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By harunokaze
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Literature Text

The temple is dark, shadow and silence. She sits in the center, cast in silver, shining. They come, bent kneed, bow headed, song voiced, dancing. Praising and begging, they call her name, call Lady Autumn, Lady Gray, Twilight Maiden, Evening Star, Change. They call her Change, call for change, call up change. Her eyes are emeralds, her tears are pearls, her feet are washed with blood. Her worshipers are desperate.

But still, the crops fail, still the rain waits, still the children hunger, still the men grow wan.

And still, the invaders will come, their ships cutting water, their feet trampling fields, their swords tearing flesh, their torches burning temples. She will watch, smoke tarnished, empty eyed, feet awash in blood. Her followers will call themselves forsaken. She will call them changed.
A tiny little exercise I did for a class. Also, a study of the Goddess in the novel I'm working on, Autumn Mourning. This is a rather dark, but perhaps not inaccurate version of her. I imagine this is her when the world was young, before the start of the Autumn Guard.
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