Praise be Holy Ones, Blessed Divines

Praise be Holy Ones, Pure and Wise

Hala-ha de Ome An, Essa Viinesi

Hala-ha de Ome An, Uer eh Creti

As they dragged closer to the Mideri Wall and the front carriages unloaded their passengers, the band shifted to a common tune sung to the gods. Everyone sung the lyrics with joy and in decent harmony that made Gris remember when he was younger singing it with his mother. It was one of her favorite songs and hearing it shook him to the core.

Gris stared in horrified fascination at the largest temple in Ardania. The ground did a slight tilt upward leading towards Hamino's Temple. The largest temple in Ardania protruded outwards into the Mideri Wall built onto the structure. Every torch was lit across its roof, pathways, doorways, and the stone archways of the Alter. Half the size of the throne hall, the Alter had seven tall pillars and floors made of black marble. A bridge stretched between Hamino's Temple to the Alter with passageways into Strana underneath.

The music transitioned from playful to serious and the security on both sides of the parade halted and stood side by side with their hands over their hearts.

Gris could see his palace workers at work to accommodate those ascending onto the viewing areas that surrounded the Alter's four sides. Food aroma graced the still air and acrobatics, singers, dancers, and musicians performed for whoever wishes to stop and watch. Finally, his carriage approached the relief area, and he took a deep breath and dismounted.

Instantly, he checked on his leaders and Chef Laje to make sure everything was fine. They told him to leave them be and not worry and for the first time ever he listened to them. He didn't know what to do or where to go until he spotted the royal platform. As he approached, hoping not to be seen or noticed, he took a moment to peek across the grand Alter into Strana.

The poor city was alive with lights from houses and stores, but he only heard a deathly silence that brought chills up his spine. No one in Strana enjoyed the Annual Fair Ceremony, except maybe a few wanderers and guards from the South Border seeking to be entertained or to fill their bellies with free food. Gris couldn't blame any of them. Most slaves and servants working all over Ardania lived or had families in Strana.

Tonight, they were to be mocked.

"Grisonce," Gideon shouted from within a crowd.

Gris' shoulders slouched realizing he'd rather stay unnoticed until the sacrifices were over. His stepbrother approached him with three beautiful women clinging to him.

"I forgive you," he said with great joy. He opened his arms wide and caught him in a tense embrace. The scolds of the Fair were shining bright as the torches.

"Forgive me for what, Gid?" Gris said scrunching his nose from the strong smell of his rum.

"Everything! This is a sacred night of atonement and forgiveness. A blessed night," he said releasing him only to grab one of the women and plunging his tongue into her mouth. One of the women with ribbons in her hair caught Gris' eye and gave him a seductive smile.

Gris avoided the contact and frowned. "I see..."

"Come, brother. Be with me tonight," he said gesturing for him to follow. The ribbon woman wearing a highly exposed green dress, took hold of his arm and pulled him along.

They entered the royal platform where the conversations did a dip, eyes glancing at Gris. He held his breath and clenched his teeth unable to look at his father or Eron. He sat beside Gideon who found interest in kissing one of the women's neck. One of his slaves approached him with a tray of finger treats. He respectfully declined.

How can anyone eat at something like this? He wanted to ask. People were indeed stuffing their faces. Apparently, Chef Laje was putting his remaining arm into his dishes tonight. If possible, he would make sure to escape Gideon and the royal tent and sit within the slaves down the lower sections to watch.

Gris checked his timepiece. Time was moving fast. It was already going on half of the eleventh mark to midnight. Soon the Sacred Seven convoy would arrive and the High Priest walking to every pillar with a group of his priests to pray would begin the Ceremony.

He wiped his sweaty hands along his pants and jumped feeling the woman next to him do the same thing. He brushed her off, cheeks heating so hot, he knew they had to be red.

"I'm sorry. Please don't do that," he stuttered so badly that she gave a giggle. His cheeks grew hotter.

He rose to his feet deciding this was a good time to vanish. Then the temple horns sounded in a harmonious note that brought everyone and everything silent on the Altar. Those below heightened their cheers and the horns blew three more times.

"Great gods," Gris said with a shudder.

Everyone in the royal tent stirred alive, stood on their feet, and came to the railings and the edges to watch the Sacred Seven finally ascend onto the Altar.

Gris searched for Mageia and found her quick. The girl looked petrified, and he felt he would be sick and faint and miss everything.

A praise song greeted her sacred convoy as they drew closer to the Altar. In other circumstances, the great monument appeared beautiful, welcoming, and strangely intimidating, but now it appeared as hell prepared to claim her life.

"Shut up," she heard Madeena scream from her cage.

In all her years of living in Ardania, Mageia never enjoyed the Ceremonies. She and her family would steal enough food, clothing, and items to last them ten months before midnight would come and disappear into the mountains until it was over. Witnessing a Sacred Sacrifice took a lot of mental and physical preparation and a strong stomach. One must be either insanely religious or completely drunk because only devils can watch people die with utter fascination and lack of compassion.

"Defect yourselves," Rasni shouted and spat as far as he could from the bars.

The soldiers in their fancy attires gave them their hearts as they passed by and halted at the delivery spot.

"Oh no," Mageia said and gagged. Nothing came up but she wished it had. Her stomach roared almost louder than the storm threatening above.

The full moon sat high in the sky, but the cloud blurred it out and Mageia felt somewhat satisfied by it. Why? She didn't know. She only wished they would slice open her wrists again and have her die that way.

"Come on Sacred," the temple soldier said opening her cage.

She kicked him in the nose, and he stumbled backwards in pain. The kick didn't help her in the situation, but it did make her happy to unleash a bit of her frustration.

Two soldiers replaced the man and forcibly pulled her out. They shoved her into the line of the Sacreds waiting and heard Nabea mumbling prayers. Dana and Madeena wept. Don looked as if all hope had been snatched from him. Sadon trembled and seemed to have shrunk in height and Rasni spat and cursed at every person that walked by him until soldiers quickly approached and gagged him.

Mageia pictured the afterlife in the Serene. Was it as marvelous as the priests proclaimed or was it unknowingly treacherous? Would Dawnis be pleased with her? What if there were no gods? Only darkness or unknown gods who should've been praised instead of the Divine Six?

There were so many 'What if's' and no answers. She wished she had studied the gods and the Sacred Book like her parents did. They loved the gods more than anything else. They were faithful until the end.

Will I see them again?

She groaned in distress, fresh tears swimming down her cheeks.

I'm never going to see the realm, she thought. It was a dream of hers to leave Ardania one day, but now it would never happen.

They ascended onto the Altar as the temple horns sounded. The cheering from below slid into silence from those in the viewing areas. Everyone stared at them. Even the slaves and servants. Then she caught eyes with Prince Grisonce.

He looked just as terrible as she probably did. As much as she wanted to give him a smile that she was okay, she couldn't. Deep down she still hated him and didn't exactly know why.

The High Priest and his company began another song which people slowly joined along with soft instruments.

Fairest, Fairest high above,

Who's the mortal amongst us all?

Tell us now, oh precious gods

What can we do to beat the odds?

Make me pure, make me fair

But please place me not in despair

Until my heart and soul are cured

I'll fight until my blood is pure

Mortals, mortals near and far,

Who's the fairest amongst us all?

The song repeated as the Sacreds were led to a pillar. Up close, Mageia could see they had winding stairways leading to tiny platforms at the top, black as coal. On these platforms were metal stakes. Mageia's gut melted, and her legs grew weak. She dropped to the marble floor frozen in fear until soldiers came and lifted her to her feet.

"I can't do this," she told them. "Please don't do this to me."

"Blessed be the gods. Blessed be your sacrifice," they muttered almost in unison.

"I pray you defect yourselves and find yourselves here next year," she said.

They grimaced but continued to drag her up the stairway to the center pillar. She struggled against them and knew she could do nothing at this point. Already Madeena was screaming, and the singing and music seemed to rise higher.

"Please don't do this," Mageia cried as they stripped her of the cloak and forced her arms behind the stake. It was cold through the fabric.

Mageia gathered her remaining strength and kneed a soldier in the groin. He flailed backwards and the onlookers gasped until the other soldier grabbed him before he tumbled off the pillar.

"You all are pathetic," Mageia shouted as they recovered and scurried down.

"Come it's almost midnight," Lord Hercones announced, but the priest's glance up at the hidden moon was full of worry.

He approached the front of the line of pillars and their stakes and faced everyone. He raised his arms in the air and everyone fell silent. Mageia could hear her heart beating in her chest and her breath panting from her dry mouth. At this height, she could see the Kingdom of Ardania alive with golden light trailing uphill as far as her eyes could see.

People old and young were now speaking their sins and desires upon the seven on the pillars hoping their sacrifice would reach the heavens so the gods could forgive and grant. By this time tomorrow, Mageia knew everyone would return to their normal ways and routines and would forget them and their sacrifice. But her family may just remember her.

Lord Hercones began to recite the blessings. After every blessing to a god, the people would respond, "Blessed be."

"Blessed be Holy Rasaal. Blessed be Holy Naphri. Blessed be Holy Dawnis. Blessed be Holy Danala. Blessed be Holy Sakon. Blessed be Holy Mesori. And blessed be Holy Divines."

"Blessed be."

"Ferries, Ferries of my soul, receive my prayers and my confessions and carry them to the gods."

"Damn you all," Sadon shouted.

"Blessed be."

"Beneath your full moon we seek answers, we seek guidance, we seek repentance for now and for the rest of our lives."

"Please have mercy," Dana pleaded.

"Blessed be."

Thunder grumbled, and lightening flashed behind the dark clouds. Mageia nibbled on her bottom lip. There were no stars, and the moon were acting stubborn. The sky was dark as if the entire realm had been swallowed up by a dark pit of Dawnis. Only thick clouds gathered promising to release a bucketload of rain onto their heads at any minute.

The priests turned to face the Sacred Seven, closed their eyes in prayer, and drew holy symbols in the air above their heads.

Temple priests revealed themselves from behind the pillars with lit torches and raised the fire high in the air. Mageia's jaw dropped.

This isn't happening, she said wanting to chuckle and see this was just a joke. But it wasn't.

The priests began to sing that terrible praise song again that made Mageia struggle against her bonds.

"Praise be Holy Ones, Blessed Divines

Praise be Holy Ones, Pure and Wise

Hala-ha de Ome An, Essa Viinesi

Hala-ha de Ome An, Uer eh Creti

The temple guards turned in unison as if they practiced every day for this. They approached in step towards their designated pillar. Mageia felt her insides melt. Her heart drop to the floor.

"No," she screamed and heard the cries of the other Sacreds.

Every muscle in her body froze staring at the burning torch brush against the thick straw rope leading up to her wooden platform. Every thought in her head turned to mesh until the only thing echoing in her head was:

I'm about to die. I don't want to die. Gods help me. Someone help me.

"May the gods accept our sacrifices," Lord Hercones shouted, and everyone lifted their voices in praises, cheers, and prayers.

She spotted some grimacing and looking away. Prince Grisonce stood frozen in place, mouth agape, and eyes hesitant as if his mind was processing what was happening or how he could stop the sacrifice.

But Don's straw rope caught on fire first as if it was extra smothered in oil. The fire slid up the rope like water poured from a cup and licked at the boy's feet. Mageia cringed hearing the sweet boy scream in fear and struggle against his restraints.

"Blessed gods take me into your hands," she recited a psalm her mother once taught her. She hadn't said it in a while, but somehow it popped into her head. "Give me your strength so I may stand."

As if everyone's ropes were acting stubborn, they finally kissed the fiery torches and they erupted alive. The ropes sucked in its life, its power, its destruction with a single inhale. The fire came for Mageia, and she held back her scream as long as she could.

"Remove the fear that clots my soul," she cried as the fire circled the edges of her platform. The heat met her body and black smoke invaded her lungs. She yelped hearing the licking flames conquer the drums of her heart. "Gods! Give me your light to hold! Give me your hearts to hold!"

Mageia screamed, a deathly glass shattering scream.

Her skin glazed with thick sweat that melted into lumps. Every nerve in her body screamed for mercy. Every muscle fought between spasm and release. Her bladder forgot to hold itself. The flames clung to her feet, then her legs. Her brain throbbed, processing what was happening. This is a dream. No, it's real.

It hurts, really badly. Do something! Her brain screamed. Her adrenaline screamed. Her rationalizing screamed. Reality wrapped around her heart and squeezed. And squeezed.

She watched in horror as her skin burned, peeled, and opened with black blisters oozing boiling blood. The pain was unbearable, unexplainable. She shook her body as if it'd put out the fire, but it seemed to do the very opposite. The hungry flames swapped up the wooden stake and clung onto the back of her dress, her arms, her breast, her neck, her hair, and last her face.

The fire consumed every inch of her body, and she couldn't close her eyes.

Make it stop!

The pain was too much as the fire charred her weeping heart. Then her agony came to a sharp halt. Her brain turned off and darkness claimed her. Mageia Unknown gave up her spirit and left behind a burning corpse with purple eyes.