14th day of Frostflee, 1367
The sun rose high over the village of Ebonheim, warming the rooftops of thatched houses and dappling light across the interconnected dirt trails. A festive cheer filled the air, fueled by excitement and anticipation. The village, nestled in the heart of Eldergrove forest, buzzed with activity, the villagers busy preparing for the grand festival in honor of their goddess.
Ebonheim stood in the middle of the festive bustle. Around her, the villagers moved with purpose and efficiency; she smiled at their jubilant mood as she watched them work. A few glanced her way and offered smiles and respectful nods in greeting; she waved to them and continued her tour of the village. She wandered from one cluster of people to the next, stopping to offer words of encouragement or praise for a job well done.
After a while, she decided to take a break and enjoy the peace and quiet. She settled down on a nearby bench and closed her eyes, listening to the sounds of the village at work. There was a pleasant breeze, rustling through the leaves above her; she smiled to herself as she leaned back against the bench and soaked up the sun's warmth. As she listened to the sounds of the village around her, her thoughts drifted to the upcoming festival.
It had been a long time coming; the villagers had been waiting for this day for over a month now, ever since she had mentioned to the elders that she was nearing her ascension to the next stage of divinity. She had been excited too, eager to see what awaited her on the other side—but now, as the day drew closer, her nerves began to get the better of her. She had no idea what to expect; there were so many things she didn't know about her role as goddess and the Akashic System had been of little help in providing answers.
A soft voice interrupted her thoughts. "You're lost in thought, o' Goddess." Engin Meric, his eyes crinkling in mirth, approached her. He settled on the bench beside her and took a deep toke from his herb bundle. "What's on your mind?"
Ebonheim grinned. "Just the festival," she replied, "and everything that comes after."
Engin nodded sagely. "Ah, yes, I see," he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "So many preparations to be made—it's no wonder you're lost in thought." He chuckled to himself and blew a smoke ring at the sky. "Still, no reason to fret—this will be a good day for all."
Ebonheim tilted her head, curiosity evident in her voice as she asked, "How do you know?"
Engin shot her a look. "Because you're here." Ebonheim blushed and nodded, biting her lip to hide her smile; Engin's expression softened, and he patted her shoulder in a fatherly gesture. "Now, you're too serious—you need to relax." He stood up and offered her his hand. "Come on, let's go for a walk."
Ebonheim took his hand gratefully and followed him along the path as he chatted idly about the day's festivities and his plans for the village's future. She listened with half an ear as she marveled at how much she had come to care for the villagers in such a short time—she was like a child in her first years of life, eager to learn and experience everything that came her way.
As they walked, they came upon a group of young boys and girls who had stopped to play. One boy held a stick; he was swinging it in slow arcs, moving back and forth as though he were trying to keep his balance on a horse. A girl sat to his right, watching him with a small smile on her face, while two more boys sat on his left. They laughed at his antics and gave him encouragement when he wavered off-balance.
Ebonheim couldn't help but laugh as well; she watched with a smile as the boy stumbled and fell, giggling as he got up again.
They continued their walk, chatting idly about this and that until their conversation was interrupted by Hilda, her striking blue eyes twinkling in joy. "Oh, there you are, my dear," she crooned, moving towards them. She wrapped Ebonheim in her arms and hugged her close before turning to greet Engin. "Thank you for keeping our little goddess company."
Engin grunted and ruffled Ebonheim's hair. "Well, someone had to do something about her endless worries," he grumbled good-naturedly. Hilda shot him a pointed look; Engin rolled his eyes and shook his head in resignation, mouthing a silent prayer before turning back to Ebonheim. "We've finished the preparations for tonight's feast," he said, gesturing towards the village square. "There will be a bonfire and music—the entire village will gather to celebrate your ascension."
Ebonheim smiled brightly, her golden eyes glittering with excitement as she gazed towards the feast hall in the distance. "It sounds lovely."
Hilda nodded in agreement. "It is." She chuckled softly and nudged Engin with her shoulder. "Though we've had to make some last-minute adjustments." She paused and raised an eyebrow at Engin; he groaned and sighed heavily before turning to face Ebonheim.
"There was an unfortunate incident that happened yesterday," he began, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "One of the villagers forgot to lock his shed, and several pigs managed to escape into the forest—there was a bit of a panic, but most had been found." He cleared his throat and fixed his gaze on the ground; when he spoke again, his voice was strained with embarrassment. "There might be a few piglets around the village—nothing to worry about, of course."
"And who was this villager, hmm?" Hilda drawled, her tone light but her eyes sharp as she glared at Engin. "Do tell."
"It was me," he muttered, avoiding both their gazes.
Ebonheim stared at him with wide eyes for a moment before bursting into laughter. She held onto Hilda's arm for support as she gasped for breath and shook with giggles. "I can't believe you forgot to lock your shed!" she wheezed, wiping tears from her eyes.
Engin looked at her in mock outrage. "I was preoccupied," he muttered, crossing his arms defensively. Ebonheim giggled and poked him in the ribs, earning a startled yelp from him; he glowered at her as she ducked away and stuck out her tongue, laughing all the while.
Hilda shook her head and smiled fondly at them both. "Alright, that's enough," she scolded playfully. "There are still more preparations to be made and I came over to ask for Ebonheim's help." She patted Ebonheim's shoulder gently before turning to leave. "If you'd be so kind," she called over her shoulder.
"Of course!" Ebonheim called after her. She turned back to Engin, her expression sheepish. "Sorry for laughing."
Engin chuckled and waved off her apology. "It's fine." He pinched Ebonheim's nose between his fingers, his expression mock-serious. "Now, off you go—there's still much to be done."
Ebonheim grinned and swatted his hand away. "I will." She started to walk away, but turned back to face him one last time. "Thank you, Engin." She flashed him a brilliant smile and waved goodbye, then hurried off to Hilda's side.
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The next day, the vibrant energy of the festival resonated with the early morning chirping of birds and the rustle of leaves as the village stirred to life.
Banners of silk and bunting adorned the thatched rooftops, fluttering in the gentle wind. Each one bore the symbol of their goddess: a delicate sprig of elder tree framed by a crescent moon, representing their hope, their Ebonheim. Stalls brimming with fruits, nuts, and savory delicacies lined the village commons, their enticing aromas wafting through the air.
At the heart of the festivities stood Ebonheim herself, radiating an aura of tranquility. Her iridescent hair caught the sunlight, shimmering like a kaleidoscope of colors as she moved through the crowd, her gold eyes gleaming with joy. This was her first festival, and she was determined to make the most of it.
The cobbled square filled with the sounds of laughter, the clang of goblets, the lilting notes of lutes, and the rhythmic pounding of dancing feet on the worn, earthen floor. Games of strength and wit, dancing circles, and stalls laden with food, all vied for Ebonheim's attention.
A group of children pulled her towards the ring-toss, their giggling faces lit up with excitement. She bent down, her white silken dress pooling around her, to listen to their quick-fire rules of the game, nodding and giggling along with them.
"Aye, lass, ye best watch your aim!" came Thorsten's booming voice, as he strode over, his armor discarded for the day, replaced by a sleeveless tunic and brown trousers. He held up a handcrafted wooden ring, grinning at Ebonheim teasingly. "This is a hard game."
Ebonheim scoffed and snatched the ring from his hand. "Is that a challenge?" She raised an eyebrow at him in a dare; he shook his head in mock horror and backed away as she tossed the ring with a flick of her wrist. It landed squarely in the middle of the peg, and the children cheered. She straightened up, puffing her chest out in pride as Thorsten chuckled and handed her another ring to toss.
They played until Thorsten conceded defeat, handing her the final ring with a resigned sigh. "Ye've bested me." He ruffled her hair fondly, his gruff features softening as he regarded her with a tender smile. "Good game."
Ebonheim winked at Thorsten and beckoned the children over to come pick their prize. They surrounded her in a rush, each clamoring to choose first, their voices overlapping in a jumbled mess of squeals and shouts. Ebonheim laughed and relented, allowing them to pick their prizes from the display of wood and leather bracelets and rings.
Thorsten stepped forward, a wry grin on his face, as the children ran off in a cloud of giggles and grins. "Good aim, lass."
Ebonheim grinned at him and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. "You should know—you're always telling me to be more competitive." She cast him a sidelong glance. "Besides, I had to get my revenge the spar we had a while back."
Thorsten shrugged unapologetically. "Can't blame a man for wanting to see a goddess win at something." He crossed his arms over his broad chest, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "Where to now?"
"To the wood chopping competition!" Ebonheim said with a mischievous grin. She slipped her hand into the crook of Thorsten's elbow as she led him to the clearing where the competition would take place. "This should be interesting."
As they arrived, they found the crowd buzzing with excitement, and the contestants taking their places: four men, standing in a row with axes resting on the flat of their open hands.
"Bjorn's gonna win, as always," Thorsten's voice boomed over the crowd, his face creased into a teasing smile. He patted Ebonheim's hand resting on his arm and chuckled as she rolled her eyes at him. "But who knows—the competition has been growing fierce recently."
Bjorn looked over at them and waved, flashing them a winning smile. Ebonheim waved back, grinning widely; she took a deep breath and prepared to cheer, but Thorsten covered her mouth with his hand and shook his head. "Best not to jinx 'em," he murmured in her ear.
She nodded in agreement, and the competitors set off at the signal to start. They swung their arms with practiced ease; axes thudded into logs as they circled around the log pile.
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The crowd erupted into cheers and roars as Bjorn swung his ax, the strike resounding through the clearing as wood chips flew. In three hefty blows, the log was split cleanly in two, and the crowd went wild. Ebonheim laughed, her claps blending with the villagers'. She squeezed Thorsten's arm affectionately, and he squeezed her hand in return.
Bjorn grinned and accepted the congratulations and cheers from the crowd, laughing and waving to them all. Ebonheim cheered the loudest, jumping up and down as she shouted his name. When he turned to face her, his eyes gleamed with a playful glint. He inclined his head to her, and the crowd parted as he strode towards her, the two meeting in the middle with a firm clap on the back.
Ebonheim grinned at him. "Nicely done. What prize did you win?" she asked, gesturing to the collection of trinkets leftover from Roderick's visit a while back.
Bjorn grabbed a silver bracelet and dangled it in front of her. "This. My wife's been nagging me to get her a gift for a long while now."
Ebonheim eyed the bracelet with mock concern. "Are you sure she'd like this one?" she asked, reaching out to touch the cool metal. "It doesn't seem fancy enough."
Bjorn chuckled and shook his head. "Don't worry about that—she'll love it."
"She'd better," Thorsten said on his approach, "because yer one mistake away getting tossed out of yer house."
Bjorn snorted and elbowed Thorsten in the ribs. "Not my fault she's picky."
Thorsten threw his hands up in surrender and guffawed, the three of them falling into a fit of laughter. Ebonheim wiped the tears from her eyes, shaking her head at them with an exasperated smile as she tried to calm her breathing.
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The festivities continued throughout the day. After the wood-chopping competition, the three of them joined the rest of the crowd in a wrestling tournament. After that, there was music and dancing. Ebonheim found herself on the floor, rolling about with the crowd as they laughed and sang and clapped to the rhythm of the lute and the drum.
It wasn't until late afternoon that she paused to take a breath; she stepped off to the side, to avoid getting crushed, as she heaved air into her lungs. Her cheeks were flushed, and her heart pounded wildly in her chest, but she couldn't stop smiling as the villagers cheered her name and called for more.
Thorsten and Bjorn ambled over to her, their faces flushed with exertion and ale. "Yer a good sport," Thorsten said, gesturing to the crowd with his half-empty goblet.
Bjorn nodded in agreement, grabbing her hand and holding it up in the air. "Aye, a champion!" he boomed, the crowd cheering again as he gestured to Ebonheim. "Let's hear it for our goddess!"
Thorsten elbowed Bjorn in the ribs; Bjorn retorted by elbowing him back before turning his attention to Ebonheim with a beaming smile. "Take a break—we'll watch over things here."
Ebonheim shook her head, her golden eyes sparkling. "No, no," she said, patting them both on the shoulders, "you two go and enjoy yourselves." Bjorn opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off. "Really, I insist."
Thorsten grinned and clapped her on the back. "As ye wish." He pulled Bjorn along with him back to the crowd and held up his goblet in salute to her as she waved goodbye.
Ebonheim sighed happily and leaned against the wall for support as she closed her eyes to soak in the sounds of revelry around her—the roar of laughter, the lilting notes of the lute, and the rhythmic pounding of the dancing feet all faded into the background.
When she opened her eyes, she then turned her attention to a group of children, their laughter chiming through the noise. They were racing around the commons, little legs kicking up dust, cheeks flushed with excitement. Lira was cheering them on, her gentle clapping accompanied by soft words of encouragement. When she noticed Ebonheim watching them, she beckoned her over. Ebonheim excused herself from her companions and joined Lira at the edge of the race.
"Congratulations on winning," Ebonheim said to the winner, a boy with bright blue eyes and dark blonde hair. He puffed out his chest with pride, beaming at her as she handed him a pouch full of sweets. "Here—this is for you." The boy grinned, his eyes sparkling as he tore into the bag, the others joining in with raucous laughter.
"Thank you!" he said, grinning widely as he darted away, the other children trailing after him. Ebonheim waved goodbye to them as they vanished into the crowd, then turned to face Lira. "That was fun."
Lira nodded in agreement. "Indeed." She gestured to the children, her eyes twinkling with affectionate fondness. "They're so energetic, and always so full of life."
Ebonheim nodded in agreement, then glanced at Lira curiously. "Are you enjoying the festival?"
"Very much so," Lira said with a smile. "It's a wonderful celebration—one that we all deserved." She turned to face Ebonheim, her expression solemn as she bowed her head. "Thank you, Goddess, for blessing us with such joy."
Ebonheim blinked and blushed, taken aback by Lira's display of reverence. "You're welcome." She reached out and rested her hand on top of Lira's head; the young druid looked up at her in surprise, her expression tinged with awe. "We all worked hard to make this day as special as possible."
Lira's smile was radiant as she touched the tips of her fingers to her forehead. "That's very kind of you. I look forward to witnessing your divine ascension." She nodded, her expression solemn once more, and departed. Ebonheim watched her go, feeling oddly shy and flushed. She turned to join the elders on the feast hall porch.
As the sun dipped lower, painting the sky with strokes of scarlet and gold, the village was alive with chatter and laughter. A band of musicians had started playing a lively tune on their flutes and drums, their melodies weaving through the air, enticing people to tap their feet and swing their hips. Ebonheim found herself caught in the rhythm, her body swaying with the music.
The aroma of roast meat and baked goods filled the air, as the villagers prepared for the grand feast. Ebonheim's mouth watered at the scent of spiced meats and sweet berries, the promise of a delightful meal making her stomach rumble.
Bogdan, the quiet and steady presence in the council, approached Ebonheim, offering her a goblet filled with honeyed mead. "To our goddess," he raised his own goblet in toast, a genuine smile on his face. The villagers followed suit, their voices ringing through the clearing, "To Ebonheim!"
As she drained her goblet, feeling the sweet liquid warm her throat, she felt the weight of their eyes on her. Their smiles and cheers echoed in her ears as she searched their faces, feeling oddly at a loss for words as their praise filled her with an unexpected warmth.
It hadn't been that long since she first appeared before them. Her first impression was awful—poor Doyle's heart nearly giving out, Thorsten putting her in a cage, her fleeing the village only to come running back while being chased by monsters, and then being interrogated by the other elders.
Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as she thought back on it, but she forced herself to shake off her past misdeeds. Everything had changed since then—they trusted her now. They believed in her, and she wanted to show them how much their faith had meant to her. She would give them anything—everything—if they only asked for it.
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[You've acquired 2 Quintessence from a villager's reverence]
[Quintessence: 7998 -> 8000]
[Quintessence: 8000/8000]
[You have reached the required Quintessence to increase your Divine Rank to 'Lesser God - Ascendant Stage']
The celebration continued, but a change started to take form, a stirring within Ebonheim. The quintessence she had been amassing felt restless, eager to surge and propel her towards her ascension.
Sensing the shift, Hilda appeared at her side, a knowing look on her face as she nodded at Ebonheim. "It's time," Hilda whispered, before tapping the end of her walking cane onto a flat stone on the ground. A resounding chime rang through the air, reverberating through the village square and all the way to the outskirts of the forest. The musicians fell silent and the crowd grew still, their eyes drawn to the sight of the elders and their goddess in the center of the commons.
[Would you like to ascend?]
Ebonheim stood with her eyes closed and hands clasped together, her expression serene as the villagers gathered around her, gazing up at her with expectant eyes. As she inhaled deeply, the quintessence responded to her summons, rushing towards her like a storm surge; her eyes snapped open. Her essence swelled, harmonizing with the accumulated quintessence, merging and morphing into a symphony of divine ascendance.
A brilliant burst of divine energy erupted from Ebonheim, casting a radiant golden light that bathed the forest clearing. Her body levitated, caught in the throes of a power beyond mortal comprehension. Around her, a dazzling aurora erupted, painting the evening sky in hues of celestial blues and purples. It pulsed in rhythm with her heartbeat, a cosmic dance that held the entire village spellbound. The force of her ascension pushed the crowd back, the villagers crying out in awe as they struggled to stay on their feet.
Her dress of white silk fluttered as if caught in a tempest, the fabric rippling with the force of her divine power. Iridescent hair fanned out, strands of light dancing around her, as the surge of quintessence ignited the change. Her golden eyes shone bright as twin suns, the depth of her divinity echoed in her unwavering gaze.
As the quintessence took hold, her physical form shimmered, caught between states. Her skin seemed to glow, the olive tone imbued with a divine sheen. Her silhouette wavered, then solidified, her slender figure clad in a pristine white dress. The gossamer fabric clung to her curves, billowing with the force of her quintessence-infused wind.
[Your Divine Rank has increased from Lesser God - Dawn Stage to Lesser God - Ascendant Stage]
[Your Quintessence has reset to 0. Your next ascension will require you to accumulate 16,000 Quintessence.]
[You have 32 Attribute Points to allocoate]
[Your Health increases by 50% of your base Health]
[Your Essence increases by 50% of your base Essence]
[You are now able to purchase Divine Abilities with the requisite requirement of Lesser God -Ascendant Stage]
[All of your current Divine Abilities increase by one rank]
[You have acquired Divine Ability: Divine Aura (Rank I)]
[The ability is automatically activated upon first acquisition]
[Divine Ability: Divine Aura (Rank I)]
[Effect] Manifests an aura around you. The aura acts as a barrier with 300 Health, 25 Arcane Defense, 25 Divine Defense, 25 Physical Defense, 10 Damage Reduction (All). The aura imposes penalties to any hostile beings without a divine rank: -5 Attack (All), -5 Defense (All), -5% Hit Chance, -5% Block Chance, -5% Dodge Chance. All allies gain +5 Attack (All), +5 Defense (All), and +5% Hit Chance when within 50 meters of you.
[Duration] Until destroyed or canceled
[Cost] 30 Essence
[Requirement] Lesser God - Ascendant Stage
[Restriction] If destroyed or canceled, it cannot be activated again for 1 day
Ebonheim descended gently onto the sacred ground, the glow around her dimming to a soft aura. As her feet touched the soft bed of grass, she breathed deeply, filling her lungs with the scents and sounds of the village. A chorus of gasps and cries sounded around her as she opened her eyes. She tilted her head to the side, as if listening to the melody of the night.
Their wide-eyed expressions, their held breaths, and the quiet that descended so heavily that even the insects had stopped their chirping—all of it made her pause. She bit her lip, hesitating, a thrill of fear and anxiety running through her.
Ebonheim looked on at the crowd, giving a tentative smile as she addressed the stunned onlookers. "Well, what do you think?"
There was a pause, then a ripple, before the crowd erupted into a wild cheer. Ebonheim startled, a soft, surprised "Oh!"
The crowd swallowed her in a sea of embraces and hugs, and Ebonheim laughed as she was passed from villager to villager. As the onslaught subsided, she spotted Engin and the other elders making their way to her. Her expression softened as she turned to them, smiling at each one.
Engin, who was the first to reach her side, embraced her warmly. "Well, that was quite the spectacle." His smile was genuine and sincere, his eyes twinkling with pride. He patted her shoulder gently, and she pressed her forehead against his in a gesture of reverence before stepping away to give the others a chance to greet her.
Hilda hugged her tightly, kissing her forehead as she whispered words of praise and congratulations in her ear. "The village and the forest are blessed by your divine grace," she said, her expression serene. "Your ascension brings us joy—we shall endeavor to live up to your expectations."
Bogdan and Sven shook her hand, both grinning widely as they told her how happy they were for her.
When she turned to Thorsten, however, the man had his usual stoic expression on his face. Ebonheim bit her lip to hide a smile, noting his odd behavior, but remained silent as he regarded her. After a while, he finally nodded to her. "Don't see much change. Maybe just a tad taller, but you're still the same clumsy lass that fell over and spilled a bowl of soup on herself." He reached out and patted her head lightly, his touch surprisingly tender as he smiled at her. "But there's some improvement."
Ebonheim smiled at him as he stepped away to make room for the others, her heart warmed by his words and mannerisms. The villagers returned to their celebration, and Ebonheim spent the rest of the night walking around the village, talking with them all.
By the time she retired to her hut, she was exhausted but happy, the sound of music and laughter echoing in her mind as she started to drift off to sleep. Just before her sweet slumber, the Akashic System suddenly chimed a message that shocked her awake:
[You have reached the required Divine Rank to participate at the Celestial Auction residing in the Sanctum of the Divine Mandala]
[You are invited to attend the next Celestial Auction which will occur in 25 days]
[Eight Lesser Gods and three Intermediate Gods have accepted the invitation to attend]
[Do you wish to accept the invitation?]
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[https://i.ibb.co/jbBjGkT/ebonheim-ascendant-v2.png]
(Image generated using Stable Diffusion and edited with Photoshop)