Judith rose smoothly from the small bed of her simple cell. She lit the oil lamp on the small table beside it, and took a moment to center herself. The scent of the hemp oil was by now familiar, comforting, and almost unnoticed for its ubiquity as it burned in every lamp in the temple. She breathed slowly, deeply, three times, filling her lungs completely and emptying fully each time, before sliding down onto the ground, prostrating herself with her forehead against the simple, well-swept stone floor.
In her daily prayer, she heard the rising gong ring three times, but it made no conscious impression. Her rhythmic mantra rolled from her lips, filling her mind and silencing thought and awareness. "Tray-atuk vodyeh spenya, shavar manu makte, tray-atuk vodyeh..." It had taken months to learn the language of the Ekstatikoi - a strange tongue of power and flexibility, bearing within it magical words and phrases for the initiated. Even to learn it exercised the flexibility of her mind, adjusted her view of the world. One day, she might think first in it, second in Common, but for now the words mentally echoed in common as she spoke them.
"Beauty and limitless light flow from it, the throne of that which is desired and beautiful to all people..." She spoke it softly each time, the sound bouncing from the smooth stone back to her slightly pointed ears. Her only pause was for breath - she had not yet learned the secret of circular breathing - and those were short, soft, and quick. The third set of strikes to the gongs coincided with the end of the hundredth repetition of her mantra, and she rose smoothly, taking the opportunity to stretch out smoothly. Long limbed and smoothly built, she first reached up to the sky, fingertips brushing against the rough ceiling, before reaching down to the floor. With only slight effort, she adopted the proper position, her face between her knees and her palms on the floor, and then unfolded herself again to stand.
In the mirror, she caught herself, and smiled. Her forehead was still dark in its center from her prostrations, and it brought a giggle to her lips - a great red blotch on her otherwise pristine skin. Judith permitted her eyes to roam down over her reflection, admiring the sight. The flowing tumble of her black hair spilled down over her shoulders, still unkempt from sleep, to brush at the top of modest but pleasingly full breasts, beneath which a smooth belly sat just slightly fat, well-fed but not to excess. Her hips were pleasantly broad, if not extraordinary, but her most noted feature rested between her legs - a plump, uncircumcised member, an esteemed feature among the Ekstatikoi.
Remember, she cautioned herself, you are not your body. Be proud of it, but remember you are more than flesh. That had been another difficult mantra to absorb, a hard adjustment to make coming from the materialistic outside world. She never would have imagined, in her past life, that she would be so happy with so little to her name. Passing a simple bone comb through her hair, she remembered her old wardrobe, with its many dresses; her vanity, which serviced that same trait in her. Now she had only three dresses, and they were all the same. They slipped on loosely over the head, a billowing expanse of soft white cotton that left her left breast bare in a sign of devotion and modesty.
A quick puff of air extinguished the lamp, and she slipped out into the priestess's communal rooms, deep in the heart of the temple. Here, the austerity gave way to comfort if not to opulence. Oil lamps lit the smoothly polished stones with a dull warmth, and their benches were comfortably padded. Their breakfast was already prepared, waiting for them on the table, brought by the retiring priestesses who oversaw the temple's daily operations on their way to their own bed, a final act before striking the rising gong. Judith took her usual place at the polished wood - as usual, the first there - and waited for her cloistered fellows, returning to her mantra out of instinct. Others could repeat it without conscious effort, but she still required a small moment of effort to resume the rhythmic flow.
Cassandra joined her, offering a smile and taking the place next to her, sitting cross-legged on the cushions in her usual manner. She was a slender, sharp-featured young woman, and where Judith's breast hung over the left side of the dress, Cassandra displayed only a small sloping rise capped with a delicate pink nipple. The rest joined them - Avran, with his pale blue skin and horns; Melita, well-named for the honey-coloured hair that grew long and curly and resisted any attempt at being tamed. Their senior priestess for the Hours, Miriam, joined them last among the dozen.
They were all in awe of Miriam. Not for her physical form - which, though she carried herself with the poise and grace of some long forgotten goddess of sensuality, was merely average - but for her experience. She was younger than half the priestesses, but she was one of only a scant few to have endured the entire novitiate's initiation. Five years of complete sexual denial while studying theology, dance, the moving ways, secret magic and eroticism of all sorts, all of it endured in her adolescence as her body most desperately responded to the subjects of her study with throbbing need. It was a test less than one in a hundred passed. The only distinguishing mark in Miriam's dress was a thin black fringe along the lower edge of the same plain white dress they all wore, but only a fool could miss the difference. Every step proclaimed it, every soft word spoken with honey or with fury might make the spirit quake, and in the presence of the high priestesses all felt compelled to silence not by any kind of magical force but by a primordial, instinctive recognition of an enlightened being standing among them.
Judith and most of the other priestesses had come by the easy way. They had visited as free men and women, and surrendered themselves to the rites. They had begged and pleaded for admission, and it had been granted by the Hierophant after lengthy consideration. They performed rituals, studied and prayed, but they were forbidden from the Holiest of Holies for seven years, and even then their admission was not certain. Without the years of discipline, preparation, and practice, the swirling and cascading energies of the Holiest of Holies might drive them to madness, despair, or send them reeling, careening away into the night to scream and howl for pleasure they could no longer feel, the ability burned from their bodies in one moment of ecstatic overload.
Miriam quieted them with a soft wave as she sat and smiled, looking over them thoughtfully, hands resting neatly in her lap as she considered each. "Judith," she spoke with her honeyed voice, "Tonight, I would like you to assist me in an invocation." The words sent an electric thrill down Judith's spine, a low tingling in her belly. To be chosen brought no temporal advantage, no special favour, but it presented a chance to learn in person from one of their guides and teachers, and she quickly and joyfully nodded.
