When the Third Sun Rises
When the Third Sun Rises
She has been called goddess. She has been called witch. She calls herself healer. If only she had the power to heal worlds.
Excerpt:
This was the first time Orphikin was alert when the green light flowed through his wounds and the feelings they produced in him were magnified tenfold.
When Brigid was done, she rose from his straightened leg and was alarmed to see tears streaming down Orphikin’s face. “It should not have been painful!” she exclaimed.
“I was not in pain, Brigid. I was overcome. I have never felt so… cherished!” he said, feeling the word did not come close to encompassing what he had experienced.
Brigid relaxed. “Healing comes from a source of love.” Her expression turned haunted. “But there were those on my world who called me Sekhmet, goddess not only of healing, but of war. They refused to believe my presence on the battlefield was only to mend the wounded. I crave peace, but there is little to be found.”
“Is that why you left?”
Brigid turned to face the window, offering Orphikin a somber profile. “My world was once like yours,” she began. “Primitive,” she glanced at him apologetically, “limited in the ways its people could inflict damage on each other. My time was not yet consumed by war. I would whisper in the dreams of healers, helping them advance their craft in addition to practicing my own. I made a difference.”
Orphikin scoffed, “I tasted death! What more damage could be done than what was done to me?”
She turned to him, her expression grave. “Orphikin, you have no idea the ways people learn to harm each other.”
Author’s Note:
I couldn't find cover art I was happy with for When the Third Sun Rises. I ended up doctoring this beautiful sunrise by cropping in two more suns. Research was minimal for this story, an advantage of fantasy, but I did learn quite a bit about mythological goddesses of healing.
Also found in Grim Secrets: Tales of Murder, Manipulation, and Loss.
