“No I don’t love her. She’s a friend at best”
Maybe it was for the best then, thought Riordan, that the beginning of whatever could’ve blossomed between those too were to die in that way. It was far too painful for those outside of Mallach’s temple to let themselves be ruled through their hearts in regard of the followers of the God of Passion. Just like with Lumia’s fertility and warm came also war and conquest, and with Sorra’s freedom came also uncertainty and detachment, in the way of Mallach there was a myriad of broken hearts that could never heal, all of them wailing beyond the walls of his temples.
It was for the best that this girl trying to save her own soul wouldn’t lose her heart for someone who couldn't truly love her, after all, unbounded passion, wild and raw and addictive as it was, was also a poor substitute for the kind of love someone who seemed kind of naive and romantic deserved.
Mallach’s priestess were after all, beautiful things to look at from far away, to lust for yet never truly posses. It was indeed a sad existence for those souls who were at least blessed enough to not see what they could never had, what was to be denied since their first breath, for none of them, none of royal blood or a brood of a common whore, nor those giving up womb and seed for a wealthy parishioner, nor those bound by chastity vows or even the ones taking sword and shield to fight in the dessert could ever experience all encompassing love, possessive, maddening and sweet love with all the jealousy and bitterness that came with it, the kind that elevated even the lowest of men into heroes and could bring down kingdoms, the kind that could either destroy you or make you invincible, it was something those poor girls and boys could never have, could never dream off, and so, all that was left for them were beautiful words and coins.
Once, Riordan had seen the room of a matron at one of the temples along the way to Hawkethorne, it was full of treasures and gifts, things that no common person could ever possess with a lifetime of work and yet, it was one of the coldest, loneliness places he could remember. That’s why he felt for the girl, for Cait. Everything she did, she did it to fill a place condemned to be empty, for she was one of those beautiful things promised to a god willing to share everything of her but her love.
Feeling older and wearier, he rubbed his cold, aching hands and then, he remembered something Wolfine told him when she brought Erika back from the forest and he tried to give her Velun’s blessing, “I pray to none of them, for none of them ever listen, yet I know they exist, I do know…