Wilhelmina Trask had always preferred the name Willo. It was a tribute to her childhood growing up within the prestigious Temple of the Treasures, citadel and stronghold of the Tai-Quira that was renowned throughout the Underworld territories. As a member of the Tai-Quira grown to be a mistress within the fold, Willo spent many years studying the past and its riches, molded to be protector of the treasures of bygone days while standing idly aside as guardian of fate’s plan for the future. She hated her name though, and as the steadfast child that she was, she had no issues with determining her own fate. ‘Call me Willow’, she said adamantly once after a study on plant-life of the past and again many times going forward. The last letter fell off at one point in her continuing obsession with originality. Willo was determined to be the person she herself wanted to be.
As an older woman, she remained as unwavering, reaching a high level within the Tai-Quira order and placed as head mistress on the presidential council within the Washington Central Core. Such had been her goal early on, and Willo was not the sort to accept less than she intended for herself. But after two years serving on the council, becoming the right hand to the President herself, Willo thirsted for more still. She always knew that within the strict fate-based Tai-Quira religion, though, that her thoughts of independence and self-worth were sacrilege. Still, she loved what Tai-Quira stood for in many ways, believed in it and respected it even though she was prepared to turn her back on the proud and powerful religious order.
Stepping away from her official duties in the Washington Central Core, she entered the Temple of the Treasures once more, passing the large stone statues that flanked the ancient bridge entryway. She paused for a moment at the bridge’s half-point to gaze up at the sculptures, stone faces that were worn and chipped from the passing of time though their cupped hands still held strong to the furious fall of water flowing down each side of the passage to the deep basin that the bridge crossed over. The ceiling was high in the entryway but different than elsewhere in the underworld, seeming less constructed as if the cavern were simply bored into the rocky planet. Though it was dark high above, the temple itself was well lit, resembling something that may have stood long before when the surface of the Earth was habitable.
Finished with her admiration of the ornate exterior of the Temple, Willo wandered towards the doorway to the main building, the soft crimson fabric of her flowing robe dancing around her feet like flames upon the gray granite passage. The doorway at the edge of the bridge was heavily guarded by six stoic men clothed also in deep red garments of a similar color to that which she herself donned. As she dipped her head slightly to respect the guards, her bulky red headdress accentuating the bow, the guardians also bowed in recognition of a returning mistress, stepping aside to grant her entrance.
Stepping down the granite steps once inside, Willo crossed the main entry hall quickly, her footsteps echoing loudly in the cavernous room. At the very edge of the hall, she stopped to gaze up at the statue that was the pinnacle of the room hanging high above the archway atop another set of stairs that lead further inwards. Dipping her head once more, Willo dropped to one knee, the red fabric of her robe spilling on the floor around her like a pool of blood. After a moment of silent prayer, she glanced up once more at the statue, a life-sized likeness of a woman suspended upon a staff with hair that seemed to blaze like flames around her face. There was a crown of stars adorning the head of the woman capping an expression of defiance. The statue was that of the Grand Lady, an important figure of worship in the Tai-Quira order.
Hearing sounds of footsteps below, Willo glanced down the expansive stairwell where she could see a collection of mistresses passing in the antechamber below. They each wore a robe similar to Willo’s, blending together in a crimson sea, though none wore the elaborate headdress that crowned Willo’s thin skull. As Willo’s eyelids raised in the sight of a familiar face, one stopped returning the glance of recognition and then began climbing the stairs.
“Mistress Willo,” the woman said quickly reaching the top of the stairwell, her flowing ebony hair stopping just passed her shoulders. “it is pleasing to see you.”
Willo stood at the arrival of Belatta Barrion, a young Tai-Quiran she had been assigned councilor to before being granted the assignment in Washington. “You as well, Belatta.” At Belatta’s arrival at the top of the stairs, Willo reached out a hand to greet her.
“I trust all is well in the Core?”
“Yes,” Willo responded quickly. It was good to see Belatta, though she knew that Belatta would not be amenable to her reasons for stepping inside the central seat of their religion once more. “Thank you for asking.”
“What brings you to the temple?” Belatta circled away from the stairs in slow steps, inviting Willo to stroll and chat. A smile painted upon her pale face displayed her pleasure in seeing her old councilor once more.
“I have missed my home,” Willo said before lifting her hand towards the statue above the arch. “And I wished to gaze upon the face of the Grand Lady once more.”
Belatta turned back to glance up as well. “She is our greatest inspiration.”
Willo dropped her hand to her side again. Never the sort to dance around a subject, Willo prepared to share her thoughts with Belatta. “Belatta, you have always been a good friend,” she said, beginning a slow stroll across the entry hall. The walls were painted with faded images of the lush greenery that once coated the surface of their planet. The murals had always given her solace.
“And you a good mentor,” Belatta replied.
“Sometimes there are decisions in life that we make that can change our path, send us away from home, away from the people that we care about.” Willo stopped at the arrival of the entryway wall looking upon the decorated image of a fall of water surrounded by trees of green and flowers of purple.
“We make no decisions, Willo. Fate guides us, and we guard fates direction as the plan for the world unfolds around us.” Belatta’s words were soft, seemingly rehearsed. Willo knew that the belief was so instilled within the young woman that to her there was no other way for things to be.
“You are a great Mistress, Belatta. I have every intention to recommend you as my replacement.”
Belatta bowed her head, her black hair spilling forward. . “I appreciate your confidence.”
Willo turned to gape directly into Belatta’s innocent eyes. “Sometimes we have to make decisions, take charge of our own lives.”
Belatta raised her head abruptly, stepping back a bit in the awe of the words. “You shouldn’t say such things. You will be called heretic.”
“Then so be it.” Willo looked away for a moment and then turned back quickly, though her words slowed. “I don’t believe I will be back here. I don’t believe I’ll be welcome here soon.”
Belatta stepped forward once more, gazing high into the taller Willo’s eyes. She softened her words to a whisper. “Willo. What have you done?”
Willo took a moment to contemplate her words, but only a short moment. She was a well-spoken woman with a hefty determination burning within her. “The President has offered me a placement in California. Not as part of the Tai-Quira council, but a seat within the office of the governor.”
Belatta's lips fell open, agape with a sense of awe clearly painted upon her face. “We cannot insert ourselves into the government of the territories,” she said with a scolding tone. “You know this to be true.”
Willo reached forward placing her hand upon Belatta’s shoulder; an attempt to show comfort from a woman who rarely showed emotion. “Have you never wondered if we could be part of fate’s plan, that our involvement is intended?”
“Now what you speak of is heresy.” Belatta stepped further back so that Willo’s hand dropped out of reach. “I must step away. The mothers will not be pleased. ” The young Tai-Quiran’s tone became breathy. She was clearly worried that ears within the walls would hear their conversation.
Willo nodded her acceptance of Belatta’s fear. She felt a mild sense of hurtfulness deep inside knowing that the words she were speaking were her goodbye to someone that had grown to be a dear friend to her. “Belatta, you will do well on the President’s council.”
Belatta turned away, her crimson robe swirling in the breeze of her departure. With hurried footsteps towards the stairwell, she stopped short of the first step and slowly turned back. “You know that if you do this, when next we speak it will not be as friends. My level of respect for you will be greatly diminished.”
“Decisions are not easy, Belatta. I hope that someday you will understand that it was difficult for me to make this one because of how much I knew I would lose.”
Belatta’s expression changed from awe to sorrow, though it seemed unexpected. “May fate shine providence upon you,” she spoke, they were words highly regarded in their religion; a prayer of good fortune.
The pain within Willo deepened. She had not expected the words and they tugged at her loyalty for a moment, her love of this young child that somehow had come to matter to her through the years. Her determined mind was set though, and she was not prepared to turn back. Willo had a plan for herself, one which sadly came with a high price of loss. “And you as well, Belatta,” she returned.
As Willo watched Belatta turn away a final time, she breathed a heavy sigh forcing control of the emotions that were beginning to well within her. Her next conversation would be with the mothers, the high Priestesses of Tai-Quira. As unpleasant as her conversation with Belatta had been, she knew well that the next conversation would be much more bothersome. She also knew and accepted that when next she crossed through this hall to exit, it would be without her prestigious headdress.