Written Wonderland

The priestess watched the young man blink, and she recognized the panic in his eyes. She tried to offer him some modicum of calm in the slight smile that she gave him, but he quickly turned to look at the gathered crowd. Never had she sent anyone to the goddess with such an audience, but then again, nothing about the whole situation was normal. The priestess echoed in her mind the memory of the whole of the gathered crowd celebrating the first man's step over the circle and reassured herself. They were all doing the best they could.

"A collection," the young man said, holding his bag out in front of himself. The priestess could hear the nervousness in his voice, but he was also determined, which she appreciated. "Moments of intimacy gifted to the goddess through these objects, and me."

She smiled at him more fully, then and nodded sagely, accepting what he had decided was best for his own worship. She could easily imagine how much the goddess would appreciate experiencing this soldier's memories of those moments with him. He would serve her well, the priestess thought.

"Please, undress," the priestess said, returning to her kind but neutral expression.

"Please, undress."

Right. Yes. Nick had obviously known this was coming, but somehow, it just came so fast. He took in a deep breath, this time letting it out in one big huff to bolster his resolve. Then he gently set his bag down on the ground in front of him, and deposited his jacket on the ground next to it. That part was easy enough, of course. Well, but even that came with some odd amount of heartache. He'd worn that jacket through so much, and already said goodbye to so much else, it was sad to let it go. It would be sad to let all of this go. His friends, his captain, his commander and country. He did hope that he would be able to come back, to help rebuild, at least eventually--and he hoped the goddess wouldn't begrudge him that. But, he also accepted that he had to let go of it all to be with her, no matter how long.

Fresh tears rolled down Nick's cheeks as he pulled his shirt over his head. He hugged it against his chest for a moment, thinned and stained and tattered as it was. It held so many memories, so much of him. And yet, there was also much about it that would be good to leave behind. So much strife, conflict, uncertainty, and grief. For a moment, it even felt selfish of him to be going--to be leaving the rest of the army to continue trudging through it all. But, he was going to help them. To secure the goddess' aid. Captain Rutliff had even offered to him earlier that the goddess was genuinely lonely, would genuinely need the volunteers' company and support. It wasn't as though he was just going for himself, not in the slightest.

Nick let his shirt fall atop his jacket with a heavy sigh, his shoulders feeling lighter. He gently wiped the tears from his face and breathed in again as he contemplated his next objective. His fingers reached tentatively for his belt, heat blooming in his cheeks, but, he realized, he should remove his boots first, of course. A little embarassed, he ran a hand through his hair and knelt down to unlace one boot and then the other. He mostly just felt gratitude for these, and hope that they would serve someone else as well as they'd served him. In many ways, he was just as glad to leave these boots and socks behind, to let his feet touch the ground and breathe in the cool air.

But now, it was time to undo his belt. Self-consciousness weighed heavy on him, and he spun around, though he wondered whether facing the commander or the crowd was really any better. Well, he finally settled on a kind of sideways orientation, perhaps giving Captain Rutliff the most straightforward view. That seemed to be where he was most comfortable, relatively speaking. He kept his eyes down, watching as his fingers fumbled with his belt and then the buttons on his pants--except for one quick, shy glance toward the captain, too curious to help it. Evan watched unabashedly, very nearly making Nick squeak as he cast his gaze back down, thrill running in shivers down his spine. Rutliff was one of the more intimidating captains, by Nick's estimation--quite rough, opinionated, and brash--but he also rather admired him in that way. And soon, he'd be going to another realm altogether with the captain, to be with the goddess of desire, no less. Nick's face was undoubtedly beat red by the time he managed to pull down his pants and step out of them, his whole body shivering with both the chill in the air and the overwhelming impact of the many eyes that were on him.

He recovered well enough, though, shaking out his wrists to expel some of his excess energy as he pivoted back toward the priestess, and he sighed deeply enough to relax some, offering his body for her to wash with some miraculously-unearthed serenity--perhaps just so long as he kept his attention away from the audience surrounding them.

"Please, undress." Trevor heard the priestess utter the words, and he looked up, pulling himself from his own thought loop of the rope, the goddess, the crowd, and Kade to watch someone else go through the process of stripping in front of the whole camp. Trevor thought, yes, it would be nice to have company in that regard.

The volunteer--was it Nick?--seemed deeply nervous. He let out a puff of air and set his mysterious bag of objects on the ground. First, he took off his jacket, looking at it mournfully. As he started on his shirt, Trevor thought he saw tears rolling down Nick's face. That put Trevor off a bit. If taking his shirt off was going to be an issue, would this kid even make it with the goddess? This wasn't for the faint of heart. Nick hugged his shirt to his chest, then, and Trevor started to understand that Nick genuinely had some attachment to the clothing itself, which Trevor guessed made sense. He didn't feel like he would need or want his own army-issue clothes with the goddess--Evan seemed to be getting on just fine.

Nick wiped his tears and started unlacing his boots, finding some kind of resolve as his feet touched the earth. When his hands went to his belt, Nick hesitated to some degree and settled on facing Evan. Heh, fair enough, Trevor thought. Evan had definitely seen worse. Or better, depending. It meant that Trevor's view was a little blocked by Evan's back, but he wasn't really that eager to see Nick's junk. And, besides, Nick would be standing beside him soon enough.

Nick added his own clothes to the pile of clothing that Trevor had started, and then was fully nude in the chill of the darkening sky. He shook his wrists out and sighed, visibly relaxing his muscles as he returned his gaze to the priestess.

--

Tehlunae looked kindly at Nick, quickly gathering some affinity for him as he held his clothes with tenderness. A lot of work and memories went into them, and she appreciated his recognition of that.

Taking a new cloth, the priestess indicated for a nearby helper to switch the cauldrons, pouring Trevor's water out around the edge of the outside circle, careful not to disturb the powders. Another helper replaced the old cauldron with a newly heated pot of water, ready for Nick. Once that was complete, the priestess dipped the cloth into the water, gathered some of the soap, and began washing the offering in front of her, methodically moving over the parts of this body the same way she had with the other, starting with the head and working her way steadily down to his feet. She was entirely unconcerned of the time it took. It needed to be done well.

That finished, Tehlunae nodded to the young man's bundle, indicating that he pick it up. That done, the priestess collected some of the clay on her fingers and drew the same sigil, but this time she placed it on Nick's left arm.

"Do you intend to serve the goddess of desire, of shadow, of mist, and of purpose of your own free will?" she asked the young man.

Nick relaxed considerably as the priestess washed him. There may have been a flare of embarrassment at first, but he closed his eyes and breathed it out slowly, and allowed his attention to sink into where the warm cloth touched his skin, filling him with sensation. He was becoming rather practiced at this after a full day of it; welcoming the touch of another, giving himself over to their attention. His interactions throughout the day had been clothed, so in that sense this was another layer deeper. The priestess left no part of his body to privacy, but she touched him everywhere with intention and care, and it felt exquisite--divine, one might say.

Yet another set of tears rolled down Nick's cheeks and a wide, blissful smile settled on his face as the thought crossed his mind that this was precisely what his time with the goddess might feel like. There were plenty of indicators from rumors and myths and even Rutliff himself that there would be some amount of strife and discomfort, too, but surely it would all come back to this.

It took Nick a moment to realize the priestess had finished before he opened his eyes, attention returning sluggishly to the connection of his feet on the ground and the slight chill in the air. He smiled wide to the priestess with unabashed happiness and gratitude, and followed her gaze as she nodded to his sack. It took him another moment--he felt drunk, almost, in all of the best ways--but soon enough it clicked that she was gesturing for him to pick it up. He obliged, slowly, attention cascading pleasurably through his muscles as he crouched and then stood and hugged the sack of items against him.

The priestess drew on his arm with clay, and Nick watched with blurry vision through more overflowing tears. He never in his life thought that he would find this kind of purpose, but now he felt himself nearly glowing with it, and he wasn't sure he had ever been more happy.

"Do you intend to serve the goddess of desire, of shadow, of mist, and of purpose of your own free will?" the priestess asked, and Nick couldn't help the delighted, brief but boisterous laugh of a sob that heaved itself from his lungs.

"Yes!" he exclaimed, teary smile beaming with joy.

The priestess smiled widely and warmly at the young offering as his tears became those of purpose and awe. He was well and truly ready for the goddess, she thought.

"Yes!" the young man said with exuberance and a laughing sob of wonder. She nodded at him, touching his shoulder lovingly even though it wasn't strictly necessary.

"Then, please, step into this first circle." She indicated a place to the opposite of where Trevor stood, closer to the priestess herself.

Once the young man had done as she requested, the old woman looked to Mizu, who started the rallying cry once again.

"To the goddess!" the commander announced.

"To the goddess!" the captains replied.

"To the goddess! the crowd echoed enthusiastically, again dispersing into clapping, hoots, and yells of pleasure.

The priestess looked back at the offering she had just given over to the goddess and smiled one last time, curious to see his reaction to the rallying cheers.

But, before long, she returned to her task. "And who will be next to offer themselves to the goddess?"

Philip was filled with indescribable trepidation. He felt like he must be shaking. So much so that he held out his hand briefly in front of him, expecting to see it tremble. But, no, it was steady, smooth as stone. He frowned as he returned it to resting atop his makeshift boquet, his strange attempt at a peace offering. He worried it did not truly befit the goddess of desire, this collection of leaves and grass and ferns and flowers. His worry especially flared as the first volunteer began the ceremony. To be bound with decorative rope--that seemed more on-theme, did it not? But Trevor had a decidedly different relationship with the goddess than Philip did, from what he understood. They all did.

Confusion swirled through Philip as he watched Captain Kade tie the ropes around Trevor. It was disconcerting that they were all to be naked in front of the whole army, though it wasn't as though Philip and Trevor hadn't seen each other similarly compromised before. Philip frequently looked away, easily overwhelmed with emotion and memories, but he kept looking back, intrigued by the ways in which Kade seemed to so tenderly guide Trevor through the process, a mere mortal here commanding at least some small echo of the goddess' power to sink a man into swaying. It made him rethink something about Kade, and maybe even the goddess and mortals altogether, though it was difficult to say precisely what, and it was arguably just one drop in a sea of things that Philip had been rethinking.

It was terribly awkward when the priestess asked for the second volunteer. They'd all known that Trevor was to start things off with Kade--and that Novelty would similarly close the ceremony out--but not much had been discussed aside from that. Philip glanced to the soldier beside him, his body warm with memories from the night before. His chest especially warm with gratitude for Novelty's part in helping Philip arrive as he was now, to not simply just run from the complexity of all this. It was terrifying to face, but Novelty had been able to give him some small hope that it at least could all be worth it. Worth trying, in the very least.

One of the other volunteers spoke up before too terribly long. One of the new folks. Well, of those returning, it was just himself and Nathan to go. Ramanujan had chosen not to, which at first had confused Philip, but it made perfect sense when he'd found out why. He was grateful to Chloe for telling him. He wondered still whether they ought to have told the others, but he trusted Chloe's judgement and had left it to her to decide who to tell.

The new volunteer was nervous, reminding Philip of Nathan in some ways. But as the priestess washed him, he truly came alive, and Philip had to grant that it was beautiful to see. There was something so soft and joyous in his tearstrewn smile. It echoed the warmth of hope in Philip's chest, and he found himself very glad that this soldier was going to the goddess. The feelings of acceptance and opennes that he exuded... Philip was drawn to them, wanted to emulate them, somehow.

He watched with awe as the soldier stepped into the circle with a whole-body shiver, hugging his small sack of items as though it were the most precious thing in the world. He sobbed openly as the commander and captains and crowd all erupted into cheers, wiping his eyes with one hand only after his lungs had emptied, his smile still beaming.

Philip felt a small tear wet his own cheek. He looked again to Novelty, this time meeting Novelty's gaze, at least until the priestess called for the next volunteer.

"I will."

The words came out of him with surprising resoluteness, perhaps the first time he had truly mustered confidence since this whole ordeal had begun. He didn't especially want to leave Novelty's side--nor strip for the whole army to see--but if he was going to, now seemed like the time, in the wake of the beauty that the previous volunteer had so graciously offered to them all. Perhaps it was selfish to take this turn in that way, but it felt right and good to seize this opportunity to approach the goddess with such hope in his heart.

So, with a subtle tilt of his chin toward Novelty, Philip turned to walk toward the priestess, breathing deep to soothe the trembing within him.

Novelty had spent the day in a flurry of activity. From venturing back out to the place where he and Philip had found the flowers--that strange glowing light absent now in the daylight--to saying his goodbyes, Novelty had kept his thoughts busy. He heard rumors about one of the volunteers backing out, one of the originals who had been with the goddess previously, and Novelty worried that it might be Philip. He hoped to spot Philip at some point during the day, but he had also kept busy, it seemed. Novelty imagined that, as a lieutenant, he likely had a number of lose ends to tie up, if, in fact, he was still going.

So when Philip showed up to their meeting place to wait for a signal from the priestess in the woods, Novelty's face lit up in a massive smile that he could not contain for several moments. He first felt relief that Philip would be coming with him, but then he worried again if Philip was making the right choice for himself. Reminding himself about what the two of them had talked through, however, Novelty felt hopeful. Philip carried a strange bouquet of leaves and flowers that made Novelty wonder about the significance of Philip's gift, but he trusted the man to have been thoughtful about what he offered.

Novelty's stomach jumped into his throat when Lieutenant Alegre came out of the woods, out of breath, and told the volunteers that the priestess was ready. Then, the procession began, and before Novelty could hardly believe it, he was standing in a place of honor, waiting to be washed and oiled and offered into the circle while almost the entire army watched. Novelty himself was prepared to be naked in front of everyone, but when the priestess told the first volunteer to disrobe, Novelty felt shock and surprise. It made sense, once he thought about it. The priestess had asked for supplies for baths, after all. At first, Novelty was a little frustrated not to be the only one nude--he did have a propensity for standing out--but as the volunteer complied, Novelty lost all sense of jealously. Instead, he was thoroughly excited by the invitation to drink in the sight of this man. He was, quite honestly, perfect--at least physically--with his glistening muscles and periodic flexing. Too often, Novelty felt he needed to avert his eyes when someone was nude--washing down in the river, for example--but here, Novelty could ogle this man along with hundreds of other people, and that in and of itself felt divine, sanctioned. Why couldn't there be more opportunities like this?

And then the ropes. Novelty had, on many occasions, admired his captain's propensity for thoughtful observation and strategic efficiency, but all that was nothing compared to what took place with this first volunteer. Captain Kade weaved a hypnotic spell of ties and slides across the man's skin, and the man was so clearly affected by each tug and pull. Novelty shivered watching Kade whisper on several occasions into the volunteer's ear, almost feeling as though he could hear the whisper himself. With a note of excited panic in his stomach, Novelty remembered that Kade would be the one to wrap him in flowers at the end. Yes, whatever jealousy Novelty had originated felt was long since gone now.

Novelty looked around happily when the priestess instructed the volunteer to cross the circle's threshold and the crowd erupted in cheers. He joined in at the end, too, feeling invigorated and almost shaking with anticipation. It was to be a lengthy ceremony, it seemed, with Novelty at the end of it, but still, he didn't want to rush a thing.

The second volunteer, Nick, went a little faster. He was clearly more put off by needing to be nude in front of everyone, but he began to sink into it all once the priestess started washing him. And to her credit, she was very methodical about it all, which Novelty appreciated. Somehow, it gave the ludeness of whatever else they might be doing tonight more sacred gravity.

Nick sobbed as the second chorus of cheers went up--happy tears if Novelty was reading him correctly. It was difficult to know exactly what any of them were in for--those of them who had never been, at least--but Nick's surety that he was, in fact, serving something divine gave Novelty hope.

There was a bit of a lull again when the priestess asked for the next volunteer, each of them likely weighing the merits of going next as opposed to waiting longer, but then Philip, standing near to Novelty, responded. "I will."

Novelty felt a thrill in his stomach as though, up to this point, Novelty still expected that Philip might, even now, back out of the arrangement. But hearing him say that out loud--to everyone--made it real. They were going together.

Philip met Novelty's eyes and nodded before walking to stand properly in front of the priestess.

"What will your offering to the goddess be?" Novelty watched intently with burning curiosity and rapt attention.

"What will your offering to the goddess be?" The priestess asked, and Philip swallowed, looking down quite seriously at the boquet in his arms. It was of course not simply the boquet that he offered, though he hardly cared to even attempt to explain the whole breadth of its meaning. He rolled over a few different words that came to mind, before finally holding the boquet staight out in front of him toward the inner circle, eyes closed to focus on the hopeful feeling in his heart.

"Reconciliation." He finally said with a subtle bow, hopeful that it was both true enough to mean something and veiled enough to respect that which was only between himself and the goddess. Well... and Captain Rutliff, as well. Philip palpably felt Rutliff's gaze on him, and he finally met eyes with the captain. There was, in part, an impulse to offer a nod, if not another bow--if not a thorough prostration--but Philip didn't dare put Rutliff in a position to have to explain anything to anyone else. Besides, the captain had given Philip just enough already, having checked in on him earlier that day. It had been all business, to be sure--confirming Philip's intention to go back to the goddess, and inquiring as to whether Philip needed any help with his offering, which Philip had politely declined. But in that exchange had been a poignant acceptance, even if there was a cascade of complications roiling beneath the surface. If Philip understood anything about Rutliff at all, he understood that Rutliff would not simply bite his tongue and be civil if he truly wanted a situation to be different.

In fact, in the moment when Philip was prepared to look away, Rutliff offered him a subtle nod--the second such nod the captain had offered to him since they'd gathered for the ceremony procession. It fanned the warmth of hope in Philip's chest, though he held it all with great caution and care as he returned his gaze to the priestess.

"Please, undress," the priestess said, and Philip swallowed as a tumbling sensation cascaded down from his chest through his stomach and into his gut. But he nodded, tenderly laid his boquet down on the ground in front of him, and began to undress.

He closed his eyes during the process, and tried to treat it as simply undressing for the river. After all, it did seem that the primary purpose of this was indeed to be cleaned. He found himself subconsciously pivoting away from Rutliff as he pulled his pants down--maybe out of some small, stubborn desire to hide, but also in an attempt to show some amount of care or deference. This body had caused Rutliff harm, and he could not simply ignore that fact--nor should he.

He returned his gaze to the priestess once he was finished, his eyes almost pleading. He still held caution within him, but he had every reason to believe in this moment that being cleaned by the priestess would be deeply moving, and he felt ready for it, even if anxiety still buzzed within him.

"What will your offering to the goddess be?" the priestess asked, looking Philip over. He looked exceptionally nervous. This was one of the volunteers returning to the goddess after being enthralled, Tehlunae knew, but he was far more anxious about leaving than the first man had been. She tilted her head slightly in curiosity.

"Reconciliation," the man said, holding his bouquet of leaves and ferns and flowers out straight ahead of him. The word blew over Tehlunae with a powerful force, conveying a dense series of memories all at once.

Philip running after Evan, pulling the man down onto the ground, wrenching his clothes. All at the goddess' command. "Rorrim probably liked this shit, too, huh?" It was Evan's voice in the priestess' vision. The old woman managed to withhold her wince, but only just.

The priestess noted that Philip nodded to Evan, who nodded back. She took a deep breath. This was a lot of information for her to process. She knew that the goddess was capable of--and had done--many terrible things. And she understood that the goddess was angry. Furious. This was all part of the reason that Tehlunae had approached the army camp at all, why she had sent other volunteers before Evan. She wanted to help the goddess reconcile... everything.

Philip and his interaction with Evan--it was a microcosm of what Tehlunae herself hoped to achieve.

While the priestess was very practiced at withholding judgment, she hadn't fully expected the small bundle of nearby flowers to hold such weight. She felt humbled and honored. Washing this man was to be potent.

"Please, undress," the priestess said, finally managing the words without tells of how much she had been affected. She was grateful for the time it took Philip. He was modest and calculated in how he disrobed, turning away from Evan in the process. Out of respect, Tehlunae thought. The priestess smiled grimly, her mouth a flat line. She felt so much for this man and could not hardly help pinning her own hopes onto him and Evan both.

This has gone on long enough, the priestess thought again for the hundredth time.

Once Philip had piled his clothes with the others, having laid his bouquet gently at his feet, the priestess selected a new cloth and dipped it into the newly exchanged pot of water before applying some soap.

First, the priestess squeezed the cloth over Philip's head, allowing the hot water to drip down the rest of him. Then, she tenderly washed his face and his neck, gently urging the muscles in his throat and shoulders to loosen. Slowly, she worked her way down each of his arms, thinking to herself, Be clean, be refreshed, be whole, be loved. She wanted to give Philip the very best chance at serving the goddess and being received well.

She took her time with his genital area, rewetting the cloth many times as though she could see all the fear and harm and shame that the man had stored there, both from his time with the goddess and otherwise. She was still methodical and somewhat distant from Philip's physical reactions to her attentions, but it was undeniable that she spent more time with him than the others. At last, when she felt he was as clean and pure as she could manage, she moved on down his backside and his legs.

That done, she set aside the cloth and massaged the oil into Philip's skin, imagining sealing warmth and acceptance into every centimeter of him. If there was anyone that the priestess felt she had thoroughly prepared and honored on their journey to the goddess, it was Philip.

In her mind, she blessed him several more times with peace, pleasure, and purpose, and tears ran down her cheeks resolutely as she looked at him, at last glistening in the torchlight. She placed both hands against his cheeks and told him, very quietly, "My faith goes with you." And with that, that was all she could offer Philip.

Stepping back from him, the priestess asked, her voice bellowing, "Do you intend to serve the goddess of desire, of shadow, of mist, and of purpose of your own free will?"

Philip closed his eyes as the priestess lifted the cloth above his head, squeezing hot water out over him. He let out a long, soft sigh, shaky with the fear within him that finally managed to find some expression. She wiped the cloth gently over his face and neck and shoulders, almost massaging him, tenderly beckoning him to relax--to release. Genuinely, he tried--he felt the respect and reverence that this woman was giving to this ceremony, to her goddess, to everyone who served her, and he wanted to respect the process in kind. It was almost enough, but the knot in his throat simply wouldn't loosen. Over time, as the priestess moved down his chest, his torso, the ache grew too much to bear, and he swallowed it back down, returning to stone.

She surprised him with the attentions she gave to his genital area. After seeing her wash Trevor and Nick, Philip had been prepared for a brief, businesslike visit to the area, to get it clean just like everything else, but the priestess took more time with Philip, rewetting the cloth many times as though he were caked with soot, though of course he was not. He opened his eyes, needing to see her to understand what exactly she was doing. It was the sight of his own phallus that got him more than anything--this part of himself that he sometimes wished he could simply be without, for all the shame and guilt it seemed to cause him. The priestess tended to it with care and patience, and shame stabbed at Philip's chest. It was difficult not to stop her, to beg her to stand, to gather his clothing back around him. But instead he stood still, allowing silent tears to flow from his eyes, resolve winning out to trust himself to this process, even through the discomfort that was in store.

He was both sad and relieved when the priestess moved on, the palpable fear and shame in his body calming to the steady, sustainable knots he was used to, save perhaps the nagging worry that he had been unable to be cleansed in the way that the priestess had wanted to cleanse him. But perhaps that was simply not possible here in this moment, under all these eyes who would not understand.

Philip closed his eyes again as the priestess began to oil him, and he was at last able to find some relaxation in that, trusting that it was okay that all his knots had not magically unwound, that of course there was more to this process than even the most caring of washings could move him past.

He opened his eyes again when he sensed the priestess moving back around to the front of him, and was surprised to see tears on her cheeks, as well. He wondered with some trepidation how much she knew and understood of what his reconciliation with the goddess meant and would mean. Almost as if in answer, the priestess placed her hands on Philip's cheeks, and she said to him softly, "My faith goes with you."

Philip looked at her with wide, wet eyes, pleading again without realizing--wishing that somehow, he could simply stay with this priestess; chop her firewood in exchange for patient baths. But of course, there was no path to that, and on some level, even Philip knew that wasn't really what he wanted, even if the fantasy was briefly beautiful.

Stepped back from him, the priestess resumed her ceremonial tone, and asked, "Do you intend to serve the goddess of desire, of shadow, of mist, and of purpose of your own free will?"

Philip was paralyzed for a moment, his brow furrowed as more tears rolled from his eyes. When he tried to speak, a resurging knot stopped him, aching and pulsing in his throat and making him want to disappear. Of course he had heard the priestess ask this question of the others, and it had sounded straightforward enough then, but now confusion swirled, beckoning the storm he'd thought he had shaken. Did he really intend to serve this goddess? Was this all truly of his own free will?

After a moment Philip drew in a deep, shaky breath, his eyes closing and his mind reaching for memories with Novelty the night before. He had felt free in the woods then, his decisions all his own. He recalled the feelings of guilt that had nagged at him even then, his declaration that he didn't want them. His dip with Novelty in the river, a precursor of cleansing to tonight. He wanted to change. He was choosing to change. And he was choosing to believe that the goddess was worthy of what he could become--or in the very least, that she was capable of changing with him.

When Philip finally opened his eyes, his throat still ached, but it wasn't near so tight, and he nodded to the priestess, and offered a simple, resounding,

"I do."