Myth of the Moon Goddess

Chapter 4 Golden embers danced in the dark depths of Czarinaea’s eyes as she looked deep into those of the man she had seen in her visions. Running her tongue over her lips she opened her mouth as if to speak, but found she could not. When Stryangaeus took his index finger and traced her full lips, she did not move, nor did she turn away from him when he wetted his middle finger in his mouth, even though the moisture from his finger on her lips created hot wet heat in her woman-hood. Instinctively she reached for him, and they melted together. Their hearts recognized ancient flames of desire, dancing in a circle of forever. It was the perfect merging of one body, one essence and one heart. When he entered her, she cried tears of such deep sadness, tears of longing that she had only dreamed of, tears of release, of coming home in some way that she could not fathom. Czarinaea felt herself lifting from her body. Above, in spirit she watched the bodies below. Observing the tenderness and in awe of the passion that raged through her, she recognized she was observing and feeling the heat of the union all in the same moment. She did not want the moment to end, for if it did, she was not sure it would be possible to make sense of what was happening to her. When the lovers, sated, lay side by side with hands entwined, Czarinaea finally spoke. “I was once betrothed to a man whose name I did not know,” she told him. “And now I am besotted by a man who has not shared his name, but somehow has given me an understanding of the depths of who he is and the measure of the man he has always been. My good sense tells me that if we part now our lives would be easier. My heart tells me I must know everything about you, even before you tell me your name. Do this for me. Tell me of your life. Tell me every bit of it, all that you can remember.” Stryangaeus said, “I will if only you do the same, for I want to know your life, to hold its essence in my hands and feel every nuance. Just as I have felt the immeasurable spirit of your body, I must feel the boundless spirit of your life. And so they talked for hours, lying side by side. She told him of every vision she had had, including the ones in which she had seen him. Czarinaea hesitantly told him about seeing an aura around some people when she was a child. But now the colors were brilliant and she could see them around everyone, which only happened since the injury on the battle field. She asked him if he thought there was something wrong with her eyes. “No, quite the contrary,” he assured her. “My mother saw color around everything, trees, flowers and people alike. She said that it gave her secret information about plants for making herbs and important information about people, whether they were good or bad.” Then he happily shared with her how his mother had taught him of the culture of the goddess and always let him know that prophecy was a sacred and holy event. “Did your mother have lots of visions? Did she have a spirit guide? Did your father believe in, well…you know?” “Have you always felt you could not speak of these things to a man? I’m sorry for it if you have, but now you know that you can talk to me of these things.” Stryangaeus stroked her face tenderly, enamored of the golden sparks in her eyes. “To answer your questions, yes, mother had lots of visions. I don’t know what a spirit guide is, so I suppose my mother didn’t have one. And no, my father only believed in himself, and in gold, which was very sad. He missed out in life, because he never knew what love was, though my mother loved him well.” They spoke about their childhoods, their beliefs and their friends. At one point, he ordered a meal and Gaylor came and merrily laid it out for them, all the while stealing covet looks at his master’s prisoner, and giving her a shy smile when she asked his name, but he seemed reluctant to speak. “This is Gaylor,” Stryangaeus said proudly putting his hand on the young boy’s shoulder. “He is going to bring us fresh fish for supper. I happen to know he is a great fisherman as I taught him myself.” Gaylor started to bow to her, but then uncertain if he should bow or not, to a captive, he ran off in search of friendly fish. Shielding her eyes from the sun, Czarinaea watched until the young boy was out of sight before she covered Stryangaeus with her hungry body saying, “I want you again. I need you.” Pulling off her light tunic she purred in his ear. “Then you may tell me your name and why I am here. But not until I have had my fill of you.” Her lips lightly brushed over his high cheek bones and moved to kiss his ear. Her breath hot and sweet sent shivers down his spine. Her husky whispers made his manhood ache as if he had not made love in a great while. “My queen, my queen!” he cried out as his passion rose to a fevered pitch. “Never leave me.” When they lay side by side again, feeling the comfort that familiar lovers do, Czarinaea asked, “Why do you call me your queen when you wear the tunic of a Median soldier?” Stryangaeus paused for a long moment, composing his thoughts, knowing that he must tell her of his position as prince of the Medes, and of his wife, and his willingness to betray all of it because of his love for her. “You are queen to me,” he finally said. “You represent all that I have ever wanted or needed in a friend, a lover and in a wife. Your sensual beauty, your regal bearing, your courage and strength all call out to me to be more than I have ever been before. I would strive to be king for you, or give away all I have worked for until now, in the name of love. I would fight a battle to the death if you were to be my prize. I would lie, cheat and steal for you, yet I would die if you thought I was immoral, for until now it has not been a part of my life.” Rising, he reached for her hand. “I call you queen, for it befits you. Come let us walk for a while.” His heartfelt words made it very difficult for each of them to speak of the reality of the situation. Stryangaeus was ready to lie to the Scythians. He was willing to say she had been killed in battle, but they both knew that custom dictated that he would have to produce her dead body. After all, she was a queen! Czarinaea knew it was hard for him to understand, that, though she despised her mate, she needed to go back. With a huge sigh, she finally spoke. “The Goddess dictates that I lead the Scythians. I do not know how this will come about, but I will be their leader and they will become my people. I cannot shirk this duty nor do I want to. Let me stay for a bit with you. Then…well…then you must send me back. We will meet again, trust me. I have shared my visions with you, and I have seen us together in the future.” “Yes. It was because of your visions that you welcomed me unto your body,” he replied. “I know I must have faith. Does your vision say that we will be lovers again?” “Oh, yes. A short time hence we shall again be lovers,” Czarinaea said, closing her eyes as she ran her fingers down his face, allowing the visions to mesh with reality. “Will you then release me back to the Scythians?” she added sadly. Stryangaeus hung his head when she said this. He was so proud and beautiful that she hated to see him in this pose. She could feel the passion that was his nature slipping away. When he looked at her his eyes were filled with pain. “I shall release you to your people,” he told her, “but there is something I want you to take back with you.” He gingerly pulled a small earthen bottle out from the confines of his robe, tears misting his eyes. “Here is a gift,” he murmured, “one that speaks of all that you mean to me.” Czarinaea took the stopper out of the bottle and the scent of roses wafted through the air. “The rose is the most regal flower on the earth,” he told her.