The Full Moon ritual

Before they had departed for Alfor, Ceres had lightly scolded Helia.

“Are you sure you don’t want to wait until the Full Moon passes? What if things get complicated, and you miss it?”, he had said.

“What if they get consumed while we wait, though?” she responded, upset. “Plus, it’s always better to help others when you can, even if it’s not always ideal for you.”

Ceres knew better than to argue with her on this, even if he disagreed. Not with the sentiment, but with her inflexibility around it. But he was also aware it was something precious for her, something she carried with her from her previous life, and she would not compromise on it.

Luckily, the gamble had paid off. They had arrived in Alfor three days before the Full Moon, and had been forced to deal with the threat that same day, so by the time they left, the Full Moon wouldn’t be until the night after, anyway. And it seemed like no one had been consumed in the meantime, which was a relief.

They traveled to a nearby lake and set up camp to wait for the time of the ritual. Meanwhile, Helia practiced her new song anxiously, as she did every month. A few weeks ago, she had met an elderly widowed man who refused to leave his home during a Shadow attack. After she had dealt with the threat, he had told her about her late wife’s flower garden, which she had always taken great care of. Of his own admission, he had always been utterly useless with plants, so she wouldn't even let her help him. 

But ever since she was gone, he had asked for help, and he had learnt. Now, he tended to it in her place, and flowers bloomed beautifully around his house, a reminder of their love. He couldn’t just give it up, even when his life was at stake. Helia had been very touched by his story, and so, her upcoming song was about them.

As the Sun set, she changed into her beloved performance outfit and got herself mentally ready. Both Helia and Ceres waited anxiously for the Moon to rise above the neighboring trees, illuminating the night. Once it was fully above them, Helia started singing.

Actually, calling it just a song was misleading, even reductive. Her monthly ritualistic prayer to the Moon was more akin to Handling. She could feel their connection, from her to Ceres, from him to the Moon, and so, from her to the Moon. Once she forgot about the nerves of performing, or the implied threat to her life if she messed up, it was kind of reassuring. A confirmation that He was up there, watching over her.

She kept weaving her tale of two lovers, who had lived a simple, yet fulfilling life together, who built each other up, who fought about silly things, yet they always came back to each other. A house, no, a home, filled with people and love, and surrounded by blossoms.

At first, Helia had been doubtful that the Moon would be interested in such stories. After all, He was the Moon! An all-powerful God who could see all that went on in the night. Surely, she would have to find better things to sing about than whatever she had seen during the past month. Maybe she could make some heroic tales up?

“Oh, but He really does enjoy the mundane stories of humans living their lives the most, I assure you”, had answered Ceres. “First of all, He does not see everything. His domain is the night, when most humans are asleep, even if He would argue that those who do are the least interesting. Secondly, He is… Kind of bored. He enjoys hearing about humans because the stories are real, with real consequences, because you are mortal.”

It was so simple, so understandable, that it made sense once she thought about it. Still, she usually tried to find something a little bit out-there to sing about. Just in case. The only exception, of course, being love stories. From what Ceres told her, He always enjoyed those the most. Especially those with a happy ending.

Even if she was used to it by now, sometimes it still felt somewhat strange, singing to the Moon instead of an audience she could see. As much as she hated being perceived, having direct feedback from her patron would probably be helpful.

She finished the last notes with the light of the Moon shining down on her like a spotlight, and she bowed. Unexpectedly, she heard the sound of applause. Startled, she looked up, trying to find the source.

There, sitting on the edge of the lake, looking at her, was a man, bathed in moonlight. His skin was pure white, and his long hair, pure silver. He was dressed in long robes the color of the night sky, adorned with endless shining gemstones. He looked at her with a gentle smile while he clapped.

“What a lovely story”, said the man, and then, he disappeared.

Helia hadn’t even had time to come up with an excuse for herself before it was over. Not like the she needed one, she thought, logically. She was allowed to practice her singing at night near a lake, but still. She was understandably on guard about being caught in a probably forbidden ritual of forbidden worship towards a forgotten God.

“Wha- “, was all she could say before Ceres interrupted her.

“That was Him!”, exclaimed Ceres, looking at the Moon. “But, that’s impossible!”

“Wait, what? That was… That was the Moon?! He can do that, show up like that?!”, Helia was incredulous, never having heard of this possibility.

“Technically, He can’t, you can. But you shouldn’t be able to, yet! It hasn’t been long enough since you became His priestess!”, responded Ceres.

“It’s been five years already! You could have warned me, I could have said something stupid, or done something embarrassing, or who knows what!”, she reproached him, exasperated.

“It’s been five years, yes. But it usually takes decades!”, he yelled back at her, cawing. “I didn’t expect to need to have this conversation before at least another five, or fifteen!”

Helia was taken aback. “Well… What does it mean, then?”

“It just means you have gotten very powerful”, he sighed in response. “To make it simple, just know that you should only be able to summon Him during the Full Moon, and only if you so desire.”

“Ah!”, she shouted, startled. “I was just thinking about how it would be nice to actually see Him, and His reactions, to my song.”

“There you go, that was probably it. You just have to not do that the next time”, responded Ceres with irrefutable logic.

“You can’t just say that! Now I’m going to only be thinking about that next time!”, Helia squatted down, holding her head with both hands.

They argued even deeper into the night, both of them refusing to admit defeat, until their tiredness caught up to them.

The next day, they set out to the capital once again. Dark circles adorned Helia’s eyes as she walked, having once again risen with the Sun despite her best efforts. Ceres slept on top of her backpack most of the way, and she had never been more jealous of him than that day.

A few Shadows attacked them along the way, which they disposed of promptly. Only now, Helia felt bad, knowing it was actually Spirits. But Ceres reassured her, it was much better for them to return to Mana. If they formed a Pact with a Handler, they would then be able to obtain a physical body without the, presumably, pain and suffering of being a Shadow. Shivering, she remembered the time she had been touched by it, back in Varsey, and how it had felt.

They arrived at the capital a few days later, during the night. The ritual had delayed everything, and Helia had preferred pushing through instead of camping another night, especially when the wind announced that rain was coming.

The first drops were already falling on them when they went through the city gates. Luckily, living out on the streets, one of the first Handling tricks of her own that Helia had developed was a Wind that deviated any water that would fall on her head.

No one was outside at that time, and in that weather, except for them. Even with the lumiranite hanging around, it was hard to see where they were going in such a strong rain.

Helia noticed a few people on her peripheral vision, which wouldn’t have been unusual, if only for the fact they were consistently taking all the same turns as her. She tried to calm her thumping, anxious heart by telling herself they were just travelers, perhaps even Handlers, on their way to Kesmer’s church, just like her. However, alarm bells were going off inside her head, her instincts warning her that something was wrong.

She took a wrong turn, trying to go back to the main street, to see if they would follow her still. To her dismay, they did.

“Hey, that’s not the right way to…”, started saying a somnolent Ceres, half-asleep on top of her head. Suddenly, he perked up. “There are people out here, in the rain, all around us.”

“Mhm”, she agreed silently, not wanting to nod as to not make him fall.

She walked faster, and her pursuers followed suit. Almost in tears, she started to run when she saw the main street up ahead, only some meters away, but her sprint was cut short by the shape of a man, suddenly standing in her passage.

She gasped, and tried jumping over him by Handling Wind, but couldn’t get high enough, fast enough, because of the downpour. He held her arm, and she saw more figures approaching from behind.

With a flash, Ceres transformed on top of her assailant, his full weight falling on top of him with a loud thump. The alleyway was so small that his wings and head scraped on the walls of nearby buildings, losing several feathers. Helia promptly kicked the man on his chest, and took off into another street, holding a small Ceres in her arms as she ran.

Her path kept being cut by people intent on grabbing her, but she kept taking new streets, until she arrived at a dead end. Out of breath, she tried to jump to the roofs, but was still unable to do so in the strong rain. She turned around, ready to fight for her life, the sound of steps becoming stronger against the falling raindrops with every second that passed.

Suddenly, she heard the sound of stone being dragged around. “Over here! Quick!”, said a voice. She was able to distinguish a faint light in the floor, and out of options, she dropped into it.

A strong arm caught her as she was slowing her fall down with a Wind, and she heard the same stony sound as before, muffling the rain as the cover protecting them closed. Helia looked up at the person who had saved them, and was even more surprised to recognize him.

“Arthem?”, she shouted.

“Sssshhh!”, he slushed her in response, covering her mouth with his hand. He pointed upwards, where her pursuers had seemingly arrived.

“I can’t see her anywhere!”

“Damn it! She must have gotten to the roofs somehow. Send word to the team up there!”

After a short while and some more yelling, they left. With a long exhale, Arthem took his hand off Helia’s mouth, who only just realized where they were. Inside the sewers, of a presumably really nice neighborhood, since it was fully illuminated by lumiranite. After which, she realized how close they were standing to one another, and she swiftly took a step back, blushing.

“What is going on? Where are we? And, who are you?”, she fired questions at him while taking a defensive stance.

He raised his hands to signal he didn’t mean to be threatening. “That stings, miss Helia, have you already forgotten about me? I’m Arthem, we met back in Alfor. You saved me, remembered?”

“Yes, I remember you. We met once, I know your name, that’s all. Now please, answer me before I just knock you out and leave, instead”, she answered. A threatening Wind surrounded her while Ceres cawed, still small due to the space they were in.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry”, he sighed in defeat. “We are in the sewers below the northern district, which I apologize for, but it was all I could think of at the moment. You were being pursued by the Solarists.”

“The… Solarists?”, Helia asked.

“It’s a cult that worships the Goddess of the Sun”, responded Arthem. “They believe you are a priestess of the Moon, and that you will bring forth the end of the world.”

Helia’s head started spinning as she heard the first half. A cult of the Sun? Like her family? Had they somehow survived, and come to bring her back home? But that was impossible, wasn't it? 

Was it?

Hope set aflame within her chest, not concerned about the reality she had seen and lived through. 

“I have to go. Maybe I can still catch up to them!”, she said, turning around to look for the stairs out of there.

Arthem grabbed her, looking very confused. “Have you not heard what I said? The Solarists want you, the Moon Priest, because of a prophecy that says you will destroy the world! What do you think they will do once they capture you?”

“No, you got it wrong, I know them, they are my family!”, she struggled to get out of his grip. Hope and despair swirled through her eyes.

“Please, stop! Listen to me, they are dangerous!”, suddenly, a realization hit Arthem. “Oh no. Your habit of waking up at sunrise, and you’re an orphan… Did you perhaps grow up in a Sun cult?”, he asked, hesitantly.

Helia stopped struggling and looked at him nearly in tears. "I thought they had all died, but clearly, some of them survived, and I can finally go back home! So please, let me go!”

“Helia”, he said, softly. “The Solarists aren’t your family. The Solarists are the people who killed your family.”

Struck down by his words, she fell on her knees on the floor, tears now fully streaming down her face.

“How… Do you know that?”, she managed to ask.

“Because they are my family. I grew up with them, until I escaped”, he responded, sitting down on the ground near her. “Let me explain, well, everything.”