User blog:MKgorgone/The Mark

After so long in the dark Alim thought the light might kill him. The searing quality of the sun was something he was sure he had forgotten but now, as he blinked rapidly, he remembered the familiar warmth. Was this what it had felt like for The Blind Prophets? Surly not. Alim's eyes would adjust eventually, theirs had been utterly destroyed by His radiance.

His feet found purchase on the rough stone beneath him and his scarred fingers found the divots and cracks which would lead him up.

How long had he been below? Weeks? Months? It had felt longer. Time lost all meaning down there in the dark, but that was the point. Immeasurable darkness followed by the blinding fire of daylight. That was the path all initiates had to walk. Follow in the footsteps of the Prophets so that he may one day join their ranks. Alim knew that most of this was simply a metaphor. The literal cave was his ignorance, his climb was finding Him, the daylight was The Knowing of His Might.

All of it was ceremony, but it all meant something. Alim could feel it like he could feel the fresh air brushing away his ragged, unkempt hair. A swelling pride, a rushing sense of oneness with Him. Just a few more yards up and he would be free of darkness and embraced by the light.

Not all the initiates made it out of the cave. In fact most did not. It was a black, evil place, full of unseen horrors. They were the Others; wrapped in darkness and unwilling to ever ascend. They had to be shown, they had to be taught and if need be they would be dragged kicking and screaming into His light. It took much faith to survive in a world of such  creatures.

As below, so above. It was all metaphor. It was all Truth.

The dry blood on Alim's hands stuck to the stone as he climbed. Some of it was his. Most of it was not. The creatures of the darkness had not been willing to follow him into the light. They sought to keep him forever in their shadows but Alim knew where he belonged. Up. In His light. Alim remembered the words of the Prophets, "Those who cling to Darkness must be purged by Fire or Sword."

Alim had no fire in the cave. He had no sword. So he had to make do with what the Lord had given him. His hands. His teeth. The stone.

Alim had endured the darkness and now he could see the light. Just above him now. The drums! He could hear the drum. The Hymn of Blood and Bone rose up through him. It gave him strength and speed.

The pipes came next. The tune that marked his ascension.

The music was filtering down from above and rising up from below. It was all around him and within him. The chanting of his brothers filled his ears and the ancient words filled his mouth.

As Alim rose he forced his eyes open, despite the pain of daylight. He drank in the sight of those around the crevice he had crawled out of. The cracks in the earth were all around him and all around him his new family rose up from the darkness. They exchanged wide, manic smiles. They had made it through the darkness. They had found His Light.

Before them stood one of the Blind Prophets, sharing in their mad glee. With blind eyes he swept his gaze across the Risen. He gestured them forward, for no words could be heard over His holy song.

The basin was shallow but full and each Risen, Initiates no longer, dipped shaking hands into the warm blood.

Ixhasa. Tuatha. Arcanix. Esh. Malchior. Ord. Holden. Displaced. The names of the Others who wallowed in darkness. Their hate and their fear would make the Risen strong. Over the brow and around the eyes, each Risen crafted their own Mark in that moment. Alim's smile widened. Now was blood. Later, if he survived, there would be fire. The truest sacrament to Him.

The drums thundered. The pipes howled. The music was everywhere. The Risen sang the ancient words.

"Though Fire blinds us, we can see. Though it pains us, we are free.

With Blood and Bone, we hear the call. With smoke and ash, He shall not fall.

Cleansing fire, through world of men. All praise His name, Shad-Hujem!"