The two boys began to mingle into the crowd occupying the town square. Despite its business, the city was actually quite tranquil, with polished marble structures reaching into the pink and orange sky. On the raised platform in the centre of the square a metal altar encrusted with emerald gems lay surrounded by a collection of Neorulian Guards. The practice of Ascension had been a custom of the Neorulian people all of Atticus's life, however he was somewhat reluctant to take part in it. A hand suddenly grabbed his shoulder from behind.
"And where the hell have you two been for past 18 hours?"
The person who had grabbed Atticus was Amelia, about 15 years of age, with misty blue eyes and ginger hair. Her face was dominated by a very dour frown.
"We... went out..." Eli paused and looked at Atticus.
"It's okay Amelia. We just got caught up outside the boundary. Nothing too serious." Atticus's face was much more calm than his friend's.
"Nothing too serious? That's the third time in two weeks you've been caught messing around at the boundary! What was the charge this time?!"
"Community service..."
"Again? You're damn lucky you are! Believe me, if I-"
An old woman turned to face the trio with an accusing expression, silencing their conversation.
"You three, quiet! Ascension is about to begin!"
Atticus, Eli and Amelia all bowed their heads, still muttering about last night's events. In the centre of the square, a man dressed in white and gold robes holding a glass staff stepped up to the altar. He waved his glass rod through the air, and the entire crowd went absolutely silent. A group of ten green-robed sages formed a circle around the base of the stone platform.
"People of Neorulia, it is time for our weekly Ascension to begin! Let us choose our Marksman!" The man inserted his staff into the top of the altar, and the gemstones on it immediately ignited in lime-green flames. The fire climbed up the staff rapidly, until a single beam of florescent light shot straight up into the sky. The cloud darkened, and a black mist crept over the marble pavement. Everyone was whispering words in the ancient language of Neorulia, Glavioc, and Atticus and his friends also began to chant.
An elderly man suddenly ignited in the same green flame that was saturating the altar. He screamed as his body began to stretch outwards and channel into the central light beam, spraying out a colourful array of sparkling embers.
"The Marksman has been selected! He will now ascend!"
Everyone in the square outstretched their hands towards the altar as the old man's flaming body rapidly ascended into the clouds. He continued to rise until no longer visible. As the mist cleared the sky began to light up, and a ring of dancing flame rippled across the horizon in all directions. The crowd began to cheer and shout, and the man with the white and gold robe faced the people of Neorulia once more.
"Thank you for your sacrifice. Although in body an absence is present, in spirit your flame lives on. Neorulia Para Sempre Vivir Conquer!"
The townspeople began to filter away from the altar back into their homes. Atticus and his friends stayed behind.
"I can't believe it will soon be the one hundred year anniversary of Ascension," Amelia proclaimed. She had always been a big fan of the practice, and one day hoped to hold a higher position of importance in its taking place. Eli looked uncomfortable.
"Do you... think they—the marksman—feel any pain?" He paused. Amelia shot him a stern look.
"Pain? You think the they feel Pain?! It is the greatest of all honours to be chosen for Ascension!"
Atticus pondered the question passively. It had never really occurred to him that the participants felt any discomfort. Seeing as everyone offered themselves willingly, he thought they would be rewarded, if anything. Ascension was of course the only way to achieve an afterlife.
"I'm sure the marksmen are all content living a better life than down here," Atticus said trying to sound comforting.
"Come... let's go back to my grotto, it's not far from here," Amelia suggested.
The three friends began to stroll back down the now empty street. The sun was gliding westward through the sky, causing dynamic shadows to extend from the pillars and lamp-posts lining the path. Architecture in Neorulia was very polished, and varied more in height as it reached the border. Walking away from the city centre, Atticus watched as the buildings grew higher and higher. His grotto was near the southern edge of the township, neighbouring Amelia's.
A series of horns suddenly sounded from behind the trio. Rapidly turning to face the oncoming noise, Atticus's eyes were met by four men riding Ostrich-like creatures, each holding two-spoked spears.Their gaze was fixed sternly on the road ahead.
"Another scouting mission," Eli murmured.
The riders broke their formation to avoid the Children, who remained silent as they passed, and continued to stampede down the street.
"That's gotta be the fifth one this week," Amelia exclaimed.
"I wonder why they're boosting control operations right before ascension," Atticus continued to stare at the riders as they disappeared in a cloud of dust.
Scouting riders were common place in Neorulia, as it's borders were constantly expanding. Citizen's were not, however, allowed to visit these borders in case of unknown threats. Besides, it was much easier just to stay in the city.
"The Junta are probably just on edge... it's a big anniversary of course," Eli stated.
"Probably..."
The three friends continued to stroll back to Amelia's grotto, an eerie silence antagonising their thoughts.
