A Healer's War

Chapter 29 - Remembrance Day

Chapter 29: Remembrance Day

23:56. Monday - April 23rd.

Translated from:

Disc - Shepherd's Stone

Sub-ring - Accounts

Script - Remembrance Day

When the fourth shadow moon reaches its zenith, let the Festival of Remembrance begin. We of the Wyth usher two generations - one in, the other out, and continue the Great Cycle as the All-Mother taught. Eight lessons, eight plays (see Sub-ring Ritual) will stretch from sunset to sunrise, and all shall hold this night apart lest any who come after forget.

The First - The Shepherd's Discovery

The Second - Foundation of the Wyth

The Third - ***Translation Ends***

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Passing the brambles, Rory clutched the keystone to his chest. Where are the golems?

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. With each step down the path, the nervous ringing in his ears grew louder, muffled only by his breaths and the drum of his quickening heartbeat. When he reached the clearing, he saw the piles of trash, mud, and rust had disappeared. At the center, the blue tarp gently rippled in an unfelt breeze. Who's guarding the Cove?

Dread sank into his gut as he approached the tarp, eyes scanning the deep shadows of the tree line.

"Hello? It's Rory. I have my stone!"

The forest remained mute, spiking his dread. Then, faint as a whisper but growing stronger by the second, came a deep beat that shook the clearing.

Boom. Boom-boom. Boom. Boom-boom.

Rory spun, trying to locate the sound, and found it came from behind the tarp.

Boom. Boom-boom. Boom. Boom-boom.

Drums? There was no telling in Jacklyn's crazy world.

Fearing the worst, Rory plunged in, praying Jacklyn's hunters weren't there.

After the pressure came and went, a brilliant, starlit darkness consumed him. Against a moonless night, a massive bonfire blazed down the beach, and the long stretch of white sand glittered in its orange light. Long shadows twitched and danced against the cliffs. Rory squinted. Tiny figures moved rhythmically around the flames.

BOOM. Boom-boom. BOOM. Boom-boom.

As Rory's eyes adjusted, he saw dozens of turquoise glowing golems in a kind of trance, their claws stretched skyward as they moved around the flames. Pairs sat around the circle's perimeter, each with a mallet, taking turns striking their drum in a synchronized call and response that reverberated deep in his chest.

BOOM. Boom-boom. BOOM. Boom-boom.

Like a moth to the flame, Rory stepped towards the fire, his fear morphing into yet more questions. His foot struck something solid in the sand. He looked down and, in the dim starlight, saw a non-glowing, un-mushroomed golem. It looked to be little more than a lump of mud and metal in the sand. Dead? In each of its hands, atop its chest, was a bouquet of pink, gold, and red flowers. Buried? Rory glanced over at the fire and the dancing golems, then back to the lump. Looking up, he saw dozens more mounds in the sand. He felt a pang of sadness. What is going on?

As Rory neared the circle, the drums abruptly stopped. "Our guest has arrived!" Caroline's voice cut through the quiet. The golems all turned in Rory's direction, where he stood quietly, brushing off his hands, trying to look like he belonged.