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Ch 81 - Offerings Under a Shrouded Moon
🕑 Added 2025-07-31 00:39:30 +0000 UTCSorry for the slightly late upload!
My writing schedule has shifted a bit lately, but after a week or two I should have a proper backlog and delays like this won’t be a problem anymore.
Enjoy <3
**
The sun had long since vanished, and the moons were cloaked behind a thick veil of clouds, yet their golden and silvery light still filtered through in fragments. The snow covering the clearing reflected even the faintest traces of it, giving the place a dim, silver-blue glow.
The Velmoryns had worked hard to prepare the space. The snow, now half a meter deep, had been carved through to create clean paths. Then scraped entirely down to the earth, until the bare ground was visible once more. Only then did they plant the palamris, forming the circle around the center, where a large wooden bowl sat filled with offerings. Every food inside was plant-based. Not a trace of animal product among them.
They stood in silence now, robed and faceless, forming a perfect ring. Each wore a heavy, dark cloak with hoods drawn low, hiding their features. Only their breath escaped into the cold air, forming faint white trails. The oldest member of each household held a thick, lit candle. Behind them stood their families, silent and still like statues. Fifty-three candles, one for each family in the tribe.
Karla, Avenor, and Gundir were also there.
Despite refusing to become one of my believers, Gundir still participated in every tradition and the ritual the Velmoryns had. He had not carved or planted the palamri, but he wore the robe and held the candle like the rest. And he did it properly.
Karla and Avenor stood beside him. Karla seemed the most eager of the three, visibly excited by the unfamiliar rite unfolding before her. Neither she nor Avenor had families of their own, so they stood near their palamri alone, each holding a candle.
When Tekla appeared it was already a midnight.
Her robe was different from others. Snow-white, adorned with gold-stitched runes, and left open at the ankles. She walked barefoot, her steps slow and soundless. In her hands she carried her own palamri, already lit. It burned not red, but cyan - brilliant, clean, and strangely silent. Whether it was the red rope she had used on palamri or some other chemical, I couldn’t tell. But the fire was definitely unnatural.
She entered the circle through the narrow gap the Velmoryns had left for her, passing between the families without a word. Then she approached the bowl and planted her palamri near it.
I was not just observing the entire ritual, but I was actually monitoring Tekla’s thoughts and emotions. I wanted to know if there was an incantation buried in the rite. If she was going to offer a silent prayer to these so call spirits. A simple ritual didn’t concern me. But prayers to another god, no matter how small or forgotten, would not have been tolerated.
Tekla stopped just short of the bowl. She hesitated. For a moment, she considered kneeling, but quickly decided not to.
“High Father teaches us that no Velmoryn bows to anyone but Him…”
She caught herself. Straightened. Her hands rose slowly, palms facing the sky.
“Winter within the forest has never known mercy. For generations, we turned to the spirits, seeking their shelter when the long night pressed in.”
Her tone was measured, but I could feel the tension beneath it. She was walking on a knife’s edge.
“If I say something wrong, I might insult Father…”
She understood exactly what this moment meant. Every word she chose mattered.
“We need no longer seek their aid, for the High Father’s grace shall stand as our shield. Yet gratitude remains our duty. Though we shall not pray for protection, we shall still offer our thanks.”
The Velmoryns murmured among themselves, their voices low and indistinct. None voiced approval or protest aloud. Obeying the Priestess’ word was second nature to them. They believed Tekla knew better and they would continue following her, without question, unless the day came when she failed.
Tekla stepped forward and took her palamri in hand, holding its flame toward the one nearest to her. One by one, the others ignited, the flames catching in steady sequence. Each torch burned the same soft cyan, cold and bright in the silence.
She lingered for a moment, letting the circle surround her in light. The cyan flame licked her face gently, casting an eerie, almost unnatural hue over her light gray skin and silvery eyes. The effect wasn’t harsh. It was beautiful, haunting, even. In that stillness, Tekla didn’t merely look majestic. She looked mythical. Something remembered in stories, not seen in flesh.
The fire made no sound. No crackle, no hiss. Just that steady blue glow, silent and unwavering, as though even the flame had been pulled into reverence.
For a brief moment, the entire scene looked like a dream.
Then Tekla moved.
She turned, stepped to the bowl, and placed her palamri beside it. Her hand reached down, selecting one of the fruits and pulling it into the painted realm of cyan.
It looked like a peach, pale and smooth. She bit into it slowly. Juice burst from the fruit’s flesh and rolled down her chin, merging into an orange, slightly transparent droplet. I reflected the burning cyan palamris. That is, until it slipped free, hitting the ground at Tekla’s feet. Then she placed the half-eaten fruit back in the bowl and bowed slightly.
I was still trying to make sense of what she had done when she turned, picked up her palamri, and walked away from the circle.
The moment she stepped outside, the Velmoryns extinguished their candles. One by one, they retrieved their own palamris and followed her, silent and unhurried.
I willed the Window to zoom out.
Cyan light traced their paths through the snow, winding between the buildings, painting soft streaks across the otherwise white floor. The whole tribe disappeared, house by house, until none remained. Doors were shut firmly. Palamris were planted beside each entrance. The strange, cyan light lingered, casting color across the wooden walls like a blessing or perhaps a mark.
And then… silence.
Not even a candle’s glow behind a window. Not a single step in the snow.
This is truly interesting…
Even in my old world, there had been something faintly similar. I remembered my grandmother lighting a candle on Christmas. She would place it in the window and say it was meant to welcome the divine - a symbol of hope, remembrance, and faith. Some said it was for God. Others, for the angels who wandered in search of the faithful, leaving behind unseen blessings.
Perhaps, if the ritual had ended there, I would’ve kept thinking it was just another harmless tradition.
But later, when the night was deep and overwhelming, the cyan light changed.
It spread.
Not just across the snow, not just across the doorways, but across everything. A soft, unnatural glow blanketed my entire tribe.
But the moment barely lasted a heartbeat.
The entire cyan glow was pulled inward, drawn toward the bowl of offerings as if the light itself was being devoured. Then, all at once, it took shape.
My eyes widened. Literally.
I moved closer to the Window, instinctively zooming in.
The creature forming before me had no physical body, or if it did, it was completely enveloped in that familiar eerie cyan aura. Still, I could see its form clearly.
It was tall. Taller than any Velmoryn. Its body was lean and muscular, covered in natural fur. No clothing, no adornment. Just thick, untamed fur from head to bottom. It didn’t have feet. It had hooves. Its legs bent backward like an animal’s, not straight like a human’s or a Velmoryn’s.
The upper body, though, was more humanoid. Broad chest, long arms, and beneath the fur, dense, strong muscle.
But it was the head that stood out most.
Elongated, somewhere between a deer and a horse, but with eyes that weren’t animal at all. Two vertical slits, glowing gold and resembling burning fire, the only part of its body not bathed in blue. And above that face, stretching from the skull, were long, branching antlers.
It should have looked eerie. Terrifying, even. At the very least, mythical. But the moment its eyes landed on the bowl, it jumped in place like a child spotting their favorite toy.
It dove in without hesitation, head plunging into the bowl, devouring the offerings like a true beast. Its back twitched with each movement, shoulders jerking as it devoured fruit after fruit until only one remained, the one Tekla had bitten into.
Looks like it doesn’t care for leftovers.
The tension I'd carried vanished. I was enjoying the sight, genuinely. Enough that I forgot, for a moment, what I was actually seeing.
This was the first living deity I had ever laid eyes on. Aside from myself, of course. And weak though it might have been, there was no denying what I felt radiating from it.
It was divine power. And not the kind when Tekla borrowed mine, I could tell that it was its own.
The deer-like deity toyed with the bitten fruit in its hand, tossing it in the air a few times, even catching it mid-jump with an almost acrobatic twist. And then, perhaps once it had sated its excitement, it extended its arm. The bitten fruit still in hand. Its divine power began to surge into it.
The fruit lost its color.
Its shape dissolved, collapsing into a sphere of pure cyan light that hovered above the creature’s hand. Slowly, it rose. Higher. Higher still. Then it exploded quietly, making no sound, spilling energy across the settlement like a soft wave. The cyan energy spread quickly, bathing the entire tribe in it.
My amusement vanished.
Whatever charm the creature had held evaporated the moment it cast a spell on my people. For a brief second, I considered striking back. If it had tampered with them, if it had even touched a single soul…
But I stopped myself. Even confused why I felt such a powerful surge of anger.
I remembered what happened the last time another god interfered with the Velmoryns. I’d been warned then, because they belonged to me. Even Joriel, who hadn’t been my believer, was protected by the domain I possessed.
This was no different.
So instead of doing something I might regret, I activated Guidance.
[Warning: Guidance consumed 1 Divinity Point!]
The System’s getting greedier…
That was my first thought as the familiar pull drained another Divinity Point. It probably assumed I no longer counted a single point as an actual expense, and had started taking it by default every time I triggered Guidance.
I didn’t like it. Not one bit.
But there was no celestial customer support to complain to, so I muttered a few curses and let it go.
Now that I was certain Pintre meant no harm, I turned my focus back to it, curious to learn more. If nothing else, this was a rare opportunity to observe another divine being up close.
After casting the spell, whatever it had done, it sniffed the air repeatedly, as if trying to confirm its work. Satisfied, it began to move.
The playfulness was gone.
Its steps were slower now, almost ceremonial, and carried a strange sort of pride. It walked through the settlement, peeping through every window it passed. At first I thought it was searching for something, but each time it saw that no one was awake, it turned away and moved on.
Eventually, after circling the entire village, Pintre returned to the offering bowl.
It inspected it carefully. Then checked the ground around it. It even looked beneath the bowl, as though it suspected a hidden fruit had rolled away unnoticed.
Shit. Now I actually feel like feeding it.
I actually wouldn’t have minded sacrificing a few Divinity Points, not if it helped establish some kind of relationship. But I wasn’t about to start tossing away my power on a whim. Not without knowing if it would lead to anything useful.
If only I could talk to it…
And then the idea hit me.
The Father of the Night and the Moons had sent me a vision using Joriel.
So why couldn’t I do the same?
**
Pintre
Comments
DemiurgeMal
Interesting, a future servant? I was wondering how humans had multiple gods while elves apparently only had one. I guess it's like this: one god employs other deities.
