"In the end, I couldn't do it."
Lyrei sighed, staring at her mirror one more time. She couldn't muster up the courage to kiss the boy she liked and made some sorry excuse.
It was odd.
It felt like she was doing it for the sake of doing it. As if she didn't have much interest in it.
"Have I… matured, perhaps?" she touched her face cautiously, staring into the mirror.
She paid attention to her face no longer. It was time for the ceremony.
. . .
. .
.
Lyrei stepped down into the temple, deep under the capital. It was a set of stone staircases, with dimly lit candles emitting a dark cyan light.
Being accompanied by nobody, the sound of her impatient footsteps almost scurrying down the stone staircase, her metal soles slapping onto the rough stone.
Finally, she reached the final floor.
"You're finally here, my dear."
The saint spoke softly.
The room was large, the size of a living room, if not slightly bigger. The walls were made of somewhat preserved stone bricks, with vines and moss growing here and there.
The bright candles wrapped around the room, the wax occasionally dripping onto the floor.
— How do they… maintain these candles?
Lyrei wondered.
She took a closer step.
In the middle of the room, a circle drawn in white chalk could be seen. 7 individuals, cloaked in white, surrounded the circle. In the center, the saint stood there.
"It's time."
Lyrei slowly approached the circle, joining the saint in the middle of the circle. She sat down, her legs folded.
"You must be full of questions, child. Before the ritual officially starts, I'll answer any of your questions."
The Saint was not lying. Being young, Lyrei had a lot of questions she desired to ask.
The whole situation was nerve-wracking, considering that she was only 15 or so. The dim lights barely illuminated the dungeon-like sanctuary. The earthy smell that filled the sanctuary would have hoped to make her feel more welcome, but it didn't.
She swallowed her saliva which had been collecting for a while, in her silence.
"Who are those people?" she asked her first question.
The Saint paused briefly as if someone was telling her the answers directly.
"These... are merely 7 of the many followers of Ogthos."
"Why are they here?"
"They're here as a way to assist us, in the sharing of mana."
"Sharing of mana."
Lyrei looked at one of the cloaked individuals, before quickly looking back at the saint.
"What exactly are the [Saint Arts]."
The saint paused for even longer.
"The [Saint Arts]... is a gift from Ogthos. A divine ruling among humans that would be used to protect his followers, and heal his followers. It's also an insignia, of the sort. A mark of the divine prophet."
"When you share this mana with me... what happens to you?"
The saint chuckled, her straight face turning into a slight smile. She was pleased with how Lyrei appeared to still care for her well-being. But she was just being curious.
"Do not worry, young one. I'll keep this insignia until I die. This ritual is just a way of ensuring that when I die, the [Saint Arts] will immediately transfer to you."
⏤ She isn't dying anytime soon.
"Okay.
"Any more questions?"
"Yes."
"Go ahead and ask."
"Are there any... problems that could occur? With this ritual? Specifically, anything that could happen to me."
A peculiar question. To the Saint, it wasn't like Lyrei to be doubtful.
"This ritual has been done for centuries. From elf to human, human to elf, elf to demi-human, demi-human to human, human to elf- you understand what I'm trying to say, correct? Throughout these years, there has been not one failure."
Lyrei sighed, exuding all the gathered air from her chest.
"Okay. I'm ready."
"Stick your palms out, facing upward."
Lyrei did as she said. The saint followed by placing her palms on top of hers, skin-to-skin contact.
Then, she began to speak. Words unfamiliar to Lyrei. They wrapped around her consciousness, like chains.
⏤ Aagh...
Visually, she was agitated. But she kept her composure. It felt like hours were going on.
Slowly, the Saint's palms began to glow. The energy was slowly transferred toward Lyrei. The saint and the seven followers continued their chants.
Lyrei tightened her grip on the Saint's palms.
The energy was starting to glow a dark, crimson red. Instead of a mutual, willing transfer of energy, it was beginning to appear as if the life was being sucked out of the saint.
Her eyes shot open.
"Y-you!"
The Saint tried pulling her arms away, but it was no use. Something that Lyrei was not aware of either, was happening.
The saint grew paler.
"S-Saint! A-Are you okay!?" Lyrei cried out, trying to pull away. But it was useless.
"Y-you... y-you aren't virtious at... all. You're the devil!"
The saint yelled out, with her remaining strength. Her cheeks became sunken and her eyes sullen. She collapsed. A husk of her former self.
"Y-you... bastard! The filth of the earth...! Enemy of... enemy of Ogthos!" she pointed at Lyrei, raising her shaky finger into the air.
Her arm fell.
⏤ She's... dead.
⏤ I killed her.
⏤ You killed her, Lyrei.
Lyrei looked at her hands.
⏤ I... killed her? And these prophets saw me kill her.
[Cast: Demonic Saint Arts]