"They began to dig up the earth with their fingernails, and to tear a black lamb to pieces. The blood ran into a ditch, to summon up the souls of the dead and make them answer questions"

(Satires I.8, Horace, C1st BCE, trans. G. Luck)

----------------------------------------

I had zoned out during the sermon in which the priests went over the standard. It was invocations, followed by a recital of the stories of the goddess before the 'Greater Ritual', as it was called, began. The musicians came up with their instruments and the dancers were also brought to the center. Each of the dancers, me included, were adorned with a powder that was two-parts blessing and one-parts trance induction. They cast some on our feet and hands as well before bringing a ladle of an infusion which we were expected to drink of. It was a symbol of sharing in the food of the goddess, to become the Minor Protector Deities. The entire thing was an act of Theurgy and one of the few times when the priestly rites came down to the town.

The priests then began the invocations further, throwing the offerings into the fire and gesturing for the instruments to be played. I could feel the infusion beginning to kick in. The sounds became louder, and the tips of my fingers and toes starting buzzing. An unending heat began to pour through my body as the song grew louder and more rhythmic. In an attempt to steady myself, I tried to focus on one sound. I chose the cymbals and so began the dance.

It was first circular, multiple rotations on the foot and the fire itself. The grain mandalas hurt under the foot as we spun around. I could feel the sharp parts digging into the skin. The girl next to me had practically lost herself, her hair in a frantic mess around her face as her body swayed back and forth. The songs and chanting grew more over time, and it was only a matter of time before I fell to that same trance on the periphery of my mind. It was only when a cymbal crashed at the right time, right pitch and right point of the song that I fell deeper, the shrill echoing through my body.

It was clear that this wasn't the village. It was somewhere in a forest clearing in the center of which was a fire. The wood smelled sweet, but the air did not change. It was heavy as it settled on the shoulders and head. I tried to step forward but heard a crunching under my feet. I looked down, seeing an animal bone that was weakened under the sun. An animal bone, in the middle of a forest with a fire didn't bode well but it didn't seem like I had a choice on this vision.

Behind the fire, I caught the face of a man who was chanting on his own, casting strange things into the fire. They created potent fumes of smoke that left the air smelling woody and clear. I don't think he saw me, but I could see him well. He stood up to his full height, quite nearly hitting his head on the lowest branches of the tree. He was an absolute giant of a man. He had wide shoulders, height but was notably skinny. His hair was disheveled and clung to his body, probably to the sweat from the fire. The black colour only seemed to drain the remaining light of his face. He looked, by every means, ghostly. His eyes were surrounded by dark circles, their dark-brown barely lifted by the crackling fire. What attracted my attention were his hands.

They were long and bulky but were also notably dirtied and stained. It looked as though he had been digging frantically in something, but the brownish-red stains showed that it was probably not dirt.

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

I don't know when the vision decided to transport me somewhere else, but I was there. It was figure hunched over a pit. Upon closer inspection, the figure had matted fur and, the pit, had a body of a deer. Its fur stained with its blood, the organs ripped out as it bled into the pit. The animal-creature devoured the meat hungrily. Its eyes were glazed over with bloodlust and that's when it finally saw me. It turned around and looked at me but also passed me. I heard it then, the songs and the crashing of the cymbals and the screams of concern. I looked back at the creature, its bloodstained muzzle contorting with a delirious snarl.

"Wake up, Tam, come on!"

I woke up to the sight of Gerad sitting over me, slapping my face insistently. When he saw that I was coming to, he let out sigh of relief and planted his face in my chest. He slumped against me, holding his chest as though I was threatening him with a heart attack. My vision was still blurry, but I could make out the silhouettes of the priests huddled together in the corner of the center. Ram was at my side in an instant with a cup of water. Gerad looked up at him wearily. I had never seen the two of them so frantic. It made me realize that we were actually adults and now just kids, like we used to be.

"We nearly lost you there, Tam," Gerad muttered. Ram helped me sit up and my first instinct was to fall forward. He eventually propped me up against Gerad who held me still as Ram put the cup to my lips. The water could've been swill or the nectar of the gods, but I didn't care. The feeling of the coolness on my lips was enough to send me into a rage, grabbing the cup and chugging down the drink with zeal. Gerad snatched the cup from my hands, some of the water spilling down my chin.

"Careful there, don't want to vomit it up," Gerad reprimanded. There was a gruff tone to his voice that I hadn't heard before, not in our entire life.

"What happened?" I slurred, coughing as the water tried to wet my mouth and get rid of the harsh cotton mouth. I couldn't identify it, but the water also mixed with some weird metallic taste in my mouth.

"We don't know. You were dancing but then slipped out of the circle. The priests didn't try to stop you, but when you started climbing into the fire pit, they tried to grab you. You began screaming about halfway through, calling about something that would come and take the flesh and blood as its own. The priests thought you were possessed and giving a prophecy, so they tried to let you go," Gerad looked over, taking a deep breath. He was holding something back.

"You started crawling around the circle like a dog. One of the people brought bread for the goddess and you ripped it to shreds like an animal, eating it without a care in the world. One of them brought a lamb for the goddess and..."

I looked over and saw the remnants of bread but also red hand prints on the floor. I swallowed, taking the leap and looking down at my hands. They were reddened, dried clumps under the nails and on the tips of my fingers.

"You have some on your lips, we wanted to clean it off, but the priests told us not to."

"What the fuck?" That was all I could say. My hands and feet began to burn again, and I pulled my legs into my chest. It burned to breath, and I was breaking down into a sobbing mess. Gerad and Ram wrapped themselves around me, trying to comfort me. I looked up, my sight blurred with the tears, and I saw an elder standing before me. He was looking down at me with soft, but hardened eyes. It was the eyes of a father who had seen a lot in his age.

"You will have to speak to the priests about this, but we need to make sure the raw meat doesn't sicken you," he urged, looking over his shoulder. He turned back and squatted down, grunting with the effort.

"You are quite special, you know that? We've only had about three or so visions this year, but none so strong as you. The priests seem to think you were possessed by an animal form of the goddess."

"Animal form?"

"Even priests have their secret practices, but I want you to be courageous. This is only the beginning, it seems."