Tempted

its beauty. Kalona was there, half naked as always, but this time he held one long, dangerous-looking sword while another one was in a scabbard strapped across his back,
and his wings were pure white!
He was standing outside a magnificent door to a marble temple. He looked dangerous and noble—every bit a true Warrior. As I watched, his stern expression changed to something softer, and as the woman walked up the stairs of the temple, he smiled at her with obvious adoration.
    Merry meet, Kalona, my Warrior.
    Her voice echoed eerily from the past and I gasped. I didn’t need to see the woman’s face. I instantly recognized her voice. “Nyx!” I cried.
    “Indeed,” Kalona said. “I was Nyx’s Oath-sworn Warrior.”
    The Kalona in the vision followed his Goddess into her temple. The scene changed, and suddenly Kalona was using both his swordsto battle something I couldn’t quite focus on. The thing was black and kept changing shape. One instant it would be a huge serpent, in another it was an open mouth filled with glistening teeth, in yet another it appeared to be a hideous spiderlike creature with claws and fangs.
    “What is that?”
    “Just an aspect of evil.” Kalona spoke slowly, as if the words were hard for him to say.
    “But weren’t you in Nyx’s realm? How could evil get there?”
    “Evil is everywhere, just as good is everywhere. It’s the way the world and the Otherworld were made. There must be balance, even in Nyx’s realm.”
    “That’s why she needed a warrior?” I asked, watching the scene shift again to show Kalona, white wings blazing, walking behind Nyx as she strolled through a lush meadow. His eyes were never still, but constantly scanned the area around and behind the Goddess. One sword was drawn and in his hand. The other was ready in its scabbard.
    “Yes, that is why she needs a warrior,” he said.
    “Needs.” I tested the word, and then managed to look from the scenes of Kalona’s past to the Kalona of the present. “If she still needs a warrior, then why are you here instead of there?”
    His jaw tightened and his eyes filled with pain. His voice was broken when he answered me. “Look there, and you shall see the truth.”
    I focused my gaze back on the changing scenes to see Nyx standing before Kalona. He was on his knees in front of her, and just as he had been when I stepped into this dream, he was weeping. This incarnation of Nyx looked so much like the statue of Mary at the Benedictine nuns’ grotto that I felt a little jolt of shock. But as I kept watching, I saw that something was off about Nyx. Unlike the serene beauty of the nuns’ Mary, Nyx’s expression was hard and appeared weirdly more stonelike than the statue.
    Please do not do this, my Goddess.
Kalona’s voice lifted to us. It sounded as if he were begging.
    I do nothing, Kalona. You have a choice in this. I give even my Warriors free will, though I don’t require them to use it wisely.
I wasshocked by how cold Nyx sounded. For a second she actually reminded me of how Aphrodite used to be.
    I cannot help myself. I was created to feel this. It is not free will. It is preordination.
    Yet as your Goddess I tell you what you are is not preordained. Your will has fashioned you.
    I cannot help how I feel! I cannot help what I am!
    You, my Warrior, are mistaken; therefore, you must pay the consequences of your mistake.
    Nyx raised one perfect arm and flicked her fingers at Kalona. The Warrior was lifted from his knees and hurled backward, tumbling end over end.
    Kalona fell.
    I watched it.
    I watched him scream and writhe in agony as he fell and fell and fell. When he finally landed, crumpled, broken, and bloody, in a lush field that reminded me of the Tall Grass Prairie, his wings had turned from white to the raven black they are today.
    With a cry filled with pain, Kalona lifted his hand and wiped away the vision of the past. As the air before us shimmered and then became the rooft op garden of the castle again, he let loose of my hand and stepped away from me to sit on a bench under an orange tree. He didn’t say anything. He just sat there looking out at the sparkling blue of the Mediterranean.
    I followed, but didn’t sit beside him. Instead, I stood in front of him, studying him as if I could really judge truth with my eyes.
    “Why did she kick you out? What was it that you did?”
    His eyes met mine. “I loved her too much.” His voice was so emotionless he sounded like a ghost.
    “How can