COF 2: The Soul Spells

6 | Celebration (I)

Xanthy bit down on her tongue to keep her mouth shut. She wanted to turn to her friends and ask another question but looking at the stern priest standing at the end of her aisle, she forced herself not to.

She craned her neck at the columns supporting the roof of the Temple and whistled softly. Gods, if these toppled, she'd be crushed flat in seconds. Huge bowls of fire sat atop each column, the flames within them bathing the Temple in a harsh orange ambience even though the sun shone outside.

Xanthy shifted on her seat, playing with her fingers as more brownies dressed in a variety of clothing styles paraded into the Temple and found their seats. This was her first time attending a communal ceremony with actual nobles in it and she couldn't shake off the cloud of inferiority it brought. Not only did she not understand what the Temple people were doing, she also didn't have any inkling on what to do at the event unfolding in front of her.

The crowd gave a round of applause and Xanthy joined a full five claps after, looking around her. Was she even clapping right? Was there even something called right clapping?

Down rows upon rows of benches sloping downwards ending in front of a raised platform decorated with flowers with fire-red petals and green stems strode the Alkaran Royal family dressed finely in red and velvet. They walked towards the center of the stage and stopped to gaze at the crowd. A hushed silence filled the Temple that only the crackle of embers from the braziers and the occasional shifting wind could be heard.

A man not older than twenty by human standards (but probably hundreds of years old by fairy standards) strode forward and cleared his throat.

"My dear friends," his voice flooded the entire venue like he might as well have been talking in a tube enchanted with a voice-amplifying spell. Xanthy squinted at the man dressed in a similar garb like Cyrdel (looked a lot like Cyrdel, too) and pursed her lips. Nope. No voice amplification spells around.

What a monster of a voice, then.

"We have gathered here to celebrate another day of honoring our heroes by the blessed Nira of Calaris," the man, who must be the King of Alkara, continued.

Xanthy leaned into June who sat next to her. "Who's Nira?"

A priestess gave her a cursory hiss from her place at one end of Xanthy's aisle. Xanthy flinched as her heart twinged with guilt. From the priestess's thin, ecru veil, Xanthy swore she could feel eyes trained on her.

"The god of valor and war," June whispered back, earning another bout of shushing from the priestess. "He's supposedly up there in Calaris, the realm of the gods, but who cares about that?"

Xanthy pursed her lips. Did June just deride the gods? Okay, he was not a fan of religion but who was? She shrugged and craned her neck at the mural hovering them like a clawed hand. It depicted two sides at war with each other. Swords, spells, and men frozen mid-scream littered the whole ceiling. So much for Brownies not wanting aggression and believing in peace.