Sixteen

A scream pierced the eerily silent town, possibly the last sign of life that Vaen would ever witness. 

Somewhere far from there, a command was logged in a system that had recorded and noted the entirety of the life of the town, including its eldritch death. 

Every life that had struggled and thrived within its walls had been recorded, left in an easily reviewed state and the town's death had been equally noted in a ledger that might never be read by anyone who knew of its importance.

It notated the tone, pitch and volume of the scream that jolted Ezekiel and his party from their stupor.

Taniel was awake.

Impossibly loud, even by the much higher standards of a Songstress, Taniel screamed for the loss of every life in the small town, for the destroyed possibilities of the young and growing who had been lost to an impossible path of fate they never knew they were walking.

Nobody could comfort her as she awoke, as her voice tore along the shattered remnants of the town along her pilgrimage.

Guilt and self-loathing overwhelmed her companions, people who had protected this place from threats supernatural and mundane. In Vaen's death throes, they had been asleep less than a day away, concerned with their own safety and survival.

Taniel's screams changed to a musical outcry, the only true outlet of the grief she felt within her heart filling the air with glowing light and runes.

As she sang, the town was filled with black and blue light as the spirits of the murdered innocents rose from their forsaken resting places, mending before they'd had a chance to corrupt and wander the town as specters and shades.

She pushed herself to a sitting position and clasped her hands before her chest and forced the melody of her song to be heard by every lost life, to be observed by her god and in defiance of Seris, of an eternity spent cursed and suffering.

No song, regardless of how beautiful or powerful, could bring these lives back to the path of the living, but they need not wander the dark of the night, and so, with her waking grief and love for a humanity she could not save, Taniel granted them blessed peace.

The blues and blacks of the dead slowly shifted, the golds and silvers of spirits at peace slowly dissipated and vanished, leaving the town now truly devoid of life, living or dead.

Against all odds, the record of the death of Vaen was altered, completed with the salvation of the damned as its last notation, and of the heroine who awoke from living death to deliver it.

Moving closer to her, Ezekiel caught her as the exhaustion of the incomprehensible weight of using such powerful magic on so wide a scale raced to catch Taniel, almost dropping her back to the cot.

Her breath came slowly now, signs of life painted in the blush of her exhausted cheeks and the sweat upon her brow.

Daring to let a sigh of relief out, he gently lifted her into his arms as Gemma motioned with her head toward the town of Covold, the closest sanctuary.

The day before, Ezekiel would never have set foot back in the Church owned village, but the drastic loss of life had also had the painfully pragmatic effect of destroying the place he and Gemma had called home.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he feared a similar ruination might have been levied against the town, but he reasoned that even with the startlingly rare change of behavior in the Sirens, not even they could wreak such devastation twice in such a miniscule period of time.

Sharing a look with Gemma that told him that she had the same fear, and the same suppressed thought that they couldn't possibly know that for sure, he and his party began walking toward the village of Covold.

Within an hour, Taniel had awaken, and with tear filled eyes and a heavy chest, walked silently alongside Ezekiel, periodically clasping his arm for support…physical and emotional.

The same silence that had overcome Taniel fell over the party, a deliberate choice not to speak, not that there were any words anyone could have said that would have felt right in the wake of the unholy destruction they'd witnessed.

Quiet mouths often breed active thoughts however, and the varying amounts of grief and guilt that he felt didn't stop Ezekiel from thinking about things he'd heard and not taken seriously.

Something of this magnitude hadn't happened yet, but there were rumors all throughout the land of monsters acting in strange and terrifying ways.

Goblins growing to unspoken size and in exponentially higher amounts.

Animalfolk becoming more feral and aggressive.

Ogres that towered at the size of buildings.

Elementals that left their realms and began using their power to encroach on human civilization.

Countless other monsters and non-humans were changing in ways that had never been observed and the attack of the Siren newforms was just one example of the difference of power between humanity and the different kinds of life that threatened it.

The fear of stigmatization of other sentient races because of this ran rampant among their towns and camps, and it rang true in Ezekiel's mind that this would create even more chaos and even more would die because of the strange changes happening in their world.

They passed through a new campsite that had been erected in the time since they'd left Covold, but something about it was wrong somehow.

The runes were…dimmer, even the campfire didn't seem to burn as brightly as it should for some reason.

Safety was in short supply and rapidly dwindling all around the world, a phenomenon that Gemma had noticed and discussed with Ezekiel several times before, though they were unsure what was causing it…or what it meant for humanity when the ability to turn on the lights in the dark places of the world was taken away from them.

True, there were many safe places where monsters didn't congregate, where a simple town guard could keep its people safe, but there were many more places where a barrier was all that actually stood between the residents of a small town and violent nightmarish death.

Lone adventurers and solo mercenaries were becoming increasingly rare as the need for night assistance grew, but living on the outskirts of society had already marginalized reports of that to the point of being irrelevant information to the average person.

A flash of paranoia blazed through Ezekiel's mind, shaking him from his thoughts as the intense feeling of being watched came and went so fast he barely had time to blink.

Resting his hand on his sword, he decided against saying anything to the party, though Taniel looked at him curiously as they walked.

There had been no sign of the Sirens since they'd left Vaen, and who knew what their nest would even look like now, considering how far their behavior had deviated from normal. Everyone was already on guard and on edge, and warning of something that might just be his imagination didn't sit well with him. The last thing they needed was for the final, delicate, strand of reason they collectively had left to be severed for nothing.

He hadn't felt any malice, at the very least, though he'd thought he'd sensed some kind of violent intent toward Taniel, but he couldn't think of anyone who could possibly have such negative thoughts of the Songstress.

The spires of the church rose in the distance, visible a long way off, perhaps even taller than they'd been when they left, looming like a gleaming white eye, watching all who might approach, judging their worthiness to do so.

Within the hour, they reached the town gate, now closed, and rang the bell to call the guards who were probably asleep.

Minutes later a guard approached, unexpectedly alert, and asked what their business was in Covold.

"We have to report to Majni," Ezekiel answered, keeping his words and intent short.

The guard nodded and said, "So…you're the ones he's expecting."

Pushing the gate open with a wary eye, the guard whispered, "Go in and keep to yourselves, something is happening in town."

The whispering struck Ezekiel as weird, but he nodded and shot Gemma a look, unsure what to make of the sudden warning.

Covold was unusually dark for the time of day, as though someone had covered the whole town with much denser tree cover than they'd noticed when they were here before.

At the end of the road leading into town, at the village center, a roaring bonfire burned, casting sinister crimson light in the gloom.

Gathered around it were several members of the Choir and dozens of kneeling supplicants, all praying with their eyes closed and heads down.

Sparks and flecks of burning wood popped out of the blaze and landed on their skin, though they either didn't notice or ignored the pain in their growing reverie.

Azel's dark eyes reflected the light of the fire, clearly haven been taken somewhere faraway by the hypnotic way the flames licked the spear they surrounded.

It gleamed silver and red in the heat and seemed to draw the flame towards it, as though it were absorbing the fire.

Just beyond the bonfire stood Majni, an impassive look on his face and his hands clasped behind his back, observing the spectacle before him.

He spotted Ezekiel and his party and motioned for them to follow him to the inn, mouthing the word "quiet".

The innkeeper was gone, though his wife sat with a pleasant expression on her face, as though there wasn't anything wrong. She smiled widely at Ezekiel as he entered and said, "Oh, welcome back! Good Majni is waiting for you in the dining room."

Considering asking about the old man, Ezekiel thought better of it and nodded, walking past the counter to the dining room, eyeing Majni warily.

The party sat at the massive table that had been set up and slumped forward, the stress of the trip and events finally too much to bear now that they were at rest.

The group sat in silence for some time, unsure who should speak first, all looking tiredly at each other with uncertainty palpable in the room.

A haunting melody drifted gently through the front door and surrounded them, the voices forming it barely passable for human.

"What is going on, Majni," Ezekiel said with mistrust in his eyes.

"The final part of the ritual that was begun at the Tower," the priest answered, a gentle smile on his face.

Ezekiel glanced at the door as Majni continued, "Sealing the fractured remains of Seris away requires significant sacrifice and the only thing that can keep the dead goddess from reviving is the full giving of one's sanity and hold on reality."

Before anyone could react with outrage, Majni raised his hand and said, "Everyone who's participating in the final part of the ritual is fully aware of the risks and what they're doing. Its sad, but their sacrifice will save countless lives and keep the faithful firmly on the path, unharmed by the machinations of the dark one."

Sighing hard, Ezekiel looked at Taniel and frowned when he saw the look of shock on her face, a clear indicator that not everyone involved was aware of what would be happening.

Seemingly noticing the same thing, Majni motioned to the Songstress and said, "I am glad to see you are unharmed, young Taniel. The texts said that the ritual can be particularly difficult for the Songstress leading, but I had faith that you would be strong enough to withstand the effort of keeping Seris at bay."

The young woman's face was pained as she looked away and said, "The Choir…"

"The Choir is fully aware of what role they play in Vaer's plan, and as the torch bearers for those on the path, sometimes the Choir face danger in the place of our pilgrims," Majni said gently, his voice barely above a whisper.

Gemma and Ezekiel looked away, unsure how to feel about this information, given their homeland. Exile culture is based heavily on the ideals of self-sacrifice in times of need, placing the good of the many over the safety of the few, and it is not unusual for a member of the Exiles to die so that innocents might live.

Azael, however, bore only disdain for the man before him, his experience with the Church still fresh in his mind.

"I suppose that the Tower has been…utilized for the ritual many times before," the former priest asked directly.

"Actually, no. This is the first time we've used it according to my records, a direct order from her holiness the Pope," Majni said.

"Her Holiness has been pioneering new methods of guiding the pilgrims lately, or so it seems," Azael said, suspicion clear in his voice.

Majni smiled knowingly and said, "Yes, and we have all reaped the unique and highly beneficial rewards of her daring nature. She is truly a beacon of light, chosen by the World Egg of Light itself, a clear sign of Vaer's and the world's intent that she lead us to new heights of truth and farther down the path than we might have ever dreamed."

"So the rumors were true…she woke the Egg," Azael said, his eyes narrowing.

"Yes, they were. As a former priest, I would think you know that the anti-magic stance of the Church has always made exceptions when it came to magic involving light and holy power," Majni responded to Azael's accusation.

"There's always an exception to the blessed few, aren't there…little Majni," Azael said darkly.

Clapping his hands, Majni smiled wider and said, "We can sit here and argue dogma all night, my disgraced friend, but the ritual will come to a close soon and I'm sure that Taniel would like to rest in the safety of the hallowed ground."

 Taniel looked at Ezekiel like she wanted to disagree, but Majni cut her off and said, "You can return to the room we've prepared for you, Taniel. There are matters I'd like to discuss with the…mercenaries that I'd rather not dirty your pure mind with."

Ezekiel looked back at her and nodded gently, and she rose without a word, concern painted on her face.

As she left, Ezekiel allowed his expression to harden as he turned to Majni and asked, "So the ritual was a success?"

Majni nodded and smiled in bliss as he responded, "Yes, most definitively."

"And how would you know that," Ezekiel asked.

Majni's eyes widened as he searched for a response when Gemma interjected, "Surely a messenger came with the information."

The priest jumped slightly in his seat as he responded, "Yes, exactly, the Church sent a messenger with the information shortly after you returned to Vaerl."

"Interesting," Ezekiel said.

Azael motioned to the rooms in the back and stood, his voice dark as he said, "I think its interesting that you knew the Choir was in danger, particularly since there are no records of anyone performing this ritual in the Tower."

Gemma and Ezekiel rose in tandem, following Azael and Majni said, "I am simply aware of what the ritual entails."

Ezekiel looked back from the hall and asked, "Would it be possible to speak with the messenger before we leave in the morning?"

Majni looked up at the young mercenary and said, "I think she has already taken her leave of Covold. The final aspects of the ritual are not for the faint of heart and if she were strong enough to bear it, she'd have been in a higher position than messenger."

"I see," Ezekiel said as he followed Gemma to their room, already listening to the angry conversation she and Azael were having.

Majni stood and walked to the door, casting a knowing look to the innkeeper's wife before opening the door to reveal the black moon of Seris glowing malignantly in the sky over the town of Covold.

 His shoulders slumped in the light of a celestial body he'd never see and he said, "I fear there will be more blood tonight.