Wings of Noon

"The Flameson."

"The Daughter of Dawn."

"The Wings of Noon."

The names were pompous, but they worked. They gave the whole ceremony a mysterious, occultic touch that gave the whole thing some much needed exclusivity.

Ted dealt with some formalities, and then it was time for the initiates to start chanting outside his manor, in the shadow of the apple trees, far away from any prying eyes.

The initiates stepped onto their pedestals.

The corna brew had been finalized in a laboratory just outside the city to avoid any further medical complications. Now, it was just strong enough to cause an altered mental state, yet not strong enough to kill anyone, not even a woman.

It did seem to cause quite an interesting change in the mental state of the unaware users.

The thrill and the frenzy on their faces was unmistakable, yet the fervor was still of the sort that a more experienced cult leader could have produced without any stimulating herbs.

The light was bright enough to make Ted transcendentally anxious, but he could not show any of his true feelings, instead, he waved a crystal wand around his new cultists in a display that he found rather goofy.

Apparently, the recruits were over the moon to even be in contact with rare crystals. The sunlight hit them, but so did the corna brew. Their jaws were doing masticating movements on their own, their eyes were darting on their own and they were visibly tense, like cats ready to leap onto their prey. Little did they know – they were the prey, the little fish, and Ted was not a cat. He was an immortal salamander.

Next, the initiates chanted the nonsense over and over again. Ted intended to be awake for the entire duration of the ceremony. He was supposed to gift an elevated state of mind for these poor fools. He considered that to be a good price for their souls.

He observed the chanting standing up for as long as he could. He really could not understand how he had been able to charm these people so completely that they saw this as the only rational option. Or perhaps it was not reason that made them stagger on their sun-soaked pedestals, but emotion instead.

"This is good," the sharp voice of the sun god said to him inside his mind.

"This is good, you have orchestrated this, this is good."

Ted resisted the temptation to shake himself. He could not start acting funnily right now. He was to be charismatic and strict. Sudden movements were to be planned well ahead, every tilt of his head a calculated move, no, his own sanity could not crack right now. Not visibly. He could moan and whine to Eknie after the ceremony.

There were no clouds in sight. Ted felt out of control. He felt the strange field of energy fill his entire body and curate his muscular activity. It was very much possible that he could not have acted like a total fool on his own. The solar god was very much present, its hateful aura piercing everything.

It appeared to Ted like the only choice in the long run would be retreating from sunlight altogether. Maybe it was the long winter of the Fin calling him. In any case, he would have rather suffered isolation for six months and spent another six months in blissful darkness.

The chanting went on. Now, the real trance was beginning to settle in for the initiates. Their expressions and voices changed, imitating some perfect rhythm that Ted just could not pick up, they were in harmony with each other, whereas a moment ago the edges of the gibberish had mixed up and muddied themselves with their uneven pacing.

It was a hypnotic sight and an even more hypnotic listening experience.

Eknie was just as enchanted as Ted was, judging from her expression. As a lady, she had been allowed to pull up a garden chair. Most men were stupid enough to think of women as weak.

Ted knew that the best of them packed quite a punch, and they did not even need to retort to physical violence. No, Eknie was certainly one of them, and even without her marksmanship, she would have been more of a formidable threat than any male he had ever met.

Sun, Your Divine Grace, your rays purify all things.

That had been the original meaning of the gibberish. Ted did not even remember anymore whether he had changed the meaning, but that could be quickly rectified with a look at his notes.

Sun…it was probably a force more primeval than lightning itself, yet it had been devalued and replaced from its ancient place as the ultimate representation of the divine masculine.

There were even some parts in the Seed Faith doctrine that suggested that the life-giving star was, in fact, a feminine entity.

Ted sighed and tried to concentrate on the chanting again, but there was so little variation in the syllables that he only managed to whip himself into a silent, rhythmic fury.

This was what he was supposed to observe for over twenty hours. He had made a terrible mistake.

He motioned Eknie to give him a chair as well. He was the cult leader, he was allowed to have a seat.

He felt himself pulled deeper into the chant, and everything, every sensation got all sharp on the edges.

This kind of hyperfocus was a terrifying experience. The sunlight danced on his crystal wand, casting prismatic color schemes on the pale, luxurious robes of the initiates.

Yes, he had orchestrated this. Whether this was good or not, he really did not know. This felt too real.

He didn't know what was good and what was evil. He was supposed to be evil, but compared to the solar deity, he was a saint.

The sun crept lower and lower, towards its final destination for the passing day.

Eknie chewed her lips, and Ted thought about eating something, but that would have looked bad.