Ulrica

Chapter 3: Varázslatos

When the villagers kindled their torches, the night was at its darkest. It appeared to be stars from a distance, gently springing to life and pounding the dusk as it shone. This night is not an ordinary night. This is the only time people will offer their goods to Bathaluman, the deity who created Varázslatos.

Some brought fruit, while others slaughtered the best of their herd as an offering. Some even carried their largest catch of the day. They think those who provide the best things to Bathaluman would be blessed. They were well aware that they needed to please Bathaluman with their offerings.

Every year, fewer people offer their goods. Some believe that they thrive even when they don't provide anything. Those who regularly deliver are regarded as in need because they are still hoping for a better life, while others have given up believing.

"Mother, the line is shorter this year! I'll be able to sleep earlier!" exclaimed Ehreb. He carried three wild fruits on his shirt because his hands were too small to bring them all.

"That's not good, son. There are just a few families in Varázslatos. Everyone used to believe in this feast, but nowadays, it's different. We should thank the deities with or without blessings," the old woman clutching freshly picked flowers said.

Ehreb and his mother wished they could give something valuable. However, bread as payment for a day's labor is insufficient, even for a small child's stomach. So they chose the most excellent fruits and flowers they could find along the way.

"Mother, am I important?" the child asked. He gazed deeply into his mother's eyes, expecting to find the answer he sought.

"Of course, especially to me, because you are thoughtful and wise, and you are also the only one who keeps me happy," the woman replied as she took a flower from a cart passing by.

"Offer me to Bathaluman!" screamed Ehreb. "Perhaps I can take care of a god, or I can serve the people," he said as he took the flower from his mother's grasp.

"How about me? Who would look after me? Who would make me happy?" the woman asked her son, smiling. She knew that was all childish nonsense, so she didn't mind.

"I'll look after you and bless you because you're faithful! We won't have to split a small piece of bread because we'll be affluent!" the young kid exclaimed as if dreaming. The mother patted her son's head and gave him a small laugh.

People are strewn along the banks, waiting their turn to leave offerings at the Harria, a flat, circular stone in the center of the Muri river. And they must complete it by sunrise. Bathaluman, according to legend, will transport the items by the sun's beams. The first rays that strike the Harria are always the brightest. It's known as "the Hands of Bathaluman."

According to their tradition, they should not gaze at Bathaluman's hands when he is accepting their offerings. Bathaluman was rumored to curse anyone who glimpsed even the tip of his finger.

The line moved along as normal, and everything appeared to be going well. The only difference was that individuals were taking their time today rather than rushing to accommodate everyone who wanted to make an offering.

None of the living Enchanteds and humans could tell what occurred that last feast. There were stories, just like the one that was just told, but none were true enough for anyone.

Some say that Bathaluman and the other deities were displeased by the decreasing number of devotees. They thought they had lost their touch with humanity, especially that offering night when a child dared to look at the Hands of Bathaluman.

That last offering night, they say that the strongest of Gods came, and they decided to change Varázslatos for good.

Bathaluman, according to legend, put everyone to sleep, believers and non-believers alike, including the worst of humanity. He arrived in Varázslatos alongside the other deities and breathed new life into the sincere believers. The new life was meant to be a blessing. For others, however, it was a curse, as some of the deities and creatures that brought the new life were those of darkness. Bathaluman consented to it for unexplained reasons. It was the most famous tale, but the Enchanteds believe that the humans made it to classify the good and bad ones.

Their earliest memories, however, were of when the Enchanteds ruled their world. There emerged a superior class of humanity who inherited Bathaluman's grace. The lowest creatures and the dwellers of darkness had their own ranks. And then, there are humans.

As time passed, these classes were separated into many clans based on their type. The power has been passed down through generations. And in Varázslatos's early years, mystical creatures championed their world. They are the most powerful officials, the wealthiest clans, and well-known.

But that was back then. A single war turned the tides differently when an Enchanted of darkness challenged their leader around a century ago. Because these magical creatures, the Enchanteds, are now nothing more than regular creatures who roam their world.

Humans became the most powerful. They even captured the Enchanteds, who were proven to use their power because the council of Varázslatos had put up a law against magic. Some were even chased to their deaths. There was also a law that a human cannot befriend or have a relationship with the Enchanteds.

Until today, nobody knew when the Enchanteds did not exist. Some even believe that the Enchanteds were the first inhabitants of Varázslatos.

But no one can prove that.

The earlier stories of their roots were erased. In a nutshell, they don't have a history. No books, no scrolls. No evidence of a world before the existence of the Enchanteds.