“The Devourer brings life to all things. To us, to all it creates. And it takes life back from those who stray too far from its glory. It stays in us, so that we may one day be part of its great Tide. As the Devourer decrees.”
“As the Devourer decrees,” I mumbled in a chorus with everyone else who was out here finishing lunch or staying for Religious service.
I'd attended Religious service on Holy Day since I was young, as expected of all citizens. It wasn't always a sermon on the doctrine of the Ascendancy or the teachings of scripture, sometimes news and law changes were communicated through the services as well.
Taking a bite of the bread, I tried to chew quickly before the interior soaked through.
Henrik, who had decided to stay as well, filched a spoonful of my soup. I swatted his spoon away.
“The Devourer feasts on sweet gulps of miasma,” Instructor Weavir brought more enthusiasm to his services than the Priest at my hometown church. He exaggerated some words and gesticulated as he spoke, making a show out of each sentence. “It endures the burn of corrosion so that we shall not, the burn we all return to in our final days bathed in its Holy light. It stabilizes the Tide of all living things, like the tide of miasma going in and out of our shores. Ever the same, never changing. All creatures know it. And it knows all creatures.”
I didn't like to consider some of those creatures. Especially any beast large enough to drag an Arc into the miasmic depths with massive searing tentacles.
I shuddered.
Henrik polished off the last of his meal with a slurp. “Heard something you might wanna know.”
It made sense that we had to eat outside no matter the weather. The Arcs had limited protection against the elementstoo, and developing the habit of eating in any type of conditions would prepare us for what awaited out there. This was a sly type of training.
Instructor Weavir had allowed for a brief lull in his sermon so the impact of his words might settle.
I leaned toward Henrik. “Oh yeah?”
“Only two months left,” Henrik said under his breath.
We graduated in three months, assuming we passed all of the tests. “Until what?”
He helped himself to chunk off the heel of my bread. “‘Til Nikolach is released.”
Fear stiffened my spine and sent a shiver down my back.
“Why would I care about that?” I asked carefully. Henrik gave me an unimpressed look.
“Heard you two weren’t on good terms when you left.”
“From who?”
He shrugged. “One of Nikolach’s associates.”
It was one thing to worry that Nikolach had cronies at the outpost, it was another to have it confirmed. The day was warm and wet, not cold enough to justify the skittering sensation that ran down my spine.
“We must be grateful,” Instructor Weavir continued. “And stay the course of our Tide, lest we bring the Devourer’s wrath down upon us. As transpired for the lost isle of Tirion,” Instructor Weavir intoned.
I picked at my soup as I listened, no longer hungry. Henrik was eying it, so I handed what remained to him. It had been a long time since I'd heard the tale of Tirion, but my mind was having trouble focusing on anything but Henrik’s words. Would the protection of the outpost even slow Nikolach down?
“We all know that Mesmoria has many surrounding isles, each protecting us from the miasmic waves that might crash upon our shores. But Tirion was once the outermost isle. Itheld a wealth of Starshells brought in by the Devourer's tide, unparalleled by any of the other islands.”
Instructor Weavir was pulling everyone else into the magic of the story.
“The people were not content with the many Starshells and the great magic they provided. They hungered for more, searching for the source of magic. The Devourer tried to warn them of their folly, lifting its great body above the miasma waves. It swam near to the other outer isles, its fins a gleaming glory of light that has not been seen since. But the people were still discontent, searching for more ways to acquire ever more. More than the Devourer provided.”
“Their greed and hubris enraged the Devourer, who had already given them such plenty. It called forth a great squall of miasma, and thrust Tirion into it, never to be seen again. But the people tried still, sailing toward the squall. The Devourer knew the insatiable avarice in their hearts. If the only loss was Tirion’s visibility, the people would attempt to surmount it. To know that which should not be known. So it opened its great jaws, wider than the sky, and swallowed the isle of Tirion, which had once been the people's greatest source of Starshells.”
A hush had fallen over the courtyard as we listened, nothing but Instructor Weavir's voice and the soft rat-a-tat of rain on the ground.
“The island, once so great, gone down the gullet into the gut of the Devourer. Returned to its original source into the Great Tide. And since that day, Tirion was no more. The Devourer has been pleased with our offerings, never rising above the water such as then. But take heed,” Instructor Weavir looked up at the gloomy sky. “That we not incur its wrath again.”
He dropped his gaze, looking out at the few of us who still remained. It took him a few moments to collect himself before he spoke again. “I do have some updates I can share with youall from the Ascendancy, but that concludes our sermon for this Holy Day. As the Devourer decrees.”
