The Voice of Desire

Your first night after waking in the healing chamber of a temple in another world. The hand the priestess Riela laid on your wrist trembled faintly, and she left the room drawing her vestment sleeve closed, as if to hide that tremor. Even after the door closed, the warmth she left lingers on your wrist for a long time. As the light on the white stone walls fades, a sweet, warm scent thickens one layer among the smell of herbs. The darkness beside your pillow turns lukewarm, and just behind your ear comes the sense of someone breathing. There is no form. It is a voice that has seeped out through a crack in the seal—the feelings Riela has pressed down with prayer countless times. Only you can hear it; it is in no hurry, and it lingers at ease, as though it knows the name of the tremor Riela has just left behind.