Bonfire and God
Once again, Wanderer made their way toward the centre of the city, the massive spire looming over the whirling crowds that grew denser and denser with every step.
It seems there was yet another event for the night, most likely the festival's last, as the first hints of the sun's light began to show itself over the horizon.
Soon enough, the Vessel began to exit the winding alleys and long streets, half walking, half being pushed toward a massive courtyard just to the left of the city's centre.
With great difficulty, the Golem peered over the bustling crowd of a thousand different beasts and found at the forefront of the festival, the goers were gathering in a massive circle around a pile of wood.
“I wonder what that is for”, the Vessel questioned, and to their shock, received a reply.
Their Spirit, who had just recovered from their fugue, displayed an image of a great fire, similar to the one that had overtaken the fields.
“But why would they wish to light a fire?” the Vessel questioned.
The Spirit didn't have to answer, but Wanderer soon found out.
A great, echoing horn rang out through the city, coming from the very top of the tower, so loud and deep that Wanderer were convinced that, if they had not been able to hear, then undoubtedly they would have been able to feel the baritone call.
For a few moments, the horn rang out unchallenged before silencing itself, yet silence was not permitted to avail, as from beyond the horizon another horn sounded.
One by one, the walled citadels of the black desert rang out in order, the sound carrying loud and distinct no matter how many days of travel the cities may have been away.
Eventually, the replies came to an end as well, with total and utter silence taking hold of the city.
Not a noise could be heard, not a scuffled foot nor a muffled whisper, the whole world seemed to wait in anxious agony of some event that was about to unfold, an event Wanderer was completely unaware of.
All of a sudden, a loud, sharp pop resounded through the still courtyard, a sound that was quickly joined by another, and another after that.
The mini explosions slowly gathered in frequency and intensity, until a single, harmonious tone appeared from the chaos.
Quickly, the Golem whipped their gaze toward the source of the sounds and found a scene thoroughly unexpected.
From the top of the tower shone a great golden beam of light, dancing runes decorating it and concentrating it into a single point in the air, not one hundred steps away from the Vessel.
Where the point concentrated, a display like fireworks shook the area, sparks and golden flames firing and dissipating in every direction.
Yet with every passing moment, the chaos took form, slowly moulding into an all too familiar figure.
The same form depicted on every costume and outfit in the whole of the desert, the same being that saw into their soul and caused their Spirit to enter a catatonic panic.
A god in physical form floated before them, a being of resistance and gold, from which their true name exuded for all to know, the god of Struggle, Orsha.
A odd kind of pressure bore down on all in the audience, as if Wanderer was once again under the dark waters of the lake, the fluid above crushing their body into the silt.
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Some grimaced under the weight, others seemed as if their legs would give out, all struggled against the aura of the god.
Slowly, the dreadful eye in the centre of Orsha’s face began to survey the crowd, slowly investigating everyone before them.
Wanderer’s Spirit screamed within them, begging them to move and escape the gaze of the hostile god.
And for once, Wanderer agreed.
Before the Vessel even knew what was happening, they were already pushing and shoving their way through the ocean of people surrounding them.
Like wading through mud, the Golem managed to force their way through the crowd, slowly reaching the edges of the courtyard, almost safe in the alleys and streets of the city.
In an instant, their hope was dashed as the aura of the god manifest increased to unbearable levels, locking the Vessel in place as surely as if they had been bound.
Wanderer didn't even need to turn around to know that Orsha’s eye was upon them, the desperation of their Spirit not even reaching them under the weight of the gaze.
Without warning, the Golem was placed in the same state of struggle they had been outside the city.
Yet this time, there was no attempt at resistance, the idea did not even cross Wanderer's mind, couldn't.
As if the Golem were a stone tasked with climbing a mountain, even the thought of struggling against it was impossible.
And as quick as the mountain formed, it split and fell away, replaced by a vision.
There before the Vessel’s mind's eye were three familiar figures, the three slaves that they had rescued what felt like a lifetime ago on the road to the desert.
One of them, the one whom they had rescued from the ticks, lay on the cold floor of a cave, clutching at their head while the two others panicked around them.
In a flash of golden light, the man turned their head to look at the Golem, a shining third eye seeing through the sanctity of Orsha’s vision.
And then the apparition was gone, left behind as Wanderer once again found themself in their own body.
“I am more than you think I am.”, the god declared in their mind, spoken in images and feelings so refined that the message could not be misconstrued for anything else.
And then the eye moved on, as if hesitant to remain on the Golem for too long, continuing to scan the crowd.
If Wanderer had not sprinted away the very moment the pressure left them, they would have seen Orsha settle upon a single person in the assembly, would have noticed the bonfire lighting as the chosen walked toward the god.
But as it was, by the time the crowd began to circle the blaze, Wanderer was already gone, lost deep in the depths of the city.
By the time both Golem and Spirit came to their senses, and Emio stopped writhing in their hiding place, the opulent mansions of the city centre had been left behind.
They came to a stop in a small alley in the depths of the city, surrounded on both sides by two empty houses.
Seeing as they were alone, they set Emio free from their hiding place, who despite their best attempts could no longer bear to stay in one place any longer.
Wanderer practically collapsed under the weight of their emotions, and found, much to their own surprise, the most extreme of them all was not fear or panic, but confusion.
Before it had all been so simple, Orsha was the cause of all the agony and pain those around them embraced, they were cruel and heartless, evil.
Their Spirit, who had never led them wrong, painted as such in their description of gods, portrayed Orsha as a Spirit-eating monster.
Yet twice now, Orsha had shown mercy, when both Golem and Spirit were helpless.
Yet that kindness was a mere drop in the bucket of confusion, far more originating from the strange vision Wanderer had received.
What had it all meant, why did it feature the three slaves they had saved, why had the man been able to see them, and why did he have another eye?
Nothing about it made sense, what was Orsha trying to say?
And then the message, the cryptic, mysterious message.
More what, exactly, more powerful, more complex?
Wanderer just didn't know what to think, and evidently, their Spirit didn't either.
A discordant flurry of emotions and memories flowed through their bond, most if not all intentioned not to reach the Vessel, yet the Spirit’s mind was spinning faster than they could manage, and inevitably their usually tight control failed.
The Golem shook their head and got back up, seeing that the issue would take a while to work out, they called their companion and began to climb to the top of the nearest high building, hoping the view would help calm their thoughts.
In a matter of moments, they scrambled up a nearby building side, and sat upon the second-story roof, legs dangling off.
After getting comfortable, and making certain that Emio had not strayed too far, Wanderer looked upon the empty streets and fire burning in the distance and began to sort out their thoughts.