The Priesthood

If I were blessed with the sun on my face, and should there be light to give me its embrace, would I feel cold, like I do now, or would I feel its warmth, as I once perhaps did before? And if there was rain to cleanse me of my sins, would it be warm as might be the rains of a summer day, or will they be cold and sorrowful, like those of fall... I wonder about this and much more, as I wish that it could be so just one last time.

Truth, whatever that word truly meant, was an uncomfortable experience, especially the one he now had to share with Lou’Deu’n. The scholar had no shame in his question; he didn’t seem to care if a given topic could be uncomfortable or even taboo to someone of another species. He had no concept of shame in such a situation.

When they first met, Lou’Deu’n had during one meeting made him feel like an animal and in the next one a human; now he was back feeling like an animal. Just a subject for an undefined amount of questions that he would have to answer.

For the first few hours, it felt almost normal; the questions made sense given their previous interaction, particularly about the information that the scholar had to receive through a filter created by A’Trou’n. He retold the story of the Angel, the first meeting between the first herald and the Angel, who had enticed her first with power, then invited her to bring more of her kin to them to receive their blessings.

The king and his question to the angel, and the answer and the demand that followed. How the king soon kneeled and offered him to follow the lead of the angels so that his people might be saved, even if it could mean eternal slavery for all of mankind.

He told the story of the war that soon followed, the great battles during which humanity turned the tides of war, repelled the onslaught of the Wildkin, killing them until the very few that remained returned to where they had come from, and re-entering the great desert that was once thought to be a lush garden that had been devoured by the beasts that had crossed it.

Kanrel told of the foundation of the Priesthood and the creation of the first unified kingdom of men; the southern states, cities, and kingdoms becoming one under the kingdom of Lo’Gran; how they began their expansion northward, soon laying the foundation for new cities and even the Academy of the Heavenly, as the first Herald shared the location where it ought to be built.

The nascent human kingdom soon became the greatest of its kind, and there was a general sense of peace for a long time, until the death of the first Herald. But before her death, she had prophesied that another would take her place, another Herald to serve as a link between humanity and the heavens and the angels that rule over them.

For a while, there was fear that they might lose the blessings they had received, that if the Wildkin might once more attack, they would not survive, and that the Angels had decided humanity to not be worthy of their blessings. A kingdom-wide crisis was born at the moment of her death; multiple years of disarray only soothed when the second Herald found her way to Lo’Gran and its grand cathedral. There she shared with the Priesthood the vision that she had seen:

In the darkness of the night, you whispered to me. In my dreams, you called for me.

All you did was call for my name. You gave me a name.

"Human… Ca’leth… You are what I foresaw." The Angel stood before me in all of their height, this creature so magnificent, so grotesque...

In the darkness of their light, they told me their secret. I was to be their harbinger, a herald; I was to be the one to record their words.

"You will find them... You will again unify them; you will be the one to end a war before it might start. For there will be a time when a great war will come; then you will not be here; but those who come after you will be... A great shadow will veil the earth, and from that, war shall begin; war shall sweep the lands you call home."

In the shadow of their light, I trembled in their presence. Most of my emotions I had lost, yet here I was, in joy and in fear. Just looking at them and not fully understanding the words they had just said, they had become an enigma—a mystery with many meanings.

Before the light, I was nothing. Before the light, I am nothing, not even a thing that might cast a shadow. Before their light, I was only in their shadow.

I bear not look, I dare not see, and I must not let them see my tears. Before them, I am nothing. Nothing.

And when the light dissipates, I am once more in the dark, in this tiny hut I must call home. Joy is once again just a memory. Suffering had returned, but now it was different. I had something to do; I had to end a war.

For before the Angel, I was nothing but a slave to their wishes and to the words they had anointed me with.

It was said that she needed no other proof; she didn’t even need to share the vision she had seen, for it was enough for another priest to see her, to feel the change in her presence, how the world around her was different, how the world weighed on her shoulders... The burden she had to carry; the suffering in her heart. Far too great, it was. Far too great...

The selection of a new Herald was shared with humanity, and peace soon ruled, but soon she made a pilgrimage to the mountains where the first Herald had met the Angel. And for months, nothing was heard of her; until she descended the mountains, with her a new version of the Book of the First Herald, one then dubbed the Book of the Heralds, a magical tome connected to many others of its kind... When the Herald would write down words and visions received from the Angels, they would then be copied to the other tomes exactly as she had written them.

What she now had wasn’t only the words collected by the previous Herald, but new ones as well. The conversations she had had with the Angel, how the Angel seemed to criticize humanity for its lack of faith, and how such lack of faith ought to be corrected; calling for there to be more priests blessed and then sent around the kingdom of the humans, so that they might teach their words, the most relevant history of humanity, as well as to take care of them, so that they would not succumb to their suffering and end up making decisions that would bring ruin to the kingdom...

With her she carried the passage most important for all priests: "Forget joy; understand what power brings. Power brings misery, and to understand what misery is, one has to forget all joy. Understand this human, for those who are powerful should carry the pain of the living on their shoulders and the pain of the dead in their hearts. So those who have no power can live with joy."

Kanrel shared with them a part of the process that allowed priests to be chosen. Before the Academy and the time of the second Herald, new priests had to journey to the mountains, to the place where the first Herald had met the Angel, and beg, in the presence of the Herald and the Angel, who would not show them their face, for the blessings of the Angels. Then they would be blessed if the Angel saw them as good.

But with the tome in her hands and secret information that she wasn't allowed to share, she traveled to the Academy of the Heavenly and its cathedral, where a great mural of the first meeting of the Herald and the Angel was painted upon; with her magic, she created a weave onto it, an entrance to that which was called the Ritual...

Kanrel refused to tell what happened during the Ritual. At least this he would keep to himself, even when Lou'Deu'n protested and demanded him to answer, but he would not budge. He wouldn't share this information with the others, even if it would mean death. Even if his belief in the Angels had diminished, even if he had such doubt in his heart, he still had to honor the tradition and not commit one of the greatest taboos a priest could make.

He only shared the outcome. The emptiness that began and the suffering that soon followed...

Lou'Deu'n seemed unsatisfied with how Kanrel conducted himself; he didn't like the fact that the human refused to share things the scholar felt was important to fully grasp humans, or at the least, to fully understand their priests...

They had dinner and soon continued. Lou'Deu'n again asked the same question to explain what happened during the Ritual, but Kanrel refused and asked if there was another question that he might answer. The scholar's annoyed expression told it all; it was all the reaction Kanrel needed to know that the same question would be asked again and again, and he would have to deny answering it yet again after each time he would not give the answer the scholar wanted to hear.

This was dangerous; he knew it to be. But to break such a taboo... To share such information with someone who could never truly understand it felt wrong. Even if the nature of their magic shared some similarities, he would not tell them about the Ritual.

He would not speak of that which the other priests would not even speak to each other about.

Throughout this interaction, there were many reactions from those who mostly listened to the conversation. Y'Kraun seemed bothered by it, nervous by how insistent the human was in his quest to not share such simple information; the serf knew that the human could be in danger.

A'Trou'n had a speck of curiosity in her eyes, but that was all mostly covered by the clear amusement that showcased itself in the form of a wide grin on her lips as she intensely listened to the back and forth, grinning wider each time Kanrel refused to answer such a seemingly simple question. She reveled in the scholar's unsatisfied lust for knowledge.

Vaur'Kou'n pretended to be as uninterested as possible, but his eyes would glisten at the mention of the Angels. But what that meant, Kanrel could not even begin to guess.

But the person whose expression Kanrel kept observing throughout the day was their host's. A'Daur'Kra, who had given so far a varied range of different emotions in the form of lack of emotion. Thus, for each simple action, he couldn't help but give much meaning to it, even when it felt foolish most of the time. How could he know what went on in A'Daur'Kra's head? What did a smile mean, or a frown? How about a glance pointed at his sister when certain things were said; how about a yawn during a part that most would listen to with great curiosity? How about a stare that was kept on him, a gaze that was pointed at Kanrel for multiple minutes in a row? In utter silence, he would stare at him, perhaps doing the very same thing as he did, trying to understand a feeling, a thought, and a meaning behind an action, a word, or an expression.

Each thing A'Daur'Kra didn't do felt like an action made with intent. As if all the things that he ever did had meaning behind them—a reason for a simple motion presented in the form of a curling of one's lip to form a seemingly amused expression, perhaps a lie, perhaps the truth...

Then, out of nowhere, Lou'Deu'n began a bombardment of strange questions, mainly about the function of the human body related to things like reproduction between other humans, how it worked and how did it differ from the Atheians, and then the life arc of human, the process from reproduction and birth to childhood and the adulthood, and then at last to the waiting death all creatures will one day meet; be it that they are seemingly immortal or painfully mortal.

But he was stopped, as A'Daur'Kra simply notified the scholar, "The human is tired, it has to go to rest."

"You may apply for another audience—it will be given, if there is enough time, and if there isn't, you might have one at another date." He explained.

The scholar turned toward his liege, with clear shock in his eyes, "But sir! I've only just begun! There are so many questions that I must ask! So many things of intrigue that need to be explained."

"I must find out about the Ritual—I must!" Lou'Deu'n's voice shivered as he pleaded, his eyes seemed to waver, and the silence that then ensued was most uncomfortable. The scholar had made a mistake, one he himself soon realized as well. His eyes widened as he descended from the couch and went to his knees. He offered his hands toward the lord of the City of Creation to showcase his submission, as he then begged for forgiveness: "My lord, my demands have been offensive, and I deserve your punishment."

A slow tap filled the silence after Lou'Deu'n's words. A'Daur'Kra's fingers, in slow motion, tapped the surface of the couch. His gaze pointed past the scholar, in his eyes an amused expression as it seemed to savor the scholar's earlier words as well as the very situation that had presented itself to him.

"You dare to make demands—to me?" A'Daur'Kra simply said, his gaze finally locking itself on the scholar, who now knew to shiver and to be afraid.

"For how long can a fool remain amusing?" The lord suddenly asked, his fingers stopping the rhythm it had started as if he had reached a conclusion. He got up and looked down on the scholar. "Tell me, Kanrel, what is the value of a single man? What about one whose sole mission is to be of mild entertainment for us—for me?" A'Daur'Kra then asked.

Kanrel didn't know what to say at first; for a moment he only observed their host, the complicated expression of veiled emotions, and the one on top that seemed to be amusement but was possibly anger, or perhaps just boredom...

There were multiple answers to such a question. The obvious one was to claim that all men had infinite value to them; that no life is worth more than the other; that all life is priceless... But was it truly so? He had once already concluded that most life isn't equal in the eyes of men, as one man might value the lives of his loved ones and his own life more than the lives of others...

And the value of a life was another question altogether. And when the value of that life was tied to the practice or meaning another had given it, the question wasn't really what he thought, but what the person who held this life in their palm valued the life as.

"The value of a single man might be priceless to his family and to himself, but the value of the one you mention might be only as valuable as the pay that you've given them," Kanrel suggested and then opened his mouth to give another possible explanation, but A'Daur'Kra stopped him.

"Nothing. I've paid him nothing." A'Daur'Kra declared he raised his hand in aggressive motion, pointing it up, and as he did so, the scholar flew at the speed of a boulder falling from the top of a mountain—up and up—up toward the ceiling and then against it, bursting into blood and guts as it squished against the gray stone, then rained down in blood.

It was warm and sticky. This sudden downpour filled the new-found silence of the room. Some weren't so surprised; A'Trou'n and Vaur'Kou'n seemed prepared, as the blood that rained down poured around them instead of on them. Y'Kraun wasn't so lucky, nor was Kanrel, who both were bathed by this blood.

A'Daur'Kra himself let it spoil his clothes and color his gray skin; his grin was wide as it soon took a few dance-like steps in the rain. His hand was still pointed at the ceiling, but he soon brought it down, and so did the mangled and squished body; what was left of Lou'Deu'n hit the ground with a loud thump. And all eyes fell on this corpse that resembled just blood and flesh by now.

A'Daur'Kra kicked the corpse and turned toward Kanrel. "He might not come for another audience..." He muttered as his grin died, "He was bothersome, wasn't he not? He asked questions he shouldn't have, did he not?" He then let his gaze go around the room, the blood and the corpse that garnished the floor and the couches, as well as Kanrel and Y'Kraun; his gaze then met the expressionless A'Trou'n. "I am sorry for your loss. I will be sure to provide you with a new resident scholar; this one couldn't seem to handle the pressure all that well."

"You must understand him; your beauty can be quite cruel; not many can dare to look at you and not fall in love... Such forbidden love for someone so lowly as a mere member of the Grand Academy." He then added and glanced at Vaur'Kou'n, who kept his own gaze directed at the corpse.

A'Trou'n kept her gaze directly pointed at her brother, then just nodded in agreement.

"Wonderful. Just magnificent... Tell me, Kanrel, you've mentioned rain before... Is this what it feels like?" A'Daur'Kra then asked, his gaze still pointed at his sister.

Kanrel couldn't reply. The shock still remained. The only words that he seemed to be able to find were as follows: "Too red, too warm."

A'Daur'Kra snorted in reply and turned toward Kanrel. "Well then, even though I quite liked your answer, you could've come up with another one... This one seemed to break our friend here." He said and kicked the corpse again. His gaze jerked toward Y'Kraun. "Serf, call the servants and a medic; the scholar seems unable to move." A'Daur'Kra commanded, and as he met the dazed eyes of the serf, he yelled, "Now!" And with those words, Y'Kraun got up and ran out of the room.

The Lord of the City of Creation then gazed around the room in what seemed like a daze; he found a part of the couch that wasn't ruined by the blood, and he sat down. "Now then... Tell me about this Ritual; now will you?" A'Daur'Kra asked after a moment; his voice was normal again, as was his gaze; there was that knowing smile again on his face, the one that knew that Kanrel would tell him everything...

Kanrel swallowed, his eyes kept on the Atheian, who was covered by the blood of the scholar that lay on the floor, still warm. Kanrel looked up and formed a code; soon liters of water began to materialize above him, which he then dropped on top of himself, washing away the blood that had soiled his hair and his clothes. He then formed another code, this one to warm himself, to dry off his clothes and hair, all the while the three Athieans stared at him in silence. A'Daur'Kra still held the same expression.

And when Kanrel was finished with cleaning himself, he locked his eyes with the Atheian that had blatantly killed another right in front of their eyes and began, "What I saw was a stairway... One that descends into darkness; around there is just the void; behind there is just the void; and when one begins the descent, it will never end."

"You can take a thousand steps, and another thousand steps, to then stop and look behind you, only to see the darkness behind you... Only to see the void below you and the stairway that refuses to end."

"Many walk for days, some for weeks, before they give up. Before they lose hope. And when they do, they realize that there is only one way down—only one way that is quicker than an endless staircase with an infinite amount of steps."

"And those who realize it, they jump... They hear the call, and they answer it... So they jump..." Kanrel spoke; his eyes were locked in A'Daur'Kra's, but he no longer saw those eyes; instead, he saw the stairway. He saw the steps that he had taken; he saw how he had stumbled, and then how he had fallen... How he fell... And how the fall seemed to never end.

"And then begins the fall." He whispered, his brows now burrowed, his expression a mask of pain, one given to a child to wear for the rest of his life. "And the fall... It never ceases; it never ends."

A scoff was heard. “That’s all?” A question was asked. Kanrel could see A’Daur’Kra’s amused expression as their host finally got up, covered with blood, and marched out of the room as if nothing had happened in the first place.

Finally, he felt like he could breathe. Finally, he felt like he could let his posture collapse. Finally, he could be visibly afraid...

The servants came in with Y’Kraun, their expressions solemn and empty as they began to clean the mess the lord had left behind. Kanrel sat there, motionless, as it all happened; his eyes kept on the corpse until it was brought out until it was no longer there. But it was there. In his mind, it lay there. It would always be there.