“Sit, my children,” she said, gesturing.
We had to almost lie down on our sides, resting our cheekbones together so we could both look at her. Taema was nervous—even more nervous than me. I fought the urge to stroke her hair. I had to admit to myself that Taema still believed in Mana-ma, or at least she did a heck of a lot more than I did. She felt guilty knowing she might have to lie, whereas I didn’t give a fig.
We’d already lied by omission to Mana-ma, and it hadn’t sat well with my sister. We never told her about the tablet. How we (OK, mostly I) dreamed of the big, wide world and what we’d do if we could ever get to it. We didn’t tell her plenty of things. We skittered around the subject of sex and desire, pretending that we couldn’t become aroused when so close to each other. That wasn’t true.
“I welcome you into the Enclave of the Self,” Mana-ma intoned, resting her palms on our foreheads. “Close your eyes and imagine all darkness, all unhappiness, leaving you, leaving only Purity and light.”
We dutifully imagined this, breathing in and out, our chests rising and falling in tandem. I imagined I was covered in mud that dried and cracked and flaked off. The flakes scattered around me, whisking about on the wind like when paper has burned to ash. In my mind’s eye, I was just me, Taema nowhere around. When I opened my eyes, feeling her warmth, I felt no better, no lighter. Our heart was still weak. We were still dying.
“The darkness cannot flee until you give voice to it. State the nature of it and it can no longer hold any power over you. Confess, and be free. Let the darkness absorb deep into the Earth, so you may leave lighter than when you entered.”
I wasn’t in the mood for this. I’d believed it all, once upon a time, to a point. I don’t know why I was never as completely under Mana-ma’s spell as the others, what in me refused to give in. After we found the tablet, something irrefutable had changed in me. I knew this place wasn’t where I wanted to be. That Mana-ma might not be the real voice of God. It’s a scary thing, when all the beliefs you have shift under your feet like that. I didn’t know who to trust, how to feel, if my morals were my morals, or just the Hearth’s.
Taema spoke first. I listened to the gentle sound of her voice, my eyes half-closed.
“When our heart hurt,” she said, “I didn’t think of the Creator, or light, or goodness, like I should have done.”
“And what did you think of, my child?”
“I knew my soul could leave, and that I should prepare it since I’d have the time, but all I could think of was the pain, and that I didn’t want to die. All was dark and cold. I was scared.”
Mana-ma leaned forward. “Did you have a vision? The Creator will sometimes deign to visit one so close to beginning the Cycle again.”
“N-no…” My sister shook her head, shamefaced, hands clenching. I hated to see how easily Mana-ma could influence Taema’s emotions. Not that Taema was weak—far from it—but she was sensitive. Mana-ma made her feel like she had been wrong for no reason.
I had an idea, but I decided to wait my turn as I played it over in my mind.
“What other darkness lives in you, child? Speak it and let it free.” I fought the urge to curl my lip and slap her away from us. How had I never seen what a spider she was?
“What else?”
Taema licked her lips. “The Meditation frightened me.”
Mana-ma nodded. “I know, my child. God’s world is terrifying and vast. But, together, we may access it. This is our purpose. Do not be afraid. This is wondrous. This is transformative. This is divine.”
I noticed she danced around saying what it was for.
“I will try,” Taema whispered.
“Anything else, my child?”
Taema tried to think of something else. Bless her. She had to dig deep to bring up any darkness. It was all too easy for me to think of dark things, but I’d long since stopped telling Mana-ma about them. Partly because I didn’t want Taema to hear what went on in my head. Mostly because I hated the way Mana-ma sucked it all up, reveling in the darkness of her flock.
Taema eventually muttered something about how she dreamed of the world outside, and Mana-ma perked up at that, rearranging herself in her seat, like a cat puffed up at a threat.
“Outside is where no one listens to God—to the birds and the trees and the ways of the world. They think all must bend to their will. They change the land, their bodies, regardless of how the Creator made them, their very souls. They think they can make themselves perfect, spitting in the Creator’s face, for my Husband has already made them perfect. Really, they sully all that they touch, and you must never forget that. Now, let that darkness leave the room, never to return.”