Shu Village
A Hundred Fifty-Eight Years Since Founding
My village has always been considered lucky by outsiders.
Never have we sharpened metal for anything other than our scythes; Never have we broken our backs, other than when we toil in our fields; Never have we strung our bows, lest we go hunting.
Never have we faced strife on the level of outsiders.
We owe it all to the Founding Tree. It protects us, nurtures us, takes care of us. It shelters us from the horrors unleashed onto our world.
We've had many travelers come to our village, bringing gruesome tales of slaughters in their homeland. Massacres arbitrated by demons and men alike. Vivid descriptions of monsters beyond imagination. Magnitudes of terror which instill fear with its recollection. A most vivid tale that still rings fresh in my memory was when a travelling hermit by the surname of Sun arrived at our village.
"...it hung right above me. While I was too focused on my immediate line of sight, I had forgotten about the more obscured field of play. The demon unleashed a piercing howl, ripping through the very fabric of my soul. As it reverberated in my chest, I could barely withstand it. Up until then, I've heard the howl of Hurranites only from great distances. Soon after, I realized that my soul wasn't the only thing it tore through. My right arm's muscles had torn off the bone..."
"As it was devouring my companions, I could do nought but watch. It was terrible…"
Tales like these only add to my gratitude for being a resident of Shu Village. The Tree is our God, it dispels demons from the surroundings. It shelters us from disasters: its roots keeps the earth beneath us stable - preventing earthquakes and sinkholes, its leaves absorb water which we can harvest from the trunk, negating drought, and its sap provides us nourishment, preventing famine.
That is not all. The Tree provides us a passage into eternal life.
No, the Tree is our abode for eternal vitality.
Our God is not only so merciful as to provide us plenty in our mortal plane, but provide us sanctuary after our bodies fail us. In all the years since our village's founding, we have never lost a single soul. Bodies have departed, but no one ever dies.
In turn, for all that the Tree gives us, we nourish it with our bodies. It is of every villagers' duty. To provide the tree with our own fleeting mortal capsules, in order to further its immortal cause as our guardian. Of course, this all occurs once we are of age. The Tree wishes every one of its dependents to enjoy its hospitality to the fullest, before it is necessary to give back.
And I am proud to finally give back.
I am elated.
Soon I will be one with the Tree, as my father and his father are. I can't help but brandish a smile onto my face, as I ponder the eternal bliss they have found within the Tree. And I can't help but let out a sigh of relief, knowing my descendants all have seats reserved in paradise. My son will follow me soon, however even before then, I know I will not miss him, and he will not miss me. No resident of Shu village ever leaves another.
This knowledge has been passed down since the days of our founders. And it will be passed down long after my own physical death. Others call it a religion, some go far as to say we are a cult. But the facts speak for themselves. What we preach is not a belief, it is law, set by nature. It is as true as the existence of demons in this world.
"...rolled into a pit, it followed me. When I turned around, it was already only inches from my face. Suddenly another demon leapt out, tearing through the Hurranite. I had ended up in a nest. Hundreds of red eyes faintly glowed around me…"
We are the most fortunate in this damned world. And it is our duty, our obligation to appreciate it. We must realize and fulfil our debt to the Tree.
"...the Hurranite's bloated mass of scarlet was torn fiber by fiber in front of me. Its inanimate tendons squirting violet rage onto my face. The Pycernios spawns were unrelenting, I knew that if I would stay any longer, their attention would avert from the massive carcass. Volatile puss trickled onto my torso, eating away at my fabrics…"
The process is painless. In fact, as our Rammais have preached for a greater century, to be absorbed into the tree - other than being the greatest of honors - is when one can experience ultimate euphoria. When we are buried, we are fully conscious. It is necessary, as the Tree wishes to give our mortal bodies a final intimate sensation. Beyond all that any has felt. For that we are truly lucky. It is said that the process of entangling oneself eternally with the paradise of the Founding Tree's stem, provides unparalleled pleasure of ten thousand lifetimes.
The village had been preparing the ceremony for more than a week now. Today is the day everyone's efforts can finally bear fruit. Lanterns have been hung all around the village, adding a warm red glow to the village pathways, which would otherwise all be shrouded by dimness. The market street has been fully decorated with handiwork of children and artisans alike. Personal iterations of the Great Tree litter the street side and hang on window frames as clay sculptures. Stuck on every door are ceremonial scripture written by the families themselves, each boasting a different idiom characteristic of our village.
These range from single characters...
"Prosperity"
"Sanctity"
"Piousness"
To longer expressions,
"Celebrate Death as you do Life"
"Adjudge your character as the Founding would"
For me, my favorite is what is widely regarded as the simplest and most common:
"Gratitude"
Other than the festiveness, Victual Ceremonies are the few occasions the Rammai Class comes to mingle with the rest of us as equals.
Usually they spend their days high up in their hanging cottages. Segregated from us in their own communities of the lower canopy. Sometimes they come down to perform ritual duties. Occasionally they come down to preach about the Tree as well. Whatever it is, it is rare for us to see them in a human light. For most of us, they have always been enigmatic.
When my son was born, a Rammai came to oversee his birth. He brought gifts of honey and flowers. During the whole process, he aided the wet nurses while chanting in the old tongue, extending the grace of the Founding Tree over my son.
They come down periodically to provide us with medical concoctions when we are in need. My daughter, ill during her youth, was cured after a Rammai gave her medicine made from the Tree's sap. It was a violet solution dotted with blotches of brown. It had an odd smell, but retained the characteristic oozing of its raw components.
The logic behind the creation of the medicine is beyond me. All I know is that it cured my daughter. Soon after ingesting it, she was bumbling around like any other babe, full of life and vigor, her eyes shining with that innate curiosity for the world. Beautiful.
I am not the only one to be offered today. Peering through the window of our confinement, I could see a Rammai make his way to us.
"Is it time for the ceremony to begin?" an excited voice beside me cried.
Widow Jiang seems to share my sentiment. Today is the day she can finally reunite with her husband.
Brother Jiang, it has been some time since we've talked too. I hope you haven't missed me too much. I'm sure you've thought of me more than her!
Though I doubt it. You're likely busy enjoying eternal bliss. I could feel my lips curl up at the thought of it.
Eternal bliss.
Sounds wonderful.
And the Rammai approaching us will soon lead us to it. My life until now has been one of leisure, if I am to compare with others. My hands are calloused from farm work, other than that, my body has never been damaged by the elements, people or demons. I have made the most of my time with this body. Finally, I can offer my most intimate gratitude.
"... I tried my best to run from the Pycernios. I ran as fast as I could. My legs felt like they were about to give out, yet every time I managed to pull myself back. My mind had stopped thinking. The movements of my legs became as routine as my heart beating. Then out of the corner of my eye, I spotted it - the flames of a torch. A caravan! I sprinted towards it, my calves tore with every lunge…"
The Rammai stood tall at the door frame. Towering over us elders, who have long shrunk from our prime. A leafed hood hung over their heads, composed of an intricate pattern of darkened branches and painted leaves. Over their faces rests a brown visor, molded with dried sap, then carved into. I cannot make out what has been carved onto the visor, it was a character foreign to me. Probably from the old tongue.
The rest of their bodies were covered by a green cloak. Trinkets and amulets decorated their joints, a combination of wooden sculptures and sap casts. A maroon colored talisman strapped to their neck, no doubt carved with wood from the Tree's trunk itself. A sign of their priestly hood.
The Rammai clasped the talisman into their palm and presented it to me.
"Observe it. Inspect it. What feeling does it instill into you."
I stared at the intricate carvings on the talisman, it's detail far outmatched anything else. It was as if the Tree itself, with all its majesty and vitality, was contained in it. Watching the finely carved branches spread around the talisman, I could imagine my hands stroking over them. A sacrilegious act which took all of my will to prevent. It was immensely intimidating, yet exceedingly comforting. After immersing myself for minutes, only one word came to mind.
"Benevolence."
"... one of the Caravaners reached their hand out to me, I could tell from his attire that he was a priest. No doubt I reached back…"