Jahleel 1
"It is the Divine’s judgment that matters."
Divinity’s Children are an orthodox sect of Atheans who worship the Divine with unmatched fervor. Known for their literalist interpretation of The Book of The Divine, Divinity’s Children have no tolerance for non-believers or those whose belief in The Divine is tepid.
The deeper Jahleel ventured into the forest, the thicker the brush became. Low-hanging branches grasped at him and tangled roots obscured the ground, almost as if the trees swallowed everything they touched.
Jahleel felt panic bubble in his chest until he heard a voice - then another, as he drew closer, and another, the last being Sheduer’s.
“I have fond memories of the final night before my own initiation.”
Jahleel could now see faint firelight and shadows dancing on the canopy above the ceremonial grounds. According to The Book of The Divine, the space between is said to be thinnest at these places, making it easier to commune with Her. He pushed through the last of the tangle into the clearing.
“The Divine did not bless us with a night like this - a good sign for these three.”
Sheduer, his celebrant, and two others huddled near the flames. Two other soon-to-be acolytes sat on stone slabs arranged in a semicircle around the fire.
Jahleel could see Ada and Haran’s faces, but whether it was fear, determination, or some combination of both in their eyes he could not say. They sat upright and stiff, as if enthralled by the flames.
Ada’s hair was tied back in one long braid, as it always had been on special occasions. Their mother would wake before the sun to make sure she had time to get it just right. After she died Ada took up the practice herself. What would she think of all this? Shame? She’d count herself a failure if she knew we’d turned to this. As quick as the thought came, he swatted it away.
“Ah! Jahleel. You found us!” Piash, Ada’s celebrant, wore a smile on her face that didn’t seem to fit the moment at hand. “Sheduer, this one, is he ready?”
“It is the Divine’s judgment that matters.” Sheduer looked directly into Jahleel’s eyes as he answered Piash.
Zoheth was the oldest, and most experienced of the three celebrants. He was Haran’s guide, and according to him Zoheth was amongst the most devout members of Divinity’s Children. Zoheth’s presence here tonight made Jahleel uneasy; he seemed split off, as though part of him wasn’t his own. The man’s wrinkled hands pulled back his hood and revealed a pocked, pale face. Jahleel rushed to take his seat next to Ada. Zoheth spoke and both Sheduer and Piash quieted.
“We commune on sacred ground tonight. You who sit before me seek divine favor and to join our ranks. We who have been called to be your guides are responsible for only bringing the worthy before Her Divinity. Do you fashion yourselves worthy?”
Zoheth turned his palms to the sky as he finished and beckoned the three of them to speak. Haran stood first.
“I am not yet worthy, celebrant. But if it is The Divine’s will to have me, I will spend the rest of my days in accordance with Her teaching.”
“Step forward and be judged.”
Sticks cracked and popped in the heat of the fire. Haran stood opposite Zoheth for a moment, then pulled a small vial out of his sleeve. Jahleel could see the milky substance highlighted by the flames.
A not-quite-secret, the recipe was still rather taboo. When Jahleel had been selected by Sheduer to be his next apprentice, he’d known little of the poppy other than its forbidden status in Athea - much less the role of Divinity’s Children in its black-market trade.
As Haran uncorked the vial he began to recite the stanza that they’d committed to memory. “If mixed with barley, then mixed with milk, a precise measure won’t get you killed.”
Haran’s hand began to tremble as he continued, “For eons we’ve known, and truth we’ve hid, a taste of this we must forbid.”
Ada’s hand squeezed Jahleel’s as they watched their peer stand judgment.
“Only those ready, the few that are chosen; a chance for one’s true form to be awoken.” Haran lifted the vial, threw back his head and drank deep.
With his eyes still toward the sky, Haran’s hand went limp and the vial dropped to the ground. Jahleel watched as it tumbled, rolled and stopped against a small stone. Empty.
Jahleel began to shift in his seat. He looked to the flames but could not find whatever it was within them that had seemed to bring Ada and Haran their sense of calm contentment earlier.
“Which of you two is next?” The tone of Zoheth’s voice shook Jahleel out of his growing dread. At least, momentarily.
Ada let go of his hand and stood. She rolled her shoulders back and clenched her fists as she took a single step towards the fire.
“I am.”
Ada, no.
Piash joined Zoheth and Ada at the fire. Unlike Haran, Ada did not tremble. She recited the words and stared directly into the fire as she drank. She too froze in place, vial tumbling from her hand. Fearing what Zoheth might think if he’d have to state the obvious, Jahleel stood.
Sheduer locked eyes with his apprentice. He moved towards the other two celebrants and took his place opposite the fire. Jahleel, feet having grown heavy, moved much slower, but found his place all the same.
Ada’s mouth was shut and her face was soft, almost at peace. Haran was stiff with fear, his mouth drawn into an open rictus. Their eyes were glassy and appeared black in the firelight.
Sheduer spoke, gentle. “Everything goes in accordance with the will of The Divine, Jahleel. It is time.”
With the words not quite sticking in his throat, Jahleel recited the stanza. As he tipped the vial back he recoiled from the sticky substance that filled his mouth. While it had no taste, the thickness of it was enough to make him nauseous. Steadying himself, Jahleel took a deep breath and swallowed.
The last bit rang like an echo in his mind as everything went a blinding white. Only those ready, the few that are chosen; a chance for one’s true form to be awoken.
Searing pain gripped his entire body. Jahleel tried to scream, but the place where his lips should’ve been only quivered. Head pulsing, he tried to open his eyes but they would not obey. Jahleel could hear all manner of noises in the distance.
Drums beating a rhythm he could vaguely make out. Laughter that sounded eerily like his mother’s. Children’s sobs that brought a knot to his stomach. Suspended as he was, he felt them move closer, clarify, and bleed out again, as though he’d traveled a great distance.
At once the pain and the noise stopped, and his eyes opened. Jahleel looked around and saw nothing. He was still in Nonet forest, still at the site where he’d met the others. But all that was there was the slab he’d been seated on just moments ago. The silence was thick, like he’d plunged into deep water.
A form appeared as if out of the silence itself and moved towards Jahleel. It swam through the air with fluid grace. What was a black cloud morphed into a ribbon, and then into the shape of a woman. It turned a smooth, featureless face in his direction, and Jahleel felt eyes on him.
Jahleel began to stumble backwards only to feel a softness pull him forward. In that softness was both terror and comfort. What felt like a hand caressed Jahleel’s face: rubbing his cheeks, stroking his ear. The thing made no sound but he could feel a resonance deep in his body. It set his teeth on edge. He tried to move, to turn his head, but remained fixed in place as if made of stone.
The figure floated behind him, still touching him. What felt like fingers slowly traced their way down his back. As the shadow rounded him its fingers made their way from his back to his hip. From his hip to his navel. From there, the things that’d felt like fingers moved to cup his manhood. Jahleel tried to pull away but that same softness that had pulled him in now seemed to trap him.
As he grew, so did his fear. What he’d mistaken for comfort was something else entirely; a longing he couldn’t object to. Growing harder still, he began to feel the searing pain growing again in his body. It pulsed dark in his loins and spread like water through his limbs, up his torso, into his chest.
Seconds later, with the abomination feeling almost a part of him now, the heat threatened to tear him in two. With every breath Jahleel could feel this shape get closer; he felt its presense deeper inside him. As if it were searching.
Just as he was certain that this was how he was going to die, he gave in. The sense of release sent shudders through him like cracks of lightning. A voice sounded inside his head.
It sounded familiar and unlike anything he’d heard before. A slow hiss, an all-consuming clarion.
“You are worthy.”
Jahleel opened his eyes to Sheduer’s slow smile and an almost dizzying sense of relief. While quiet, in comparison to where he’d just been, the clearing was alive with sounds. The crackle of the flames, the chirping of the insects it drew near, the soft pops as the kindling snapped.
Haran stood where Jahleel had seen him last, and his expression hadn’t changed. The sight of Haran’s pain-stricken face felt harder to look at than it had before, and he abruptly realized Ada was no longer beside him.
As if she knew, his older sister called out to him from behind. “Jahleel, I’m here.”
Sheduer rounded the fire, placed his arm around Jahleel’s shoulder, and led him towards Ada and Piash who were both seated on the benches.
“Come now, it is time to celebrate! You both have been chosen and will walk as acolytes! Praise be to The Divine, for She has deemed you worthy!”
Jahleel couldn’t help but to peer back over his shoulder at Haran’s motionless body and ponder the horror that held him captive on the other side. Was it Her?
The thought of Her, of it, sent gooseprickles up and down his legs. He kept walking all the same and took his seat next to his sister. Ada did not seem shaken at all. If he didn’t know better Jahleel might’ve described her as giddy.
“Can you believe it, brother? Acolytes! We are to walk in accordance with the true word of The Divine for the rest of our days.” Her hand moved across the top of his knee as if she’d been wiping dirt from it.
Jahleel looked from Ada to Haran, from Haran to Zoheth. While the elder celebrant still made him feel uncertain, Jahleel now thought he saw something he could relate to in his eyes. That odd distance. He thought he felt it now; as though who he was before is not who’d been allowed back.
“Jahleel?” Ada’s voice sounded concerned.
He had every intention of assuring her he too was happy. That he’d wanted nothing more than to celebrate their being chosen. After all, what choice did he have? Yet once he turned to face her Jahleel’s words caught, for all he could feel was shame.
My pleasure!
Very nice writing. Active, clean and colorful! Great job!