L.

  Pieces had begun falling into place as she gazed at the sundial

  That slowly shifted towards dusk; its shadows falling further

  And further. Her plan’s details in accord, her mind in fervour.

  All the lore she needed to obtain, she did with grace compile

  For her northward traverse. This truly was the perfect night,

  Almost poetic in nature! Ríona’s thoughts revelled in spite.

  The event of the evening: Inauguration of the juvenile

  Demigoddess. This ritual would make that price worthwhile.

  LI.

  As she leaned on the railing of the brick faced balcony,

  Her senses observed the preparations of the whole ordeal:

  The clanging of servants as they shaped the grounds so they would appeal

  To all who’d attend her tribe’s apogee – this grand ceremony!

  But inside, there rampaged a fire full of elation, yet ‘twas a bitter

  Mirth of vast hesitancy. She had to trust her mind’s vigour

  Henceforth, but luck’s proprietor tugged at her vanity;

  Or so she hoped, holding onto her ace of amnesty.

  LII.

  Tracing through the stories of the goddess, she noted a man

  Who would certainly know how to answer her deepest query;

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  For he likewise was a demigod – a kin-in-kind. Yet leery

  Was he; careful one has to be with those of foreign clan!

  But she knew, if there ever was one, it’d be him who’d have prod

  At the question so close to her heart. “How does a demigod

  Become free of the spirit guest?” Time was short as it ran

  Without delay. She must find him if there’s to be hope in her plan!

  LIII.

  With her lore-learning she had begun to uncover talents

  None other had ever spoken of before. Through adept perception,

  She noticed the influx of traits which were not under her own direction.

  They bled and seeped into her as foreign travellers who sought imbalance

  Alas oft came with lavish bounty. So too was now her misty

  Mind, mysterious even to those of a highly thrifty

  Humour and causing languor to all who’d wish to sink their talons

  Into her supple soul. Thus, such trance was the fruit of one’s habits.

  LIV.

  This occasion she deemed as truly sweet, a perfect crime.

  With Aurianne in her brief cocoon, all that remained was to wait

  And yet the mist of her mind tugged at the sides of her pate,

  Demanding ever more fixation; putting more pressure on time.

  If she could hold just a while longer, she’d reap the crops that were sown

  So many years ago, where the roots of the goddess’ tales were now grown.

  That web of lies, though tangled, now a passageway begrime

  With unsafe truths, but a path still. A journey of a lifetime!