The Shrine

The circle of drummers, made up of priests and acolytes gathered for this most holy of ceremonies, was shaped in a large circle around the Shrine of Nivyn. The drums began, the deep rhythmic beats reverberating and echoing off of the trees and the stones of the shrine. Lit torches, driven into the ground within the circle of drummers, had their flames flicker and move with the constant drum beats, almost seeming to dance with the sound

This shrine, located in the Amberroot Forest was not large, but sacred. A single raised metallic platform with a basin of cold metal, rusted and pitted from years under the elements. The first priests of Nivyn the Clement, led here by the grace of The Lady, had found this shrine and had consecrated it, laying the very stones that surrounded the basin today; the basin whose water was holy and marked a man’s transition not only from boy to man, but from Disciple to Priest.

The ceremony had begun.

Adrius stood outside of the circle in the darkness looking in, his mentor at his side. The priest Ozias, clad in rust red robes, simply gave him a nod and a gesture.

Since his birth, Adrius had been deaf, his ears unable to hear the loudest snap of timber or the faintest squeak of a mouse. Ozias, his mentor and the one who taught him everything he knew, had learned to communicate with this disciple through written scraps of parchment or simple gestures. But, after these many years under his tutelage, speech seemed to be an unnecessary luxury.

As Adrius, clad in a hooded robe of ivory, strode into the circle of drummers, their pace gradually quickened. Though Adrius could not hear, he could feel the drums play around him. The sound echoed and shook his bones, the energy of the drums seemingly shot into his very blood. Even his nervous heartbeat that had already threatened to pound its way out of his chest seemed to slow and take on the slowly increasing rhythm of the drums that surrounded him. At times he had to remember to continue to breathe, the relentless and almost magical pace of his heart leaving him winded.

Would The Lady even truly accept him? Was he even worthy to be accepted by her? Ozias had told him that no Acolyte had ever failed to complete the ceremony, but that didn’t put the butterflies in Adrius’s stomach at bay. He hadn’t always been the most pious.

His hands brushed the stones of the archway to his left and right as he approached the basin, praying wordlessly. The pace of the drums around him had begun to grow to a crescendo as Adrius pulled the ivory robe from his body, folding it reverently and placing it within the basin before him. The water that already populated the basin took the garment and slowly weaved the careful folds apart.

Clad in only a pair of linen shorts, Adrius descended to his knees, his forehead pressing against the metal platform beneath him, cool against his skin that was hot from nervous energy. He began to pray out loud, his words not reaching his ears, but still having been drilled into his mind and soul over and over again, until his recitation was perfect.

He reached out his hands to the basin, resting them along the cool metal. His eyes trained on the ground, he didn’t notice the rusted metal slightly light up underneath his right palm, flash a soft green, and then dissipate entirely. The basin vibrated against his palm, a sign that Adrius knew meant that Nivyn would soon shake the earth beneath his feet softly, his signal that she had accepted him and had stained his once ivory robes the crimson denoting him as a Priest of Nivyn.

He continued to pray, restarting his prayer as he waited. Once...twice...three times..

The platform beneath his knees remained silent. The sound of the drums that had been so loud earlier had slowly hushed as he prayed. The stares of those holding the drums were a thousand pound weight on Adrius’s shoulders as he tried to keep his composure.

Nivyn had been known to take some time to judge new Priests...but not ever this long...for some it was even near instant...

What was his fate...if he was the first priest to fail here?

Adrius thought of his older brother. The boy’s face as Adrius’s playful push caused him to lose balance. And sent him over the edge of a cliff the two had played too close to. Adrius had tried to reach for him, yet failing, their fingertips brushing against each other. Though it was only an instant or two before he was absorbed by the mist below, Adrius remembered every detail of his brother’s face; that expression of shock, anger...and terror, as he fell to his demise.

Perhaps...perhaps Adrius deserved to fail...

A distorted female voice spoke from the basin then, in a language none of the assembled congregation could decipher.

Biometric Authentication Successful. Welcome, Zorian King. Dispensing fuel...

Suddenly, a great blue glow grew from the center of the basin where he had placed his robe, starting only at the intensity of a candle and gradually increasing, before it was the brightest thing in the clearing that night. Adrius shut his eyes tightly, continuing to pray, scared his eyes would be permanently blinded from the light that was dwarfed only by the light of the sun.

The platform shook beneath his knees then, but this didn’t feel like a gentle rumble as Ozias had advised him to be ready for. It felt like the very earth beneath him was splitting apart and would swallow him whole.

Was this his punishment?

Brother, I’m sorry.

The water within the basin overflowed, covering the platform Adrius kneeled on, followed by a thicker liquid, like thick maple syrup, but nothing so sweet. The smell of this sludge was sulferous and stuck in his nose, making him gag being so close to it. But, frozen by fear, he did not dare raise his head yet.

Soon, the basin gave a great sound that filled the clearing like the drums before it, like a tinny whining noise that began to get louder and louder, growing in intensity. Even Adrius could feel the force of that sound and, if he hadn’t been already deafened, he might have become as such. He screamed, the sound swallowed by the cacophony around him, just wishing this would end. Just as he thought the intensity of this sound couldn’t get any louder, that he might go mad, he heard a loud crash that shook the ground beneath his knees...and the whirring suddenly stopped.

Meanwhile, the light from the basin started to fade, the forest growing quiet and dark once again. Adrius’s scream faded as he felt things return to normal, replaced by panting from the fear of what his god was doing to him. He lifted his head slowly, looking around him, seemingly surprised that he had not been transported away to a realm of infinite pain and chaos.

His once ivory robe was draped over the edge of the basin, almost with purpose, covered in the sludge that had covered the platform below his feet. He reached out for it and started to brush off the sludge, discovering that his robes had been stained just like Ozias’s and every priest’s before him had been.

But, instead of being died a dark crimson red, his robe had been died a dark blue.

Adrius brought his gaze up to the circle of drummers, priests and acolytes who surrounded him. His friends and teachers from the monastery of Nivnyn the Clement. They all looked on, dumbfounded. Adrius’s gaze turned backwards, his eyes finding his mentor Ozias only feet from him, the older man looking on with an indescribable expression.

He stopped at the edge of the shrine, sliding to his knees, his forearms sliding flat against the ground, his eyes respectfully averted from his former student. The once silent drum circle suddenly was noisy with men and women moving to the same position. A position Adrius had been in mere minutes before to worship Nivyn.

And now he was the one being worshipped as a Chosen of Nivyn. And only one thought flashed through his head.

But...why...why did she choose me?...