Sun Mote Copse o quam sancta

Asherah nodded to her sister's words. Of course they would grow strong, with Molech to protect them. The mention of the herb was taken with another sharp nod, she would go right this very moment if she need to, to find such a herb. She knew little of herbs herself, though, but was aware of one that would help with feeling ill. She'd eaten it many a times before she'd joined the Malkaria, constant running had always had her feeling sick. Her mother had fed it to her time and time again. She'd know the shape and color of it, if she could find it, but the name escaped her. She'd always called it Belly Ache Weed.

Her ears cupped forward as her sister continued and she was puzzled by her words. Of course they all belonged to Molech. She tilt her head slightly, searching for Eshamun's meaning. A pained expression crossed Eshamun's face and she continued. For a moment, her words made no sense. What offering would need to be made? The babes were already Molech's. After only a second though, the dark truth dawned on Asherah and her mouth dropped open. She glanced from Eshamun to Ar-Khalba as if her sister were playing and cruel joke. 

"A-All of them?" She whispered, watching as Eshamun seemed to fight back tears. Asherah herself was not so successful. Tears formed in her eyes and she swallowed thickly. "But...but why? Why all of them? Is it always this way? How can our numbers grow?" Her voice warbled, but she did not let her sadness spill over. If Eshamun did not cry openly, she would not either. There was a lump in her throat she couldn't rid herself of. "Eshamun...Ar-Khalba....I am so sorry. Would Molech not rather have devout souls to spread his word? I just...I do not understand. Will...will children always be offered? Always?"