Cold winds blow across a plain crossed by multiple rivers. The skies are clear, the pale yellow sun shining down upon a massive gathering of people. In the center is an ornate circle of stones with twelve individuals surrounding a thirteenth. The central figure has a pure white robe, while the others are black with red designs on them that tickle the mind. Memories of things not quite fully remembered. In front of each black robed figure is a golden chalice. Shuffling in place to keep warm are thousands of peasants in a massive group surrounding the circle.
“Noon has come, and Solaris continues to his weakest. Step forward, and place a drop of blood in the chalice.” Magic amplifies the voice of the central figure, and the peasants move forward to obey, though in a surprisingly coordinated manner. Lines swiftly form, and things proceed smoothly. The peasant walks up, pierces their finger on a spike on the chalice, and massages a drop of blood into the cup. They then move on, making room for the next. This cycle continues seemingly endlessly as the tired winter sun moves across the sky. Arcane lights flare when the sun sets, giving the spectacle a hellish purple glow. Men, women, children. All step forward to offer their blood to the cups.
Thinning now, the final portions of the crowd add the last drops to each cup. Though the peasants don’t realize, it is nearly an hour before midnight. “My brethren.” The central speaker talks in a melodious voice tinged with excitement. “Here, at Sekigahara, on the longest night of the year, we start the ritual that shall elevate us to godhood. Drink the blood offered, and channel it’s power. Solaris is at his weakest, and cannot stop us. Tonight, we ascend!”
Despite their enthusiasm, the black robed figures can only drink so fast. Nearly a half hour passes as they struggle to drain all the blood from the enchanted gold, spelled to keep the blood fresh and pure. Power like they have never known flows through them, and the manic grin from the central figure confirms that he can see the power as well. As the last one sets down the chalice, licking their lips in satisfaction, the central figure continues.
“Now, we may begin. Channel the beast, my brothers! Call upon the blood consumed, and draw it forth for our mission! Hexsangiunate!”
“HEXSANGUINATE!” The horrible word is mirrored by the twelve, as they turn and stare back to those who have gifted blood to the chalice. As the pulse of magical power, visible to even those with no magic, surges forward faster than a horse can run, those that it touches contort in a rictus of agony. Mouths open in silent screams, the ghostly figure watching is horrified to see the truth. Wherever it moves along the peasants, blood is streaming from any open orifice. Mouths, eyes, nose, ears. It matters not, as the streams leave behind rapidly drying corpses, they start to fuse. What starts as a small thread of blood rapidly becomes a thick rope, a gentle stream, a raging torrent. These torrents collide above the white figure. Despite the ferocity with which they clash together, not a single drop is spilled. Instead, a massive sphere of blood fills the sky, large enough that the moon mirrors its color. Those across the land not associated with the ritual tremble in fear, though they know not why. Unable to escape, the watching figure is pulled back to see the look of ecstacy on the face of the central figure.
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“Yes! YESSSSS! I CAN FEEL THE POWER!” Hidden from his view by the very blood they have conjured, clouds appear above the ritual. Red flicks of lightning light it from within, but it bides its time.
“It is time. Together, we can do the unthinkable!” The central figure shouts, arms wide open. “I hereby cast out my name! For after tonight, it shall be meaningless! Tonight, I call forth the power of the blood to transform me! I cast off my mortal shackles and embrace the divine! By the power of these twelve, controlling the power of thousands, I baptize myself in the power of blood! Tonight, I claim my divinity! Solaris shall be my counter, and the winter solstice shall be the birth and peak of my power! I! AM! SANGUINIS!”
Before the blood could baptize the central figure, bolts of red lightning streaked downward, turning it from a vibrant red to a dark black. The anger of a god echoed in the roar of thunder as the sphere was continuously bombarded. As the final bolts descended, they branched from the circle and struck each of the twelve.
“CURSE YOU! YOU HAVE BETRAYED THE POWERS I HAVE GIFTED YOU! FOR THAT, YOUR FATES WILL EVER BE CURSED!” As the corrupted blood dropped and covered the central figure, staining his pristine robes, a shaft of sunlight miraculously appeared. “You shall ascend to godhood, of that I can’t prevent. Blood and Darkness shall be your domain, and ever shall I be your bitter enemy. Welcome to the Pantheon, brother.”
“You twelve shall be the first of the cursed. Never again shall the sun welcome you. Twisted creatures of the dark, my light shall ever weaken you. As blood called you into this world, so blood shall be your sustenance. You have twisted my magics, and now shall only be able to use those twisted magics of your new god. For this betrayal of life, all living things shall instinctively fear you and your creations.”
“Though you have betrayed me utterly, I am bound by who I am to offer forgiveness. A path to redemption may always be open, and I shall allow Sanguinis to extend your life that you may one day return to the light. This offer will belong to those who willingly accept your curse. For you, the original twelve, no such offer shall be given. Enjoy your time, for it is limited. Death shall claim you should one of two things come to pass. Either fifty years to the day of siring your tenth child, or one thousand years from this day, whichever comes first will cause death to claim you.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
I bolted upright in my bed with the sound of the morning trumpet wake up call, heart thundering in my chest. “You ok Brandon?” I looked over to see Clint staring at me, a look of concern on his face.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” I said, slightly out of breath. “Just had a weird dream. I’m sure I’ll forget about it by the time breakfast is done.”