Aaron sprinted to class, trying to dodge and weave amongst the shelter from the pouring rain. School was never an exciting place to be but backlit by a stormy grey sky and raindrops pelting down at an almost horizontal angle as it is whipped up by the piercing cold winds gave it just that extra flavor of depressing. Making it through the sliding wooden door, more than a little drenched, Aaron walked down the rows of benches stopping at one in the far corner.
Seated at that table was an equally soaked young man named Jarred Campbell with dirt blonde hair and more than a little pudge, as compared to Aaron's borderline health risk level of skinny. The pair wore matching grey jumpers over the fairly unglamorous navy-blue tops with the school's name embroidered on the front and a pair of frankly ugly looking checkered grey pants that fit the school's uniform policy.
"Hey man, what's up?" Jarred greeted, offering a fist bump as Aaron sat down beside him.
"Not much hey, weather is fucked though"
They spoke needlessly quietly at the back corner of the class, the borderline gale force winds rattling the windows made all but a shout incomprehensible. English was the only class they shared but the two had been best friends since they were 7. Living only a couple blocks from each other helped the friendship endure, despite the changes in friend circles and classes that often occurred as one ascended into high school.
They sat there discussing video games for several minutes. The teacher hadn't arrived yet but most of the students were early, as there weren't many other places to hang out under cover before the class began.
"Why do you always choose the good route? You can get way more rewards playing evil, at least most of the time" Jarred laughed bringing up an oddly common trait of Aarons across different video games, ever since they were kids playing KOTAR on their laptops on weekends.
"Meh evil just feels too easy. AND you don't always get the best rewards. Most of the time you just get extra hassle and less experience. Plus, then your companions can choose to leave if they think you're a dick" Aaron explained.
"I did actually try an evil playthrough once, but it wasn't fun and honestly just made me uncomfortable"
"Yeah, nah, I mean I usually try to do it just evil enough that you get the better rewards without making your team hate you and leave but I get it"
The door rattled open suddenly as Mr McGilvray entered the classroom looking unfairly dry. Unlike students, teachers had staff parking right beside the building, so they were not forced to run half way across the school grounds in the pouring rain. There were a couple hints of moisture on his thick rimmed glasses, seated on what could only be described as an incredibly bland boring face.
His red hair was beginning to thin in some areas, especially the crown of his head, and his voice might be considered by some to be melodious. If the reason they described, it like that was its mystical ability to put students to sleep. Hell, the man could and DID talk about men taking cover in the trenches during World War 2, bullets flying and shrapnel from mortar shells tearing through friend and enemy alike and STILL make it sound incredibly bland.
Luckily there were battlefront FPS games and strategy simulators based on past events to make learning about history a little more interesting. Even if the real historical accuracy of such video games left a lot to be desired.
Placing down a heavy yellow book and lifting the class register he called out for quiet to the murmuring cluster of twenty adolescents and began to call their names. After the first couple attempts, he raised his voice to a shout to be heard over the rain pelting the class windows.
Aaron quickly felt his attention begin to wander and instead of thinking about class, he imagined flying off into magical worlds or inserting himself into his favorite games and tv shows. Especially among anime, the "isekai" trope was exceedingly popular and Aaron could understand why. Who wouldn't jump at the chance to be literally ANYWHERE else rather than stuck in class or working a part time job at the local supermarket or office?
A sharp nudge brought Aaron back to the present as he realized that Mr McGilvray was staring at him, along with other classmates, presumably after calling his name several times.
"Here!" he said quickly, his face turning beet red. Again, ANYWHERE else would be preferable to right here, right now.
Sighing Mr. McGilvray placed down the register and opened his large yellow test book to page 394.
"Alright let's begin"
.....................................
Aegan had changed into a robe of pure white, as he went down to the bottom chamber where the ritual was taking place. Aedir and Allaan flanked him while to Aedir's side the same woman continued scribbling frantically. The scritch scratch of her pen on parchment eventually grew annoying and both King Allaan and High Archon Aedir, fixed her with a steely gaze.
Both of which were promptly ignored as the young woman did not so much as look up from her note taking to notice the glares directed her way until Aedir raised a knotted fist to his mouth and cleared his throat loudly.
"AHEM!"
Glancing up the woman immediately shrank back apologetically but Aedir waved it away.
"It's fine to take notes for future generations Kiera, but do not do so at the expense of living in the moment" Aedir cautioned her strongly. "What you will see today is not only historically significant as what may be the last of its kind"
Aedir paused to glance in Allaan's direction to which the King nodded resolutely.
"But it is as holy as any one thing could be in this world. So, in short. PAY. BLOODY. ATTENTION!" he hissed quietly yet firmly.
Kiera nodded, suitably chastised. Her quill, ink and parchment flew off to the side to rest on a nearby table.
Aegan's was oblivious to what was transpiring behind him. His focus was all on the magical circle, the enchanted box placed on a cart just beside it. Next to the cart was a large single edged golden hilted knife, with diamonds and rubies encrusted along its spine. While gaudy and impractical, its edge shone in the dimly lit room, clearly sharp enough to do the job.
As if to an unseen signal, a side door opened, and several hooded figures were escorted through. One was Raelle, along with a couple of her Kin from prison. Only she retained enough sense to be aware of her surroundings as the other two docilely followed the guards' instructions as they were gently laid down on three of the 12 ceramic slabs surrounding the magic circle.
She instinctively resisted as the clamped the cold and rusted iron shackles around her wrists before forcing herself to relax.
"This is for my people" she told herself over and over again, trying to rid herself of the pit in her stomach that would not go away.
On the other sides the prisoners were a lot less compliant, struggling against the guards forcing them towards the slabs. Few among the Viking rebels knew or understood what exactly was about to happen but being chained to ancient slabs around a magic circle didn't sit well with even the least intelligent of the lot.
Finally, Aedir had enough of their stalling and gestured, wrapping all 9 of them including the young man whom Allaan had 'met' earlier in cocoons of pure energy, snapping their hands to their sides and giving them barely the room to wiggle their feet as they were hauled one at a time to be chained to their slab as the magic fell away. The young man began to whimper and beg for mercy, to which a guard placed a gag in his mouth before stepping back out of the way.
Aedir shook his head disgustedly.
"Master?" Kiera asked quietly, attempting not to be a disturbance once more.
"Never mind me girl" Aedir replied shortly, then under his breath said faintly
"I had hoped to die long before this wretched spectacle ever occurred again…"
.....................................
"Father?" A young wereman said quietly, approaching Wulfric from behind.
The king of the Werepeople stood leaning over the railing, his face somber, showing none of the joy he had shown yesterday. He merely glanced behind him before reaching out with his large whiskered paw and wrapped it around his son's shoulders, dragging him to the edge to see over the railing as the other nobles and diplomats did the same.
Food and wine sat untouched on nearby tables upstairs bar the one nearest the Jorfrugr diplomat Hallgrim who consumed the wine, cheese and assorted meats without a care in the world. His was the only stomach strong enough to even attempt it.
Wulfric looked down at his son who gazed over the contraptions beneath them. Naivety blessed him with the inability to understand what was happening but as Aegan approached the cart upon which rested the knife and chest, he looked up at his father, questions resting in his eyes.
Despite being his pride and joy, his third son Diego, had been raised sheltered and privileged. While his theoretical combat trainers and his education were second to none, his understanding of the world and the evils within it were incredibly lacking even as he reached his 18th year. It was for this reason Wulfric brought him along in the first place. Sometimes a hard lesson was necessary, and a harder lesson than what was about to transpire and that wouldn't endanger his son would be impossible to find.
He resembled his father in many aspects, his fascination with dueling, his thirst for knowledge as he devoured the books in the royal library in his spare time. Even his mane was beginning to grow out. While more of a cherry blonde than his father's thick orange fur, he delighted in grooming it as his mother had taught him. Despite his older brothers' frequent comments that he was clearly adopted.
Wulfric pulled his son close and whispered into his ear.
"The gods are mighty but not all powerful. To summon Champions to defend our world, sacrifices must be made" With one hand he gestured at those lying on the 12 slabs. Diego's face changed rapidly from understanding to revulsion.
"The souls of those summoned inhabit the bodies of those who give their lives and their souls in turn are then embraced by Aelia, goddess of the Sun, who holds their souls in pure bliss until leading them on to heroic, happier lives when next they are to be born anew"
Diego puzzled over this for a moment, then looked up at his father and asked.
"If they get such great rewards, why don't people line up to be chosen? Why do those down on the slabs struggle if they're going to paradise until being born as heroes? They should be honored to be chosen right?"
Again, the naivety of youth. Wulfric chuckled.
"Maybe it seems so to us, but they might not believe as we do. And even if they did, it is no easy thing to gamble. To give your life in the hopes of promised rewards from gods who rarely deign to speak to mortal beings. Could you do so, without even a hint of hesitation?" Wulfric questioned.
Diego thought hard. While sometimes boring he led an easy life. Could any gifted by a goddess truly top being a prince and leading a life of luxury. Diego couldn't say. And to do so on the spur of the moment without hesitation? He might not consider himself a coward, but he wasn't sure he could do that.
Seeing his son genuinely pondering chuckled again, reminiscing over how deep of thought the young man was, unlike his brothers who tended towards and "act first think later" strategy. As such he was caught completely off guard by the words that passed his son's lips next.
"But father, why is Aegan down there then? Isn't he already a Champion?"