Ave Somnium - English version - [MxM story]

Prologue

"Ave Somnium!"

Aligned alongside the wall, men and women were waiting for their sacred priest to bless them with his presence. All of them were wearing long pure white coats with a hood covering their face—all anonymous, whose the priest knows all names.

From his height of one meter sixty, the long-awaited priest treaded on the cold stone floor of the cave with his bare foot. His coat fluttered behind him, barely touching the person following him. Therefore, the hood on his head didn't cover his juvenile face. The domino mask decorated with pearls and long white feathers concealing half of his face preserved the young man's anonymity.

They all leaned slightly when the young man passed before them and straightened up when the man following him overtook them. They followed the dup into the narrow corridor, lightened only by some torches hanging on the stone walls, to arrive at an underground circular high-roofed room.

Hanged at the dome's highest point, a chandelier illuminated the entire room. All devotees gathered in a circle following the pattern of the walls, while the priest and the man following him took their place in the circle's centre. At their foot, chains were linked to the ground with a black iron collar and leather handcuffs.

With a strong and clear voice, the tall man on the priest's right side ordered:

"I ask the Krisi to bring the sacrifice."

Devotees broke the circle for the Krisi to enter and move toward the centre. The man was like all the others, with his long white coat and his hood covering his face, except for the big black eye painted on the back of the fabric. The devotees closed the circle behind him. The Krisi was pulling behind him a young man with a bag on his head who was struggling hard, letting out muffled cries, as if his life depended on it.

Maybe because it was the case after all.

The Krisi forced the young man to kneel and took the heavy collar to put it around the young man's neck. The victim couldn't get up anymore, constrained to kneel at the priest barefoot while the Krisi tightened the handcuff around his wrists. And even if the young man was struggling, again and again, the devotee was used to his task. Only when he was sure that the young man could not escape nor harm their sacred priest that the Krisi step backwards and return to his place in the circle.

The sacred priest moved lightly toward the victim, who didn't sense his presence yet. With a fragile and delicate hand, he untied the knot keeping the hessian bag in place and removed it from the victim's head. He scrutinised the young man in front of him. He seems to be younger than him, fifteen years old, maybe a bit older. He had scruffy brown hair because of the bag previously on his head, his hazelnut eyes wide-opened with terror looking around him with apprehension. Some spots were strewed on his nose and his cheeks but nothing too abundant. His mouth had disappeared, erased by a piece of grey tape.

Nothing out of the ordinary. All of those who kneeled before him looked the same. He had seen dozens of young men like him.

"Today, "he started with a clear voice, "let's thank our god Oneira for his benediction, and let's send him a new subject to protect, in all his kindness and benevolence."

"For Oneira!" chanted the devotees.

In this oration, the devotees started the ritual chant. The young man attached to the ground grew more anxious and stared with horror at the priest who leaned toward him. The priest said calmly:

"Don't be afraid, puer meus, the oniric realm is a better world. Oneira will protect you as if you were one of his own children."

But the priest's words did not have the effect he expected, as the panic of the young man continued to increase. The latter saw the face of the man standing behind the priest, who seemed to look at him with a predatory smile.

The priest put his cold hands on the young man's cheeks and forced him to look into his eyes. The priest closed his eyes and got closer. He muttered in his breath:

And he plucked a kiss on the young man's forehead. The eyes of the young man rolled backwards as he let out a long and muffled scream. His body convulsed and after a few seconds, he fell, as if plunged into sleep. His breath had drastically slowed to the point it seemed to be inexistant. But his chest was still going up and slowly down.

The priest had taken a few steps backwards, letting the man collapse on the floor. The voice around them was slowly shutting down before stopping completely. The room stayed silent for a few seconds. Only the synchronised breath of the devotees could be heard. After a minute when nobody moved, the man on the right of the priest announced:

"See you next week."