Private Tales The Many, Who are One

[Atandil]

There weren't many his age. Only a handful. He was told that it wasn't always this way, that once the Aerai were more numerous. He was also told that, once, the skies above their lands weren't always covered by rolling black clouds, that their forests and valleys weren't always filled with mist and fog and monsters. He was told that once, they had lived in the light. And though he was hardly one to argue with history, in fact he enjoyed learning about his peoples' past, but he found it so hard to imagine his home so differently.

All he'd ever known was the darkness.

But as he stood out on the balcony from his dwelling there in the temple, he wondered what it might be like the remember things he himself did not experience. He wondered what it would be like.

---

He'd left from his chambers early, leaving several hours before it was time for the days training to commence. He took this time to go to the Temple's grand chapel, and find his place at the feet of Astra's image, where he knelt. And for a time he sat quietly there, not in prayer but thought alone. He reflected on the things he had learned in the days prior, and the weeks, months and years, since the very earliest memories. All of it leading to this new day, this new challenge, this new step forward toward his first and foremost celebrated achievement - to join the collective.

He'd been there for perhaps a bit longer than he had realized, because before he knew it he could hear the encroaching footsteps of someone most familiar. It was Istoneth Nolmo - the mentor and teacher of not just him, but many - who he turned to greet as she drew near, and saw that it was indeed her. He moved to stand, and she gestured kindly against it, and instead knelt there not far from him with her hands joined together in her lap, and her back as straight as an arrow.

She studied him for a moment, and then said, "you seem troubled, my child."

"No, Istoneth, not exactly..."

"The time draws near for you to undergo the ritual."

Indeed it was, a ritual that was so grueling and painful to experience that it had proven to be fatal in times past. And, though for over a millennia now no one has perished during the act, it was said that undergoing this ritual was one of the things that made Aerai such formidable warriors - nearly no other pain could compare. He could hardly blame her for suspecting such reservations in him, but this was not truly what he feared. Not the pain.

He just hoped that he could bear it.

 

[Raëlta Ylnâthel]

By now, Raëlta had overseen many initiations. An outsider might find it a bit odd that one of temperament as warm as hers would officiate such a gruelling ritual, but the agony was considered another form of care. To spare the suffering would leave the new soul unprepared for the pain that their potential enemies might inflict. Sheltering them from it would leave them weak and vulnerable in a world that gave no quarter unto them. Far better to see them strong enough to survive the trials beyond. Here within the temple saw these initiates surrounded by those who wished to see them endure and complete the ordeal. Those who might take up swords against them would extend no such mercy.

Preparations always took up a fair amount of time, as each initiation required much to be done. Offerings to both Metisa and Nykios had been burnt in sacred clay bowls as a request to the gods for their favour towards the young man. For Nykios was the god of warriors, and Metisa the goddess of civilization. Neither of those things could be forged without pain, ache and effort.

Flickering light from the surrounding candles bathed the altar in a shifting warm glow, reflecting off the gilded trim of Raëlta's robes as she walked around the chamber, conducting one final check to ensure everything was in order. Once she was satisfied it was so, the priestess took a moment to kneel in quiet meditation.

With a tranquil mind and the ritual ready, Raëlta then stood, and made her regal way out from the chamber and into the main chapel.

The echo of footsteps over stone foretold the priestess' arrival. Soon she was before Istoneth and Antandil, whom were both kneeling before the great idol of the goddess Astra.

“Atandil? The ceremony is prepared for you. Take what time you need to prepare for yourself, and please do not rush. I shall be ready when you are.” Raëlta affirmed with a solemn nod.

Atandil

 

[Atandil]

He lingered in silence on the Istoneth's words - the time draws near. Even after all these years of preparation for this very moment, he was not so bold as to say he was ready. He'd heard far too many times from those who had come before him that one was never truly ready.

The sound of the priestess' encroaching footsteps caused his heart to quicken as anticipation rose in him. He strengthened himself, controlling his breath. Still as she drew closer, his anxiety also grew. When she spoke, he'd been so engrossed in the trifling of his emotions that she nearly startled him. His eyes shot up, his chin lifting swiftly, but he hid the surprise in his eyes as firmly as he could. No doubt it was a paltry attempt in the face of one so keen as the priestess.

"Y-yes," he stuttered, shattering any facade he'd managed to succeed with. With a quiet sigh his eyes fell, and he questioned then if he was at all ready to face this. Doubt clouded his mind, removing from his mind the vision of rising to his feet to face this great change. Instead he remained in place, troubled at the thought of moving.

But he had chosen this, this is what he wanted.

After a seemingly unending moment in time, he stood. He lifted his eyes again and nodded to the priestess. It was time.

---

Raëlta Ylnâthel​

 

[Raëlta Ylnâthel]

“Take what time you need, and rise when you are ready.” Raëlta returned a solemn nod, and spoke simply in response. She then turned and made her way back, leaving Atandil to himself for the moment he needed. Raëlta remained nearby but out of sight as she awaited the signal to reapproach.

The ritual ahead was a gruelling one, calling for steeled nerves and a readied mind. It would be cruel to move ahead if he had them not, and Raëlta didn't dare rush the process. Proceeding was inevitable, Whether in minutes or days, Atandil would be prepared and his initiation would commence.

It turned out to be the former. It often was.

As Atandil rose to his feet, the cadence of footsteps on the stone floor returned.

“Follow me, and I shall guide you.” Raëlta spoke once she was near. Her return was but part of the ceremony. Atandil needed no escort, but the presence of clergy was an important comfort she'd not deny. He'd be far from alone in this, as many were on hand to participate in and aid in the process. This was a cornerstone in Atandil's life, a highly important rite of passage. He'd have the help and hopes of many to see him through it.

Raëlta continued through the hallowed halls to the prepared chamber that awaited him, leading the way for him.

Atandil

 

[Atandil]

It wasn't exactly that he was nervous, but he certainly felt something grow within him with each step forward. He knew full well what it was he moved ever closer to, but he was not afraid. Though it would be a trial unlike anything else, this was something that all his people experienced and came through stronger than he could truly imagine.

As he looked to Raëlta before him, he was reminded of and admired the devotion she so readily embodied. She was resilient and unshaken in the face of what seemed like anything, and she was a very present light in the times of dark. She radiated the faith of their gods and their people. His thoughts turned to the Istoneth: Nolmo, who's footsteps he could hear following just comfortably behind. She was of many centuries and much wisdom, and she had taught and guided him since his earliest days, as she had for so many. She had always been a far cooler presence than most, but she had been as faithful a mentor as he could have ever hoped. And he knew it was in the solidarity of the collective they drew so much strength - that it was indeed their own merits, but they were afforded so much more within the collective.

And he knew he wanted to be a part of it, there was nothing that would keep him from it, not even fear.

As they continued on down the vast halls of the temple, he decided to give the things around him one final look. The murals, the pillars, the polished floor beneath him, he wondered if it would be at all different after.

Deep into the temple now, they came near to one of many great archways. As Atandil beheld the grand doors there, Nolmo came to stand alongside him for a moment, and then she moved forward with a sagely and respectful nod to Raëlta. Nolmo had one final part to play in this act of Atandil's story.

"Within," she began, "I have witnessed the joining of so many Aerai," she stepped forward toward the door, placing her hand upon it, "the likes of Erën, Te'leis, and the likes of Phyrra, even Ánië, and even the priestess Raëlta," making no movement at all, the doors slowly began to swing open, "and as I witnessed them become as one with the Shoraes I shall witness you as well."

In that moment, of all moments, uncertainty washed over him. As the doors began to part, he did indeed feel... fear. He looked to the Priestess Raëlta, steeling himself as much as he could in preparation for what came next.

---

Raëlta Ylnâthel ​

 

[Raëlta Ylnâthel]

Raëlta could sense Atandil's apprehension. It was expected, common to most all who had embarked upon the gruelling ritual. Hardship was certain, but the reward awaiting him would be more than worth the pain ahead. He surely knew this well, for he'd not be here otherwise.

Raëlta looked to Nolmo respectfully but shared not a word with the ceremony already underway. For now, all speech and action was focused on Atandil and the trials he'd face. The short distance the trio travelled served as the final moment he could steel himself for what was to come, and the decorations surrounding them became more ornate the further they tread. Turning from the main passage led them through a hall with carvings etched into the walls, depicting ancestral tales and legends of their history.

The hall led into a spacious chamber, surrounded by six walls of bright white marble that stretched up as far as the room was wide. The roof that sat upon it was decorated with six murals depicting each of the Celestial deities. in the centre and surrounded by the murals lay a dome that bore a pattern gilded in gold. Strange and surreal patterns wove over it, inspired by visions dreamt in holy trance. The walls themselves were not quite flat, but offset and curved in just enough to enhance the sound carried within the chamber, as Sharyrdian architects had learned to do long ago.

The chamber itself was spacious, with many awaiting them in attendance. Three priests of high rank and gilded robes were flanked by eight others, all who stood in a row beneath the mural of Astra. Behind them, lined a dozen across and two rows deep behind the priests were wizards to weave magic in assistance, along with seers and oracles for the same purpose. All stood quietly, and the sound of three pairs of footsteps was all that could be heard as Raëlta made her way into the room with them.

She guided Atandil to the centre, letting him take his place to kneel with all around him keeping still. Raëlta gave no word, but instead looked to the rest with a gesture that the initial rites were to commence. Soon, a symphony of harmonic voices filled the spacious chamber of stone, bouning off the walls in a carefully constructed echo that added to the grandiosity of the song. In slow tempo, all shifted tones in the solemn opening hymn, with Raëlta slowly and carefully making her way to the forefront of all helping to officiate.

The song continued for several minutes, before all fell silent in the same unison they had sang. Raëlta recited a prayer to lead the ceremony, first to the gods, and then to the Shoraes itself. There were several prayers to speak, and throughout the others would continue as Atantdil would take his first trip to where the visions of the first dream would take him.

Atandil

 

[Atandil]

Entering into the chamber, he was awestruck. His eyes fell upon the floor, so beautifully made and seemingly untouched by ages untold. He followed the tall walls up to the ceiling above, and each image therein captivated him even more deeply than those he had looked upon with reverence each day. These depictions were different, displays of each one in the wholeness of their majesty - or at least, one's greatest interpretation of this. It was written, Astra in her fullness was blinding. Only those who were perfect could look upon her if she did not dim her brilliance.

Then, after realizing how lost in these images he'd become, his eyes came to dwell on those present, and he was suddenly humbled by the vast number who had come to bear witness and yea, even participate in what was to come. At first he'd forgotten that it was not only Raëlta and Nolmo who would be there with him in this, and though this was a comforting thought, it was also nerve-wracking. If he were to fail in this with so much support at his side, how would they look upon him? But then... the results of failure lead to only one thing.

With a confident breath, feigned and forced but determined all the same, he moved forward toward the center of the room. And there he knelt. And as the voices rose up in song around him, his voice joined with them. It was only when Priestess Raëlta began in prayer that he fell silent, and he felt it. It was not on his own whim, he had not thought it, but as he knew it would with the song the feeling fell over him. With his eyes closed, his breath entered in with a sudden, foreign coolness. It filled and refreshed his lungs, and for what seemed like several minutes he breathed this breath.

At some point, Raëlta's voice had faded away. And as he knelt there, he began to feel that though he was fixed in one place, he was falling and spinning and turning, both slowly and quickly, but chaotically and orderly.

With a calm and yet sharp breath in, his eyes became open, and there he found himself kneeling in the center of the chamber. There was no one else present, and a single light beamed in from some unknown source and cast itself directly upon him. And odd calm overtook him as he breathed in another breath, and slowly he rose to his feet. Confusion came over him, but still he remained resilient and aware of the experience - he had trained for this for many years, the lucid experiences of the Shoraes.

Suddenly, and not of his own accord and without any perceived movement, he was turned in place and now faced the hallway they had entered in from. Only, there was a vast darkness in this hallway, and far away in the darkness, yet uncomfortably close, was Raëlta. Or... Nolmo. Their image seemed to shift between one or the other, changing depending on if he was looking directly upon... whoever it was, and when. He rubbed his eyes, and the figure disappeared, and now either of them stood on one side of him or the other, but as he turned to one, the other took their place.

And then suddenly, he found himself where he had first seen them, and now he perceived that they stood at the center of the chamber, standing side by side with their backs to him.

Frustration began to wash over him, and his confusion began to mount.

"What is this? What are you showing me!?"
​

---

Raëlta Ylnâthel ​

 

[Raëlta Ylnâthel]

"What is this? What are you showing me!?"

“The vision is not ours.” Spoke the eldest of the seers, in a gravelly voice.

“All that you’ve thus far seen is what you show to yourself.” Raëlta added, in explanation. The induced trance was no hallucination. The collective had not placed any idea or thought in his mind, but rather, the ceremony existed to remove the barriers that constrained perception. While she and all present were there to provide guidance, they were not in attendance to provide direction. Atandil’s subconscious was sole author of what he witnessed. This subtle detachment from the solid ground of reality marked the beginning of his journey, bound to continue in what direction his mind took.

“You tell me, my child, what to make of these visions unveiled.” Raëlta continued, carefully measuring what guidance she gave. Though the dream was his, Raëlta was able to witness it through the blessing of the Shoraes. She, along with the others, could see his vantage point shift from one place to the next within the holy halls of the temple etched into his mind. All were watching and aware while remaining cautious and silent. It was up to them to allow Atandil freedom. The initiation required it, and she could not constrain where his mind might take him by placing ideas before him.

The room expanded outward, with the positions of people shifting along with it, yet not the proportions. The already spacious chamber grew even more massive than before. Space between people and objects within faded darker and darker until only they could be seen, illuminated by an unseen light as specks of bright colour dotting the darkness.

Letting Atandil interpret his surroundings, Raëlta would stay silent for a moment before her voice spoke again.

“Tell me: what do you see here?” She inquired. She had witnessed the transition, but the vision itself was of little concern.

Meaning was the topic of interest.

Atandil

 

[Atandil]

He watched as the environment around him stretched out in a way he could not explain. It grew larger, yet it did not, it grew more distant, and yet remained the same. The people around him too, though they remained in place they traveled further and further away from him.

As the darkness grew around him, he knew it to not be of fear of malevolence. It did not come with the cold as the cruel dark did. It was simply the space between, filled with nothing other than distance, and yet in it, everything was as close as the air in his very lungs. People became as lights in the vast dark, and as this vision took shape he looked upon himself to see that he too was no longer of flesh and blood in his eyes, but of light. He perceived no arms or legs to him, and he could not truly say that he looked around as one did with the swiveling of their head and the orbiting of their eyes.

But there was no fear in him. Only contentment.

From him, tendrils of light, listless and wayward, passively floated about the light that was his own form. But from the others who were now distant from him - he saw something else. These appendages of light did not flutter aimlessly around those other lights, these all stretched out and twined together in seamless unity over distances near and far.

Before him then, as he looked upon them, all of what was around him suddenly and gently folded upward, nearly upon itself, and around him he saw everything as though he looked down upon it from above. He saw great lattices of light stretched out in both neat and chaotic arrangements, yet all moved in harmony.

And further, he perceived an end to this harmony. A dark vastness beyond.

A blink of his eyes then, or a blink of his sight. The folding had undone itself back into the vast expanse stretched out around him.

A deep breath.

"I see... what is," he said, his voice hushed.

He moved forward, his direction uncertain, but chosen in faith, "I see that which gathers and guides, but I see... more...."

In the distance that he moved toward, unseen before this moment, like then sun's coming just still hidden over the horizon was a great light rising up into the dark. But it fled from him, or was so distant as to appear to be fleeing.

---

As the ritual took place around her, Nolmo watched on in silence. It was not her place to participate in any capacity other than to be present. Such was not her role - she was to be there in the time before, and the time after, but these steps were his to take alone, as it had been for them all. While others prayed, chanted, recited their mantras and employed their holy magics, she stood idly by - witness to it all.

---

Raëlta Ylnâthel ​

 

[Raëlta Ylnâthel]

Raëlta’s mind peered into the dream along with the rest, observing all. The dream was Atandil’s to have–a perception of his surroundings shaped by his subconscious in ways unknown. It could be seen that Atandil’s perception of himself had taken a substantial change, too. His limbs were no longer viewed as physical, but as surreal strings of light that shone among the black backdrop that the temple chamber had become.

What he saw could be sensed, and Raëlta peered deeper into the dream through intense concentration. She could see that space had shifted into a wide expanse that grew less and less recognizable. It was only because she had tracked the contorting visions from their beginnings that she could identify the new shapes that the people and objects had taken. What was once seenw was now scattered, joined by bands of light to form structure in the darkness. This, the high priestess took to be a good sign that the visions were progressing in a suitable direction.

Yet no two visions were the same, and all were so different as to be essentially incomparable with one another. Meaning had to be subjectively inferred, based both upon the content and the dreamer. Raëlta held plenty of experience in this regard, and inferred the formation of structure from those he was familiar with as a symbolic representation of the world that raised him.

It was not certain. Nothing was absolute in interpretation, and hers was but a guess–albeit an educated one.

"I see... what is. I see that which gathers and guides, but I see... more...." Spoke Atandil, his voice breaking the silence. Raëlta paused. She had her own thoughts, but was careful in sharing only what had been selected. She could make no direct interpretation or implication, for that would rob him of agency and invalidate the ceremony. She could guide him thought the process, but ultimately, he needed to be able to find his own way.

So far, he had been accomplishing that well.

“Good, for that means you are beginning to see beyond.” Raëlta spoke. Reassurance that he was on the right path was the suitable amount of guidance to provide.

“Tell me what you make of it all. You must interpret. You must see.”

Atandil

 

[Atandil]

As he moved through the vastness toward the distant light, he began to notice his perception. The lights he had seen before, each one tethered, moved about him now at varying distances both high and low, near and far, no longer laid out flat against what he would have once said was the ground. Now this ground was no longer present.

He stopped, and looked behind him. There, he saw a single tether of light binding him to the place he had last been. Then, once he'd continued, he stopped and looked back again, and saw again another coalesced light to which he was tethered. From where he lingered, he turned his attention again, and looked ahead. And before him, spanning wide and high above, a singular great light. And from this light he felt...

He could not describe what he felt. He could not truly comprehend the magnitude of it, not at first.

But as he lingered on these thoughts, he finally replied, and said, that is it, isn't it...

It looked to him as though it were a great archway, standing many miles high, and in it was a great, crystalline gate, blazing with bolts of light and fire as white as snow. And there he stood, dead center before it, tiny and insignificant in the face of it.

---

There in the chamber, whilst the minds of them was lingering elsewhere, power surged throughout. Arcs flashed from pillars that stood around the center, and each one who was participant was enveloped in an otherworldly glow around their forms. And at the center, Atandil would not consciously know, but his position had changed. He laid now, instead of knelt, on his back with his arms at his sides. It was when his body had come to begin levitating, lifted within the fields of great amounts of magical energy generated from the others as well as himself, that Nolmo preformed a singular act.

She lifted one arm up from its position crossed against her chest, and snapped her fingers.

From a pedestal that stood near by, a blue, crystalline orb lifted from its place, and slowly began to move nearer to Atandil. After a few moments, it came to hang just above Atandil, a meter or so higher than he, and in it a light began to grow.

---

Atandil reached out to the great gateway that stood now before him, careful in his reach, confident in his thoughts and in his strength. This is the Shoraes...

---

Raëlta Ylnâthel ​