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The archway opened from the side of a mountain onto a rock outcropping that had been shaped and formed into a large stage for elaborate ceremonies such as this. Unlike past ceremonies, today the platform was bare of decorations. The procession that now emerged was to be the only spectacle for the crowd. Beyond the stage was a broad clearing in the surrounding forest; its slow rise provided an unhindered view for the amassed throng of people that filled the meadow around them.
Once beyond the range of Vantaiga’s silence spell, the group was blasted with the full brunt of the cries of the euphoric crowd. Some of them missed their steps as they embraced the noise and reality that buffeted them.
At the edges of the stage stood the entirety of their Order, all ranks and ages of priest and priestess. Tall, proud, and elegantly dressed in colourful embroidered robes, they clapped loudly or thumped staves on the ground as the procession walked out onto the platform. The crowd joined in with a thunderous cheer that sent shivers down the spines of those in white.
Vantaiga stumbled, stifling back tears of awe. Syffox placed his hand on her back to steady her. The crowd was there for her, and she didn’t feel she deserved their praise or the honour they bestowed upon her. After all she had done for the forest and its people, deep down she felt as if she was still just a small farm girl standing at the centre of a world that was growing faster and more menacing than she could handle.
Despite being at the centre of an adoring crowd of thousands, led by an old friend and accompanied by her lifelong companion, she felt very much alone. And soon, she be alone.
Again, she struggled to control a wave of sadness. Syffox pulled her closer to comfort her. Of course, he would know she was having trouble. If only he knew why. But then, if he knew why, they wouldn’t be here, and dust they would become. She looked out over the massive, jubilant crowd and the glorious, towering forest beyond; dust would become of them all.
The group finally came to the far end of the long rock platform. Syffox and Vantaiga, as well as two attendants, formed a row on one side. The disciples in white formed a row opposite them. Mackyntal stepped to the edge of the stage and raised his hands.
The hush that fell over the crowd was more powerful in its silence than in its deafening cheers. An air of intense nervousness filled the stage as the magnitude of the group’s undertaking pressed upon them. Vantaiga again began to tremble. Syffox clasped her hand, his own hand now shaking as well.
Mackyntal’s voiced boomed over the crowd as he used his magic to amplify it. “Children of the forest, let us begin with a prayer.”
The shuffling of the crowd was audible with their numbers as they raised their arms and bowed their heads in the posture of a growing tree.
“Sacred Forest, spread your arms and protect us.
Let your leaves deflect the blistering judgement of Coronus.
Let your branches bear the fierce winds of Vortess.
Let your roots hold back the consuming sands of Aridus.
Provide us your fruit and animals so we may eat,
Your blooms so we may be clothed,
Your wood so we may be sheltered,
Your tranquillity so we may be at peace.
Let us not follow Avarice or be led by Hubris.
Let us never use without respecting,
Never want without understanding,
Never take without giving.
Sacred Forest, all that we have comes from you,
So, all that we are we owe to you.
Your strength is our strength.
Your beauty is our beauty.
With faith, the forest will provide.”
Mackyntal lowered his hands and moved aside. Syffox gave Vantaiga’s hand a squeeze and stepped forward. The departure of his hand’s warmth left her feeling desperate to hold it again, just one more time.
Syffox clasped his hands behind his back and scanned the crowd with a kindly smile; his presence and quiet power filled the forest people with a sense of peace. He spoke casually and softly but used his magic to carry his voice so that everyone in the crowd could hear. No matter how far away, they were given the comforting impression that he was standing right next to each of them, like a soothing father there to guide a child. It was a subtle display of his calming presence and incredible skill at magic, a skill only outmatched in the mortal world by Vantaiga herself.
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“My children, we stand before you on our final day as humble servants of the forest. For centuries, we have worked to grow our forest, from the first shade stand planted by Vantaiga to the tree-covered mountains and plains around us. We have nurtured the forest to create a realm in which we live in peace and harmony, free from the strife and hardship that consumes the world.
“But now our forest grows without our aid. It grows into the realms of the desperate that would take from it without respect. It grows into the realms of the greedy that would hoard more than they need. It grows into the realms of angry men and oppressive gods who could easily destroy all that we have worked so hard to obtain.
“Today, we join with the founder of our forest and high priestess of our faith to ascend to the heavens and take our rightful place among the gods. To obtain from them the recognition and respect our forest deserves and to serve all that would honour and worship it. Together we will teach the world that with faith, the forest will provide.”
Syffox turned to Vantaiga, her face losing some of its colour in her nervousness. She focused on his eyes. They helped put her at ease, lessening the urge to run that was building inside of her. Centuries of studying the forest, magic, people, and the gods still left her feeling starkly unprepared. But she knew as long as she could see those eyes, then she could find the strength to do what she had to do.
Syffox nodded to her and smiled, his face and eyes radiating. It was a look that always chased away her doubts. She walked slowly towards him. He reached out and held her hands. “You have always been my Goddess; now you will be theirs.”
She closed her eyes and allowed herself to feel his love for a moment—the last moment. An overwhelming sadness gripped her, and she squeezed her eyes closed, trying to hold back her tears.
Syffox held her as she shuddered in his arms. “Don’t worry, my love. We will be together forever.”
She composed herself and wiped her tears before finally managing an unconvincing smile. “Yes, my love. Forever.” She stepped back and signalled with a shaky nod that she was ready. She wasn’t, but then she would never be ready for what she was about to do—about to do to him.
Syffox motioned to the two attendants that stood to one side, and they stepped forward. One brought a carved wooden box to him while the other opened it. With a slight wince of pain, the attendant withdrew a delicate headband by the tips of her fingers. The headband was made of finely crafted vines of coloured gold entwined together. In the centre was a large green gem. Wisps of fog trailed from the gem as the attendant carefully handed it to Syffox. He received it delicately by his fingertips with a pained expression.
The gold bands were intensely cold as the magic of the gemstone drew in the heat around it. The back of the gemstone sparkled and snapped as it cast off the energy it collected as raw magic. The gem was called a Mantel of Divinity; its delicate design belied a very dangerous nature. The secret construction of the device had been revealed to Syffox by the god Hydar himself. Once Syffox held the glimmering headpiece, the two attendants walked back to the base of the mountain to be at a safe distance for the coming ritual.
Syffox raised the headband in the air and looked to Vantaiga. She drew in a deep breath to steady herself, nodding again that she was ready. Her stomach knotted with nervousness. But through her self-doubt, she also held a sense of anticipation.
Syffox lowered the headband and pushed it through Vantaiga’s hair. He tried to place the band on as gracefully as possible, but his fingers were becoming numb from its cold. A shudder wracked the high priestess’s spine as the band scratched along her scalp. Syffox adjusted it before finally pushing it to her forehead.
Once he released the bands, the cold metal bit into Vantaiga’s skin. Her head began to throb as the chill spread to her skull. She cringed but knew the discomfort was only momentary. The green gemstone began to radiate as it connected to her as a store for its magical power. A trickle of heat and magic seeped in through her forehead and over her body. She let out a low sigh from the pleasurable flow of power and warmth. Wisps of fog formed around the gemstone and cascaded down a refreshing cool over her face.
Syffox stepped back and offered his hand to the first of the ten in white. It was the woman who had spoken earlier in the antechamber. She walked towards him with a confident stride in her lofty stature.
Together, Syffox and the tall maiden turned to face the crowd as Syffox proclaimed, “The first to ascend with the high priestess is Therra Hathwood, who, like the others, has trained and dedicated her life for this moment. She is here among these chosen few to add her strength and boldness to that of our beloved founder.”
Syffox brought the woman to Vantaiga. Therra looked down at Vantaiga as she held out her hands. The high priestess looked up at her with a smile as she took the young woman’s hands into hers.
With nervous anticipation, Therra inquired, “Ready, Your Grace?”
Vantaiga’s face softened as she said, “Yes.” She found some amusement that the young acolyte would be reassuring her. Secretly though, she welcomed it. The urge to run would not leave her, and the dark void always threatened her thoughts. But the dread and panic were not for her sake, nor was it for the sake of the exquisite young woman standing over her. It was for the one person she couldn’t possibly hurt—though she knew she must—that she doubted herself so much.
She returned her attention to Therra. No matter her fears, for the sake of them all, she had to complete the ritual. She drew in another deep breath and pulled the young woman’s hands slightly. Therra bent lower to Vantaiga. The acolyte moved her hands up the arms of her beloved high priestess to finally rest them on her shoulders.
A deathly silence fell over the clearing as not one of the thousands of witnesses dared move. The only sound came from Therra’s one last trembling breath as she leaned down and touched her forehead to the green gemstone.
They’ve been drinking my future like it’s corp-subsidized coffee. I’m about to make them choke on it.
I’m Dash. My great-grandfather was one of the Fifteen who saved humanity during the System Apocalypse, founding the corps that rule the solar system. That legacy should’ve been mine. Until my father was disinherited and died, leaving us with nothing but a single building on Earth 2.0.
My compatibility tested at 17%. Failure. While classmates advanced to System Academy, I got mining school, fighting bugs for drops. But the 17% compatibility score was a lie. A rival corp has been draining my power.
When a broken System finally manifests, it grants me Hoqalo, a trait to forge gear better than anything factory-made. Now, armed with my tools and my corporate grandmother’s dangerous resources, I’m done fighting for scraps.
They stole my future. I'm stealing it back with interest.
| LitRPG | Cyberpunk | Magitech | Underdog | Book 1 Written |
