#cavesong priest

[starswordartblog]

Super duper late thing for @oc-growth-and-development​ OCtober day 14, Cornered. I was super busy this week.

This can be read on its own but it’s a direct sequel to Day 4′s piece. Because tumblr is tumblr I’ll put a link to that in a reblog.

Also, content warning for religious trauma, I think? I did not base the Cavesong Cult on anything real but I think some warning is necessary for this.

Silvana didn't know why the men of the Cavesong Cult had her cornered. She was a simple village woman in the middle of her daily chores, getting some water from the river through her usual path, one familiar enough for her to navigate in her blindness.

"Miss Silvana, it's an honor to finally be in your divine presence," one of them said, voice trembling with delight.

"Um, excuse me?" She tried her best to hold back the shocked yelp she wanted to give, it would probably be rude around those important men. "I'm sorry but you must be mistaking me for someone else, I'm, I'm no holy woman, I'm but a humble villager under the grace of our God," she explained. No one had been forced to join the cult, but the people all came to accept the Cavesong God in some way. After all, His followers brought prosperity to all the villages in the area in name of their God, and had their magic as proof of His power. The more His influence spread, the more dangerous it seemed to be to invoke His wrath, and some defiant people had already paid the price, having been cursed with bad luck or illness or dried out crops.

"Oh, but you have been chosen to be so much more," the man said, getting close enough to caress her face. She recoiled from the sudden touch, and the man grabbed her by the arm. "There's no need to be afraid. You will finally be saved. You will be the next priestess."

"N-no, I..." the whimper of protest came out before she could stop it. She trembled in his strong grasp, terrified of what could happen if she upset him.

He pressed a finger to her lips. "Now, why would you deny it? God has chosen you to bless all the people in this land. If you reject your duties, surely terrible things will befall the village. You wouldn't do that to your people, would you?"

Why her? The priestess was vital to them. She would seclude herself in the holy grounds and dedicate body and mind to God and magic, securing their holy powers. Even the common people had several prayers to thank her for such an important role.

Why would they chose one this way? How could she shoulder all that? She would fail one way or the other.

But shaken by the man's words, she couldn't find it in herself to voice any more fears. She let herself be dragged away, head low to hide the fearful tears forming in her eyes.

She had never walked that far in her life, so she had no clue where they were anymore, she could only assume she had been taken to the holy grounds in the mountains, where the cult had been born. It was said it was once only a cave, but with magic, they had turned it into a mighty sanctuary, overseeing the passage between the region they oversaw and the rest of the world.

If any of the men had seen her cry, they had thankfully said nothing. She had had time to get used to their voices by then, they were four besides the men who held her, and didn't have the same grave tone as him. In fact, they sounded relaxed, complaining that the priest was getting a bit too paranoid sending so many to escort a single lady, and playfully joking about how special she was. To her humiliation she had also heard they laugh at her tripping countless times along the way, as she struggled to keep up with the hurried man pulling her along.

"Be at ease," he said, to no effect, "there will be no need for you to see or walk. You will only have to listen."

The words hadn't become any clearer or less ominous by the time they finally arrived. At first she heard their fellow holy men greet them, and felt the air change as they came indoors. Then all noise died down. The men behind her no longer cracked jokes or said anything at all, even their footsteps sounded more regular. Were they approaching the priestess' dwelling? She didn't know what to expect. Not for the first time she wondered what had happened to the priestess to start all of that.

She heard someone close a heavy door behind her, and the man who had guided her spoke.

"We have brought her, holy priest."

That actually gave her small relief. She knew the priest. Not only did he often preach in the village and lead the cult's magical effort, he had helped her personally when she needed the most, when she buried her old mother a mere year ago. Maybe with him there things could be cleared up, she was sure it had been only some big mistake.

She was pulled further into the room, her escort having adjusted himself to be at her side instead of in front as he had been so far.

She heard something in front of her move, the scratching noise of rock against rock. It grazed against her mouth, and the man finally let go of her arm to instead grab her head and press her against the stone shape.

"You will not talk," said the voice in front of her. She could barely recognize it as the priest's voice. It had no warmth, no energy, and was followed by a raspy noise.

"You will not run. You will not fight. You will not ask or beg. You will not cry. You will not harm yourself. You will not wish or desire. Should you do that, you and your village will be punished until not even rubble remains. No one will come for you. You will be proclaimed dead tonight, any sighting of you a haunt to be banished."

The stone shifted slightly, scratching her lips. Her arm ached. Her legs trembled. He continued in the same grave, monotonous voice.

"You will kneel in the depths of that cave, until your hear God's voice. You will listen, and the only words that will escape your lips will be His. You will listen to His songs, His magic. You will listen to His every whisper and secret. You will listen until you can tell all of His miracles, His cures to every ailment."

The stone pulled back. Her legs gave in, though her escort caught her by both arms this time, twice as inescapable. Once again she let herself be dragged by him, with no tears this time. She was shocked well past that.

Before walking away without a word, the man set her body to sit against some rocks, but she let it slip and fall to the floor without resistance. Without resistance was her chosen behavior for the day, and possibly her life from there on. It wasn't that part that bothered. She knew she was weak, every peasant should accept that from birth. She didn't mind bowing to higher powers, facing unfair hardships, and being dragged into pointless things. Her entire life was pointless, and it had been peaceful and lovely just like that.

This fate however, was a cruel mockery of her. Thrown into a fancy title, passed around by cruel people who expected so much of her, things she couldn't do. No humbleness, no peace, some futile turmoil where everyone would be doomed. What would happen when she failed, as she was obvious no real priestess? Who would be hurt? How many would be hurt? Why would they hurt the villagers for her mistakes, she had no family anymore and was too shy to have close friends, no one had reason to be involved in this, why not just her? She'd gladly stay with them if they didn't touch anyone else, why make her shoulder so much?

Footsteps approached, and someone wordlessly left a bowl next to her, leaving immediately after that. She recognized the smell of common fruits, freshly peeled. The fruits she grew herself in her small patch of land, the ones she'd eat at breakfast, the ones she'd serve to weary travelers in need of some hospitality.

It was the smell that belonged to a loving home, and the last straw for her. She wailed and wept into her hands, knowing they would disapprove of the noise, they'd warned her, but the guilt only made her cry more. She had worked so hard, no matter how much others looked down on her, all she wanted was an honest life, and now she had no clue what to do, if she'd ever have water to replace all those tears, if she'd ever get to cook again, if she'd ever feel a fresh morning breeze again.

The stale air of that chamber felt like poison. Back in the river they had cornered her. Here they had buried her alive. And that seemed like a long, long death.

Her screams died out into weak sobs, then even those dried out, and she was still alone. Time passed and more time passed, and she was still alone. Her stomach grumbled, and she was still alone, still with no intention of touching any food. Would they force her? Were they even real, had today been just a long nightmare? In that silence, nothing mattered, only the panic inside her mind wouldn't shut up.

"Eat."

She thought she had imagined the whisper, but the wind caught her attention. A weak breeze had blown from somewhere, and her relief was immense. Where did it come from, she assumed she was in a closed off place. She got up to her knees and ran her fingers along the wall, looking for some crack or hole.

It blew again, playing with the curls of her hair around her ear. "Eat," she heard, a little louder.

Silvana took a fruit from the bowl, understanding now the order, even if she didn't know where it came from. She hadn't heard anyone approach, nor did she feel any presence near her.

She felt once more that anguish in the pit of her stomach, that food was now something to be ordered to eat, no love, no care, hosts who didn't even bother to stay around. She clasped the fruit tightly within both her hands and held her head down.

"Please, please," she whispered, "I don't know what to do, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, please talk to me, please just tell me what to do." The weakest breeze caressed her face for a little longer and then, defying logic, twisted and picked up strength only around her arm. The pain she felt from her escort's endless grip was soothed. She touched her lips; the scratches there were also gone.

"I am God," the voice said. "Worship me, pray to me. That will be all."

It was only more orders, but Silvana held tight to the brief kindness the healing miracles had shown her.

"Thank you," she said, and murmured a simple prayer before eating. She hoped that would be enough. She hoped God did not leave her in that silence again.

Theodora risked turning on the dimmest of magical lanterns for a moment, to see the sleeping face of the human woman she had taken pity on. For weeks she had sneaked around in that endless maze of caves and tunnels, unable to escape the watch of the Cavesong Cult enough to leave the mountains. The shame of lying and hiding away burned her spirit, but it wouldn't destroy her. She wasn't throwing her pride away; that was all for the sake of surviving as the last Air Elemental left, her father's beloved Sky Gift.

The Cavesong Priest was an utter fool who had killed her father to conquer the hidden power of the mountains. Even now as it consumed his flesh he still wouldn't repent, strengthening his hold on the region and believing himself holy enough to win a miracle cure. Theodora was a miracle cure yet had no intention to serve him, but if he was desperate enough to beg for messages in the wind she'd gladly play along.

What of the new priestess, though? She was a regular human with almost no magic, what did he expect to gain from her? Maybe he just didn't want to expose himself out there in the mountains, but how would a weak woman protect him more than his subordinates? It was pointless cruelty.

Her father always told her it was a duty of Elemental Spirits to protect humans as the weaker creatures they were. Having only seem the greedy, murderous lot of them, she hadn't had the chance. The young priestess however was merely a victim. Maybe she could be just as evil and corrupted if given the right temptation, but Theodora would say the same of herself if she had looked at the weeping human without a sliver of compassion.

She was no real god, but she could hopefully do something to keep that one safe. One day they'd both escape that hell.

#oc tober #writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #fantasy #magic #despero #the priestess of cavesong #theodora the air elemental #silvana the priestess #the cavesong cult #cavesong priest #2020

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The God of Cavesong

Got around to writing a sequel for one of last year’s OCtober pieces, I’ll link it in a reblog since Tumblr hates links.

Content warning for abuse and religious trauma (albeit the religion is fictional).

Silvana lost track of the days as she remained confined within the sanctuary's chamber. She was given the bare minimum of food and water and nothing else. Her time was spent praying and sometimes just talking to the God. The God answered at times, and that was enough for her.

After who knows how long, someone came to question her.

"You have been here for long, in fervent devotion no doubt. The priest requests you share the wisdom our God has imparted so far.

Silvana's breath hitched. "I'm sorry. I'm heard His voice, He asks for prayers and worship, but that was all. I don't even know what wisdom I should be asking for."

She heard nothing but the man's breath as he came closer, putting a hand under her chin to lift her face up. "My, my," he said, "don't be so hard on yourself. You don't have to ask for anything. To hear His voice so soon, you are far more blessed than we thought. Continue your work, priestess." As he talked, he brought his other hand to her hair, pushing it off her face, long nails scrapping her scalp with far more strength than the gesture required. "Make it clear that there is no part of your favored existence that cannot be offered to Him."

And he left. She wasn't brought food for much more longer than usual after that.

"On the chamber where moonlight drips on forever, miracle rain falls for but a moment."

The words were blown to her ear as soon as she woke up that time. It was the first time the God had spoken to her unprompted. Usually she would be murmuring prayers of gratitude and pleas for help for what felt like hours before the voice came by, always along the only wisps of wind she could feel in the enclosed chamber.

"On the chamber where moonlight drips... I don't understand."

"You don't have to understand. Worship me and remember my words. That will be all."

Then it clicked. "God's wisdom...! Thank you!" and she chanted the words spoken to her a dozen times, carefully and clearly, hoping to remember them and pass them on to the priest's followers next time they came by.

"You'll have time to memorize them," said the voice, "first, eat."

It was far from the first time the God interrupted her like that. In fact, it was their most frequent interaction. Hours of prayers stopped by short, stern reminders. Eat. Rest. Sleep. Stretch your legs, you've been kneeling for too long.

It all sounded so earthly, so unexpected of a higher power. Those were the only moments Silvana didn't feel so terrified, so out of her depth.

"Of course, thank you," she whispered back as usual and extended her hand to where the bowl of food was usually placed. But there was nothing there.

Before she could say anything, she felt something small bump against her back, again and again. Turning around, she felt a handful of round, soft things with a fresh smell. Putting one on her mouth confirmed her suspicions. They were berries, scattered to her side by a soft breeze.

The breeze that only came from her God.

They didn't taste miraculous, weren't even enough to sate her hunger. She actually recognized them. Those berries grew on bushes from higher on the mountains. The more adventurous villagers would bring some home at times, and gladly share with her in trade for her own cooking.

The image of a berry gathering God coming over for lunch put a smile on her face.

The next time someone came by, it was just to deliver food, but she still blurted out the God's words as fast as she could, hoping to appease them. It probably worked, as they returned to the previous feeding schedule.

"I thank my God for this and every meal, for looking out for our humble lives, for every tiny berry and huge tree of our blessed land," became an habitual prayer for her before meals. It was usually after it that the God would reveal more cryptic wisdom to her, warnings of beasts and places to be avoided, and other things she didn't understand. She only passed on the words to others as soon as she could.

It took her by surprise when the words whispered were a question.

"Why didn't you tell them?"

"I..." She was tired of saying she didn't understand things, but how else does one politely ask a God for clarification?

Luckily she didn't have to figure it out. "The berries," the voice provided. "You clearly haven't forgot about that, but you haven't told them. Why?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize I should, I'll tell them of your miracle as soon as I can, my God."

"I didn't ask you to. I asked why. I wish to gaze upon your true heart, priestess. Let it speak for a moment."

Silvana's blood ran cold. Was the God dissatisfied? She hadn't ever been dishonest so far, what else did she have to say? She hated this responsibility, the fate of her people on her shoulders.

"I am not a brave person, my God," was the truest thing that could came from her lips with so many possible disasters weighting on her mind, "I tell them what they ask of me. They asked me for wisdom, so I gave them your words. I'm, not smart enough to tell the wisdom of that act, so I haven't told them."

The silence that fell did nothing to soothe her anxiety, but it didn't last long.

"You couldn't see the wisdom in that, yet you keep bringing it up. Why?"

"It's because I could see the blessing in it, my God. I was taught you are of immense power, that you share it with your followers to conquer the land and shape it to your will. As someone who lives a humble life, these designs are hard to understand. But I understand looking out for someone in need, feeding them with what the land provides, keeping them company even when they're weak and useless. Those are small things you've done for me since I came here, and to me they were easier to see as blessings. Because I have no training as a priestess, I could only hope my honest gratitude would make for better prayers."

She felt numb and winded, having talked more than she intended. It was weird, confessing to a God that she had no idea how to worship properly, but her chest felt lighter. It was probably obvious from the start, wasn't it? She had always been an honest person, there was only so much she could take of a role she wasn't made for.

She could the breeze gently blowing around her, but no voice came for a while.

"You are wiser than you believe," it finally said. "You would make a good priestess, if you hadn't been forced to it."

Silvana's head spun like the wind. So the God knew she hadn't had a choice. The cult called her blessed, favored. She thought they had acted due to some divine will she could not fathom.

"Have we angered you, my God?" She did her best to not raise her voice in panic, but couldn't stop it from trembling. "Would you rather someone else be in my place?"

A stronger gust blew. "You can't say things like that. If they think that you don't want to listen, or that I've rejected you, they might harm you. And I won't let your faith be in vain. As long as you're here, I will protect you. So even if you're afraid, please trust and keep a secret when I ask you to."

What kind of God says please to a common peasant? What kind of God sounds powerless against their own followers? The voice continued to sound more like a fellow partner than a God.

Silvana couldn't help but smile, it was better that way. "I understand, thank you. I trust you."

The wind died down and silence fell. After a while just a wisp came by, the sound so low Silvana didn't make out all the words.

"...that will be all." It sounded like the usual parting. But then it picked up again in a regular volume. "And get up and stretch a bit, your human body will be pained if you just sit here all day."

"...of course, thank you."

#writebrl #writers on tumblr #fantasy #magic #ocs #the god of cavesong #despero #silvana the priestess #theodora the air elemental #cavesong cult #2021

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For @oc-growth-and-development​‘s OCtober days 2 and 4: Mercy and Ambush.

(From the book "Tales of the Elementals", p.7)

I have written this book out of shame. May it guide this new generation so as to not make the same mistakes.

For six decades I lived in Whistle Village, with an avid interest to chronicle every part of its existence. People called me foolish. The village was an insignificant settlement hidden within the mountains, with nothing of merit and no chance to grow. At times we would catch wind of the progress and innovation other towns were achieving, and the youths who had dreams to chase left to such places. Remained the weak and the old and the mellow, and there we stayed, untouched by time.

The end of my sixth decade at last brought reason to my existence, and I truly wish it hadn't.

A group of magic users came to Whistle. I decline to call them mages, the title this country now gives to those it strives to work in harmony with. The first ones who sunk into magic were beastly scoundrels who gave everything in exchange for wild power. May the current and future mages never forget their rotten roots, and may they grow far away from those.

The leader of the magic users called himself the Cavesong Priest, and together they sought to spread the blessings of their god. They did not talk much about that at first. Their plan must have been to first get in the villagers' good graces with gifts. They built houses, fixed roads, brought goods from the other towns, all with their magic. The people were shaken at first, having not wished for such change in their lives, but had no strength to fight against it, and slowly became thankful for the new luxuries.

With that, they could move on to other goals. They sought me one day, having heard of my knowledge, wanting to know of the beast that lived deep in the mountains. Their god considered it a disturbance, they claimed, and his blessings wouldn't fully reach the village until it was dealt with.

I did know of such creature, the most remarkable thing spotted in that region. A gigantic body in the orange and gold hues of twilight, unreasonably covered in both feather and fur, silver wings on its back. Its prey would fall dead by its first movement, and the gusts of wind from its breath could ravage its surroundings. Its roar reverberated against the mountains at times, a warning for hunters who had gone too far. Yet another reason we villagers kept to our small boundaries.

The priest and his followers were appalled. They promised to protect us, to get rid of the beast and free us all. Never again would we fear for our lives, dread the beast's attacks in the dead of the night, they said. Not that such had ever happened, but the creature was powerful and so was our imagination, and thus the facts began to slip from our minds. Even I, who had chronicled our peaceful history for so long, became enticed by the idea of the monster vanquished by humans, the glory that would finally shine upon our small home, the conquest of a freedom my old bones would probably not even be able to enjoy.

I told them all I knew. For months we worked together, the magic users risking themselves in the wild, testing the creature — an Air Elemental, I was told —, learning its habits, its limits, while I recorded their every exploit, reviewed the information, connected the facts. At last, they made plans for the ambush. I was not privy to the tactical details; they never shared the secrets of their magic with us, called it simply a gift from their god, a gift we could maybe one day receive too, once our land was undisturbed.

They gave me the honor of recording the heroic feat, vowing to keep me safe through it all. With their magic they carved a safe spot near the chosen battlefield, a sizeable gap between the tallest mountain peaks, and told me to not go further no matter what. In no rush to die, I was happy with those terms.

Thus I watched the battle unfold. The creature arrived with a mighty roar, lured by some of the magic users. Only those fought at first, conjuring walls upon walls of solid rock against the whirlwinds the Elemental unleashed. The priest and some others stood hidden, their hands planted on the mountain walls.

I stood there in awe, but, away from the heat of battle, cold logic began to seep into my observations. The creature was gigantic, surely the attacks it withstood hadn't been enough to hamper its movements too much. It certainly had opportunity to reach out and rip or squeeze a man to death with its strong claws. Yet it hadn't. Its attacks and spells seemed to mostly push back its opponents, with little damage.

I had the the uncomfortable feeling that the creature was not using its full power. Maybe it couldn't, in the narrow space it was lured to. But my heart was overcome with the heavier realization that maybe it simply wouldn't.

Then the whole earth shook. Even I as a common man could feel the sheer magical power unleashed at once from the priest's group. Wide cracks ran through the mountain walls at devastating speed. The other group too attacked more fiercely than before, conjuring pillars and chains to pierce the creature's wings and hold it down. Then they ran away. At once huge chunks of the peaks collapsed, falling one by one over the Elemental. It let out screech upon deafening screech of pain, until it didn't.

The silence was more oppressive than the battle it followed. In that moment I felt like the only one left in the world, coughing against the huge volume of dust that had been raised, that made it impossible to see anything. At last it cleared, and I began to hear the faint sound of celebration. The priest and his men were coming out of their shelters, gathering around the humongous corpse in cheer. I had doubts if I should join them. Not only had I agreed to not go past that point, I also no longer knew if I wanted to be part of that.

The men didn't stay long. They moved on forward, to where we could never go before due to the Elemental. I briefly wondered if they had forgotten about me, but my mind was on the other one left behind. In the struggle with my newfound guilt, I began drawing the scene in front of me, the terrible portrait of a once mighty creature, now reduced to that empty gesture of respect.

I traced line upon line, even after the darkness of the night made the effort even more futile. The magic users hadn't come back yet, and I didn't know what else to do with myself. Perhaps it was my fate, that I thus got to see the arrival of the other creature, and hear it first, the whispered laments coming from the sky above.

The creature was still huge, but less than half the size of the other one. It too had the odd combination of a feathered chest and a furry body, in lighter colors that clashed with the night, like clouds. It laid down next to the bigger one, resting its front claws on it as they began to glow a silver color.

I let go of the agreement and made my way down there, for I had to confirm what I had heard. The laments it gave away were of no beast, they were our language. The creature could speak, and the next words it said would haunt me forever.

It called the dead creature its father.

It called, and it cried, and the glow on its claws flickered as it swore it should be able to fix that, lamented that it could not fix it, as no magic can fix death. It was a sapient, sensitive creature we had devastated for goals unclear even to us. Even though it knew to keep its distance from us, we could not reciprocate.

There was nothing I could do or say to fix it, not even giving up my life would change a thing, but in my foolishness i still reached out to the child. My meaningless apology did not fully leave my lips. The creature turned to me in a flash and I could not even see its expression as it breathed a gust of wind that sent me flying against the rubble. My vision blacked out for a moment, and I only heard its frantic flapping of wings as it left, having lost even the chance to mourn its parent.

As I struggled and ached alone in that place I recognized those were signs I was still alive. Even in a pit of despair the creature had spared mercy on my frail body. We humans had not been as kind.

#oc tober #writeblr #writers on tumblr #fantasy #mages #the chronicler of whistle #the cavesong cult #altair the air elemental #theodora the air elemental #despero #2020 #this was totally planned for day 2 only but i missed it #and my original idea was day 4 was uh #not great #so behold the power of fusion #improvise adapt overcome as they say #i'm joking to avoid thinking about how bad this feels #writing