Donovan awoke before the sounds of hollow clicking filled the village. His head ached from the numerous drinks that blacked him out the previous night. His body ached from the countless bowls of foraged food he ate with his work buddies. The sun had yet to rise, but he could not sleep, for today was a special day for him. After the sun had risen entirely in the sky, he would be granted a blessing and his history would be marked on his family crest for his future descendants to see. An important and restless day for anybody, it was the day that each and every person of the world worked towards and looked forward to. Soon, he can forge his own history and create his own legend, just as his father and his grandmother, and every grand before them.

Looking to pass time until Ellie arrived, he stood from his bed while humming a prayer. He groped his way through his house to the crest, despite its small size he tended to stub his toe when he forgot what lay where. Feeling his way to his wall mount, he gripped it by the sides and took it off its hook. He let the axe fall off its small holders onto the bed, flipping the mount around and grabbing the handle on its back. On his arm, it functioned as a shield, the painted front of it pointed away from him, showing his crest to the world. Anyone who had not known his father would simply see a green redwood tree upon a black background, those that knew his ancestors would see their story written out through the roots of the tree. It was the magical painting of each family crest, always displayed with pride by every intelligent lifeform. His father had written plenty of stories before he died, some about how the crest would shield him from the breath of dragons or how the paint would come alive to distract the gazes of giants that he slayed. Donovan never doubted the legitimacy, as the crest told him the same stories that his father did.

He waited until sunrise, humming a rhythm to his father and mother. The song he hummed was one he heard many times in his childhood, something his father would hum next to him when it thundered outside. It was calming, a soft symphony written to honour their god. His mother also had her own songs, ones that would honour her own form of worship, but they all contained words and would be blasphemy for him to sing as he can only honour his own.

When the first knocking of a woodpecker reverberated through the village, he was the first outside his door. Lining up behind a short line for the water barrel, he was congratulated once again by the villagers who past him by. Even the cold water couldn’t shake the excitement off his face, his mind racing to predict what blessing he might receive. When his head left the water, a woman stood next to him.

Wearing a fine silk dress was the town church caretaker, her white robes with yellow trimming reflected her high status. She wielded a beautiful smile for Donovan, who was surprised to see her outside of the community church.

The silence didn’t last very long between them, “Hello Donovan,” she said, her voice as fine as the silk she wore, “I have already prepared the church for you today and it is ready when you are.” Nodding and bowing when she finished, she turned toward her home, but she stopped before she got out of ear shot, “Don’t forget to change into something nice.”

Looking down at his clothing, he still wore the tunic he used for sleeping as usual, but tears and dirt stains that weren’t there the day prior were on full display to the few people awake. Slightly embarrassed, he hurried his way home before the rest of the village awoke. Thankfully Ellie had not yet arrived when he got back, entering inside and taking his dirty tunic off to be washed another day, putting on his work shirt and tunic that lay upon the wooden floor, he was ready to start the day again.

Opening the door, Ellie stood with a bird on her shoulder, her foot tapping impatiently. When she saw it open, she almost helped tear it off the hinges, her arms wrapping around Donovan as the bird flew away in shock.

“Congratulations Don’! You can get your blessing, today right? My dad told me you finished your goal!” She said, her arms holding him still as a rock, when he nodded, she almost jumped in joy, “Yay! What do you think you will get? Oh, let me make a guess first,” She walked inside the home, sitting in her usual spot on his bed and gazing at the ceiling.

She seemed deep in thought, it was clear to Donovan that her mood darkened as a thought passed her mind, his hand was already on her shoulder when she spoke up, “Do you think you will get another life objective?” Donovan sat beside her at the sound of her question, his hand left her shoulder, wrapping around her into a half hug.

Resting her head on his shoulder, she thought for a moment as her contagious smile reappeared on her face, “If that’s the most likely case, then I will just have to go with you! After all, my objective says nothing about staying in one place. I can complete it as long as there is wood to work with, and I doubt anything will bring us to an arid place.” She had already jumped to her feet and grabbed him by the hand, “You will have to be my knight in shining armour though Don’, woodworkers aren’t much good at fighting.”

He was pulled to his feet, and then into a hug, the uncomfortable itch of his clothing was overcome with the softness of Ellie’s embrace. He no longer cared for what blessing or potential task he was given by his god, since he will have Ellie by his side regardless, everything will work out.

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His confidence did not last long as the hours passed, even with Ellie by his side, the anxiety grew in his heart. His daily routine had been broken, it felt weird that every detail of his regular day changed from something he was doing for years, into a jumbled mess of unknowns and questions. What was he to do? He did not have a task to rely on or guide him in the day. What if he were to stumble into a situation he cannot handle? What if he were to end in a place so foreign and unknown where nothing ever stayed the same? What if-

Three squeezes of his hand broke him out of his panic, Ellie’s left hand wrapped around his right, calming him with the same language of love they had always used in public. He squeezed three times back and hummed a deep tone, she responded with two and a hum of her own. His worries evaporated and drifted away like a dandelion seed on the wind. They had walked their second lap around the village already, passing by the same houses and taking the same route each time. When they reached the same stand of the same food seller, they bought the same bag of the same trail mix. Donovan would always reach for his coin purse, only to be reminded by Ellie that he forgot it, something she never reminded him to grab. Such was their routine, usually done after both had finished working for the day. With the sudden absence of Donovan’s objective and his growing anxiety, she offered to do it until mid day.

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Neither of them tired of the task, but by the tenth time they reached the food stand, Donovan’s belly was telling him it was fine to let this part go for now. The sun quickly reached a width away from the peak of it arc, and they had to part. Ellie waved him away, multiple bags of trail mix in her arms as she watched him head toward the church. Turning away, she headed home with a smile, excited for whatever the day had in store for them.

Arriving at the church, Donovan took in the sight of its red exterior. It sat halfway into the ground, five steps leading down to the door, which was a rectangular cut of wood. The planks of wood that made up its frame and walls did not have a single speck of dirt or stain, and the thatched roof was orderly. Donovan had only been there once, when he received his first life objective, but the appearance had not changed a single bit. He took comfort in the familiarity and nostalgia, opening the heavy wooden door and stepping inside.

A fur rug lay in the middle of the floor, different furniture was stacked at the sides for the use of other practices, but for today it was all his. Nearly a dozen cloth banners hung from the eaves holding up the roof, upon each banner was a crest that represented the god each villager worshipped, identical to their family crest. Donovan’s banner hung between two, contrasting one with a white twig and chisel with a blue background, and another with a blue halberd on a black background.

Removing his own banner from the hook, he folded it and brought it to the rug, placing it in the middle. Avoiding the rug itself, he knelt in front of it like a soldier would to a king, his hands were held over his ears, eyes sealed shut, and mouth closed. He hummed a prayer, and the surroundings went dark.

The world shuddered like it was a chilly winter night, if you paid close attention, you would have easily noticed it. Even those on the other side of the world had felt it move through their feet.

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Such a terrifying thing it was. The formless form and its basalt throne were present, their existence was not unnoticed by Donovan but he did not move an inch. The limbs of nothing reached out to him, the eyes of nothing gazed at him, and the mouths of nothing curled their tongues of nothing to give him his blessing.

Donovan could not sense anything, none of his 5 senses worked to interpret what was happening. Only his 6th sense responded, awoken and unlocked by the presence of the formless form that created it. It was a tingling sensation in his throat, like an itch that would make you scratch until you tore skin and muscle. The tingle hummed words to his brain, which interpreted the information in the form of a small box. Donovan could see the box; it was viable to him even with his eyes closed, like it had been carved into his eyelids and backlit with a candle. Such a terrifying thing it was.

New life objective received: reclaim the lost ones

New sub-life objective received: reclaim a single lost one

Blessing received: Limbs of the formless

Your form has strengthened to the following representation, relative to others with an equal number of blessings:

Parameter Statistic Strength Formless Constitution Above Average Dexterity Below Average Intelligence Average Wisdom Slightly Above Average Charisma Far Below Average

As quickly as he got there, he was gone. The formless form forced him out of its domain, he was back in the church and kneeling on the floor. He lifted his knee off the floor and sat on his behind, carefully opening his eyes. Details flooded his brain, overstimulating him. He swiftly closed his eyes, not daring to open them. Humming a prayer, he felt an invisible stress lift off his shoulders. His left eye opened just a crack, the world looked normal again and the stimulation was lessening. After a minute he was final capable of fully opening his eyes, taking his hands away from his ears, and standing up. He assumed it was the price of being in the presence of his god. Such a terrifying thing it was.