12-29-2024, 04:00 PM
Cali stared up with reverence as the Luminar positioned her within the Chamber of Echoes. The lightest touch at her shoulder filled her with warmth and deepened the breath in her chest. She had taken part in the elemental sound bath before, but never when it had been led by him. Soft light washed them in twilight colours that hemmed the moment in divine intimacy, welcoming her into the embrace of ritual that arrested not the eyes, or even the mind, but the essence of her willing spirit. She knelt in submission.
When Quillon welcomed her here as a curious Seeker, the envelopment of earth and water had been her first ever self-revelation. Back then she’d been dabbling in pagan practices with some other MSU students, half aware of that raw and abundant magic curled like a seed inside her. But here, surrounded by it, she had come to understand the connections of her own voice to the verdant growth of green things, the beauty and rootedness of a natural world so many forgot; a world in which she flourished.
Her fingers flexed against the tiles, as though to press into the cool, damp earth. She could almost smell its rich promise. Her eyes closed.
Fire ignited the welcome of summer’s profusion after the patient work of spring; warmth and union, as primal and robust as heartbeat’s song, bursting and engorged with life, vitality, joy. Air spiked the flames, offering purification and rebirth, but in the glory of hope and desire nothing ever came. Her forehead sank to the floor, arms outstretched as she let herself immerse in something so tangible she was almost there; flowers, flames, ashy skin. Laughter. The smell of burning cedar.
It was where it usually ended for her. The unseen, ultimately, remained unseen.
When the ritual’s close called for spirit’s unity, it was her promises and passion and devotion she offered with open palms. But today was different. Today the fire’s revelry stretched until it was touched by a little madness; the last vestiges of connection before the long night to come. The veil thinned, not to a magic that harmonised her soul, but to something darker. Wilder.
There was no darkness in the elements. Or there wasn’t supposed to be. Her eyes were closed, but the shadows deepened behind the softness of her lids. Cali did not fight or reject the spectral creep of sensation as it fell across her. When the expected airy chimes shivered across her skin, this time it came with a whisper that felt like the velvet kiss of knives.
Appeasement, it demanded.
Flesh parted like butter, the ethereality of sound becoming the sharper scrape of bone. A casual slit up her spine, across her skull, to spark up across the tiles. Its path sputtered like dying silver flames, becoming a thread that spun out into the darkness. In the stillness of the moment Cali was captivated.
The line grew taut. Gave a violent yank. Not to rip free from her, taking its revelation and secrets away, but in challenge. It pulled.
Eternal struggle. Eternal sacrifice.
When she lifted her head in the silence of the ritual’s end, it was to stare into the cupped palm of her hands. For the briefest moment she thought she saw it still, that silver line, but in the vestiges of such a transformational state she could never be sure. Sámiel had asked before what she had felt, and now in the Chamber of Echoes she discovered the words for it.
Her gaze rose in time to catch the remains of his unreadable look, before that cunning smile and the slow clap of his hands broke the ritual’s spell to weave one of its own. It felt like the sound fluttered all around her head, though she knew that was just the room’s acoustics. Cali did not stand, though her kneeling posture had straightened into graceful poise, and her expression formed something alert and curious. After a moment her lips parted as though to speak, but it faded thoughtfully before the breath left. The enigma of a patient smile replaced it.
When Quillon welcomed her here as a curious Seeker, the envelopment of earth and water had been her first ever self-revelation. Back then she’d been dabbling in pagan practices with some other MSU students, half aware of that raw and abundant magic curled like a seed inside her. But here, surrounded by it, she had come to understand the connections of her own voice to the verdant growth of green things, the beauty and rootedness of a natural world so many forgot; a world in which she flourished.
Her fingers flexed against the tiles, as though to press into the cool, damp earth. She could almost smell its rich promise. Her eyes closed.
Fire ignited the welcome of summer’s profusion after the patient work of spring; warmth and union, as primal and robust as heartbeat’s song, bursting and engorged with life, vitality, joy. Air spiked the flames, offering purification and rebirth, but in the glory of hope and desire nothing ever came. Her forehead sank to the floor, arms outstretched as she let herself immerse in something so tangible she was almost there; flowers, flames, ashy skin. Laughter. The smell of burning cedar.
It was where it usually ended for her. The unseen, ultimately, remained unseen.
When the ritual’s close called for spirit’s unity, it was her promises and passion and devotion she offered with open palms. But today was different. Today the fire’s revelry stretched until it was touched by a little madness; the last vestiges of connection before the long night to come. The veil thinned, not to a magic that harmonised her soul, but to something darker. Wilder.
There was no darkness in the elements. Or there wasn’t supposed to be. Her eyes were closed, but the shadows deepened behind the softness of her lids. Cali did not fight or reject the spectral creep of sensation as it fell across her. When the expected airy chimes shivered across her skin, this time it came with a whisper that felt like the velvet kiss of knives.
Appeasement, it demanded.
Flesh parted like butter, the ethereality of sound becoming the sharper scrape of bone. A casual slit up her spine, across her skull, to spark up across the tiles. Its path sputtered like dying silver flames, becoming a thread that spun out into the darkness. In the stillness of the moment Cali was captivated.
The line grew taut. Gave a violent yank. Not to rip free from her, taking its revelation and secrets away, but in challenge. It pulled.
Eternal struggle. Eternal sacrifice.
When she lifted her head in the silence of the ritual’s end, it was to stare into the cupped palm of her hands. For the briefest moment she thought she saw it still, that silver line, but in the vestiges of such a transformational state she could never be sure. Sámiel had asked before what she had felt, and now in the Chamber of Echoes she discovered the words for it.
Her gaze rose in time to catch the remains of his unreadable look, before that cunning smile and the slow clap of his hands broke the ritual’s spell to weave one of its own. It felt like the sound fluttered all around her head, though she knew that was just the room’s acoustics. Cali did not stand, though her kneeling posture had straightened into graceful poise, and her expression formed something alert and curious. After a moment her lips parted as though to speak, but it faded thoughtfully before the breath left. The enigma of a patient smile replaced it.