Chapter 5: Trial
A/N:
kosya - formal address towards a person if you do not know their name.
Vlasokhii - an informal address of Eridæus’ patronymic “Vlasokh,” it is used with leaders/shamans/any tribemates higher in social ranking to those lower than them; can be both formal and intimate depending on context.
Shamaneokh-saen - a very formal address to a shaman tribemate; “eokh” implies closeness/intimacy, while “sæn” imples formality and social hierarchy.
Word count: 1000
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I sit in the lounge room, gently sipping the broth as the effects of the spell are still lingering in me. The headache is still present, but the queasiness has settled down enough for me to walk around.
As I am finishing my meal, the kosya walks up to me again, calmly standing by my table, “Please come with me when you are finished. She is waiting for you to start your session.”
“Session?” I ask as I finish another spoonful of the broth, “Of what kind of session?”
“You will see when you follow me.”
I gently set aside the bowl, stand up, and straighten my clothes and hair, “Then, I am ready; can I know as you escort me?”
She is silent, her eyes just narrowing slightly as she gives me a curt nod and waits for me to join her by her side. As we walk down the hallway of various doors, she then answers, “She wishes to see your fear.”
“I have many fears, is there anything specific?”
“That will show when the session begins.”
I frown, her curt and cryptic nature doesn’t help in offsetting the foreboding sense of malice I feel, “I understand.”
We are in a tense, uneasy silence before we finally reach one of the doors as it opens for us on its own. She gestures for me to enter and I do so, looking around to see every bit of the room is dark and empty. As I am about halfway into the room, I glance over at the kosya, ”...When will I know the session is over?”
“Myself or another disciple will be sent to retrieve you.” her answer is ominous at best as she promptly closes the door on me.
The silence is deafening, no noise or ambiance is present in this void-like space. I mutter a prayer to Strength before taking a seat in the center of the void. The ground is unusually chilling, yet soft and pliable ... like snow?
“This is a bit disrespectful, don’t you think?” I bristle a little, “Yes, I did say I did not like to speak or think of being alone but it is not a fear, and I’d prefer we do not disrespect The Arcana in this manner.”
A faint set of footsteps grow louder as they approach and I feel my hand clench into a fist--I recognize the rattling of that wooden staff from anywhere; it’s the Shaman of my tribe.
″Vlasokhii,” Arrogoshyazak-saen’s aged yet commanding voice makes the hairs on my arms stand. “How far have you led yourself astray?”
“I’ve not,” I counter, trying to keep my voice even. “It is you who chooses to believe such a thought.”
“You sound defensive, that means you know it is wrong. You have committed sin.”
“You aren’t here with me, Arrogoshyazak-saen. Given the nature of this place, I know what your manifestation is based on.”
“So you wish to hide, then?” he takes a cross-legged seat across from me on the floor.
“I’m not hiding.”
“Enough of your facade, Vlasokhii,” the fwop of his stick cutting through the air as he strikes it inches away from my right shoulder almost makes me jump, “Submit. You’ve committed hearsay, you’ve let The Devil consume you.”
“I have not.” my hands are shaking in anger, but I must contain it; I know what this is, I know very well what all of this is. It’s been so many years since I last saw my tribe, I’d long left everything behind; following orders and social customs that labeled me a sinner when I am not. I wasn’t going to let some anonymous figure rouse something inside of me; I had every right to feel and believe in what I did back then.
“You’re buckling, as is natural for man; let your guard down, you are not an Arcana.”
“I will not submit to you,” I can hear the falter in my voice as I try to not break away from the old Shaman’s piercing gaze. “I have not let anything consumed me, it is you who is trying to enforce something wrong into my mind. But I’m not the same man I was-”
“You are not a man, Vlasokhii.” he immediately interrupts me, “By even denoting yourself as such, you are-”
“I AM NOT YOURS TO HERD ANYMORE, SHAMANEOKH-SÆN!”
There is another flash and I feel something coursing through my veins I stand up, hearing the sound of electricity crackling in the air as blue volts surge through my palms and strike the old man. A grunt of pain escapes him as whatever shield he manages to conjure breaks instantly and I hear the sound of his body being flung across the snow.
Crack.
I feel my body, and I almost throw up; it feels what I’ve always wanted it to be, but something is wrong--very, very, wrong. I start walking and what starts out as the sound of my footsteps crunching through snow becomes soppier and thick to the point I look down. The ground has turned into a sickly crimson ooze, the smell of burnt flesh and rot prompting me to cover my nose quickly to not risk another wave of queasiness. I keep walking, trying to drown out the sound of splashes and squelches as my feet tread through until I stop at a clearing.
The wind picks up to a howl, and I see the mangled corpse of my Shaman before me; more of my surroundings form as more bodies lay atop each other, my parents, my friends...
“Looks like we’ve got everything we wanted, ‘baby’.”
“I wish to be relieved, now.” I shut my eyes, my body visibly trembling. I don’t need to see the speaker of that voice, ”...Please.”
Even though I can feel everything shifting back to normal, I keep my eyes shut and bury my head into my knees.
Shakily, I utter many prayers as tears roll down my cheeks, Please, forgive me.