her hands as she spoke, her piercing eyes locked on Marietta.
“I accept,” she said, raising her chin and refusing to let her voice falter.
“Come, join us at the altar of Therypon.” Nosokyma beckoned her forward.
The altar was a flat stone slab, the same stone that the statue of the goddess had within the chapel. On both sides sat the attendants, including Coryn, with a glazed-over look to their eyes, palms facing the ceiling.
“The duality of Therypon is that of pain and healing. For without pain, one cannot heal. And without healing, the body shall only feel pain. With this in mind, we bestow onto you, newto Therypon’s divine Iros, the symbol of the goddess and the symbol of her chosen. Welcome her permanence to your flesh.”
Marietta, unsure what to do, bowed her head.
Nosokyma smiled. “New to the Iros, remove your garb. Lay bare with the pain bestowed by Therypon.”
Marietta jerked her head in surprise, looking at Coryn, whose gaze glossed over. He had left that part out. She turned back to the elven lady, who motioned her to remove her clothes.
She peeled off the guard uniform and lay upon the stone. The hard surface bore into her, the cold biting into her skin.
“Bring forth the instruments of Therypon.”
An attendant brought forth a box and set it in front of Nosokyma. She removed the contents beyond Marietta’s line of sight. Her hands touched Marietta, rolling her to the left, exposing her right side.
Nosokyma held up a piece of wood that had a serpent’s tooth attached to the end. “Therypon, witness us mark the pain for your Iros!”
Black ink covered the needle, the elven woman holding it over Marietta’s side. The first stab into her body was sharp, burning. Then it spread through her rib cage, the second adding to the pain. Marietta bit her lip to keep herself from crying.
The pain leached into her ribs, pulsing down her body with the beat of her heart. It was deeper than bone; she hurt through to her very center. Again and again, the pain came crashing, each prick worse than the last. The coppery tang of blood filled her mouth as she bit through the skin of her lip.
Marietta kept herself from crying out, but the pain was unbearable. Bile rose in her throat. She steadied her breath, reaching for the warmth in her chest. Tears fell from her eyes as the pain grew worse, the heat continuing to slip away from her. The stabbing sensation cascaded from her neck to her anklethough the needle remained in one spot. Nosokyma hadn’t even moved. Marietta steadied her breath and tried again.
She focused on the warmth of the goddess, how it felt to speak with her, the peppermint and eucalyptus scent, the wash of calm Therypon brought. She called out to the goddess to bring her peace. Slowly, the pain in her body faded, and there was nothing for a long while. Blackness encased her vision.
Was she dead? Did she pass out? But all her thoughts were there. Her body quivered as the needle stabbed, but the pain was distant.
Finally, Marietta called out, “Are you there?”
As with before, the answer came from inside her head.
“I am always here.”
