Rituals of Devotion

“Yvara, have you been up all night?!”

“Of course not! Just… most of it,” Yvara said sheepishly. John had strolled into the kitchen to find Yvara skittering about the kitchen furiously measuring things. She was dutifully accompanied by Aclysia, who was not only surrounded by hard-cover books, but seemed to have a small notebook nearly entirely filled up with writing. Large writing, but still.

“I mean, I can’t really judge anyone’s sleep patterns after the way I acted in high school, I guess. Sorta used the sun like a reverse alarm clock…” John mused, smirking at the memories of his all-night gaming sessions every weekend and holiday he could get away with it. “Did you at least have fun?”

“Oh, it was thrilling! Aclysia has grown remarkably curious about the practices and methods of worship at our temples back in my homeland. I admit I had worried once or twice before that I was boring her with the tales of my old world, but she was more curious than I believed!”

“Was she now?” John said, quirking an eyebrow and resisting the urge to glance over at Aclysia.

“I was indeed, Creator John,” Aclysia confirmed quietly. “Yvara has been very graciously answering my questions about her culture and temples. I apologize if I have kept her up in a way that causes you any inconvenience.”

“No, it’s no trouble, it just caught me off guard. Did something in particular happen, or…?”

“Aclysia told me that she was seeking to learn how we showed our devotion to you in my world – I think she’s looking for her own ways to express that,” Yvara explained, glancing at Aclysia and smiling. “Was that about right?”

“I wish to ensure you are aware of how much I appreciate what you have done for me, Creator John. It is my duty to serve you, so… it feels insufficient to merely do that. And I have few ways in which to perform those duties already.”

“Oh, this is about feeling like you need to pay me back for something, or show gratitude? Aclysia, that really isn’t necessary. You can do whatever you feel like, but it’s not like I expect you to pay me back for… whatever it is you think you owe me for,” John said, grimacing a little as he rubbed at the back of one of his arms in embarrassment. Yvara had already been insistent on returning his “generosity”, and was now spending all-nighters preparing to remodel his whole kitchen. What kind of ideas had she given Aclysia?

“I understand that you do not expect me to do these things… and that is… part of the reason why it would be… all the more important for me to… perform these sacred acts in your name?” Aclysia didn’t sound uncertain, but rather hesitated as if to ensure she got the words precisely right. John couldn’t help his confused and slightly concerned look this time, as his eyes roved over first Aclysia, then the book in her hands.

Declaring & Displaying Devotion – Ways to Honor the Lord ~ This book is an in-depth analysis and discussion of some of the most famous examples of works of faith, pilgrimages, and charitable works done in the name of the Lord – that’s you, by the way. Maybe you should read over it and think about switching worlds for a while? Just imagine, a whole land full of monster girls, treating you like a god… sounds pretty good, huh?

“Wh- Is that an option?” John thought, considering screaming the thought to the skies for a moment, but knowing he wasn’t likely to receive a response. “I mean, I guess I’m not gonna leave my friends here anyway, or waste time when I barely have three weeks left… but still. If it really is Gaia writing these things...”

“Creator John? Are you alright?”

“Ah, sorry, lost in thought again,” John exclaimed, pulling himself together. He allowed himself one last glance to catch the titles of a few of the other books, but none of them seemed like anything too shocking, and he didn’t have time to read all of their Observe windows. “Look, if you want to do these things, that’s fine – but only do them if you enjoy them, okay? I don’t want you to ever feel obligated to do anything just because I take care of my family. I’ll tell you the same thing I told Yvara: you’re free to do anything as long as you get some pleasure out of doing it, not just something you do for my sake. Oh, and as long as it doesn’t mess up the house or bother anyone else.”

“I will do my best to meet your criteria, Creator John,” Aclysia said, though a slight frown crossed her face as she reached toward the stack of books and began thumbing through them.

“I know you will, Aclysia,” John said, believing every word. Aclysia didn’t seem to have noticed the look on her face, but John was getting the hang of reading her slightly unusual expressions. That half-frown made it look like she was putting a lot of thought and effort in as she scanned the pile of books around her . Whatever she was looking for in the books, she was laser-focused, to the point that she didn’t even glance up as he turned and started walking away.

……………….

“Yes, I believe it was this one!” Aclysia exlaimed in her own mind. A surge of something like energy shot through her body, and she couldn’t help a sudden tensing of her muscles as she lifted the book up triumphantly, in a manner that was unfamiliar to her but felt much like what John described as “joy”.

Yvara jumped slightly as Aclysia bounced slightly on the chair, causing the wood to creak under the considerable weight of her stone frame. Yvara turned her eyes to the Artificial Spirit and noticed her focusing on the book she was holding even more intently than many of the others she had been reading that night. The Dragoness nearly gasped when she caught sight of the title.

Physical Worship: Rites & Rituals.

A somewhat unassuming title at first, but it was most certainly not one of the sermons that Yvara had intended to share with the naive Artificial Spirit!

“Ah, Aclysia, that’s… not one of the books for that kind of display. ...Or that kind of devotion,” Yvara added, blushing furiously as she stood and moved to retrieve the book. As she approached, Aclysia quickly set the book down – keeping it out of Yvara’s immediate reach as she did so – and furiously began to scribble. The way that the usually neutral woman’s face showed such determination made Yvara hesitate just long enough for her to finish her writing and turn the paper around for her.

“Creator said I could do anything, as long as I got pleasure.”

Yvara blushed furiously as she recalled John’s unfortunate – or, perhaps, very fortunate - choice of words.

“I understand that, Aclysia, but…”

Yvara trailed off, completely lost as to how she should bring up the fact that the book Aclysia was holding was not one of sermons and worship, but rather an extremely explicit book that rode the border between instructional and pornographic. Technically it was a book meant for worshipping the Lord, but it was effectively a guide on carnal pleasure for his personal concubines… and anyone else who was interested in what sharing the Lord’s bed for a night might be like.

By the Lord himself, she would die if it had been Lord John who had been the one to discover that particular book. If he asked her why she possessed such a thing...

“But what? Creator John will surely like many of these positions. I have seen him doing things very similar with the other women that live here.”

Yvara had taken so long in her terrified thoughts, imagining Lord John holding up the tome in a way that would make her want to set everything on fire – very much including herself - that Aclysia had been able to write out that full response.

“B-but, it’s not-”

“Well… maybe it’s not so bad. If Lord John doesn’t want her to do something like that, he’ll just stop her, won’t he? Oh, but what if he asks her where she learned it from?!”

“Thank you for the reference materials. I will return them in pristine condition.”

Yvara opened her mouth, but only a single squeak managed to come out as she watched the Artificial Spirit stand up from her seat, bow slightly, and walk toward the door. Yvara held out a hand wistfully, as if trying to will Aclysia to return to her.

“By all that is holy, what have I done?!” Yvara practically squealed inside her fragmenting mind, picturing all the ways things could go wrong, but frozen to the spot without the will to continue on with her attempts to dissuade the Artificial Spirit.

“M-maybe it won’t be so bad! M… maybe if he reads the book after he takes it from her, he’ll punish me.”

Yvara stood still for a moment, biting her lip as she considered the possibilities. Her legs began to rub together as she pictured his face as he stood over her, ready to deliver judgment.

“Perhaps he will find it amusing to punish me using the wicked material against me. Oh, a most fitting punishment indeed, would he dare deliver it himself?”

A light moan escaped the deviant dragoness.

“...In his name, I hope he uses chapter thirty-two if he does.”

The room almost seemed to be swirling with the way the mist from the braziers twisted in the air, propelled by unnatural and unseemly winds. So thick was the smoke that she could scarcely see the five other necromancers surrounding her, hands raised into the air, each pair glistening with a cyan light held betwixt them that raised a pillar of brilliance to the roof of the chamber. There, just a foot below the roof, each column of light spread perpendicularly in the air, light flowing into a horizontal pattern like water through a trench.

“Aectha. Salavir. Ich’thuon. Mostrabeti. Intuina, Vak’thir!”

Ancient names forgotten to all but the righteously devoted, ancient curses cast upon all of creation. The mist swirled faster for a moment, the light intensified, and a silent roar seemed to gust through the chamber. The flowing patterns connected with each other, forming an intricate pentagram with multiple outer rings, each engraved with its own set of markings and symbols.

“Hold steady! More mana, more soul essence!”

Xanthia raised her hand to the sky, clutching a silver dagger that released a pale blue strand of mana that flowed like water on its way toward the sigil high above. It weaved through the air, touched the barrier for only a moment, then passed through, sending a ripple through the surface. The room shook, the sigil trembled, and for just a moment, dust and debris started to rain down from the ceiling, though the dreamy blue thread remained utterly still amidst the chaos.

“Hold… hold!”

Groans of effort and pain came from the necromancers surrounding her, but they obeyed their mistress and held, mana flickering briefly only to surge even more strongly than before. At last, as the room seemed ready to tumble down around them, a ripple emerged from the sigil. It flowed down the strand of mana that Xanthia held forth from the dagger, shattering it behind it, leaving a ghostly white trail as it rocketed toward her.

When the bulge inside the strand reached the dagger, there was a flash of light so brilliant it washed everything away from the room for a moment. When the light receded, the sigil was gone. Each of the five necromancers surrounding Xanthia was in a state of disarray, some no longer able to stand at all, others leaning against the wall while gasping for air. Xanthia floated at the center of it all, as still and regal as ever, though she no longer held the dagger.

A ghostly white woman, her skin rapidly transitioning between solid and translucent, kneeled before Xanthia with the dagger clutched firmly in her outstretched hand, as if offering it back to the necromancer. She looked like something out of an old photo, all color washed away from her body and the armor she wore, only the shadows of her body and the occasional leaking of color through her ephemeral body giving her any semblance of complexion.

“Mis… tressss…” the woman whispered raggedly, her entire face moving with the effort of it.

“A reasonable result. Stand,” Xanthia commanded. For all the difficulties the woman before her had displayed in speaking, the spirit stood with an abrupt ease, muscles responding far more precisely and agilely. “Now, strike me once.”

The spirit did not hesitate, did not even have the capacity to question an order once given. The dagger flashed in the air and would have implanted itself in Xanthia’s chest, had she not extended a hand to catch the creature’s wrist as soon as it moved. Despite the ease with which she had intercepted the strike, Xanthia’s arm wavered noticeably under the **** the undead was applying in an attempt to finish its strike.

“Suitable enough, but less than I’d hoped for. Whether it was the ritual or a lack of personal strength, I cannot be sure…” Xanthia muttered. “Stop.”

The creature immediately ceased its actions, though it did not lower its arm, simply remaining in the same stance with its arm still resting – albeit now gently – against Xanthia’s hand.

“Markus, take this one and instruct it in its duties according to the plan we discussed,” Xanthia ordered. The assent of the man to her right was lost as Xanthia pointed toward Markus and spoke again. “Follow Markus and obey his orders as if they were my own.”

“Yesssss.”

The creature shambled off, twitching and writhing yet with unerring accuracy in every step as it hurried after the hooded figure now exiting the room. Three of the necromancers quickly followed, leaving Xanthia alone with the fifth and final.

Bella lowered the hood of her cloak as she began to approach Xanthia, the living half of her face now coated with a thick sheen of sweat, rivulets running down her pale skin as she knelt before Xanthia.

“Lady Allaquetz, I thank you for this opportunity. I won’t forget it.”

“Do not thank me merely for indulging you,” Xanthia said, looking about the room nonchalantly. The brickwork had hardly crumbled at all this time; they were getting closer. “It was an excellent opportunity to practice our craft in its finest state, and you performed all the legwork that was needed regardless. I’ll also be leaving the repair of this chamber to you.”

“Of course, my lady.”

“If he shows up – and if your plan has a measure of success – perhaps I’ll be the one thanking you. Otherwise, continue our efforts as normal. And now that your little excursion has finished, I expect you at the forefront of the next ****.”

“Of course, my lady.”

“Now, I have diplomatic matters to attend to. I expect this chamber to be refurbished by the morning – we will need it if we are to make any progress on the front.”

“My lady…”

The words came more hesitantly this time. Bella looked up at her mistress with something worn so rarely it looked aghast on both sides of her face – doubt.

“If we are unable to deal with that annoyance Adantia by ourselves, we have ****,” Xanthia spat, venom filling her tone. “I will not risk all of our progress because of my own distaste for the Deities. We must have options, and Suula has offered us the clearest path forward should this fail. You know well that if we fall here, it could be centuries before another rises to continue our mission. I will not allow humanity to fester and cower with **** hanging over it any longer than necessary.”

“...As you wish, my lady,” Bella swore, though her heart did not resonate with the words.

“I take my leave. Do not let terror cloud your mind, Bella.”