A palpable hum fills the courtyard as the ashina, her keeper, and what must be four immensely powerful Reans enter, the air crackling with barely contained energy. A tall, handsome male with similar coloring as Vilder and a falcon on his shoulder turns his head toward where I stand. He raises his hand in greeting. I glance behind me, but there’s nothing but shadows. Is he waving at me? Ioffer him a weak wave in return, unsure of what else to do, but he’s no longer looking at me.
The soul stars blink their goodbyes one after another, and a symphony of chirping birds fills the air as the sun creeps above the horizon in the west. Settling into a cross-legged position on top of the wide railing, I pull out my sketchbook and do a quick sketch of the ceremonial setup, with the ashina and her pristine white wolf at its center. I’ve sketched more since arriving here than in my entire life in Bronich—so much novelty, so much beauty. And it helps keep other thoughts at bay.
The keeper stands vigil beside the western archway, while the four others assume their positions at the cardinal points of a circle drawn around the ashina. The male who bears the striking resemblance to an older Vilder holds his hands before him, palms upward. From his hands, white smoke rises in a slow, graceful spiral, undisturbed by the gentle breeze rustling through the courtyard.
East of him, the female with wavy pale blue hair cascading down her back performs a mirrored ritual. As she cups her hands, they overflow with a continuous stream of water that cascades over her bare feet, splashing gently on the cool, smooth heartstone floor.
To the south, a pale female with fiery red hair and irises the color of a flame’s heart holds a small contained fire in her cupped hands.
Finally, to the north, the one with rich brown skin and eyes like the forest floor cradles a handful of soil. I suck in a breath as the soil transforms into a hundred vibrant wildflowers blooming between her palms.
The keeper stomps his scepter five times, and my attention is drawn toward the western archway and the group of seekers entering in silence. They’re blindfolded and wearing hooded white robes. My heart lifts when I recognize Seniia’s graceful movements and Vilder’s broad shoulders among them. There is another stomp from the keeper’s scepter, and the seekers kneel as one behind the male in the west, pressing their foreheads to the stone.
The ashina turns toward him. “Xepher.” She bows her head in acknowledgment. “Let the dawn’s inspiration shine upon those who seek the elen. May they receive the wisdom of your wind and the blessing of the element of air.”
Xepher, the male, kneels, head bowed, hands cupped in offering above his head. “It is so.”
Xepher? Could it be...?My suspicion is confirmed when the ashina turns toward the south.
“Cyra.” She bows. “Let the noon rays’ vitality invigorate those who seek the elen. May they be transformed by your flame and be blessed by the element of fire.”
Following suit, Cyra kneels, her fiery red hair falling forward, covering her face as she bows her head. With a graceful gesture, she lifts her hands, flames leaping from her cupped palms, vibrant and hot yet miraculously leaving her pale skin unharmed.
“It is so.” Although her tone is hushed, it carries all the way to where I sit.
The ashina turns east to face the female with golden skin and pale blue hair, who must be Briah. Her long, flowy dress shows off the many golden glyphs covering her arms and upper chest and back.
“Briah.” The ashina bows her head. “Let the quiet dusk bring peace to all who find their way to the elen. May they be healed by your streams and be blessed of the element of water.”
Briah kneels, her sea-green gown pooling around her, while water pours from her cupped hands as she bows her head and lifts her arms to the sky. “It is so.”
The ashina finally turns toward the north. “Tiran. Let the heart of the night gift deep roots to those who seek the elen. May they become masters of cultivation and receive the blessing of the element of earth.”
Tiran kneels. “It is so.”
The ashina takes a step outside of the drawn circle, then, extending her left pointer finger, proceeds to walk sunwise around the circle—west, south, east, north—until she is back in the northagain. There is now a new golden circle drawn on the heartstone, one that includes the kneeling seekers inside.
Back in the center, she faces the seekers in the west. “Dawn has broken. You may rise.”
They rise as one.
“Enter this day as you entered the day you were born.”
My breath catches in my throat as they gracefully discard their capes, dropping them at their feet. Before me are twenty-one males and females in all their natural beauty, their golden glyphs glittering in the sun, their blindfolds the only piece of clothing left on them. Seniia and Vilder’s glyphs are among the most numerous, though a handful of seekers rival theirs. One of them is a beautiful female with the same rich brown skin as Tiran. Her long hair is made up of hundreds of tightly coiled and twisted strands of hair adorned with threads of gold throughout, and there’s a lethal grace to her bearing.
“Today you are reborn.” The ashina’s voice is firm.
The keeper thumps his scepter three times, punctuating her words. It must also be a sign for the seekers, for they form a line and enter the inner circle one after another. Somehow, despite being blindfolded, they know where to go. Entering from the west, they, too, walk sunwise, circling the ashina, who stands at its center, three times before they stop and face her.
The keeper slams his scepter again. One time, Xepher rises. Two. Cyra follows. Three. Briah. Four. Tiran.
“Facing the heart of the sacred circle—where elements unite and the spirit of Niia resides—may Niia bless you with the gift of elen.”
A vibrant swirling glow of light spreads from the center, then swishes around the circle, touching the heart of each seeker.
“May the light of the elen illuminate your soul and the souls of all your brothers and sisters.”
“It is so.” The words of the four gods and goddesses ring through the square in unison, followed by a deep hum—a resonant sound offour different elements vibrating through the air. Then a fifth sacral tone weaves into it.
