He made his way around the main town square, making sure to find the right spot to watch

tonight’s
show. The welcoming of spring was deemed to be the most important Ritual of all the seasons for it
would guarantee the good growth of crops and fertility of the beast and those who tend them. He had
heard of the goddess great beauty from his years of travel, in every city, people gushed over their
experience at the Rituals and always, a word of the magnificent deity. His curiosity now drove him for
he had been many places, seen many things, loved many women, but everywhere he went, he heard her
name.

There was a chill in the air as winter loathed to give up its grip on the land. He found a roof top on a low
laying building that would give him a good vantage of the spectacle to come. The original inhabitance of
this place must have been short for any normal sized human would have to duck to walk through the
buildings door way. He watched as the scared monks as they prepared the circle in which she would
dance. It was rumored that to tend the goddess, one had to have his manhood removed. Women were
not allowed to tend her for reasons he did not know.

He recalled an old man telling him of her story one night at an upscale tavern. “Along time ago, there
was no rhyme or reason to the weather patterns or seasons. It was impossible to grow crops and no one
could rely on their stock to grow for a calf may be born in spring like weather... But a sudden storm or
drought would end its life before it could produce another!” The old man went on to talk about how a
goddess, a woman of absolute beauty with a temperament as wild as the weather, was to blame. For
decades man had tried to capture her, even going as far as to send an army to try and trap her. Alas they
had all failed. They warriors would turn on each other and fight to be her mate until they all died of their
wounds. They sent the craftiest of women to try and capture her, but they too failed, they couldn’t find
it in their hearts to put chains on such a creature.

Finally it had been a lone Monk that stepped up to the task. He had taken a vow of celibacy and had had
his manhood removed to assure his obedience to his vow. He stood alone before her storms and beauty
and calmly spoke to her. No one knows the words he had spoken; they had never been written or told to
another being, so the words themselves are lost to history. The storm had come to a halt and she
walked beside him in calmness and with no restraints. The Monk had her wait a mile away, downwind of
the Monastery, as he gave news to the great house and had a room prepared. He had called upon his
fellow eunuchs to come help escort her to the temple.

The details became more vague and uninteresting in his details about her chamber and how the whole
monastery chopped off their manhood’s just to serve her. It has been two hundred years and most
people now dismiss that the weather was ever as wild as the tales say, but yet... Throngs of people came
to attend the Rituals and Celebrations of the seasons as they turn.

He wanted to see for his own eyes a woman of over 200 years old that controlled the weather, who
single handily gave man the ability to prosper, a woman whose beauty made armies turn on themselves.
It had to be a gimmick, a series of ladies that resemble each other enough to pull it off. Daughters of the
daughters of the original woman, he thought.