Before the first Salt Stone Ceremony he led, he used to imagine the trees were sentinels of the Briny God, offering him protection as he enacted his will. He is never closer to his god than on these nights.
Except this one.
Leaving Blackwood this evening is burdensome. Witnessing Avina effortlessly tame Thora’s wild dark hair gripped him with an unusual desire to bask in the familial warmth. At thirteen, Thora will be among the many the gods will consider as a receiver to accept a Sacred Stone ability next week. Only Sigvid will know the names once he begins his meditation tonight.
Thora has begrudgingly become the child he never thought he wanted yet adored nonetheless. He sees so much of himselfin her bright green eyes, and the thought of her being given an ability from the stone shakes him to his core. As a warrior in Salt, she would be eligible for powers ranging from berserker to shape-shifting.
How can he deny her a place amongst the Drengr if the gods choose her to receive such an ability?
As he crests the final ridge, he has a full view of Toftlund expanding on his left and the Guardian mausoleum rising dead ahead along the packed dirt road.
The soft curl he took from Avina’s head twirls between his tattooed thumb and forefinger while he approaches the mausoleum.
A few days before the ceremony, the Gothi allotted the Guardian the responsibility of listening to the names whispered by the Briny God. He will be given eighteen across Treland. However, he will only provide a formal ceremony for the six Salt children.
After the other two stones vanished, the Gothi in the Ridge and Timber abandoned the ceremonies even though their children still receive Sacred Stone powers. This ceremony is only designated for Salt, as the rest of the country has long forgotten the Guardian and Keeper lore.
All that he had succumbed to with Avina over the last several months has him on edge to approach the gods. She is the appointed Keeper, and he does not doubt that the Briny God would disapprove of his often homicidal thoughts to the fucking protector of the stones.
Even if she has become everything to him.
Leaning against the outer stone wall of the circular mausoleum is Grim. “Are you sure you want a Timber man part of your Sacred Stone Ceremony?” he calls out as the lit braziers illuminate their faces with dancing shadows.
“For the most important role.” Sigvid pushes him inside the stale glow. Several other Gothi and servants shuffle about in black robes, tending to the holy space.
Grim sharply inhales as the curving wall of names of past Guardians confronts them.
“Are there Guardians in every province?” Grim runs a hand along the name plaque of Sigvid’s great-uncle.
“They serve the realm. The Guardian line has always existed inSalt, only seeming to emerge in my family’s line. When the last Keeper, Princess Sabelina of the Ridge, gave up her stone for my ancestor, Prince Ornolf, to safeguard, the Keeper line effectively died.”
Until Avina.
“Fascinating.” Grim follows him deeper underground, the air growing stale and chilly. “And you have them all now?”
“Yes.”
Upon discovering the Timber stone in Samson’s belongings, Sigvid now wears the stupid ring on his right hand.
The stones have not unified for hundreds of winters. It is time Sigvid acknowledged the importance and awarded their custody to the one person chosen by the gods.
He will serve Avina until one of their deaths. Inescapable fate intertwines their lives.
Sigvid leads Grim down the narrow corridor lit with new, bright candles.
The Sacred Stone Ceremony is a momentous occasion for all in the province. Gothi heralded the Briny God with fresh incense and candles at their shrines and altars.
Grim’s gaze roves around the underground space, which has only a single tight corridor that dead-ends in a brazier before splitting off into two doors.
Grim points to the room to the left, “What is in there?”
“Our robes and any ceremonial objects we need.”And the Salt Sacred Stone.
After Princess Sabelina entrusted the Ridge Stone to Ornolf, the Guardians of Salt felt more comfortable keeping them separate despite being historically stored together.
Sigvid follows Grim’s focus to his right at the thick stone door etched with runes spelling out ‘Guardian.’ A heavy lock hangs menacingly beneath the knob. “And there?”
Sigvid withdraws a long skeleton key and unlocks the door. He directs the way into a darkened chamber musty with the scent of earth and stone. They cannot see anything besides the utter blackness filling the room like an endlessvoid.
