Place : Dohi Mand (Village)
Realm : Mirgeth
Time : 13024th Rev of Timestar
Population : 100% (No Zovrath, No Ethan yet)
Nestled in the haunting beauty of Mirgeth, where reality and magic wove into an intricate tapestry, Dohi Mand thrived as a bastion of tradition. Its homes were carved from the glimmering black stone of the realm, and ethereal lights hung like faint fireflies in the dense mist that perpetually cloaked the village. The Virilis fairies, clad in their ceremonial purple tunics, moved with reverence, their lives dictated by unwavering devotion to the sacred Light and the Phinixes. In this remote village, the air always seemed to hum with whispers of rituals past and promises of paradise.
In a small yet warm home, the scent of freshly baked Mirgeth bread mingled with a floral fragrance unique to their realm. A glowing crystal embedded in the ceiling bathed the room in soft, otherworldly purple light. Aiaris sat across from Elysia at their wooden table, her eyes full of love as she watched her daughter struggle to finish her meal.
Elysia pushed her plate away, her small hands resting on the polished table. "No, Mum. I’m full," she said sweetly, her voice tinged with satisfaction. "I can’t even take a sip now."
Aiaris chuckled, her laughter as gentle as a melody. "Not a sip, huh? Then how about some mum kisses?" She reached across the table, cupping Elysia's round face in her warm hands, and kissed her cheeks with playful affection. "My sweet aul."
Elysia beamed, the light in her eyes matching the crystal's glow.
"Now, go and get ready," Aiaris said, her tone softening. "We have to attend the ritual."
At the mention of the ritual, Elysia's cheerful expression faltered. Her small hands gripped the edge of the table. "I don’t want to go, Mum," she whispered, her voice trembling.
Aiaris knelt beside her, brushing a strand of her daughter’s shimmering hair behind her ear. She knew the source of Elysia’s fear, though it pained her. "Ely," she said gently, her voice a soothing balm. "There’s nothing to be afraid of. These rituals are a part of who we are. You must learn about our customs to understand the beauty of our Light."
"But they…" Elysia started, her words faltering as a lump rose in her throat.
"I know," Aiaris said softly, her gaze unwavering. "That’s why I want you to go. When you face your fear, my brave little aul, it will no longer control you."
After a moment of hesitation, Elysia nodded slowly, her trust in her mother unwavering.
"Good," Aiaris said, standing and smoothing her tunic. "Now go put on the one I made for you. I want to see my cute aul shining in it."
Elysia reluctantly left the table, slipping into the adjoining room. She returned moments later, clad in a finely woven purple tunic adorned with intricate golden patterns. Her small frame seemed to glow against the soft light, though her expression remained wary.
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The central square of the mand was alive with celebration. The mist parted slightly to reveal a towering altar—the Hvan. Its circular platform gleamed in the moonlight, its hollow core emitting shimmering purple flames that licked at the cold night air. Around it, dancers moved in perfect synchrony, their movements fluid and mesmerizing. Drums thundered, accompanied by flutes that sang haunting melodies of devotion. The Virilis sang hymns that echoed across the mand, their voices blending into a harmonious chorus.
Elysia clung to Aiaris’s tunic as they arrived. Aiaris greeted her friends with warmth, their laughter mingling with the music. Elysia, however, felt a cold knot of dread in her chest. Though she had seen this ritual before, the next part always filled her with a quiet terror.
The joyous noise fell to a hush as the mand’s leader, an elder fairy with silver hair and piercing eyes, ascended the Hvan. Her ceremonial robe shimmered with runes that seemed to shift under the flickering light. Raising her hands high, she began to speak, her voice ringing with authority and reverence.
"Nyna and Asho of Light," the leader intoned, "gathered here under the gaze of our eternal Phinix Nemin, we honor the sacred cycle of renewal. The Light, gifted to us by the divine, is a fragment of the eternal flame that sustains all. Today, we witness a blessed soul ascend beyond this mortal realm to the embrace of Valfala, where eternal joy and unity with the Phinixes await.
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"This sacrifice is not an end, but a glorious beginning—a gift to our Phinix, ensuring her blessings upon us remain steadfast." She paused, her arms outstretched as the purple flames surged higher, casting eerie shadows across the gathered fairies.
"Behold the flame that marks her acceptance! Let us dance, let us sing, for in this act, we preserve our covenant with the divine. This Light, surrendered willingly, is a bridge to our eternal bond with the Phinixes. Let the chosen fairy step forth, not as one who dies, but as one who ascends to greatness. May her sacrifice bring peace to us and glory to the realms. Praise be to the Light, and to the Phinixes who guide us!"
The crowd erupted into cheers and chants of devotion. Elysia’s heart pounded as her eyes flicked to the chosen fairy, a young woman with serene resolve etched on her face, stepping toward the altar.
As the flames consumed the air with an intense glow, Elysia’s small hand tightened around Aiaris’s. She whispered, almost inaudibly, "Mum, do they really go to Valfala?"
Aiaris knelt, holding her daughter close. "They do, my sweet aul. The Phinixes watch over them, and their Light lives on."
Elysia didn’t respond, her gaze fixed on the altar. The flames reflected in her wide eyes, illuminating a flicker of doubt—and something deeper.
As the chosen fairy, a serene and radiant figure named Ilvera, stepped toward the Hvan, the air thrummed with reverence. The other fairies erupted into cheers, their voices harmonizing into a melody that seemed to pulse with the rhythm of their glowing purple flames. Ilvera’s face was a picture of peace, her smile unwavering as though she had already glimpsed the gates of Valfala.
The sacred song began, a hauntingly beautiful hymn that resonated with every heart in the mand:
“Ó, Phínen Níl, cana síle, Aer’n nenned, nírna i’l. Daeron nin, daeron néar, Síle a’n-gwaith, nírna i’l.”
The crowd swayed in unison, their hands raised toward the chosen one as though their combined energy would lift her to Valfala themselves. The leader of the mand, adorned in robes shimmering with threads of silver and purple, raised her hands to quiet the crowd.
Leader:
"The Light is pure; the vessel must be cleansed. Let this sacred water, the Phyin, wash away all ties to the mortal plane, preparing the chosen for her journey to Valfala."
Two attendants, dressed in ceremonial silver tunics, carried an ornate pitcher to the altar. They tilted it, and streams of the glowing Phyin poured over Ilvera. As the water touched her skin, a shimmering aura enveloped her, and her body began to glow with a radiant purple light. Gasps of awe rippled through the gathered fairies, and a reverent silence followed.
One by one, the fairies approached Ilvera, touching her glowing arms or placing a hand over their hearts in farewell. Elysia’s mother, Aiaris, gently led her reluctant daughter forward.
Elysia: "No, Mum... I don’t want to."
Aiaris (sternly but softly): "Ely! You must learn to be brave. This is a blessing, not a curse. Come now."
Elysia's small frame trembled as Aiaris took her hand and pressed it against Ilvera’s glowing arm. The warmth of the light surged through her fingers, but her heart felt heavy, not uplifted. She quickly pulled her hand back and clung to her mother’s tunic, eyes wide with fear.
A sudden shift in the atmosphere silenced even the faintest whispers. Four figures, cloaked in thick dark purple tunics with hoods obscuring their faces, stepped forward in unison. Their entrance was marked by an eerie stillness, the music and dancing halting as if the world itself held its breath. The Virtis had arrived.
Leader: "The keepers of the sacred flame, the Virtis, come forth to honor the divine covenant. Let the Light be released and returned to its eternal source."
The Virtis moved with an otherworldly grace, their silence commanding absolute attention. They formed a circle around Ilvera, who stepped onto the Hvan altar, her glowing figure a stark contrast to their shadowy forms. The purple flames surged higher, licking the edges of the hollow platform.
The Virtis began to chant, their voices low and resonant, weaving an ancient spell. The flames responded, roaring to life, their vibrant hues flickering and dancing in rhythm with the chant. One of the Virtis gestured to Ilvera. She nodded and turned to face the crowd, her smile unwavering even as the flames beckoned her forward.
Leader: "Chosen of Light, step into the Hvan. Your sacrifice is our salvation, your ascension our blessing. Go forth, bearer of Light, and be one with Valfala."
Ilvera took a deep breath, her glowing figure resolute. With deliberate steps, she walked into the roaring flames.
At first, her face remained calm, serene, but as the fire engulfed her, her screams tore through the air. The sound was raw and piercing, cutting through the sacred hymn like a jagged blade. Elysia clamped her hands over her ears, burying her face into her mother’s side. She peeked out just long enough to see the flames consume Ilvera entirely, leaving no trace of her physical form.
From the heart of the fire, a small, vibrant pink orb emerged, floating gently above the Hvan. The Virtis raised their hands in unison, and the orb hovered over the palm of one of them. With a slow, deliberate motion, the Virtis clenched her fist, and the orb vanished in a burst of soft light.
The ritual was complete.
The silence hung heavy for a moment, a solemn acknowledgment of what had transpired. Then, as if on cue, the music resumed, joyous and lively, and the fairies began to dance once more. The crowd celebrated with renewed fervour, their faith unshaken, their devotion burning brighter than ever.
But Elysia did not move. She remained rooted to the spot, her small hands gripping her mother’s tunic tightly. Her eyes were wide, her mind swirling with unanswered questions and a growing fear that she could not shake.
The laughter and music around her felt distant, muffled by the pounding of her heart. For everyone else, the ritual was a reaffirmation of their faith, a moment of glory. For Elysia, it was a terrifying reminder of the cost of that faith.