Upon successfully registering themselves for the 'Origin's Ritual Ceremonial Spars', Fena and Cello filtered themselves into the ginormous arena that was situated right next door to the Shinobi Academy. Lifting from her vague recollection of the brochure that she'd read whilst stuck in the hospital a number of years back, the arena, which had a specific name that evaded Fena's memory, was able to seat over thirty-thousand people. A fact she could only recall due to remembering the state of utter shock it'd put her in when she'd first read it; it had terrified her to imagine just what it'd be like to have such a huge number of people in one place at one time. She remembered asking her mother questions like, "Wouldn't it be so loud that your ears would hurt?" and "If everyone jumped at the same time, wouldn't it cause an earthquake?!"
Inside, it was absolutely packed full of people, and though her ears were doing just fine with the noise, Fena's fears of the possibility that the ground beneath her feet might start to shake violently at any second weren't exactly assuaged just yet. Nonetheless, Fena did her best to soak up the environment around her. The buzz and excitement and singing stirred and bounced off of the tall brick walls and reverberated back into Fena's ears like she was being stirred about inside of a colossal sized brick made cauldron.
Thankfully, the registration procedure itself was mostly painless. After displaying a letter of acceptance that Fena, just the same as anyone else who'd successfully applied to participate, had received months prior, she and Cello were guided into another room where she'd then confirmed the basics, such as her name, which schools she'd attended—or lack thereof—and given a rundown on the rules of competition as well as what 'Shinobi Combat Technology" would be available for those competing to choose from.
Unconcerned about the particulars, Fena had cut straight to the point, brushing off the guide and their explanations by turning toward a man who stood silently in the corner of the room and asking him specifically just how a match could be won or lost. Fena was alert to the man the moment she had laid eyes on him; there was a presence to him that was hard to explain but impossible to ignore. Without making a sound, he'd slipped into the room a few short moments after Fena, Cello and the guide had. He'd stood, arms folded, next to the doorway. Though he wasn't exactly a tall man, it felt as though he stood far, far taller, he had short white hair and a scar tracing down from his top lip to his chin and he wore a white and gold shoulder cape that mostly obscured his black leather chest armour. Multiple small pouches were strapped to his waist belt, likely containing shurikens and kunai and smaller throwing knives and darts, possibly even some 'Tech Scrolls', a hugely popular recent innovation of Fena's mother's that essentially allowed anyone to carry around a myriad of techniques both offensive and defensive inside of a tiny little scroll; all you'd have to do was crush the scroll in your hand and boom.
"Hey you," Fena had called out to him. His grey eyes narrowed sharply, which gave Fena a slight chill. Shaking it off, she'd asked him, "I was told back when I was accepted that you can win a fight here in two ways: you knock your opponent out or they quit, is that still how it works?"
At first, he'd grumbled to himself, scowling as he looked toward the ground and mumbled something about "...patience," before he'd looked back at Fena, then at Cello and back at Fena again. "Yeah, you're right, kid. Render your opponent unconscious—you win. Make your opponent quit—you win."
With the conditions for victory being established, Fena made a start for the door, but before she could leave, the man had stepped in her way, "There's one more rule yous'd ought to know," he'd said, his tone shifting to one far more stern and severe. "No participant may interrupt a fight once it's in progress, nor may you engage in combat with anyone else—we won't be having a repeat of last year. Start any trouble and I'll cut you down, understand?"
Though Fena had no idea what exactly the man was referring to; she'd never once heard anything about last year's Ceremonial Spars from her mother worth any note, she nodded her head and the man then removed himself from her path, allowing both her and Cello to leave the room.
After the pair had wandered around the arena where the matches were to be held in silence for a short while, Cello twisted up his face and wheezed in agony, "Man, that guy was terrifying don'cha think?"
"I guess so…" Though Fena found herself smirking at his silly expression, her words trailed off as an uneasy feeling assailed her the more she took in her surroundings.
Just like everywhere else Fena had been this morning, the venue was filled with singers and dancers and food stalls and just about anything else you could think of all lavishly decorated with the now familiar sparkling and dazzling reds that Fena was now acutely aware were chosen very much in reverence to Ramus, The Eternal Flame.
"I wonder… if all of this makes him happy?" Fena mused aloud. She found herself captivated by a large painting that depicted Ramus spreading his wings wide and taking flight, with people at the bottom of the painting raising clasped hands up toward the sky and she couldn't help but think of her mother.
"Who, The Phoenix?"
"Yeah…"
It'd been a reoccurring thought that'd struck her numerous times throughout the day thus far, but as her eyes lingered upon that painting, Fena once again found herself floored by just how many people were singing and dancing and celebrating in the name of someone she'd never even heard of until today. Though she couldn't quite grasp the deep reverence for the Goddess or for Ramus in particular, it wasn't necessarily all too unfamiliar to her, as Fena saw her mother in a very similar way—the strongest Shinobi and the most innovative technological genius, but most important by far, the most loving and caring mother in the entire world.
To everyone else, she was 'Origin's Guardian Angel', some omniscient oracle gifted to the people of Origin's Peak by Lady Origin herself so that in her absence, the helpless, lost sheep of this village would have someone to shepherd them toward salvation. Her mother bore the weight of the world without so much as breaking a sweat, because that's all she'd ever allow them to see.
Yet Fena knew the truth. Her mother, the 'Guardian Angel', was merely a human, just like everyone else and the halo that everyone else saw floating above her head was slowly crushing her. In the eyes of the people she soared high amongst the clouds as bright as the sun, if not even brighter, illuminating the village in her benevolent light and keeping everyone safe and warm, but when the moon would relieve her of her duties, underneath the cover of the night sky her wings would fail her, the consequences of bearing such an insurmountable weight all alone would take effect and she'd come crashing back down into the stratosphere, just barely having enough energy to crawl through the front door of her own home and collapse in the hallway.
Fena couldn't help but find herself wondering why, on a day where he was being so jubilantly celebrated, Ramus himself was nowhere to be seen. How did he handle all of that pressure?
"I think that people who make lots of other people happy are special people… but it's wrong for people to rely—"
"Attention. Attention. The opening ceremony for Origin's Ritual shall be starting shortly, please attend to your seats. Attention. Attention…"
"Guess we really don't got any more time to waste. Hey Fena, follow me!" Cello ran ahead, beckoning for Fena to follow.
Her train of thought suddenly derailed, Fena found herself flustered. "W-where are we going? How do you even know where we can sit?"
"We're participants. We can sit where we want man!"
Picking up the pace after stumbling over her own feet, Fena followed Cello's lead, he hurriedly dashed through the circular halls that winded to the left before taking a sharp right up a set of stairs.
Fena was certain they'd gone pretty high up, both from the sheer amount of steps they'd scaled and the somewhat more settled atmosphere in the area that they now found themselves in. With the singing from the floors below ceasing after that man's voice had sounded out throughout the arena, the only noise that vaguely echoed from below was the hustling and bustling of people rushing to their seats.
Whilst the main entrance and the ground floor in general seemed to use the excellent stonemasonry as the appeal, aside from the flamboyant decorations for Origin's Ritual, the upper floors were a lot more like what Fena was used to seeing inside of the hospital near her home… which made her feel slightly queasy.
The natural bumpy browns and greys were replaced by flat whites and without all of the compliments of red such as could be seen below, everything just felt sterilized and dull. Down below, there were so many people that Fena at least felt somewhat at ease battling against her distaste for large crowds with the trade off of feeling unseen and simply blending in, but up here there were far fewer people, and it became immediately apparent that the reason why that was the case was because this was an area frequented by those a step or two above the rest in importance.
Many dressed in exuberant and extravagant clothes unlike anything Fena had ever seen before, laughing shrill and hearty laughs that felt like pins pricking at Fena's ears. Others drank and ate their fill, filing into one of the many rooms that seemed to serve as a seating area where people could watch the events on large screens hung upon the walls. Instead of numerous Shinobi posting up about the area as security, such as was the case below, Fena spied numerous Shinobi in and amongst the groups of wealthy and important people going about their business, some donning a familiar looking white and gold uniforms like the one that the man in the registration briefing room wore earlier, and some others dressing just as gaudily and unfamiliar to Fena as some of the rich people did. All of this was to say that in taking all of this in, Fena just knew that she wasn't supposed to be here at all.
"Cello," Fena shouted. He ignored her, so Fena called out to him again, "Cello!"
"Na, not here either," he said aimlessly, in a manner that seemed as if he were cursing himself. He stewed for a moment with a serious look in his eyes, before finally turning toward Fena. "C'mon, let's go higher!
Before Fena could even begin to protest, he was already halfway up the steps. "Hey! What's gotten into you, stop ignoring me."
"—May The Flames Of Creation guide us back to you, Lady Origin." The speakers sounded out once again. This time, a different man spoke. A man with a voice like velvet, conveying a deep reverence in his dulcet tone that seemed to lull the lingering buzz and bustle around the arena into a serene slumber—finally, the proceedings had begun.
"Cello! Stop messing around, we're gonna be late! Where the heck are you going?"
Cello had dashed around a corner out of view, but just as Fena had reached the top of the stairwell and was about to turn the corner and follow him, he ran back to her. "Stop complaining, we're here now, see? Look, follow the corridor, take a right down that corner and grab us some seats, I'll catch up in a sec." Flashing a wink, a silly smile and a thumbs up at Fena, Cello shot off once again.
Fena wasn't remotely convinced. Despite wanting to keep chase with Cello and confront him for whatever it was he was obviously keeping from her, hearing the man through the speakers continuing to run through the pleasantries once again conveyed to Fena that she'd simply no time to spare—if her name were called for the first match and she wasn't ready to answer, she'd be disqualified.
Fena hurried toward the seating area. It was all sinking in now. Finally, everything that she'd worked for up until this point was about to start taking shape. This was the first major step toward taking her mother back from all the people that were stealing her away. A flush of energy and excitement suffused Fena's entire body as she felt her heart thump away in her chest as though it itself was serving up a drumroll to the biggest moment of her life to date.
Basking in that abundance of anticipation, excitement and nervousness, Fena's awareness eluded her for just a split second and on any other day, that would've been all it took for her head to be separated clean from her shoulders, tumbling to the floor like a led balloon whilst the blood spewing from the fountain of headless flesh painted the dull white walls with a deep red, as if it were its own display of reverence to Ramus on this special day and the dream she'd worked so hard for reduced to naught but ash.
"—Filthy runt!" a man roared. A man that for a moment, Fena could've sworn she'd recognized, yet she was so thrown off guard that it didn't occur to her just who it was straight away, or that he was swinging a gargantuan battle axe right for her neck.
Before she'd even time to so much as blink, Fena had gone from running on her own two feet to being bundled over and crashing into the wall whilst the shrieking sound of steel grinding against steel clawed at her eardrums. Fena instinctively gripped Bolt, shook the pain from her head that'd smashed into the wall and leapt backwards, but as she took in the threat, she wasn't exactly sure how she should act.
"Galeforce, huh…? That pig Horace put you up to this shit or what? He want another repeat of last year, that it? Remind everyone that I ain't up for the job no more and tear 'The Order' down for good, chop the head off the snake, yeah?" A different voice spoke now, his gravelly tone rising in anger with each question he fired at Gale.
Fena noticed in an instant that the man holding Gale back was the same man who was in the registration room with her and Cello, the Shinobi with the scar over his mouth and inexplicable presence to him. She'd no idea why, but from what Fena could piece together, that Shinobi had saved her from what surely would've been her death.
"Speak ill of His Grace in the presence of his spouse once more, consequences be damned Colt I'll crush your skull underneath my boot just the same as I'll do that runts. To hell with The Order—I've a score to settle with that gutter rat and that's all there is to it."
In a rush, a woman dashed out into the hallway. "Gale, what the fuck is—" Frantically, she scanned her surroundings and the instant hers and Fena's gazes met, fury blazed in her emerald green eyes. She darted towards Fena like an arrow shot from a bow, the steel of her spear ripping through the air as it aimed for her chest. Fena's stomach had tasted only the stiffness of its pommel last time around, but this time there'd be no room for error, she poised herself to parry the weapon and then mount a counter attack; she'd guide Salacia's weapon into the wall and whilst she was vulnerable, she'd strike with Bolt straight into her sternum…
"—Alright, gloves are comin' off, 'Mist Release, Purgatory'."
…Yet, just as she was about to make her move, Fena's vision was enshrouded in heavy mist. Everything was gone. Everyone was gone. She couldn't even hear a thing aside from the thumping of her own heart, and she wasn't even sure if she really was hearing it or just feeling it. Disoriented, Fena instinctively changed plans, she leapt toward the opposite wall, thinking that if she sprung off hard enough she'd hit it and from there attain her bearings, but even after her manoeuvre, she never felt it. Salacia, who was merely a hair's breadth away from making contact with her a mere moment ago, just never seemed to appear.
Am I… stuck here?
"You are… unless you tell me what I need to hear, " Colt's stern voice called out from somewhere in the void.
Wait, you can hear me? Am I speaking out loud? But I can't even hear me?
"Yes. No. Stop asking questions. I'll let you out on one condition: no more fighting. I already warned you before."
Hey! They attacked me first—
"I know what happened—your little buddy came screamin' down the steps about there being a fight or something. Luckily for him, the nearest Shinobi was one of mine and a sensory type at that… but that ain't the point. I was too late last year… I ain't makin' that same mistake again. Look, ya wanna get outta here or what?"
You keep mentioning last year this last year that, but I don't have any idea what you're talking about. If it's a thank you ya want then thanks, I really would've been a goner if you hadn't pushed me out of the way, but you saw it, they started it so I'm not backing down.
Colt let out a stiff guffaw. "That right? So ya think you'd have just dealt with 'em both yeah? Just beat them up, make 'em say sorry and then go sit down somewhere and wait patiently for your match like a good kid, that it?"
W-well yeah… I don't know what's so funny—
"In other words, what you're saying is that you ain't got no problem pissin' all over the warning I gave you earlier, right?" Colt's voice now abruptly fizzed with anger. Fena couldn't be certain, but she felt as though the wispy white mist around her was becoming darker and more heavy, making it harder to breathe. "I don't know what your deal is kid, but there's somethin' that you just ain't gettin'. If you don't quit fuckin' around and stand down, it'll be me that you'll be dealin' with, not those Ashen dogs."
You aren't making any sense! Why'd you save me if you weren't actually trying to help—
"Helping you is exactly what I'm doing here," Colt raised his voice, cutting Fena off. He sighed a long sigh before continuing on, "At last year's ritual, right here inside of this arena, it was under my watch that a lotta people died. One of 'em was 'The Chief's' only kid. My incompetence that day… Fuck, enough of this shit. Ya wanna get yourself killed, then that's fine by me, but not today and not here, I ain't gonna let 'Noah' down again—that's why I saved you and that's why you're in here, cuz that crazy bitch was about to skewer you. You asked for an explanation, right? Well now ya got one, so I'll ask you once more and if ya got the nerve to say no, I can keep you in here as long as it takes, are you going to stand down, yes or no?"
Fena still didn't understand much of what Colt was talking about, she didn't know who the chief of the village was and she never knew of his family, but in spite of being none the wiser to it all, Fena found herself sympathetic to Colt's troubles, as well as quite surprised. He didn't really owe Fena any explanation whatsoever.
Yet here he was, reflecting upon his troubles and, just as Fena did with her own, hurting all the same. He'd warned her severely in the briefing room about fighting and though Fena couldn't help but feel indignant upon being subjected to Colt's interrogation when she hadn't even started the fight in the first place, it began to make sense to Fena just why Colt was so determined to put a stop to it. It was as all of that sank in that Fena suddenly realised something. From the moment Colt had entered that briefing room, Fena had felt that there was a presence to him, something she couldn't quite explain but something that innately, she could just feel. Something that, upon looking at Colt, you could glean in an instant.
You get it don't you? What it means to endure?
"...Look kid, the fights are about to start, I ain't wasting anymore time with you. I need an answer now."
Fine-fine, I'll stop fighting—I mean, as long as they do obviously.
"Don't worry about them, it's been handled." Just as Colt had said that, the mist around Fena rapidly dissipated. Standing before her, feeling mountainous in size in spite of his modest stature, was Colt, holding a spear in his left hand, and opposite him, stood both Salacia and Gale, Salacia bereft of steel and Gale with his weapon lowered, tempers seemingly quashed.
"Wait a sec, I… thought I moved?" Fena gasped. She was absolutely certain that when she was stuck within that mist that she'd leapt across the width of the corridor, but upon the mist clearing, she'd found herself in the exact same position.
It was then that suddenly, another person burst into the corridor, and though Fena's parting with her earlier hadn't exactly been stellar, her presence was leagues more welcome than anyone else's here at least, "F-Fena? By The Flames, what are you doing up here?" Koria asked, covering her mouth with her hands. Her head swiveled constantly back and forth, looking toward something and then back at Fena and the rest of the group. "M-My Lady—"
"'My Lady'?!" Fena yelled, cutting Koria off. Her heart raced at the chance to speak to Lady Ember again. "Is Rub—I mean, Lady Ember over there? Is she okay? Let me see her Koria, please!" Fena blurted out, trying to barge past Colt.
"Not so fast kid… I don't care much for showing nobles any courtesy, but you ain't supposed to be up here—"
"This wasn't even my idea! Cello told me to follow him and then he just ran off. Ugh, when I see him again I swear!"
In response to Fena's explanation, something about Colt's expression suddenly changed. He still looked as sculpted and steely as Fena was fast growing accustomed to, but a pulse of energy seemed to rush through his grey eyes.
"I want to see my friend! I have to help her!"
Colt seized Fena's right arm, his grip like a vice wracking pain right through it, "I ain't asking kid… I gotta find that boy and fast." but just as he did, Gale, Salacia and Koria gasped and instantly took a knee.
"'Y-Your Radiance'!" they all said in unison.
Breathing heavily as she leaned against the dull white wall, a tall woman wearing a mask designed in the image of Ramus, The Phoenix and a long, thick black cloak with black leather gloves and flat pump shoes shuffled carefully towards the group. Though her arms were mostly obscured by her cloak, Fena caught glimpses of her pale legs where her trousers didn't quite reach her ankles and it was frightening just how thin they were.
Koria rushed to her aid, carefully taking one of the woman's arms over her shoulder. Fena felt her own arms shiver; she just couldn't shake the fear that at any moment, the woman's arm might snap as easily as a twig.
"My Lady! Please, you mustn't be on your feet—"
"Your… friend? You came to see… your friend?" the woman asked, her voice barely louder than a whisper. The narrowed talons of the mask she wore settled onto Fena's person. She raised her free arm wearily and pointed toward Fena.
"Well… we're not friends, I guess… She helped me out, even though she didn't even know who I was. Her fat dad and nasty brother were so mean to her—"
Gale's bronze cheeks flared red. "Watch your mou—"
All it took for his words to scurry right back down his throat was a mere glance from the lady in the mask. He froze in place for a good few seconds before bowing his head right down to the ground.
"Please… continue."
"O-okay… Well, I just wanted to help her. She was so upset and I just didn't know what to say. She was crying and… it made me feel so sad. I just thought that if I tried to help her, she'd see that she could trust me and maybe I could ask her to be my friend and…"
After rattling off her words like a machine gun, Fena found herself freezing up under the woman's placid, unmoving stare. There was something about not being able to see her eyes that made it all the more paralysing and an ill feeling of foreboding crept about Fena's stomach and she punched herself right where she felt it festering.
The woman turned to Koria, prompting her to speak. "It is as sh—he described. Me and Your Radiances daughter guided Fena here to the academy. He'll be partaking in the Ceremonial Spars."
Fena's eyes lit right up. "N-no way, your Lady Ember's mom?"
Before Fena could get an answer, Colt cut in, "Look, I really ain't got time for this shit."
"Please, Captain Colt..." the woman pleaded, straining her voice. She coughed and her frail body collapsed into Koria. After gathering her breath, she asked, "Would it be plausible… that the child remains with me?"
Colt cleared his throat and looked aimlessly towards the ceiling. "...'Lira', I already told you to stop calling me 'Captain'," His voice softened as he spoke to the woman, but he still wasn't entirely convinced, "yeah, I could leave the kid with you, sure, but what're you gonna do if these idiots start fighting again?"
"Horace," The woman spat that name out of her mouth as if it tasted like dirt. "I don't know why he insists… they protect me… The man cares not for my health or my safety," She craned her head in the direction of the pair. "Go… grovel at the feet of your real master."
"At your behest," Gale and Salacia responded, rising to their feet. Whilst Gale turned to walk away, Salacia held out her hand and Colt threw her spear back to her. She shot Fena a snarl before turning away and following Gale.
Watching them both with trepidation as they walked down the other end of the hallway, Fena pulled her arm away from Colt and began to make her way toward Koria and Lady Ember's mother before Colt called out to her, stopping her in her tracks, "Don't make me have to come back up here." and just like that, he was gone too.
Fena caught up with Koria and Lady Ember's mother. "Is it okay if I help?" she asked nervously.
Koria smiled warmly, but politely declined her, "No Fena, it's quite alright. To our seats then?"
3
"Noooooow then, with all of those pesky pleasantries fiiiinally out of the way, I must express my dearest, deepest apologies to each and every one of you. It truly bereaves me so to deprive your eager ears of my soothing symphonies henceforth. I, the magnificent, ravishing, awe inspiring, 'Caleb John Emberfield', yours truly today and forevermore, so long as you reserve just a tiny corner in your blessed hearts for me, shall give way to a man who I am most certain needs no introduction…" Caleb John Emberfield was an extravagantly dressed man with a velvety voice. Flaunting his chiselled, pale white physique, he wore a rather strange unbuttoned blazer that sported a variety of different colours like black and green and purple and yellow all encased within different shapes alongside embroideries of all different kinds of things like flowers and symbols and people all in different colours too. A sparkling silver crown sat upon his silky straight blonde hair, which just seemed to dance alongside the man's every move, moves of which he made aplenty, timing his theatrical gestures with his speech.
Sat high right amongst the top rows, Fena surveyed the sweeping crowd packed into the brick cauldron arena as they all sat dead silent. She herself had gotten pretty sick of Caleb's ramblings and breathed a sigh of relief that he'd soon be handing over to someone else.
"Yet… I can feel it—I can sense it. Deep within all of your hearts, that special little tavern that you've reserved only for me cries out for an encore… therefore, it is a spirited introduction my wonderful fans shall get!" Caleb roused those in attendance and, like a conductor, directed their noise levels as his hands wove intricate patterns in the air, before finally raising them well up high and toward the sky, which was matched by a ferocious roar from the crowd that shook the arena.
Covering her ears in a panic and curling up into a ball, Fena's worries about the dangers of so many people being squished into a single space wracked fear through her heart. The monsoon of voices shook the very air around her and the stone floors beneath her feet shook too.
"Fena, are you alright?" Koria asked, reaching out toward her. "Is it the heat again? Are you feeling nauseous?"
Fena could barely get her words out, her heart thumped so frantically that it felt like the noise was filling it to the brim like water rushing inside of a balloon and that any second now, it was about to burst. "It's too loud!"
Koria's soft brown eyes widened. For a moment she seemed taken aback, before a giggle escaped her lips and she placed her hand on Fena's shoulder, "Don't worry, you will grow accustomed to it. I can assure you that the noise in this venue won't do your ears any harm, though I do agree that it is most certainly unpleasant."
In an attempt to distract herself from her fears, Fena found herself looking toward the huge screens that were suspended from the roof of the stadium displaying a live feed of Caleb as he entertained the crowd. She found herself in utter disbelief at just how real Caleb looked upon them in comparison to his real life image, which she could spot in the neighbouring stand, not too far from where her group were currently sat. She'd seen plenty of television shows and such whilst stuck in the hospital over the years, but there was something truly uncanny about both seeing a person in real life and looking towards a screen to find their visage so perfectly replicated in real time.
Caleb, bowing and waving his hands, hands that were sporting white gloves that had small golden chains dangling from them, continued to prattle on. "Thrust into the stewardship of Lady Origin's maiden voyage of creation after the sudden assassination of his late father a decade ago—let's just say he's certainly not had an easy time of steadying the ship. Technological revolution, a proponent of peace amongst the major nations, Ramus nowhere to be found for more than a hundred years and, now this one's the kicker folks, casting aside his 'Ember' lineage, yearning to break free from the chains that he perceives our history to be and for man to live not underneath the thumb of a deity who hides from her people!" A cheeky smile was smacked along Caleb's face. Boo's rang out from the crowd and as he continued to speak they grew louder and louder, which only seemed to stretch his devious grin further and further. "And so, it is without further ado that I, Caleb John Emberfield, introduce to you all, by far the most handsome of the two Ember brothers—though the bar was never set too high to begin with—self proclaimed, 'Child Of The Sun', 'Noah Breaker'!"
With the curtain finally closing on Caleb's eccentric performance, a different man stepped forward out onto the platform. He stood there stock still, not even moving so much as a muscle, completely unflinching amongst the chorus of boos and ridicule that echoed around the arena.
Fena, her worries about the wellness of her ears forgotten, was astonished. This man was supposed to be the village chief? He for sure looked the part, a lot taller and certainly in better shape than his ugly fat brother that Fena had had the misfortune of encountering earlier. Instead of the white and gold with accents of red that Fena had seen Lady Ember's father and brother wear, The Chief instead wore black robes and a big headpiece with a large ornament of the sun affixed to the back of it, looming large behind his person.
Fena turned to both Koria and Lady Ember's mother, who each sat to the right of her respectively. "Hey, why does everyone not like him? And why's he just standing there, why doesn't he just tell them all to shut up?"
"Is that…what you would do, Fena?" Lady Ember's mother asked. It was reassuring to hear that her voice wasn't so frighteningly frail whilst she was seated as opposed to when she was straining herself earlier. If it were, there'd be no chance at all of hearing her over all of the jeering and booing.
Even more concerning however, Fena's heart was absolutely racing in response to the question—well, it'd be a little more accurate to say her heart had been racing ever since she'd sat down with Koria and Lady Ember's mother. So many thoughts rattled off the walls her mind all relating in some way or another to Lady Ember herself; all she really wanted to do was just ask questions about the woman's daughter and learn more about her, but she couldn't shake feeling awfully guilty about not being able to help Lady Ember when she was in so much pain—how could she ever claim to be her friend, or even want to be her friend, if she couldn't even help her when she was in need?
"Y-yeah, I would actually! This guys The Chief, which means he's gotta be like, the second strongest person in the village at least, so I'd tell them all to get lost. Stupid sheep all needing a master to help save them or whatever—I hate idiots who expect others to just do everything for them!" Overshooting severely as a result of all of those conflicting feelings as she stood up from her seat and raised her fist in the air, Fena found herself blurting out a little too much in response to the question. "I'm s-sorry, Misses Ember!! I didn't mean to—"
Like a cork flying from a champagne bottle, Koria looked as though she was just about to shoot out of her own seat, staring daggers at Fena with her eyes stretched wide open until a frail hand from Lady Ember's mother touched against her arm. "Koria… it is alright. He is not with us, calm yourself." Once again she'd spoken of Horace Ember in a way that sounded like she'd spat dirt out from her mouth. Slowly, she leaned closer toward Fena. Fena could tell that she was struggling to get all that close and so she met her in the middle, the both of them sneaking their heads just underneath Koria's chin, "'Elira'. If you might consider calling me by my name, I'd be very happy."
Though Fena couldn't see Elira's face, she had a feeling that underneath that mask, she was smiling. Completely occupied with the explosion of joy from her heart that suffused her entire body, Fena didn't notice at all the rather strange stares from both Koria and Elira at her reaction, or their own giggles as they both watched Fena wiggle about in her seat like a child who'd been gifted a brand new toy.
"—I wish to speak but a few words, I shall do my best to not come between you all and the ceremony for too long," Bursting Fena's joy filled bubble, The Chief's voice pierced through all of the noise in the arena. "To those gathered here, inside of 'The Phoenix's Nest', and to the many watching throughout the world, paupers and princes, aristocrats and commoners, minor and major clans and anyone and everyone in between, I beseech you to ask yourself one simple question," Hushed, harsh voices began to rapidly multiply and the tension began to rise once again. Fena found herself captivated, sitting right on the edge of her seat in anticipation of The Chief's words.
The Chief stomped his foot onto the ground as he took a stride forward right toward the edge of the platform he stood upon. "The Goddess blessed this world and us with a truly special power, and she gifted us her children so that they may teach us how to harness it. Generations and generations before us, our ancestors worked together, sending Shinobi far and wide to ensure lands bereft of the rains moisture, unable to grow the food needed to feed those who inhibited them, could create the water they so needed, to lands where freezing cold temperatures would beget the cold hand of death to steal loved ones away in the dead of night, teaching its people how to create the warmth they needed to survive from the palms of their very own hands… The Goddess blessed us with the gift of creation. Nevertheless, since the death of my father ten years ago at the hands of 'The Crimson Witches', and now my dear son at the hands of the Shinobi Hunters last year, as well as severe incidents in other nations, some whose representatives sit right behind me as I speak, it has become clear to me that we have drifted far, far from the intended usage of our gift,"
The noise was fast reaching a boiling point. Like tidal waves, the neighbouring and opposite stands fervor only rose higher and higher as he continued to speak and threatened to soon cascade onto him and crush him beneath their weight. One final time, The Chief pointed from his perch, his finger tracing a horizontal arc from left to right in such a way that Fena was convinced the man was making a concerted effort to ensure that every single person in the arena was certain that he was indeed pointing at them and his powerful voice parted the rising tide, sending it crashing back into the ocean. "Ask yourselves this: will you allow The Goddess's gift, the gift of creation, to become the archetype of our very own destruction?"
Noah's question lingered heavily in the air and the arena fell silent once again. Though the question didn't really make much sense to Fena, she felt the sheer magnitude of it nonetheless and tried her best to think of an answer, but before she could, like the sound of a bullet on a serene night, The Chief's voice rang out one final time and for the first time since he'd made an appearance, the crowd roared in response, "May The Ritual, commence."