Anaiah stood solemnly in the Grand Hall of the temple. She liked to go there whenever she felt depressed; the massive pillars that stood guard on either side, the majestic vaulting that glided overhead, and the heavenly light that flowed in from the many stained glass windows usually helped to lift her woeful spirits.

But today, such was not the case. Today, the serene calm and splendor of the Grand Hall did little to ease her somber mood. That was because only weeks ago, Anaiah had been proclaimed as the Taraschal; the avatar for their goddess Uriel, the Great Mother, the Fertile Maiden, the Propagator of All. Anaiah had been given the greatest honor that any priestess of Uriel could ever hope to be given; and she felt she didn't deserve it. After all, she wasn't a real priestess, a fact that many of her sisters (and even her superiors) vehemently pointed out to the High Mother upon hearing such a proclamation. Anaiah was just an acolyte, an initiate, a low-leveled beginner who just recently learned Uriel's Prayer; a sacred mantra that virtually all neophytes could recite in their sleep, all except her anyway.

Regardless of this fact however, Anaiah was ordained as the Taraschal and partook of the Ten'schala; a sacred ritual in which she first drank of the Nectar of Life and was then bathed in the Spring of Fertility. In the six weeks that followed, her breasts swelled with milk, her hips widened with fat and sinew, and her belly grew with the innumerable lives that it now contained. Anaiah had become quite massive in such a short amount of time; and in the coming seasons, she was expected to become much bigger.

As she stood in the center of the Hall, Anaiah began to stroke and caress the sides of her enormous belly. She felt warmth emanating from her prolific protrusion, but little else. She then looked down upon herself, with a truly sorrowful gaze.

"Am I really the Taraschal?" Anaiah finally asked herself after just standing there for several minutes. It was a question she had been mulling over for quite a while now, ever since the signs of her pregnancy first began to appear. "It just doesn't seem right."

Anaiah then gazed upward and looked upon Uriel's visage; a large stained glass window that prominently featured Uriel's beauty, divinity, and wisdom in all it's glory.

"How could someone as weak and pathetic as I, possibly be the vessel for someone as grand and magnificent as her?" she stated humbly, as if she genuinely sought out an answer from on-high.

"You really shouldn't be so hard on yourself child," giggled a mysterious voice. "After all, that's no way for the Taraschal to act."

Anaiah immediately swerved her head in surprise; obviously, she wanted to see where the voice came from. An expression of both shock and awe then plastered itself across Anaiah's humbled face.

It was the High Mother. Her thin, yet regal frame stood gleaming softly in the entrance of the Grand Hall.

"Oh, hello High Mother!" exclaimed Anaiah nervously as her superior glided over to her. "I-I just thought I'd practice the morning rituals today! Ehehehehehe!"

Anaiah never understood why she feared the High Mother so; she was the kindest soul she had ever known, as well as the wisest and most sincere. In fact, there were many times where Anaiah would look upon the High Mother as if she were her own mother, rather than just a religious leader. But in any case, the High Mother still gave her chills along her spine.

Maybe it was her scars; the symbols of a much darker era, when not even women of faith were exempt from the terrible violence and bloodshed that devastated the land only thirty years ago. Maybe it was the fact that she only had one arm; once again, an echo from a much darker time. Or maybe, just maybe, it was her demeanor; the fact that despite her maimed and mutilated appearance, she still exuded a level of grace and dignity that not even queens could show. A level of wisdom and serenity that even the greatest philosophers would be envious of.

Whatever the case may be, Anaiah always looked upon her with the up-most respect; but also trepidation.

When the High Mother finally reached the young Taraschal, she softly smiled at her and then placed her hand gently upon Anaiah's belly. Anaiah released a soft squeak as the High Mother tenderly caressed the prolific protrusion. After a moment or two of this action, the High Mother finally spoke again.

"This is a heavy burden, isn't it?" asked the High Mother politely, as Anaiah just looked at her with a quizzical gaze. "Carrying the hopes, dreams, and aspirations of an entire generation must be quite hard for you."

Anaiah thought about her answer for a moment and then gave her reply

"Um...w-well," started Anaiah, wanting desperately to look away from the High Mother out of sheer embarrassment, but choosing not to so as not to offend her. "I-I wouldn't say it's all that hard, High Mother. I-I mean, it took some getting used to and all. But it's not that hard to carry."

Even though Anaiah was frightened out of her wits by the High Mother, her words spoke the truth. Granted, she wasn't the fastest thing on two legs and her feet would sometimes ache after standing for long periods of time. But overall, Anaiah had little trouble actually carrying around her tremendous girth; she learned to carry it all rather well, in fact.

Upon hearing Anaiah's response, the High Mother then provided her own.

"Well child," replied the High Mother as she tenderly stroked Anaiah's cheek. "That's because you're much stronger than you give yourself credit for."

"And besides," continued the High Mother lovingly. "You're not alone here. You will always have me by your side to help you. And the same can be said of your sisters too, despite what they might say."

The High Mother then embraced Anaiah tightly, sharing her warmth and love generously with the young Taraschal. After a brief pause, Anaiah quickly returned her embrace.

"Thank you, High Mother," declared Anaiah, genuinely moved by her show of affection. "That really means a lot to me."

"You're more than welcome, child," replied the High Mother as she slowly moved away from Anaiah.

"Now, come," stated the High Mother as she took hold of Anaiah's arm. "You must be hungry. I hear some of the sisters are baking strawberry pie today. Do you think you'd like that?"

"Strawberry pie sounds delicious," replied Anaiah shyly, but with a hint of excitement in her voice.

The two then left the Grand Hall and began heading towards the temple commissary. Not just to partake of strawberry pie, but also of good company.

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artwork and characters copyright SatsumaLord
background image copyright its original owner