The moment Hirow exited the hut, he knew the star festival had begun. A myriad of moving colors filled the streets as people danced in long robes filled with illustrations of the stars and sun. Others were on rooftops hanging lanterns that illuminated the dancers with light matching each hue of the paper. The beat of drums and the roars from the people came crashing together like the waves of the sea in a brilliant explosion. The tremendous noise came along with the smell of savory meats that all came rushing over Hirow. The whole scene contrasted silent binding prayers that had taken place just moments before. The middle road that bisected the village was filled with a sea of people as free as the constellations above them. They were no longer bound by the mundane tasks of each day, for tonight was a night of celebration.

Upon seeing the sight, Hirow couldn’t help but begin to smile. Even if what they were celebrating didn’t fully seem right, the beautiful atmosphere always lifted his spirits. The resplendent array of people in front of him was such a joyful sight in light of what had just happened. With that, he stepped off Haddrung’s doorstep and joined the crowd before him.

Hirow made his way around the front of the crowd towards the tables of food. Each shop and household he passed was empty. Everyone had come out except for Haddrung. As long as he could keep in the shadow of the houses, he could avoid any confrontation before he got some food. After listening to Haddrung’s story for most of the day, Hirow’s stomach growled in anticipation of the feast. Just as the wooden tables brimming with food came into sight, someone called his name.

“Hey, Hirow,” Clement said as he came out of the crowd behind him.

He tried to force a smile to hide the fact that he was starving. Clement came closer, grinning cheek to cheek.

“Where were you? I've been searching ever since I got off work.”

Hirow paused, then replied, “I’ve been talking with a friend.”

“Do you have friends other than me? I’ve never heard of them.”

“Yes, I do have other friends,” Hirow glowered.

“Good, it's nice to see you finally branching out. So who is this friend? Is it a girl!” Clement said, leaning forward. “If so, you have to introduce me.”

“No, it's not a girl.”

Clement leaned back on his heels, “That's disappointing, maybe one day you’ll make a friend that’s worth introducing to me.”

“And no one else other than a girl is worth introducing to you. I think you're the one that needs to start branching out.”

“Maybe so, but I’m still friends with you, aren’t I.”

“Well, yes.”

“Then that's enough for me right now,” Clement said, kicking the dust off the road. “Also I can see you eyeing the tables, so go get some food. I promised I would meet a girl, so I’ll hang out with you later tonight.” Before Hirow could slip in another word, he had run off, merging into the rest of the crowd. Only a girl could get him to run off that fast, Hirow thought. I might as well eat before he comes back.

The dark wooden tables behind him had numerous helpings of food spread out on ligneous platters. An assortment of meats was arranged on the left side of the table, leading down to a cornucopia of vegetables from this year's harvest. From chicken to poultry to corn, the star festival required it all, but it had not always been this way Hirow remembered.

The past few years had been years of plenty, and people had always feasted at the festival, but there had been a time when this wasn’t the case. Ten years ago, there had been a famine that lasted for nearly two years. The priests had little power back then but still guided religious ceremonies. The only thing that sustained the village was a few passing merchants, but near the end of these two years, the people became desperate and were looking for help. The village had less and less to give, and soon merchants stopped coming altogether. One by one, the masses began to turn to the priests, who seemed to be the only possible saviors. They were cautious at first, but after more people began attending their ceremonies, they started making empty promises. The results didn’t happen as quickly as they promised, but the people had nothing else to cling to. The priests used the excuse that their worshipers weren’t devout enough, so people did as they asked. Summer came and ended with a plentiful harvest, and everyone believed they had nothing else to thank but the priests. To this day, their promise has never seemed to fail.

Remembering it was still painful as his parents had died because of it. Of course, he was thankful it had ended. Yet he was furious that the priests had cast him off when he had pleaded with them to bring his parents back. He had hoped that they could do anything. After all, they had ended the famine. All they had said to him was, that if he continued to obey Lumen’s laws, then his parents would watch over him. With a wave of the head priest’s hand, he was dismissed and never spoken to again by those old men. Now no longer a child, he realized they couldn’t resurrect his parents, nor had they ended the famine. The whole situation was just unbearably convenient for them. If they could pull it off again, then maybe that would be a miracle.

Now wasn’t the time to dwell on bitter feelings, with a feast ahead of him. Hirow started with the meat on the far end of the table and went down, piling up on his wooden plate. He found a table furthest away from the pulpit the priests would be preaching from. Just as he started, a man sat down on the other end of the table, bumping the edge and shifting Hirow’s plate. He glanced up, slightly annoyed, and saw him wrapped in a drab hooded cloak. He continued eating, occasionally looking up to see if the man had moved, but he stayed still. After he had finished eating, the man was still in the same position as when he’d sat down.

Hirow put his plate aside and slid closer to the other end of the table, “Why aren’t you with the rest of the crowd? The priests are going to start speaking soon.”

The man turned to face Hirow, lifting his legs over the bench with a groan and placing them under the table. “I'm not here to listen to them,” he said, in a gravelly voice.

He could see the man’s face, but it wasn’t anyone he recognized. “So why else would you come?” Hirow said.

“I’m a merchant. I heard a big celebration was happening in this town and thought this would be a nice break from my travels. This is a yearly thing, right? At least that's what people on the road told me.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“So time for me to ask you a question. Now I’m all for having fun and being social, but there must be a reason everyone celebrates a festival this big.”

“The priests ended a famine ten years ago, so they’re all celebrating the abundance brought by them,” Hirow said dryly.

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He chuckled, “That doesn’t seem like the reason you're here.”

“Well, I guess I’m here for the same reason you are, to try and take a break from the monotony of everyday life .”

“Well, good luck with that.” The man stood up and gazed towards the moon. “It seems it's time for me to go. I’ve seen enough. It was nice talking to you.”

The man walked out towards the darkened fields away from the village.

Hirow yelled after him, “Sir isn’t the road, the other way? You said you had to continue your travels.”

The silky moonlight kept him in view for quite a bit longer, but Hirow didn’t bother to call out again. Without turning back, the man kept going deeper into the darkness until he was another shadow in the night.

What a strange man, he thought to himself. I could find Lantamer, but I don’t feel like searching for him now. Hirow sat back down and saw that the crowds had begun to gather around a wooden podium. Everyone fell silent as if something horrid had just taken place. Hirow could hear many deep hollow steps as a group of old men, dressed in white and gold stepped up onto the wooden stage. Each of them moved slowly as their heavy robes and sashes swayed with rhythmic timing. The gold that was embroidered onto each of their clothing shone like the sun at dawn as they reflected the deep orange light coming from the lanterns. The one in front carried a burdensome blue leather book that was decorated with bright stars that folded and curved in the light wrapping around the binding. Once all twelve of them had filled the stage the one carrying the book stepped forward and waited with a stern face that demanded the audience's attention, as well as their respect. After a moment of silence, the priest set the book down on the pulpit with careful attention and slid his fingers through the pages gently as if they were to disintegrate into dust. The priest cleared his throat and moved his lips as the deep lines on his face stretched and contracted with a rubbery elasticity. Hirow turned towards the darkened fields and groaned in disgust.

With a dramatic flair and energy that seemed beyond his age, the priest raised his hands above his head and began in a booming voice that echoed down the street and penetrated every ear. “We gather here today to celebrate the grace of the Gods. As I am sure you all know, ten years ago, a famine swept our land, killing many and leaving our fields desolate. Then as you became devout servants, the Gods lifted this curse on the land and heard our humble cries. Our land has been blessed since that day thanks to your everlasting, unshakable conviction.” He paused and left the audience to revel in their pride, then exclaimed, “But this era of prosperity will not last if everyone doesn’t remain faithful. Some have become lackadaisical. Fewer are attending our ceremonies. Fewer are reaching out to others in faith. Fewer are praying. Less food is appearing at the monuments in reverence to the Gods. And their patience is waning. If we do not correct this, another calamity will be upon us without warning. Their vengeance will be carried out, and the darkness shall consume us once again. Those who uphold the high standard of faith will be lifted above all others and praised among the stars.”

“I am truly glad at how many people came together to celebrate, yet this festival is but a small stepping stone to pleasing the Gods. Along with this festival, we should continue our other practices. We should not do what pleases just us but everything that pleases the Gods. The natural desires of man are carnal, touched by the darkness that lies far to the east. The false creator lies dead in the birthplace of humanity, but its darkness still lies in every one of us. Yet despite our fallen state, the merciful God’s wish for us to restore our light. Each celestial body in the sky is one of our ancestors that has overcome this carnal state and has become like the Gods. I encourage you to look up and try to count the number of stars in the sky.”

The crowd looked up as the priest raised his head and marveled. Even Hirow, off in the distance, gazed up. The stars shone as bright and numerous as a light refracting through a kaleidoscope. They scattered and glowed like the embers of a fire, each floating placidly in the black murk above. The blackness enveloped each star, making it brighter than the last, spreading throughout the sky like charcoal on a white canvas of spirits drifting to meet their creator.

Out of wonder, Hirow started counting each one and soon became lost deep in thought. The priest continued, capturing the attention of the crowd, while Hirow remained fixed on the sky.

“As you can tell the celestial bodies above us are as innumerable as blades of grass or grains of sand. As shown by our ancestors, it is not hard to achieve salvation. If it were difficult, we would only have the light of the moon given to us by Luna, who distrusts men, only giving her light on occasion. Unlike the moon, the stars never fail us. Our ancestors have faith in us, and we shall not disappoint them. The Gods allow us salvation to continue to guide others even in death. It is a selfish folly to not desire this salvation. Each of you must uncloud your souls until they shine as bright as the stars. Unshackle yourselves from this mortal circumstance and find the light that has been hidden by the false creator.”

The priest's cheeks sagged as he frowned upon the audience. Studying them carefully, he gripped the podium with his bony hands. “That is the reason why I am concerned for you. We must cut the problem at its root; selfishness and slothfulness. Those who disobey these commandments must be selfish, and those who see no need for our commandments are without intent. Without direction. But do not be worried my humble disciples, the darkness that clouds your souls also clouds your minds. To remove the darkness within, we must live with intent and conviction. The first step is to recognize this and know our minds have been veiled by the false creator. The second step is to invite an intent that shall uncloud your mind. Our ceremonies each week provide such direction. It is there you will receive enlightenment in quite the literal sense. We shall enlighten your souls and prepare them to be cleansed after death. For as long as we remain in this mortal existence, the touch of the false creator shall never fully leave our souls. Third, with dictated intent, you shall lead life to its end. Oh, how joyous it will be when the day comes for your soul to be cleansed. Through these plain steps, we can rise above the nature of man and avoid another calamity similar to ten years ago.”

The priest carefully closed the book, resting his hand upon it, exasperated from his previous outburst. Sighing, he said, “Heed these words as a warning and as gospel. I will speak to you tonight about one last thing. The heretics among us are the most selfish and slothful of men. They embrace the grip of the false creator.”

Hirow took his eyes off the stars and glared at the priest, clenching his fist.

The priest glanced back at Hirow saw his anger, and slightly curled the edges of his mouth up. Then, with a serpentine movement, he turned his head back towards the crowd, “I give a warning to these people. They will not last long among the righteous. Their lies and falsehoods cannot trick the devout. For those who wish to lead a life without intent, their darkness shall not spread. For those who wish to abide in the dark, they will only bring calamity to themselves, and if they attempt to sway those trying to achieve salvation, they will be dealt with swiftly, without warning, and mercy. They can wallow in their sins and disillusionment but they may not mingle with Lumen’s children.” After raising his voice again, he let it trail off, “We, the holy order of Lumen, issue this as a new commandment to protect the people and lead them to the celestial bodies above.”

Clasping the book in his hand the priest finished, “May our souls find peace in the stars above. In Lumen’s name, it is so.”

The crowd below joined together and repeated the phrase in unison, “In Lumen’s name, it is so.”

Hirow felt confused, panicked, frightened, and angered. Those conniving old men on their pompous thrones, after ten years, had finally taken action. His thoughts were scattered. He didn’t know which emotion he should be feeling now. What would they do if they caught him? The priests weren’t ones for torture, but they did like to make public examples. Death would be the worst that could happen but still, it seemed like an extreme punishment. Even though they didn’t state it, a public execution would be the most beneficial and easiest means to get rid of the heretics. Others are wary of the priests but their resolve wasn’t strong enough. They would be shaken easily by such a threat. Of course, there was always the option of masquerading as a devout follower, following along with their ceremonies, paying tithe, and listening to their nonsensical ramblings week after week. Giving in to their threats would only rub and rub on him till he became a dull stone that fit perfectly in this house of lies they were building. That's what they wanted, to take his life or to take his dignity. His dignity was one of the only things that made his life worth living, and he much rather they took his life before that. Yet there is still a third option that would work for the time being. He would avoid contact with anyone who is deemed a devout follower until he figured out his next steps. Yet Clement, one of his only friends, would still try to seek him out. There was no changing his mind even now. Clement had his comfortable place in the village and he did not. Hirow didn’t want to admit it but he knew he might have to leave the village along with anyone in it, including Haddrung and Clement.