The morning sun bathed the fields in a golden glow as the villagers gathered, excitement buzzing in the air. Tovik, the village chief, stood in the center of the crowd, flanked by the elders, who carried the wooden crate containing the divine gift—the ten Earthspine Roots.
"Today is a momentous day," Tovik began, his voice strong and steady. "Our great Relethis has bestowed upon us a blessing that will ensure our fields flourish for generations to come."
The villagers listened with rapt attention, their faces lit with hope and gratitude. Children clung to their parents, whispering in awe about the glowing roots they had glimpsed earlier.
"This gift," Tovik continued, gesturing toward the crate, "is a sign of our god's eternal care for us. We must plant these roots with the utmost respect and devotion, for they will bring life to the land."
The elders carefully opened the crate, revealing the glowing Earthspine Roots nestled inside. Gasps rippled through the crowd as the villagers leaned forward, trying to get a better look.
One of the younger children tugged at her mother's sleeve. "Mama, they're glowing! Are they magic?"
"Yes, my child," the mother replied, her voice filled with wonder. "They're a gift from Relethis himself."
The elders began planting the roots, choosing strategic spots throughout the fields. Each root was placed with care, its vibrant green shoots standing upright as the soil was gently packed around it.
As the first root was planted, a faint hum seemed to fill the air. The soil around it darkened slightly, becoming richer and more fertile. Though the change was subtle, the villagers couldn't help but feel the significance of the moment.
"It's working already!" someone whispered, their voice tinged with excitement.
While the adults focused on the planting, the children darted around the edges of the fields, their curiosity uncontainable.
"Do you think the roots will grow into trees?" one boy asked, crouching near a freshly planted spot.
"No way," another child replied, shaking her head. "They're going to turn into glowing flowers. I'm sure of it."
Kalen, the youngest of the group, ran up to one of the elders, his wide eyes filled with questions. "Grandpa , will the roots grow really fast? Like, super fast?"
Tovik chuckled, placing a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder. "Patience, little one. The roots will work in their own time. But rest assured, they will bring great things to the land."
Kalen nodded solemnly, as if he had been entrusted with a great secret.
As the final root was planted, the villagers gathered in a circle around the fields, their hands clasped in prayer.
"Great Relethis," Tovik said, leading the group, "we thank you for your boundless generosity. May this gift bring prosperity to our tribe and honor to your name."
The villagers echoed his words, their voices rising in unison.
After the prayer, the mood shifted to one of celebration. Women began discussing how they could use the future bounties of the fields for new recipes, while the men exchanged ideas about expanding the village granary.
"This is a new beginning for us," one villager said, his voice filled with optimism. "Relethis has truly blessed us."
Meanwhile, Marion sat on the porch of his house, watching the commotion from a distance. He had heard about the planting ceremony and was, once again, consumed by a mix of envy and frustration.
"What does it take to get some divine attention around here?" he muttered, pacing back and forth.
Marion glanced at the small shrine he had set up in the corner of his house—a bowl of dried fruit, a slightly crooked candle, and a wooden carving of Relethis that looked more like a poorly crafted scarecrow.
"I've done everything!" Marion groaned, throwing his hands in the air. "Prayers, offerings, devotion. What more can I do?"
Suddenly, an idea struck him.
Determined to stand out, Marion decided to take his efforts to the next level. At dawn, he climbed the mountain to the shrine, carrying an armful of wildflowers he had picked along the way.
"Oh, great Relethis!" he bellowed, his voice echoing through the mountain. "Your humble servant brings you these offerings as a sign of my eternal faith!"
He arranged the flowers in a meticulous pattern on the altar, stepping back to admire his work. Satisfied, he knelt dramatically, clasping his hands together in prayer.
From inside the house, Leon watched the scene unfold through a window, his lips twitching in irritation. "What is he doing now?"
Marion's theatrical prayers continued, growing louder and more exaggerated with each passing minute.
"Your greatness knows no bounds!" he cried, raising his arms to the sky. "Your wisdom is unparalleled! Your generosity is unmatched!"
Leon sighed and rubbed his temples. "Does he think I can't hear him?"
Marion's antics didn't stop there. Over the next few days, he made a point of visiting the shrine multiple times a day, each visit more elaborate than the last.
One afternoon, he brought a loaf of bread he had baked himself. "Great Relethis, I present to you this humble offering, made with my own hands!"
The bread was slightly burnt on one side, but Marion placed it on the altar with great reverence, bowing deeply.
Leon, watching from the house, couldn't suppress a sigh. "If I gave him something, he'd probably think it worked."
While Marion continued his over-the-top displays of devotion, the villagers remained focused on the fields. Each day, they visited the newly planted Earthspine Roots, checking on the crops and discussing their progress.
At first, the changes were subtle—the soil looked richer, and the crops seemed a little greener. But as the days passed, the improvements became more apparent.
"Look at this," one farmer said, holding up a stalk of wheat. "It's stronger than the others."
Another villager knelt near the edge of the field, inspecting the soil. "It's holding moisture better than before. I don't think we'll need to water as often."
Though the villagers didn't yet realize the full extent of the Earthspine Roots' power, their optimism grew with each passing day.
That night, as the moon cast a pale glow over the village, Marion sat alone in his dimly lit house. A wicked laugh escaped his lips, the sound low and sinister as he worked at something on his wooden table.
"Tomorrow," he muttered to himself, eyes glinting with anticipation. "Tomorrow, I'll show them. Relethis won't be able to ignore me any longer."
His fingers danced over the small wooden figurine he was carving—another desperate attempt to win favor. It was poorly crafted, as usual, but Marion wasn't concerned with the quality. It was the grand gesture that mattered, the spectacle that would surely catch Relethis' attention.
He paused for a moment, running his thumb over the rough edges of the figure. His mind raced with possibilities, each one more outrageous than the last. He was determined this time. This offering would be the one that set him apart.
As the clock ticked on, Marion's laughter grew louder, the echo bouncing off the walls of his modest home. The village might be asleep, but Marion was far from finished with his plans.