"Yes, tattoos are only something we do in Verdant Spire," I answered Benjamin's question. "When we come of age, our priestess—who is always Lotus—does a ritual and the vines slither into our bodies in form of black or dark green design."
The memory of that day flashed through my mind unbidden—the scent of sacred herbs burning in the ceremonial fire, the cool touch of Lotus's fingers against my skin, the strange and wonderful sensation of the vines accepting me, marking me, making me whole.
It had been a moment of transformation, of becoming, of stepping fully into my identity as an Amazon woman.
It used to be geometry and round designs around the shoulder blade, but that changed after Irina, my grandmother, took over as Queen.
The vines had come with her rule, slithering and curling across our bodies in patterns that told stories of growth and connection rather than just sequential precision.
