Young Writers Society

The Adept Racru stood in the center of the room as Riveda and Gwymei entered the chamber. The minor priests stood to one side, acolytes, saji, and novices to the other. Something about the way Riveda’s eyes rested on Gwymei displeased him. He should look lustily at her, Racru told himself, she will be his promised wife by the end of this. Why do I worry? He is a fine boy, and will make a fine husband for Gwymei. The room was dark except for a few lit candles, the room all grey and stone. No face was distinguishable except for those of Riveda and of Gwymei. Racru intoned the ceremonial words. The priests, now blending their voices in a strange dissonance with that of Racru, formed a circle, the acolytes on the outside with the priests, the novices and saji on the inside. Racru put out a beckoning hand out to Riveda and Gwymei, who joined him in entering the circle, Gwymei on the inside with the rest of the women, Riveda standing opposite her on the inside. The strange, somehow familiar music played by the chelas on the outside roused some instinct in Riveda, like something long forgotten. He heard his voice find its place and merge with the dissonant blend of the others. The women on the inside moved to the right, claiming a new partner. Riveda found himself looking down into the face of a saji, though it was indistinguishable through the hood of the crimson cloak. Riveda staggered back, his sight failing him for the moment. He leaned heavily on his staff to keep from falling. Racru looked back at him sharply. Show no weakness! Riveda told himself sharply, You have worked too hard to be looked down upon or pitied as a cripple!

His sight failed him again, and he only saw darkness. He slowly closed and reopened his eyes to see only more darkness and a fire in the distance. He could see a shadow in the darkness, cat eyes gleaming at him. Riveda, a voice called him, come home, come to me, my child! Riveda, though he tried, could not move toward the voice. More black outlined shapes came forth into the pale light of the fire. You fail us once again, the voice said, deepening into a low baritone, when will you return to us? Riveda fell to the ground paralyzed. I won’t be rendered useless, Riveda told himself, I will—I must!—go to him! The fire swelled, rushing toward him, and he screamed in agony as he felt the fire on him. You will never find your home among them, the voice said, shrieking with a low-pitched laughter, Alone may you always be, bound to the world as your mother has done, constrained to be one of them! Riveda lost consciousness as the world around him died.