Lordrin POV

Each and every soldier of Gresha’s army was prepared to lay down his life for the sake of his beloved city, the city that was the most crowned jewel of the earth goddess Naruune, and each sacrificed soldier would be commemorated with utmost respect during his funeral. But there stood only one human worthy of the very greatest respect. The one entrusted with knowing who to sacrifice, and when. The commander of the army and King of the city of Gresha, the one granted the title of Crown-Son.

Once, that king had been my father. A stout boulder of a man with a thick beard and scarred, tanned skin. The only thing louder than his roaring laughter was his battle cry. His funerary rites last year had lasted for a full month. But long before they had concluded, the Priestesses of the temple already knew that I had all the qualifications to be as great a king as him, or greater.

Not that anyone else deserved the throne to begin with. Only those blessed by Crown Naruune could be trusted with her favored city, and only the strongest of warriors could defend it. These were fancy words meaning only the son produced by the former king and the Head Priestess of the time was qualified to become her honorary son, without going through a rigorous trial to prove he was qualified.

Born in the conventional way of a Crown-Son, my tutors wasted no time preparing me for these responsibilities. Combat, tactics, architecture, worship, history, reading and writing. Channeling. All were subjects drilled into me, as were more superfluous matters such as eloquence and how to carry oneself around others.

The throne may have only been in my possession for a single year, but these lessons meant I wielded my power with perfection, requiring minimal guidance from the Priestesses and my advisors. Just days ago, I swore in the first of new recruits to the army. Today, I would carry out another pivotal ceremony for the very first, but far from the last, time.

The Rite of Sunset. Once every year, on the cusp between the dry Sun and rainy Moon seasons, it would occur. It was perhaps the most important ceremony of the year. More than the Harvest Festival or Crown Vigil. More than the blessings for victory or my father’s funeral. My palms grew slick with sweat in anticipation.

The two months prior to the Rite of Sunset had been busy, the bustle reaching a peak the morning of the ceremony. All morning, attendants bathed me, clothed me, and adorned me with my family’s finest jewelry. I was garbed in leather ceremonial armor, painted with tiny runes, as countless as the battles between the gods and the Sun Fiend that they recounted. Beneath this armor were gold and blood red robes, bedazzled with glittering jewelry and arranged to expose the pale flesh of my stomach. Gold and lapis lazuli anklets were slid up my legs, and my auburn hair was bound in elaborate braids, a golden headband woven through them.

I was a picture of power and grace.

When I was finally ready, I led a procession of several guards and Senior Priestesses, including Head Priestess Forya, down into the lowest depths of the temple. While I would have preferred to carry out the ritual somewhere all Gresha could watch, there were several practical reasons to do it out of sight, here. Most importantly, if we sacrificed to Crown Naruune here within her element, naturally our prayers would have a far easier time reaching her.

The second reason, of course, was that it lessened the risk of the prisoner fleeing.

The Senior Priestesses, each bearing a torch, took up places around the basement room, casting the whole room in a shifting, gloomy light. In the center of the room was a man. His skin was pale and clammy, in sharp contrast to his messy black hair and the dark bruises forming where ropes bit into his flesh. Planks of wood and highly flammable herbs decorated the floor of the room, creating spirals that converged up the stake he was tied to. Apparently these patterns, too, were a method of advanced channeling meant to create the hottest possible inferno. Head Priestess Forya had gotten a young Priestess-Candidate to arrange them, according to her precise instruction.

The man was no one important. Some Angran warrior. One of those who had failed to either secure victory or end his own life, and had instead become a prisoner of war. A slave.

I smirked at the bound man. “It’s nearly time. Are you excited?”

He spat at my feet. A guard raised his spear, but I stopped him with a raised hand.

“It’s alright. Perhaps he simply doesn’t appreciate his significance in this upcoming rite. More significance than he’s ever possessed before now, when all he was good for was being a nuisance. Like a fly that lays its rancid eggs in the sheep’s wool. But now, you are more than a simple fly-- you can transcend, and become the dog protecting us from the wolves!”

I giggled and spread out my arms, fabric pooling on the floor around me. My gold and lapis lazuli blinked red and orange in the firelight. “Really… you should be thanking me!”

The captive Angran scowled, still ignorant to the grandeur of his new role. “If it’s such an honored position, you would be taking my place. Really all you’re doing is feeding me to your precious Sun Fiend.”

My giggle turned into a manic laugh at his suggestion. “The Sun Fiend? Precious? You think we’d feed that little shit? Your people have no room to judge us. For savages, you speak well about vengeance… but you’re all so weak. All you really do is serve yourselves to her on a silver platter. How ironic; you feed her better than we ever could.”

I grinned. “You see, here in Gresha, we believe we are all brothers and sisters. Siblings. And that siblings should lift each other up. Sacrifice one for the benefit of many. And we each must sacrifice ourselves in the most efficient way.”

I took a torch from Forya and strode forwards, slowly approaching the bound man.

“You, a violent savage, are being sent to do what you are best at. Distracting the Sun Fiend, so her attention stays away from us and our prosperous city. I sacrifice my life in a different way. I shoulder the burden of guiding, protecting, and leading my city. And to do that most effectively, of course, I must actually live. We must each do our own part for the greater good… for the greatness of this city.”

After ensuring my clothes were well away from the kindling, I held the torch out, further and further away from me. Then I dropped it. Immediately, the stake exploded in a glorious conflagration. Heat blasted my face, and I grinned into it. I spun around to face the procession as I laughed. “Go! Tell my city that another Rite of Sunset has passed! For another year, we are free of the Sun Fiend’s wickedness!”

As the procession filed out of the room, murmuring amongst themselves, I looked upon my work with pride.

Yes. My reign as king would be glorious. I would be remembered for many generations.

Nania’s POV

The sounds of drums and horns floated up to me from the city streets below. Explosions of light and sound from imported firecrackers blasted my senses, and lit up the brightly painted buildings. A dozen different groups of civilians performed a dozen different channeling rituals in the streets, but all told the same exact story. The ancient tale of Crown Naruune and the Sun Falcon’s never-ending fight with the Sun Fiend.

Their conflict was the oldest story we had, older than humanity itself. And so any victory over the Sun Fiend, however small, was a cause for jubilation and dancing. But Elian’s words echoed in my head. I was left wondering if this unwilling sacrifice could really be called a ‘victory’.

Gresha celebrated sacrifice. Our whole way of life revolved around it. From the food on our tables to the soldiers who protect our homes, everything in life was a sacrifice, and all sacrifices should be appreciated.

Just today, an Angran stranger had lost his life. When Elian was six, he decided he wished to sacrifice his strength and life on the battlefield. When I was six, my parents dropped me off at the Temple, and told me if I studied hard and served Gresha, my sacrifice of time and service would be rewarded with status and wealth.

Was it really a sacrifice, if it was not chosen? It didn’t matter to the celebrants down below. The crops were thriving, the city prospered, and the Sun Fiend had not been seen in generations. As good an excuse as any to gorge themselves and give thanks.

“Gorgeous, isn’t it?” a voice spoke behind me.

I nearly fell off the roof, then turned to see a boy. He couldn’t have been much older than my thirteen years of age, perhaps a year older. Even if I had never met him in person, his jewelry, hairstyle, and manner of dress made his identity obvious.

This was the motherfucking Crown-Son.

“You’re the fucking Crown-Son,” I said. …Ah, fuck. As humiliating as it was to chew my nails in front of the Crown-Son, I seriously began to consider it. It could not land me in any more trouble for my disrespect, could it? My finger brushed my lower lip as my eyes anxiously scanned his body.

King Lordrin, to my surprise, did not scold or punish me. He threw back his head and cackled. I felt no relief, only the creeping chill of dread.

“The fucking Crown-Son,” he mused, as he sat beside me, letting his legs swing over the building’s edge. “It does have a nice ring. I see my reputation precedes me. And who might you be? I can’t help but see you aren’t enjoying the festivities. It is a king’s burden to ensure the happiness of all his people.” A sharp grin cut across his face, but I could only see how his clothes and skin were utterly free of ash or blood. Had he cleaned himself already, or had he only commanded the deed be done?

It was strange. I knew Talon had doubtlessly killed before, too. Most soldiers, in truth. It was natural. So why did I feel so much more brave and safe around him than my own king?

“No-- I mean. It’s. An honor… but I must decline, my king,” I mumbled. “It’s loud-- I mean. It’s quite crowded. And I’m exhausted. From praying-- I mean preparations-- I mean--” I nibbled on my finger.

He dragged my hand away from my face. As I tried to lean away, he caught my cheek with his other hand and leaned in. “Speak up,” he commanded.

“I’m tired from preparations,” I repeated my excuse.

“Nonsense. If you worked hard to prepare for this sacred rite, then you are the most deserving to enjoy the fruits of your labor. Come!”

He rose to his feet, lifting me up with him. His grip was like iron on my arm. Not painful, but unyielding. He brought me through the halls of the Temple, past its murals and painted doors, and onto the city streets. He yelled over the din, “Now, tell me what you’re like to experience. Foreign cuisine? The imported fireworks from Heishan, perhaps? Or a lovely bracelet?”

My tongue was a lump in my throat. I swallowed thickly. “I-i-- I see my friend over there, actually! Thank you for escorting me down, Crown-Son!”

I broke away from his grip, and dashed into the crowd like a frightened deer into foliage. As much as I hated the cacophonous, overlapping noise of dozens of conversations, relief at escaping King Lordrin flooded through me. I couldn’t even fear the repercussions of disrespecting him.

I just tried hard not to think of his amber eyes watching me, as I slipped into an alleyway and collapsed against a wall, my red hair sticking to my sweaty neck.