They kept me and Widow Kang at a hut away from the village, it was on a small hill, but the hill gave us enough elevation to be able to see the whole village. We had spent the week prior to the celebration here, overlooking the fields that stretched between us and the tree. The house used to be situated on the outskirts of the Trees influence, I recall children being prevented from playing too close, as if they wandered any further, demons could likely devour them.
It was an old structure from before my time. Though much of it has been changed from its original state, with the installation of ceremonial altars and the carving of windows - strange how it was built without windows before, how was there any light? It still retained an odd cylindrical shape, with a rounded tip that juts out of the surrounding soil.
Even the material that it was constructed from was foreign to me. It held an odd light gray hue, and was much harder and denser than any material in the village. However, much of it has been built over with stone scaffolding. The Rammais come here from time to time, even without deaths in the village. Maybe it's to repair the hut, after all the villagers aren't allowed to enter. So these structures had to have come from somewhere.
The back of the hut collapsed decades ago, long before I was conceived. Sealed by the Tree itself, apparently. That's what we've all been told. Not that it really matters to me, if anything it just makes me feel all the more honored to be here. The Tree itself has graced this building!
My time spent there was short though. We were sent to spend the night, to ponder our existence and meditate. Our last few individually conscious moments spent cherishing it, nurturing it. It was also a chance for us to physically bathe in the Tree's holiness. The hut has been carefully decorated and organized to maximize the holiness.
"Bask in it before you leave." Ordered the Rammai.
We took some time to travel to the preparation site. It was a simple structure, nothing too extravagant. A simple shack built out of wood from the tree, simple yet hardy and enduring. The shack has only needed slight repairs during my lifetime. A simple cloth veil acts as a divider between the holy interior and the exposed exterior.
The Rammai lifts the cloth, inviting us in. Widow Kang makes her way inside first, and the Rammai motions me to follow.
Inside was completely foreign to me. The walls were lined with intricate patterns of dried leaves, hidden under the patterns were amber shards, each individually reflecting their own rendition of the lamp's warm yellow rays. Exaggerating the single lamp by magnitudes.
There would be no verbal intercourse until after we left to the actual burial site.
The Rammai allowed us a few moments to study the intricate patterns on the walls. It depicted stories of a group of people stumbling onto a sapling while fleeing demons. They must have been the founders. The sapling was what the tree was more than a century ago. Heroes. The men and women which found this sacred Trunk. The story depicted the loss of a fair number of them as well, what began as a dozen became no more than half the original.
Of course, their eventual burials and bodily tribute to the trees were depicted as well. Arguably the most touching and respectable piece of their physical journeys.
We were motioned to kneel onto the center of the room, two more Rammais came in from their own entrance, they stood before myself and Widow Kang. Their physiques towered over us, even compensating for our knelt posture, they seemed to be giants among ants. Even from a lower position, I could not make out what was under their visor.
Eyes of a human, of course.
Even so, I wish to see them myself. To pry their masks off their face, and behold their sacred visage.
I held their concoction in my hands. Warm. Pure and unprocessed from the Tree itself. Collected over the course of months, its vitality stored in one bottle that fits snugly in my hands. I see that it looks no different from any other potions I've drunk, but I can feel it. It's overwhelming. The vigor of it is astounding.
Widow Kang can sense it too. Peering over to her, I made a second of eye contact. She was thinking the same too.
I want it inside me.
"...I was given a mixture of sorts. They said that it would help ease my pain, numb it even. I believed them, I didn't have much of a choice. Lest I was to face death itself. I could feel the thick viscous fluid seep down my throat, latching itself onto every surface, refusing to surrender itself into my stomach. Gulp after gulp, it choked me on occasions, but I swallowed it down…"
The taste was unpleasant. A slight bitter and sour taste coated my tongue. It smelt of urine as well. As it trudged its way down, I sensed revolution inside me, but I knew it was for the best. Twice I felt my stomach attempt to regurgitate it, and twice I suppressed it. This was necessary, in order to ensure my passage into the Tree, I must first indulge in its purest essence.
It will rest my body while providing me vitality before my complete absorption by the Tree. After all, it is an extended process from burial to full integration by the roots. My mortal being is still one that requires succor. Not only will it ensure my animation, but it will serve to ease my nerves, calm me. Unfortunately, people are built with a prerogative to survive, and the body may act counter to the mind.
"...I could no longer move. I was paralyzed, however, the priest watched over me with a warm gaze and a radiant smile. I did not mind. I felt safe…"
The Rammai grabbed me by the arms, and carried me as if I was drunk. To do so was not all wrong, I could already feel the loss of control over my legs, and my balance was already declining. I was grateful for their aid, but I found myself unable to thank them. He started a low pace towards the burial site, gradually increasing in speed as we went. Guessing it made his job easier if we could get there before I go fully numb.
Widow Kang was in front of me, or at least I assume she still was. My eyes had already given out, I could see only blurry masses of hazy luminescence. I felt overjoyed. The sap was working, and my body was accommodating it rapidly. This is what it feels like to have been acknowledged by the Tree.
My legs finally gave out. The Rammai caught me, as if they had expected it, thankfully we were at the site, because he moved me no further. I sensed him lay me on my back. I could feel cold moist dirt by my arms. Blurry orbs of light danced above me. The chanting in the old tongue began once again, this time coupled with cheering and sounds of euphoria from celebrators.
I've been laid into my tomb.
"...their potion seemed to work marvels. My wounds were healing at an unprecedented rate, and I could move again soon after. I decided to follow the caravan, however, they kept me unarmed. After pleading to fight for them, they would not give in. Thought they were keeping me away from danger, in case I injure myself again..."