Remembered by Hazel Hunter Page B

bore down on his fingers. The first shivers of her arousal nearly broke her to pieces, but she wouldn’t give in to them. Instead, she dug her nails into his chest, keening as she fought.
    His beautiful body writhed underneath hers. Though he wanted her pleasure, he sought his own satisfaction as well. He thrust harder, plunging upward, grunting harshly as though it was pain. But as the tension in the deepest part of her finally snapped, her climax swelled. The pleasure broke over her like a tidal wave, rocking her to her very core. She felt him climax as well, thickening and jerking, his hips flying upward at a terrible speed. His hot seed shot upward, slapping in to her, threatening to rip her apart.
    It was then the Goddess woke in her entirety. Ancient and terrible, powerful and cold, she stretched herself within Galia. Still shaking from her orgasm, Galia opened her eyes. Everything was both sharper and more blurred, shimmering in an opalescent glow. Her eyes were drawn to the knife.
    As if in a dream, Galia saw her hand reach for it. When she looked down at Strayke, he smiled up at her. She couldn’t tell if he knew what was coming, but it hardly mattered. He would let her do it. Galia knew that.
    Sacrifice him, daughter! Give him to me!
    Through contact with the knife, Galia saw every priestess that had ever walked down into this darkness. They flashed in front of her eyes, a wretched parade. She could see the spray of blood, the cooling body taken into the earth.
    Drink from my power! Give him to me!
    She raised the knife up high. This was how it had to be. This was always how it would end. With his shaft still spearing her, and his seed warm in her belly, Galia brought the knife down.
    But with a lurching spasm that tore her spirit from her body, she slammed it down on the stone. With the sound of shattering glass, the knife broke into a hundred pieces. One of them flew through the air and cut her jaw.
    No! What have you done? No!
    Blood ran down her chin and dripped onto Strayke’s chest.Slowly and painfully, Galia pulled herself away. Though she was sore, and her knees were bruised, she was entirely herself.
    “Galia?” Strayke gasped, blinking and sitting up. “What happened?”
    “What needed to,” she whispered.
    Though Galia had not succumbed, the power of the Goddess was in her. She was the Oracle.
    Though the Goddess’s rage surrounded her, Galia slowly dressed. Strayke slid off the table and did the same. But now as she watched, she knew what lay inside him: the green land where he had been born; the first time he had lain with a man, and the first time he had killed one; the first time he looked up into the sky and wondered what lay beyond their world. Then she saw the moment he’d met her and Mina.
    “Someday,” she said quietly, “we will leave this behind. You won’t be a soldier. I won’t be an Oracle, and Mina won’t be a slave. We’ll be happy.” She held out her hand.
    He smiled a little and took it.
    They left the Goddess, and started their journey up.
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    • • • • •
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    W hen Galia knocked on the trapdoor, the Oracle opened it immediately. The smile on her face was beaming, but when she saw Strayke, it vanished.
    “What have you done?” she said, her voice almost strangled.
    As she and Strayke mounted the steps and entered the chamber, Galia met her mentor’s eyes. For five years she had learned the woman’s lessons of strength and will.
    “Things change,” was all Galia said.
    For a moment, she thought her mentor would lash out, declare her unfit, or claim Galia was no Oracle.
    Instead, the woman only stood silently, her eyes dark and quiet.
    But the ceremony had been real. Galia had taken the power of the Goddess and was, in fact, the Oracle. But rather than feel pride, or at least superiority, she looked on the downcast woman and only felt pity. Without another word, Galia turned and walked away. As she and Strayke closed the outer doors, she thought she heard