Damalia clutched her rapidly beating heart. She’d stolen food from the temple many times, but had never been caught. Some would call eating offerings blasphemous, but she couldn’t care less. What had the gods ever done for her?

She prided herself on her sneakiness. She was able to appear and disappear like a shadow in the night. She spent her life needing to be invisible; it was a trait she thought she had mastered until she dropped that damn offering tray.

Damlia cursed herself. She was getting sloppy, no, she was becoming too easily distracted.

It was the young woman that cleaned the sanctum every evening. At first, Damalia had found her extremely irritating. Did she have to stay so late each night? Gradually, over time, her presence had become comforting.

Even though they had never spoken, there was something about watching the maiden that stilled her loneliness. Damlia felt she was staring at the moon. It was something consistent she could appreciate her from afar, knowing it would never notice her in return.

Damalia would often watch behind her curtain, carefully unseen, as the maiden went through her evening routine. She found herself staying at the temple later and later just to see her work.

But tonight was different. The maiden had bent forward in prayer wearing an exceptionally loose fitting garment. She leaned so far in supplication that her dress had draped off of her sternum, exposing a faultless chest. Damalia’s breath caught at the sight of perfectly pink nipples and the bronze saucer had fallen from her hands.

“Who’s there?” the blonde had called out. “As a maiden of the temple, I command you to tell me why you’ve come here.”

Fuck.

Damalia had a decision to make. She could hurriedly slink out into the night; or she could reply to the siren who’d drawn her to this hiding spot each evening. It really hadn’t been much of a choice. The maiden seemed so scared that it would be cruel not to soothe her nerves.

A light conversation ensued that confirmed Damalia’s greatest suspicion about the maiden: she was kind.

When confronted with a thief, almost any servant would have taken her to the head priestess for punishment. Instead, the blonde had been friendly and offered her food.

Damalia’s greatest revelation had been the maiden’s name: Ava. It was perfectly fitting. Ava, meaning like a bird. Something delicate and hollow boned that still had unexpected strength. It was a strength she showed when she grabbed Damalia by the wrist, attempting to lead her across the temple. Ava pulling at her arm shook her from her reverie.

“No!” yelled louder than she’d meant to.

Damalia was sorely tempted to share a meal with the maiden, but what if Ava saw her? She couldn’t even fathom what the consequences would be. Though it was with great reluctance, she needed to leave as soon as possible.

She slunk out into the darkness with an empty belly when Ava had left her for the kitchen. Disappointment pooled in her gut, but she knew she had made the right decision.

-

Damalia had another decision to make the next day: should she return to the temple that night? She knew that she probably shouldn’t. What if Ava tried looking for her? - but the temptation was too great. She would be more careful. She wouldn’t be caught. Her trips to the temple were one of the few things that brought her solace. She just wanted to catch a glimpse of Ava’s evening routine, then she would leave early for the night.

She snuck, unseen, into the inner sanctum and crouched down to her usual hiding spot. Hours passed behind the opaque curtains within the temple, but the maiden never came. Just when Damalia was about to leave for the evening, a horrible sight unfolded before her.

Damalia already knew that Kalliope was a monster. She’d been visiting the temple for years, and the priestess had always been unnecessarily cruel and overly ambitious. She was practically dancing with glee when Rita, the previous head priestess, was on her deathbed.

The vulture-like woman smiled widely as her switch whipped through the air and tore at the maiden’s back.

Damalia could feel the hairs on her arms rise as she suppressed the protective hiss that had risen in her throat. Ava did not belong to her, they had only spoken once, but a strong feeling of defensiveness rippled through her core. Her mind was clouded with one thought: protect her. The young maiden was quiet, thoughtful, and vulnerable in a way the other women weren’t. She deserved someone to watch over her.

Ava, like a bird, she thought to herself bitterly. A bird whose wings had been clipped inside this miserable marble cage.

Her blood sizzled with adrenaline as she decided what to do. A confrontation with the priestess would be the wrong move. There was no way she could have an encounter without both of them seeing her- even if she was wearing her largest cloak. She turned her head, not watching the indecent display take place.

Instead, she took a calming breath, ignoring the sobs that echoed through the chamber. She would be no use to anyone if she didn’t maintain a clear head. She couldn’t risk acting irrationally.

Of course, that all went out the window when she looked up at Ava again.

The sight of that porcelain face with a bruised cheek and puffy, splotchy eyes was too much for her to handle. She hadn’t intended to talk to the maiden, but maybe she could offer some sort of comfort.

“Ava,” she whispered, feeling impulsive.

The blonde wiped her eyes and lifted her head, looking for the source of the voice.

“H-hello?” she hiccupped.

The taller woman’s heart clenched in her chest. What in Gods’ names was she doing!? Maybe she could still leave.

“I… I recognize your voice,” she paused. “D-Damalia?”

She swallowed through the dryness in her throat. “Yes, it’s me,” she replied.

“You came back,” she sniffled in a sweet voice. It was followed by a grimace. “Oh, I wish you hadn’t.” She attempted to pull up the top of her dress, staining it with flecks of blood in the process. “I’m so embarrassed.”

“Don’t be. Whatever this was, it wasn’t your fault.”

“No, I--,” Ava’s voice cracked.

“I’m not arguing about this.” She shifted behind the curtain. “Come here, I have some food. You’ll feel better if you eat.”

The blonde sniffed again, trying to control her breathing. “I’m not supposed to…” she trailed off.

“You’re not supposed to eat food from the temple kitchen. I brought this from outside the temple.”

Ava was silent, seemingly unconvinced.

Damalia huffed in annoyance. “I’m not supposed to be in the inner sanctum. Do you plan on kicking me out or reporting me to a priestess?”

“Of course not!” she replied, scandalized. “You’re here because you need help. You deserve compassion.”

“Alright. Then let’s break some rules together.” She reached her hand out of the curtain and set an orange down on the floor. “Eat and tell me about your day.”

The blonde hesitated. “Would you like to come out and sit with me.”

“No.”

Wisely, Ava decided not to investigate further. She moved to sit on the ground near the curtain, making no attempts to peek behind it. She hesitantly picked up the fruit and began peeling.

“Well, it all started this morning with a woman named Mia…”

Ava was only partially surprised when she heard a visitor rustling behind the curtains the following night. And the night after. And the night after that.

It appeared that Ava had finally made a friend at the temple.