Posted in:   From the Tale
“With a tender touch Ereshkigal lifts my chin, and says, ‘Nothing is lost that cannot be refound. You need only set your feet on the Dark Goddess’s path and say yes.’
I once more meet Her gaze. This is no gentle Goddess. She is terrifying; a blaze smolders within the blackness of Her pupils that could easily reduce me to ashes. And yet, deeper still, I sense only love; not a Valentine kind of treacle sweet love, but a fierce, tugging love, like the ocean, that insistently calls me back to its life sustaining waters.
‘Yes,’ I say, ‘Yes, I will follow where the Dark Goddess leads me.’
Ereshkigal dips Her index finger into the blackened iron pot, whose earth and water holds our dirt of life magic, and stirs in a slow, clockwise direction.
‘So it is chosen. So it will be,’ She says, as She paints a warm, mud smeared star on my brow.
The mark burns, not painfully so, but enough to let me know that these words, this vow, that has passed between us, won’t be washed away when the surface layer of mud is gone.”