The Starved

The Starved. That’s who she was, or at least, who she was meant to be. The guide from one lifetime to the next, the seer of memories, the keeper of secrets, a vessel for the Dark Goddess herself. Untouched, unloved, and yet needed. Part of the Order of the Eternal, pumping faith around the city like blood keeping a heart alive.

‘It’s a gift,’ they said. ‘A blessing.’

‘They’ being anyone on the outside looking in. Staring up at the Order halls with its gilded walls, hallowed ground, and the power that came with it, it was easy to see why. Selene had often wondered if anything could be quite as simple as being either blessed or cursed. Instead, she felt she was a concoction of the two. Each fighting for dominance to rule.

Even her name wasn’t her own, it was a tribute. Full of meaning and responsibility that she was still struggling to understand. Her real name was discarded, and along with it, all the potential of the life she could have lived. The Order superiors made that choice for her, along with many others. Yet now she stood, a decision before her. A gamble that could mean the beginning, or the end. Selene teetered on the precipice, staring into the abyss of the unknown, timidly peering over the ledge. Her mind buzzed with a hive of activity. She needed to decide. Now. Was she willing to try, even if there was the risk of catastrophe? Destruction? All for a single moment of connection? An embrace. Her first and perhaps her last.

She straightened, trying to appear more in control than she felt, but took a tentative step back. The facade was cracking; beneath the surface, her body was the battlefield. Nerves alight and chest aching, she could barely take a breath deep enough to satisfy her lungs. Short pants of air made her head swim and her gaze struggle to focus.

It was there before her, what seemed like a once in a lifetime opportunity. From the five fingers and pale smooth skin, the fact it was a hand was undeniable. However, it was the action that she was struggling to understand. She carefully scrutinised it from a distance, her brows furrowing as if trying to decipher its true intention. It seemed human enough. Not in fact some demon in disguise. Though given how everyone knew the tell-tell signs, she questioned if demons were starting to get creative. The Hells would be hungry without the souls claimed from accidental deals. Regardless, wasn’t the idea of making a deal with a demon that frightened her. There were far worse things in the world… like being tested by the Dark Lady herself. Called upon to prove her dedication, her devotion, to see if she would uphold her oath.

Selene’s hands clenched into fists, her nails cutting red crescent moons into her skin, but even that failed to stop them from trembling. Her heart pounded in her chest, slamming against her ribs, rattling the bones as if they were a cage it desperately wanted to be free of. The war between her heart and her mind raged on, but she couldn’t give in. There was no opportunity opt out of her life nor had she agreed to it, but it was an oath nonetheless.

‘You think this is hard?’ the Mother Superior’s words snaked through her mind, weaving their way down to wrap around her heart. ‘You should be grateful.’ In many ways, Selene was. She didn’t know the struggles of life outside the Order’s walls, but that didn’t stop the tears streaking down her cheeks. The gift still took its toll.

Selene steadied herself, blinking up at the hands owner, trying to decipher if he truly meant what he was saying. She had wanted this this, hadn’t she? Secretly, alone in the night, she had wondered. Imagined what it would be like to be held. Wondered if the touch would feel as warm as it appeared in many of the memories she had witnessed, or cold as the people she had collected them from.

There had been something different about the last woman Selene helped to cross over, the last to surrender her memories. She could sense it from the moment she saw her. The woman was calmer than normal. Even those well versed in the Dark Goddess’s scripture showed far more discomfort at the prospect of the end than she did. Some feigned confidence, as if the Dark Lady had walked them to the door herself. Others trembled violently. Their eyes darting around the room, locking with hers as if pleading for time that not even Selene possessed. To be reborn, they had to give up all that they once were. The Dark Lady, goddess of death and rebirth, stars and darkness, made that easier said than done. As far as she was concerned, the Starved were a candle to show the way, nothing more and nothing less.

Selene’s footsteps echoed across the marble, the sound cocooning them both. Yet the woman didn’t give more than a head tilt in her direction. She sat there quietly with her hands clasped in her lap, her thumb rubbing small circled into her palm. Her features were soft, eyes closed, her white hair pulled neatly into a bun. Selene followed the protocol, muttering the words of the ancients. The words fell from her lips, pouring out of her like liquid. In many ways, she knew them better than she knew herself.

It wasn’t until she reached out, her fingers grazing the woman’s shoulder that the woman jumped. Her eyes remained closed. Selene frowned deeply, confusion fluttering through her mind. She quickly dusted it away, steeling her resolve. She couldn’t allow herself to be distracted. She dedicated everything she had to making these moments easier. It was the very least she could do. All she had to give.

She knew she wasn’t meant to speak to them, but she couldn’t help herself regardless of the punishment she knew would be waiting for her. It was as if she could taste the sour tang of fear in the air, hear the racing of their hearts, knowing very well that it wasn’t just the end that caused this reaction, but her presence too. The kindness inside her strained against the rules and regulations, and hated the effect she had.

Slipping into the seat beside her, Selene pulled the woman to her chest. The dark energy inside her beginning to swell as the woman’s hands came up to grip onto the back of Selene’s ceremonial robes, scrunching the dark velvet.

Selene rubbed the woman’s back, trying to convey some form of comfort. ‘Don’t be afraid,’ she said, her words holding a tenderness that she hoped was being understood. She smoothed over the woman’s hair, wishing she could feel more than the numbness that was coursing through her fingertips. A lump hitched in her throat. She lowered her voice to a whisper, ‘I’ve got you’.

The process had begun, the same as always. Their minds connected with flashed of light, so bright that Selene had to squeeze her eyes shut. The light still seeped through. The air forced from her lungs as wall between them crumbling and a lifetime of moments slammed into her. Every second, all at once. Selene willed her body to relax into the process, reminding herself of the pain that resistance could bring. She squeezed the woman closer to her chest, trying to reassure her as she allowed herself to be swept along in the current. Pressure built around them, the woman growing steadily colder. The air thickening like fog. The pressure winded tighter and tighter. Selene’s head spinning from the lack of air. Then, it stopped. The pressure bursting, rippling out like shock waves.

Dancing lights flitted over Selene’s vision, flurries of blue, pink, yellow, purple and white. She was no longer in her body, but somewhere completely different surrounded by memories, ready and waiting to be observed. They flitted before her eyes. The first moments were always out of focus, loud, overwhelmingly bright. Selene’s shoulders relaxed with relief; the woman’s childhood had been full of laughter. She smiled at the funny moments, at the child’s quirks. The way she was scolded for writing in the margins of books, how her pockets were always full of random items she found along her day: colourful pebbles, foreign coins, and tiny figurines.

The woman, on the cusp of adulthood, seemed to have a gift of her own: the ability to connect with those around her. People’s eyes lit up, their cheeks flushing, their faces creasing with lines that showed a history of smiles. Warmth blossomed in Selene’s chest. She wondered if she would ever see the memories of those touched by the woman’s choices, how they would recall her actions and what effect they had had.

The memories continued. Adulthood had its ups and downs, but it was the romance that made the butterflies awaken in Selene’s stomach. She let out a small sigh, willing herself not to get her hopes up for whispered words of love, lingering kisses, and tender caresses. While watching memories, she had been tempted many times to fall into the trap of being a hopeless romantic (with emphasis on the hopeless). Seeing people’s lives play out had its joys, but Selene quickly realised that like the forbidden books sneaked into the Order’s chapel, many romances were left incomplete. Stories discontinued with no chance of a conclusion.

The change was subtle at first. Haze grew at the corners of the memories. Darkness crept in, reducing the view to a tunnel. Selene’s stomach dropped. Fear prickled through her. The sudden darkness filling her with an overwhelming sense of vulnerability. Her breathing grew shaky as she squinted, trying to adjust to the poor light. They were faint, the visions but still there. The rays that filtered through dimly lit the space like a single candle trying to illuminate the night sky. She lifted her hand in front of her face, her finger still clearly visible. The realisation dawned on her causing her to gasp in shock. It wasn’t her vision that was hazy. It was the memories themselves, which meant… the woman’s eyesight had failed.

Suddenly it all made sense. The lack of movement in the ritual room, the closed eyes, and the calmness; the woman had adjusted to unknown, come to terms with the dark. Selene held back the tears threatening to fall, her lip trembling from the effort. She wouldn’t allow herself to look away. She forced herself to be present for every precious second, upholding the unspoken promise she’d made herself - to bear witness to the good… and the bad.

Without sight, everything was uncertain. At first, sounds were alarming and touch unexpected. Eventually the senses heightened. The resonance of voices, the way words soothed. Every touch sent signals, writing stories, mapping, understanding, forming memories in a new way. The relief of the gentle guidance of someone’s hand on the woman’s back, cupping her elbow, squeezing her hand. The duration, pressure, and quality. Every touch meant something.

The smell of incense and the sound of shoes on stone floor filled the darkness, signalling the woman’s last moments. She directed her thoughts into the dark, parting it like a curtain. Selene’s eyes fluttered open. The woman lay still in her arms, peaceful as if sleeping. Slowly, the woman’s body disintegrated, reduced back into the stardust from whence it came. It was done. The touch was gone and the connection along with it. Replaced with a gnawing sense of loss.

Selene didn’t move for a long while, her body exhausted by the experience. Acts of kindness had dotted the woman’s lifeline like stars forming constellations, but Selene wander what she would see on hers. She dragged her fingers through her hair, distressing the bun that was struggling to maintain its structure. Questions bombarded her mind. Little did she know, this was only the start. The edges of her life beginning to fray.

The seed of doubt had taken root, burrowing itself deep. Three little words starting every spiral:

‘But, what if…’

Touch was off limits. Selene knew that. She had memorised the rules two decades ago, even before she had even managed to learn the layout of the halls she now called home. Forgoing touch, becoming attune to silence - it was all part of being one of the Starved. As the Superiors and Sisters said:

‘Keep your distance.’

‘Three steps behind.’

‘Touch is sacred.’

Distance was sacred. Safe. Not just for her but for everyone. To touch the Starved before the appointed time was to allow the darkness to enter your body and let it claw through your memories. Prematurely yanking open the door to the next world could lead to being suck in, ready or not.

Selene had long since given up on understanding the turmoil her role brought her - should she be glad to experience such wonderful sensations, or should she be sad that it involved the end of a phase of life? She didn’t know. Regardless, the kindness and warmth she had felt in the woman’s memories lingered. Selene tried to ignore it, until a question arose she couldn’t push away: ‘Without touch, connection… am I really human?’

It wasn’t long after that he arrived. A little older than Selene, but far older than the average new novice. He was a curiosity, an enigma, a mistimed step in a dance she had learned to do with her eyes closed.

When she was called into the Superiors office, her heart dropped. She picked at her nail, trying not to fidget as she waited to be called in. That was the first time she saw him. He stood tall, his lips pressed into a firm line, his fists trembling at his sides. His gaze intensely fixed on the Mother Superior, who stared right past him.

‘Ah Selene. This is Lucian. Show him the ropes,’ Mother Superior said in a clipped tone, gesturing dismissively. ‘Make the Goddess proud.’

Days turned into weeks. Nevertheless, Lucian remained three steps behind her. It was exhausting. Keeping him out of trouble wasn’t the problem, if anything Selene enjoyed the company. His questions, however, were an issue. ‘Why are we called the Starved? Why three steps? What happens when we touch?’ He went on and on, asking questions Selene was too scared to ask aloud herself. She rolled her eyes at the latest onslaught, muttering under her breath, ‘Goddess help me’.

Slowly the three steps turned into two. Until one afternoon, Lucian was walking beside her as if he had always been there. Selene scolded him, noticing the way his eyes glinted playfully as she sent him back to his place. Her lips curled at the corners as she tried to repress her smile at his tactics.

Selene internally berated herself now. She should have known where her leniency would lead. She stood, mouth agape as she stared up at Lucian. The candles, they were instructed to replenish, still stacked before them. ‘You want… a hug?’ Her tone dripped with disbelief.

Lucian gave a single nod.

Selene’s gaze darted around the Northern Hall. Her voice dropped to a harsh whisper as if the walls had ears, ‘Do you have a death wish?’ She hadn’t done her job well enough if he didn’t understand the enormity of his request. ‘You know touching is forbidden. It’s dangerous.’

Lucian raised an eyebrow. ‘How do you know?’

‘What?’ Selene narrowed her eyes.

‘How do you know it’s dangerous? Has anyone tried?’

Selene remained silent. Starved touching - the consequences were too dire to speak of… but had anyone actually tried? Theoretically, Selene guessed their energies would cancel each others out… or cause an explosion taking most of the Order out with them, which almost sounded like a win-win situation. She’d heard stories of raging infernos wiping out whole cities, but they were just stories… surely?

Lucian let out an impatient huff. ‘Is this,’ he gestured to the world around them, ‘really living? Think about it Selene.’ His voice filled with pleading, ‘You’ve spent your life guiding others, experiencing their memories,’ Lucian took an eager step towards her, ‘but what if you could experience it yourself?’ His eyes locked with hers, his face half illuminated by the blue candlelight. ‘How can you live without knowing?’

Selene glanced the confines around them. That was once an easy question. Not knowing was safe. She had security, a home. That had been enough once. But now love, connection, friendship - their absence had created a chasm that had become impossible to ignore. ‘Someone could get hurt,’ she shuffled back, her breathing shallow as she held his gaze. ‘It could go wrong.’

A sad smile pulled onto Lucian’s face, his outstretched hand wavered before falling back to his side. ‘But what if it goes right?’

Selene closed her eyes for a long second, calming the thrum of her thoughts. Could she keep living like this, knowing this opportunity passed her by? It sounded like torture. She scanned the room again, biting her lip. Her heart beat frantically like the drums of war, the sound echoing through her like thunder. Something in her screamed, ‘Do it. Do it!’ She hesitantly edged closer, her mouth dry and her palms sweaty.

Lucian’s eyes lit up. He let out the breath he’d been holding, opening his arms to her. ‘Don’t be afraid. We’re in this together.’

From this distance, Selene could see the fear he was trying to mask, the small scar that ran across his left palm, the prickle of sweat on his brow. Her mind screaming for her to stop, to back away. But for the first time… she ignored it. Her finger brushed against his shirt as she pressed her cheek to his chest. Warmth swept through her.

The reassuring sound of Lucian’s voice reverberated through her, ‘I’ve got you.’