“That is because you are sick,” he said. “Your mind is broken, Tessanna, shattered into pieces. I have discussed this with my fellow priests, even our high priest Calan, and we all agree. Your mind is like a puzzle. Someone must put the pieces back in the right order.”

“And that someone is you?” she asked. The bench was cold and uncomfortable when she sat on it. She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a knowing wink. “Can you put me back together?”

She noticed how smooth he was, even with her direct approach. He was not smooth enough, however, to hide the fact that he had loosened the belt at his waist.

“Ashhur’s grace is something we must all receive,” he said. “The glory of his light heals all wounds, and it would be blasphemous to believe that you are beyond healing, as some have said. You are a beautiful girl, Tess.”

She lay on her back, her arms stretched over her head. She was slender, her skin milky white and smooth as polished stone. Her long black hair curled about her waist. Her eyes pierced Aresh’s attraction, stirring a bit of guilt and worry. Her irises were solid black, so that her eyes were giant black orbs with hints of white at the edges, and under her gaze he felt naked. His smooth words seemed like childish lies, unneeded and unconvincing.

“Can you fix me?” she asked, a smirk touching the corners of her mouth.

“Close your eyes,” he said. “And do not be afraid. I will give you my healing. Ashhur has blessed man and woman, and through his blessing, I will make you whole.”

With her eyes closed, she listened as his armor and belt hit the floor. She felt a part of her retreating inward, toward the center, while the childish, frightened girl remained on the outside, passive and gullible. When he climbed on top of her, she dared believe it might work.

Because she wasn’t whole. She was many, she was sick, and she had killed more people than Aresh would believe.