Siobhan, the Goddess' handmaiden

All is dark, all is quiet. Siobhan feels trapped. She can’t move, or see anything. There is nothing. A void so dark it’s paralysing. She feels nothing at all. Is this how death feels? Like nothing? Why can she still think? What did Nakir do to her? She knows she died. She felt her last breath and the cold that passed over her body. But, what is this? Where is it? He said he’d take her to Irkalla. She’s confused and lost. Is this her punishment? Gods, what did she do? Was choosing her hell another of her misdeeds? Will she be punished for this as well? Can anyone hear her? Is she even talking or just thinking? How much time has passed? It could have been a minute or an eternity.

“Wakey, wakey, Siobhan. You’re in hell,” Nakir’s voice reaches her through the darkness. It slowly lifts the weight and she can finally see where she is. The room is enormous, with a ceiling so high it just ends in darkness. There is only one piece of furniture and it’s a throne. Huge, dark, menacing. She is on the stone floor, but it doesn’t feel cold. Next to Nakir is a woman. Tall, dark haired, and beautiful. Her expression is stone cold, the almost black eyes give nothing away.

“My lady Ereshkigal,” Siobhan bows to the goddess.

“I like you,” Ereshkigal smiles. A hardly there smile with just one side of her lips tilted up. Her dark eyes still shine with sadness. “You’ll be my handmaiden.”

She watches the goddess walk away. The woman is beautiful, but sad. The profound, deepest feeling of dread roots Siobhan to the spot. What did she get herself into? Is there a way out?

“What does a handmaiden do?” She wonders.

“Tend to her needs,” Nakir shrugs. “I have no idea, really. Let me show you your quarters. Ery made you her handmaiden, that comes with a set of rooms here in the palace.”

“Where do you stay?” Siobhan asks. It’s not fear, just curiosity.

“In the tower,” he answers. “But, I’m always around. At her beck and call, just as you’ll be. There are some perks to it, though. You are inside the palace, not out there with the demons and lost souls.”

“Why do I have a bad feeling about this?” Siobhan sighs. The palace is dark, there is hardly any light in the hallways. And the air smells like tears.

“That is Irkalla. You’ll get used to it. This realm is designed to bring out the fears, all the bad memories and feelings of guilt,” Nakir tells her. “Guard your mind, and whatever you do, don’t ever go outside.”

“Why is there no light?” She asks. The darkness will be hard on her. She loved the sun and nature.

“It’s hell, darling. We only have one time here. It’s twilight. You won’t ever see the sun again,” he scoffs. Then he stops in front of a dark door with ornaments and an owl carved in them: “We’re here. This is your new home. Ery is down the hall. You can see her red door from here.”

A red door is an understatement. The door is huge and it shines ruby red. Even from here, she can see the carvings. It’s a spell that makes the door shine. What kind is to be seen later. Siobhan can feel the magic, it calls to her. Resisting the pull, she opens her own door. The room is modest with close to no furniture. There is a bed and a sofa. Two small doors lead out. One to a wardrobe that is empty and the other to a narrow hallway.

“Where does this lead to?” Siobhan wonders.

“Directly to Ery’s quarters. I think you come out in her bathing chambers,” Nakir answers.

“You think?” She looks at him. He stands there like a menacing shadow. Cold and detached, impassive. Her heart falters and she swallows hard. Don’t show him any feelings, she reminds herself.

“I’ve never been there. Ery and I? We have a deal. I don’t come to her quarters and she doesn’t come to my tower,” Nakir answers.

“I see,” Siobhan nods. “What shall I do now?”

“You wait. That’s the hardest part,” he chuckles. “I have to go make my rounds.”

“Can’t you stay?” She inquires. There is something about this room that gives her the creeps. She doesn’t want to be alone here.

“No. I have a job to do, a few demons to torture,” Nakir says.

“Siobhan!” The shrill sound makes her skin rise and her heart stop.

“Run! That was Ery,” Nakir opens the door for her. “Never keep her waiting.”

Siobhan runs down the hallway thanking Nakir for giving her her youthful body back when he brought her here. She comes out in a bathing room with a swimming pool and a few recliners. Since Ereshkigal is not here, she continues through the arch and around the corner. The goddess’ bedroom is opulent. It looks like a mix from a 17th century royal palace and some great imagination. Too bad everything is black. The ornaments would look much better in gold or silver.

“You called?” Siobhan bows slightly.

“Come closer,” Ereshkigal beckons. She is sitting at her makeup table that has absolutely nothing on it. The mirror casts a reflection of the goddess.

“My lady,” Siobhan walks to her side and waits. What is she supposed to do?

“First. I don’t like colours,” Ereshkigal says. The goddess snaps her fingers and Siobhan’s clothes turn black. “Second. Wear this bracelet, so I can call you. I hate to shout.”

“Thank you,” she says as she accepts a bracelet made of black stones and silver.

“Now, you’re getting a tattoo. Pull your sleeve down from your shoulder,” Ereshkigal orders. Oh, yeah. It’s an order. There is no mistaking the tone of her voice.

Ereshkigal takes a small box from one of her drawers. Inside is a seal of some sort. It almost looks like a branding tool. The goddess presses the metal part to Siobhan’s shoulder and it stings like a bee had stuck her. Not painful, just slightly unpleasant. She can see the mark in the mirror. It’s an outline of an owl. The goddess’ animal of choice. Siobhan remembers she read about it somewhere. At least it doesn’t straight out say “mine”. The ownership is veiled. But, what does it mean? Siobhan doesn’t dare ask the goddess, but maybe Nakir could explain it?

“This comes with a few perks,” Ereshkigal tells her. “Mostly for me. I can always tell where exactly you are and how long it will take you to come when I call. I can see through your eyes if I chose to. I can tap into your powers…Hm? Is that love I sense? Darling! That’s not wise. Kill it! Kill it before it hurts you.”

“No. It’s the only thing I have left. Let me hold on to it, please. I lost my daughters already. Don’t make me give up on love, too. He’ll never know,” Siobhan pleads.

“Oh, little witch, you’re so naive. Nakir can read you like an open book,” Ereshkigal laughs. It sounds cold and evil. “You’re mine. He’ll never touch you again.”

“Doesn’t matter. Aside from my daughters, he’s the only one I ever loved. I always knew I couldn’t have him. It doesn’t change anything for me,” Siobhan tells the goddess. She never lived in illusions. Even now, that she’s dead and here with him, she knows there is nothing for her to have.

“Fine,” Ereshkigal shrugs. The goddess makes a pitcher and a cup appear. All black again. She pours a red liquid into the cup and drinks it. “I’m not offering you a drink. You’re dead, you don’t need it.”

“I don’t need to drink or eat at all?” Siobhan asks. Hopefully, the goddess doesn’t mind her asking.

“No. You don’t actually need to sleep either, but since I do, you get a room and a bed. Do what you wish in your time off,” Ereshkigal tells her. “You don’t have to be afraid to ask me anything. I know it’s all new for you.”

“What exactly do you expect me to do?” Siobhan inquires carefully.

“As my handmaiden you’ll prepare my clothes and clean my chambers. You’ll help me dress after my bath and keep me company,” The goddess explains. “You are pleasant to look at, so I’ll keep you around. We can talk. I don’t have anyone to talk with.”