The altar is cold beneath my bare back.
White silk against painted skin. Candles flickering in the darkness. The weight of three hundred pairs of eyes pressing down on me like a physical force.
I lie here – spread open, anointed, waiting – and think about how I got here.
Three days ago, I was just another member of the community. Working the gardens. Meditating at dawn. Living the quiet, purposeful life I’d found when I fled my hollow existence in the city eighteen months ago.
Then Elder Sarah spoke my name after evening meal, and everything changed.
“You have been selected for the Sacred Ceremony.”
The preparation was intense. Day one: ritual baths that stripped away everything I was before. Rough cloths scrubbing every inch of my body while elder women chanted blessings over my ski
