The next morning, sunlight filtered through the thatched roof as Elysia stirred awake, her bright smile lighting up her small face. With her tousled hair and sleepy eyes, she followed the familiar routine: looking for her mum. She found Aiaris seated by the window, her hands deftly sewing intricate patterns on a tunic. The rhythmic movement of the needle was soothing, yet Aiaris’s focus was intense.
Elysia (rubbing her eyes as she shuffled closer): "Mum!"
Aiaris (glancing at her with a warm smile): "My sweet Aul is awake!"
Elysia leaned against her mum, resting her sleepy head on Aiaris's thigh, seeking the comfort of her warmth.
Aiaris (still sewing): "I've made Vahi and Murito for you. They're on the table. I can't join you right now, though—I need to finish this tunic on time."
Elysia (pouting): "Okay…"
Aiaris noticed her daughter's disappointment and paused, cupping Elysia's face with one hand. She kissed her cheek, her tone softening.
Aiaris: "You know, Ely, this tunic won’t sew itself. Now, go on, my little sunshine, fill your growling tummy before it starts scaring the virgons away."
Elysia (eyeing the tunic critically): "This tunic looks like those bad and ugly Fliha from ritual last night."
The word "Fliha," a teasing nickname for the Virtis, made Aiaris stiffen. She set her sewing down, her voice sharp but controlled.
Aiaris: "Elysia! Don't say such things. Those are Virtis—not some ‘ugly Fliha.’ They are sacred, blessed by the Light itself."
Elysia’s smile vanished as she shrank back, startled by her mum's sudden sternness. Aiaris softened immediately, pulling her daughter onto her lap.
Aiaris (gently): "Listen, Ely. The Virtis are the most holy among us. Even their gaze carries blessings from the Phinix. You must respect them."
Elysia (hesitant): "But… they burned her."
Her small voice trembled, and her eyes searched her mum's face for reassurance.
Aiaris: "No, Ely. They didn’t burn her. That was a sacred ritual. Each Light-Bringer fulfills her purpose and ascends to Valfala, where she joins the Phinix. It’s not the end, little one—it’s a beginning."
Elysia looked up at her mum, her young mind trying to grasp the enormity of the concept. But one thought dominated her: would her mum, too, have to burn?
Elysia (blurting out): "You too?"
Aiaris’s expression softened, her smile reassuring as she stroked Elysia’s hair.
Aiaris: "One day, when you’re all grown up and strong."
Elysia (panicking): "No! I don’t want you to go!"
She threw her arms around her mum, clutching her tightly, as though her small embrace could protect her from the inevitable.
Aiaris (pulling her closer): "Shh, my little one. Don’t worry about such things. I promise you, I’ll always be with you. No matter what happens, you’ll never be without me."
Elysia’s fear eased, though a small seed of worry lingered.
Elysia (timidly): "But Mum…Why Valfala?"
Before she could ask more, Aiaris gently nudged her off her lap and stood her on the floor.
Aiaris (playfully): "Enough questions for one morning, curious one! Go eat your Vahi and Murito before they get cold. And after that, find your friends and play. No more worrying, alright?"
Elysia giggled as her mum tickled her side, her earlier fear momentarily forgotten. She turned towards the table, her small feet pattering away, her mind already drifting to the simple joys of breakfast and play.
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As the cycles turned, the ritual became a somber, immutable rhythm of life in the mand. Each time, a chosen Light-Bringer, usually an elder who had fulfilled her duties, willingly stepped into the Hvan's sacred flames. And each time, Elysia witnessed their screams echo through the square, their faces twisted in a mix of devotion and agony. The questions within her multiplied with every cycle: Why Valfala? What is it that compels them to endure such pain? Who truly are the Virtis, and why do they appear so shrouded, so ominous? Will my mother face the same fate one day?
These doubts became the silent companions of her growing age. She sought answers from the elders of the mand, hoping their wisdom could soothe her turmoil. But their responses only added layers of unease, their cryptic reverence deepening her suspicion.
Now, on the eve of the next 13th cycle’s ritual (after 6.5 Rev of Timestar), Elysia sat with her two closest friends, Rya and Osilvis, in the open fields. The sky was painted in shades of deep purple and glowing red, the colors of dusk heavy with an ominous beauty. Their laughter, casual and fleeting, shifted when Rya broached the topic of the chosen one.
Rya: “Did you hear about tomorrow's chosen one for the ritual?”
Osilvis: “Yeah! And guess what? It’s not a Fliha this time.”
Elysia (frowning): “Not a Fliha? But it’s always the elders who go.”
Rya: “Not this time, Ely. This time, it’s someone younger.”
Elysia: “Younger? Who?”
The mand was small. Everyone knew each other, and Elysia’s heart quickened as curiosity mixed with unease.
Osilvis: “Decna. Erlis’s Aul.”
The name struck her. Elysia knew Decna—perhaps not closely, but well enough to know she wasn’t the sort to speak about this. Decna, so young, eager to live—sacrificing herself?
Elysia: “Decna? She’s... happy about this?”
Rya (with a chuckle): “Happy? You should’ve seen her, Ely. She can’t wait for tomorrow. She’s practically glowing.”
Elysia (softly, almost to herself): “But why? And why wasn’t this announced in the mand sooner?”
Osilvis (teasing): “Where have you been all day, Ely? They announced it this morning. Oh, wait—you were probably snoring away like the world doesn’t exist.”
They laughed, but Elysia barely mustered a smile. Their words echoed in her head: Decna can’t wait. She’s glowing.
How could anyone be happy about this?
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the field grew dim, signaling it was time to return home. Walking alone, Elysia’s mind churned.
Why Decna? She’s not old. Erlis isn’t even old and has another Aul to raise. Isn’t the ritual for those who’ve fulfilled their life duties?
She paused, staring into the darkening sky.
Should I talk to her? If I try, will she think I’m questioning her faith—or worse, competing for her place?
The thought left her uneasy. Decna was about to die tomorrow, and she was happy. How could that be?
Her footsteps felt heavier as she approached her home, her mind a storm of unanswered questions and the unsettling possibility of a conversation she couldn’t avoid.
The central square was alight with flickering lanterns, casting warm glows against the night’s dark veil. The rhythmic chants of the Virilis dancers swayed in perfect harmony with the beat of ceremonial drums. Around the towering Hvan, the air was electric, charged with the anticipation of the Ritual. Fairies of all ages were gathered, dressed in their finest tunics, their expressions ranging from solemn reverence to joy.
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Elysia arrived with her mother, Aiaris, both wearing matching embroidered tunics Aiaris had painstakingly crafted. Though the scene was familiar, this time, it felt heavier, weighed by the knowledge of who the chosen one was.
As they weaved through the crowd, Aiaris leaned toward Elysia, her voice low but firm.
Aiaris: “Ely, listen to me. Please don’t start questioning things again. Not here, not now. Just—"
Elysia: “Okay, okay!” she interrupted with a cheeky grin. “No need to scold me with that sweet voice of yours. It’s weird, you know.”
Aiaris gave her daughter a pointed look, her stern expression softening despite herself.
Aiaris: “Last cycle, you embarrassed me in front of my friends. Why can’t you just accept things as they are?”
Elysia’s smile faded slightly as she glanced toward the Hvan. Its fiery heart crackled and roared, casting an ominous glow over the square.
Elysia: “Because I can’t, Mum,” she replied quietly. “And this time, it’s not just another Fliha. It’s Decna. They will burn her. She’s young, like me. She hasn’t even—”
Aiaris placed a hand on Elysia’s head, ruffling her hair in a gesture meant to comfort but also silence her.
Aiaris: “Oh, Ely. At least don’t say burn. She’s offering herself. It’s sacred.”
Elysia huffed, crossing her arms.
Elysia: “Sacred, purest, holy... and it still means she’s going to burn, Mum. Call it what it is.”
Aiaris sighed, shaking her head, knowing this wasn’t a battle she could win.
Aiaris: “Just promise me you won’t embarrass me tonight, alright? Please.”
Elysia’s teasing grin returned, but her voice softened with sincerity.
Elysia: “I won’t, Mum. I’m mature now, remember? You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
Aiaris squinted at her daughter, clearly skeptical, but she couldn’t help smiling.
Aiaris: “You’d better prove it, my mature troublemaker.”
Elysia: “Oh, Mum! Your sweet voice can’t stay mad at me for long!” she said with mock dramatics, leaning in to hug her mother and plant a quick kiss on her cheek.
Aiaris laughed despite herself, kissing Elysia’s cheek in return.
Aiaris: “You’re lucky I adore you, Ely. But don’t push it!”
Elysia stepped back, hands raised in mock surrender.
Elysia: “I swear, no antics tonight. Promise.”
With that, Aiaris moved to join her own friends, leaving Elysia to wander toward her companions, Rya and Osilvis. The crowd was lively, and the festive air buzzed with energy. But Elysia’s mind was far from festive as she approached her friends, her heart heavy with questions she couldn’t escape.
Rya: “Ely! Over here!”
Elysia joined them, her steps lighter but her mind heavy. Osilvis greeted her with a nudge. “So, what’s the verdict? Did your mum lecture you all the way here?”
“Only a little,” Elysia quipped, brushing her hair off her shoulder. “She gave me the usual: ‘Don’t embarrass me, don’t question the ritual.’ The works.”
Rya chuckled. “Sounds about right. She just doesn’t want you getting into trouble.”
“Trouble?” Elysia scoffed. “Trouble is a young fairy about to be burned alive, and everyone’s treating it like a festival.”
Osilvis shot her a glance, her tone shifting. “Ely, not so loud. You know how fairies get about the ritual.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Elysia muttered. She crossed her arms, her eyes drifting back to the Hvan. “It’s just… Decna. She’s our age. Doesn’t it bother you?”
Rya hesitated but shook her head. “She’s happy, Ely. You saw her this morning—she was glowing. Literally.”
Osilvis added, “It’s what she wants. She’s fulfilling her purpose.”
Elysia’s voice lowered, almost to herself. “I just don’t understand why. What’s so special about Valfala that it’s worth this?”
The conversation tapered off as the crowd began to shift. The dancers formed a final circle, the music crescendoed, and the air grew thick with reverence. The ritual was about to begin. Elysia’s friends turned their attention forward, but she couldn’t help glancing over her shoulder, her mind racing with unspoken questions.
As the ritual's gravity settled over the square, the air shimmered with tension. The leader's voice resonated through the silent crowd, each word a solemn invocation of devotion. Elysia’s eyes wandered from Decna to the towering flames and then back to her glowing, serene face. The entire mand was alight with reverence, yet Elysia’s mind buzzed with unease.
"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.
"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, Decna with serene resolve etched on her face, stepping toward the altar.
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.
One by one, the fairies approached Ilvera, touching her glowing arms or placing a hand over their hearts in farewell.
When it was their turn, Aiaris nudged her forward gently. “Ely, don’t linger. Just offer your blessings and move along,” she whispered, her tone a careful balance of affection and urgency.
Elysia approached Decna, the purple glow from her friend’s skin casting soft shadows across her features. Decna’s calmness was unnerving, her radiant smile almost alien amidst the gravity of the moment. When Elysia touched her hand, the warmth was surreal, like holding a sunbeam.
“I thought you’d be busy raising a house full of Auls by now,” Elysia quipped, a smirk tugging at her lips.
Decna chuckled softly. “Elysia, you haven’t changed a bit. Always quick with the jokes.” Her voice was steady, but her eyes gleamed with something deeper—resolve, perhaps, or resignation.
Elysia tilted her head, studying her. “So, why didn’t you tell me? I’ve seen you nearly every day since the last cycle. You couldn’t spare a hint?”
Decna hesitated, her glowing fingers tightening briefly around Elysia’s. “It wasn’t planned. Fliha Auni was meant to be the one, but...she died before the ritual. When the opportunity arose, I volunteered.”
Elysia’s brow furrowed. “Opportunity? That’s what we’re calling this now?” Her voice dropped low, sharp with incredulity. “And since when can someone our age even be chosen? I thought there were rules about—”
“Ely!” Aiaris’s voice cut through her questioning, firm but restrained. “Enough. There are others waiting to give their blessings.”
Elysia shot her mother a look but nodded. “Just a moment.” She turned back to Decna, her voice softening. “Are you sure about this? Really sure?”
Decna smiled, though it faltered briefly. “The Light calls, Elysia. It’s...an honor.”
Elysia stepped back reluctantly, her mother’s gentle hand pressing her shoulder. As they walked away, her thoughts churned. She glanced back over her shoulder, catching Decna’s glowing form, surrounded by reverent whispers and outstretched hands.
Elysia and Aiaris stepped away from Decna, the lingering warmth of her glowing hand left an impression deeper than mere touch. Elysia’s mind swirled with unspoken thoughts. She walked beside her mother, who smiled politely to passing fairies, but Elysia's attention was elsewhere.
Her heart drummed a restless beat. Why Decna? She glanced back at the radiant figure, now surrounded by others offering their farewells. Decna’s serene expression both puzzled and unsettled her. How can someone so full of life, of potential, be so at peace with this fate?
Aiaris broke the silence, her voice a soft murmur. “Ely, you promised. No questions this time.”
“I know,” Elysia whispered back, her gaze fixed on the altar. “I just… I don’t understand how it’s decided. It used to be those who’d lived their lives, raised their Auls. But Decna? She could’ve had so much more.”
Aiaris sighed, her tone balancing patience with frustration. “It’s not for us to decide. The Light chooses, Ely. And Decna accepted. She’s honored, not burdened.”
Elysia stopped in her tracks, causing Aiaris to turn back. “But what if she didn’t want to? What if she felt pressured, or—”
“Enough!” Aiaris’ voice, though still quiet, carried the weight of authority. “This is a sacred moment, Ely. Don’t tarnish it with doubts. Decna chose to honor the Light and her mand. That is all there is to it.”
Elysia bit her lip, suppressing the urge to argue. She looked away, her eyes catching the vibrant glow of the flames that would soon consume Decna. Her mother pulled her gently toward the crowd gathering at the perimeter.
Why can’t I feel that pride? Elysia wondered, her chest heavy with conflicting emotions.
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 Decna, 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 Decna. 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."
Decna 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. 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.