Chapter VI - Rite of Initiation

With each new step they took, anticipation grew within Zykon. Today was the day of initiation. The day when he would be welcomed as a full member of the covenant. While the boy tried to hide the excitement that strengthened with each moment they descended deeper into the dimly lit cave, his widened eyes and sudden whirls gave him away pretty easily. From time to time, Master Delemon would glance sluggishly behind to face the boy, smirking the moment he noticed the excited features.

“It’s going to be alright, Zykon. I believe in you and I’m sure you’ll pass.” the master interrupted the silence in a low voice

Zykon nodded, choosing to examine the intriguing design of the narrowed walls which threatened to suffocate the two. He pressed his hands against them, sensing the jagged, sharp surface of it. Tiny, needle-like jutting fragments of stone scratched his fingers delicately, some fiercer than others. One such fragment scratched his finger pretty rough, making the boy groan as droplets of blood poured out of it. The torch in his hand revealed the gray black coloring of the tunnel and the boy couldn’t contain himself from finding it intriguing. Zykon had gotten used to seeing mostly white or variations of white above ground and when nature revealed different tints to him, it made his eyes absorb it with curiosity. Especially given that this was his first time in the catacombs.

He knew it was a place reserved only for the members of the covenant, there were many instances when he would gaze from afar when they would descend to pray and engage in rituals. And with each new sighting, the desire for him to be a part of the covenant grew exponentially. The catacombs were off limits to those on the outside, only Primal Zehn was allowed to pray with the covenant when there was enough time to do so. This obviously sparked gossip among Kaluh’a’jul in regards to what exactly occurred inside. Some believed they spoke directly to It in a physical form, others believed they engaged in rituals that would somehow bring It to the waking world. None of these presumptions were true.

In reality, Zykon knew from Master Delemon that the catacombs acted as their home, their prayer house, their haven from the world of sin that existed above. In these walls the covenant praised It, they took part in rituals intended to bring them closer to It and earn It’s blessing and love and where they slept, ate and drank. To put it simply, they lived in the catacombs. For some, it may sound unimpressive or outright boring, but Zykon found it fascinating. To pledge your life in service of It, to live a life apart from the dangers of the flesh was what pulled the boy towards this path in the first place.

The way down was quite long. The stone stairs below his feet were uneven in terms of size, depth and length, making the boy stumble on more than one occasion out of carelessness. It proceeded down in a spiral, the walls seemingly growing closer with each new step. Eventually, up above, a light reflected faintly on the wall, brightening their descent until they arrived in a round cavern. Master Delemon bowed, planting the torch in the darkened sands below.

“Zykon, place the torch down on the other end. We must announce It we have arrived.” he whispered

“Yes, Master.”

The boy followed the master’s command and mimicked his action. He fell behind Master Delemon, creeping towards a circle made out of the members of the covenant. There were eight people, all wearing the same beautiful white robes as the master, with their specific silvery golden capes showcasing the face of Hrrysthoo. Each of them sat on their knees, palms crossed together, gazing up with their eyes shut. They were praying. The boy glanced at the master, his eyes attracted by the motion of a hand that pointed forward. For a moment, the boy was unsure as to what the master asked of him to do and the man noted the confusion, smirking. He gestured again, this time cocking his head forward slightly, telling Zykon to walk in the middle of the group. The boy took a couple of uncertain steps forward, reaching the center. He gawked above, noticing a massive, dome-like opening that led towards the surface. It became tighter the more it got to the ceiling, which in the case of the catacomb meant the outside. Right in the midst of the dome, a small opening gave way for a dim light to enter the catacombs, giving it some well-deserved light. The opening was puny and yet the light shone quite brilliant, revealing an extensive amount of details within the chamber.

The boy whirled around, analyzing the walls. Murals were painted on them, each one representing a different scene that Zykon figured out were from the Gama’khoro, the Book of It. The book that described the beginnings of life and the many blessings of It in regards to the people of Bahar. The history of the sands they walked.

As he gazed at them, Zykon’s mouth opened slightly, releasing a muffled expression of amazement. They were not contained merely at the walls in the camber in which they sat, they stretched high above on the dome towards the very top of it. To paint them so high up carried huge risks, and yet the results were phenomenal.

A loud sound interrupted his analysis, jolting his head in fear. The members which prayed released in unison a deep sound, along the lines of “Ahum”. The boy eyed them intently and then another sound came. “Kajum”. The words were unfamiliar to him, yet the dialect seemed peculiar.

“Zykon, kneel and pray alongside them.” Master Delemon intruded, sitting with arms crossed behind his back

The boy followed the master’s instructions, digging his feet into the dark sands below, fingers interlaced atop his feet. Slowly shifting the head up, Zykon closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. He felt the ritual was about to begin.

“Ahum. Kajum.” the members shouted, their voices echoing up the opening above

“It! Grant this boy your blessing!” Master Delemon said, strolling around the circle

“Ahum. Kajum.”

“It! Your name shall be praised in all of eternity! Grant this boy Your courage!”

“Ahum. Kajum.”

The master’s voice sounded high, the tone rather unusual than the one he normally had. He spoke loud, and Zykon imagined him as being a bit ridiculous. Brushing the image out of his mind, the boy opted to keep silent, listening to what was being said, praying to It in the meantime. Judging someone for their actions was sinful.

“It! Hear the cries of Your covenant! Join with us, be with us, enter us! Grant this boy Your divine favour! Nurture him, grow him, embolden him as part of Your covenant!”

“Ahum. Kajum.”

In an instant, those around Zykon started punching the sands in rhythm. Pow, pow-pow-pow… pow. The ground below shook aggressively. Slowly, what began as a steady cadence turned into fast thuds. It followed the same pattern as before, although slightly altered, much more alert. Master Delemon proceeded to hum in a deep voice. The boy sensed a desire to open his eyes and to glance around, to see what was transpiring. A small crack formed around the eyelids, giving him a vague vision of the surroundings. Zykon chose to shut his eyes, not willing to give into the flesh’s desires.

The master continued to hum, his voice switching pitches slightly as it progressed further. It sounded like one of the melodies the people of Kaluh’a’jul sang in church, keeping the same structure, the sounds being dragged on indefinitely. The thumps in the sands did not yet cease, accompanying the master’s deep voice. Eventually, Master Delemon came to a standstill, his voice cutting off abruptly. The punches stopped.

“It! Bless this beautiful day of Yours, It! Receive this boy, Zykon Mar’kesh as a new member of your covenant. Grant him the power of Your Guardian so that he may carry on Your will! Empower him with the necessary equipment to do Your bidding, to bring You glory and to deliver Your word forward!” the master said in a raised voice

“Ahum. Kajum.” the members shouted

Silence flooded the chamber. Zykon was able to hear only muffled noises from above the opening. The boy continued breathing deeply, focused on establishing a connection with It. He succumbed to prayer, asking for guidance, empathy and love. A vision of his mother appeared in the boy’s mind, narrowing his forehead’s muscles. The guilt returned, imperiling to take hold of him. During the night of the attack he froze in place, unable to stand up and fight against Famah’ugh which resulted in his mother’s tragic wound. His chin began to quiver, tears dropping alongside his cheeks. The woman that gave him life laid on a bed unconscious and no one knew if she’ll ever wake up the same person as before. And the boy knew his inaction had part of the blame. If he would have managed to escape the doubts, to overcome the fear that enshrouded him at that point in time, his mother wouldn’t have been in such a dangerous situation. If the woman would have been awoken, she could have glimpsed how her only son fulfilled his wish and joined the covenant. If only.

Zykon wiped away the tears with quickened moves and tried to compose himself. Only with It’s blessing could the boy stand a chance against the aggressors of Kaluh’a’jul and become a protector of those in need. It provided, loved, cared and blessed those in need, those faithful. Nothing was out of It’s reach nor shall it ever be.

The members lifted off the ground, reached out their hands and joined them together, shouting in unison “Hrrysthoo ak’jum!” which Zykon understood meant “It provides!” in one of the old languages of Bahar. The words that were spoken beforehand were still a mystery to him though. The boy’s hands were touched by sturdier ones and lifted carefully off the ground.

“The true test begins now, Zykon. If you pass the trial that lays ahead, a Guardian will grant you its companionship. If not…” the master trailed off, leaving up to interpretation what he was about to say

Master Delemon turned his back on the boy and pointed towards a dark path that laid forward. A few members of the covenant strode past them, disappearing into the shadows. The sound of a massive rock being moved flooded their ears, accompanied by grunts and cries of struggle. Zykon’s eyebrows came together, cocking his head forward to get a better look at what was occurring. Faint shadows of men moved, yet the boy was unable to fully understand their motions. Judging by the loudness of the sound and the voiced struggles of those that left them, Zykon guessed a door was most likely being opened, one that would lead to the Tomb of the Guardians.

The noise faded and the men returned to where they previously stood. Master Delemon paced forward, reaching into the shadows. With a sluggish movement, he planted his strong legs into the sand and pointed with widened arms towards the roof.

“It! Allow this boy passage inside the Tomb of the Guardians, allow him the chance to prove himself to You, to prove that he is worthy to carry out Your sacred duty! Blessed by Your name!”

“Ahum! Kajum!” the others said in unison

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“Come, Zykon. It’s time for you to descend.” the master asserted

The boy marched forward and the moment he arrived at the master, his squinting eyes fixated on what laid beyond. As he guessed, a door had indeed been opened, revealing complete darkness. The lack of light made it almost impossible to grasp what existed beyond but Zykon managed to make out another set of stairs that disappeared downwards.

“Descend into the tomb and pass the trials of the Guardians. We are eagerly awaiting your return with your very own Guardian.” Master Delemon said, patting the boy on the shoulder, an encouraging smile beaming on the man’s face

Zykon glimpsed the master then looked at the shadowy pathway. A doubt lurked in the boy’s mind, which tried to convince him to leave since no Guardian would choose him. The boy was able to discern this was merely a lie the flesh was feeding itself upon, but it didn’t make it easier to resist the temptation to flee. Once again, Zykon closed his eyes and breathed thoroughly. Training for so long, following Master Delemon’s rules and commands, growing his faith in It has led the boy to this moment and he was not going to abandon the covenant. Everyone was idle, watching in silence, anticipating Zykon’s descent. In a sluggish manner, Zykon advanced forward with manufactured confidence, disappearing into the complete blackness of the tomb. The door was pushed back into its place the moment he took a few steps forward.

Zykon proceeded to walk, the sound of his boots thudding on the stone stairway sending out loud echoes. Pitch blackness enshrouded the boy, no source of light capable of withstanding its savagery. Brushing away a couple droplets of sweat, he couldn’t deny the effect the darkness had on him. Each new step brought with it uncertainty. What lied down in the tomb? Master Delemon kept his lips tightly shut regarding this topic, but the boy remembered hearing that in order to pass the trial, one must plunge in the tomb and become one with his faith in It. To allow It to judge his worthiness and if It willed it, a Guardian will choose the individual as its wielder. Doubts scattered amidst the boy’s mind. What if he was not worthy? What if It deemed him unable to carry on the will, to bring the message forward? After all, Zykon knew how much he lacked and how weak he was in comparison to Master Delemon or the other members of the covenant. The boy could not shake the worries he harbored in regards to what the outcome would be. Yet a glimmer of hope sparkled, as Zykon glanced at the ceiling and whispered “Help me, It, please.”

He strode with concern down the suffocating staircase, eventually reaching a small, round chamber. Shadows completely overwhelmed it, giving Zykon the hard task of attempting to make sense of what was inside, his eyes eventually adapting to them. On the walls, murals were depicting a different figure this time around, that of the evil one – Kalar. Scenes of the most treacherous of things that were done on the deserts above were shown to him, alongside the vilest of humans that did them. Whirling his head, the boy flared his nostrils with assertiveness, deeply analyzing the paintings. Evil loomed in the chamber, Zykon feeling it hunger for him. Suddenly, the boy’s eyes widened with realization.

Housing the Guardians was not the only role the tombs had. It represented a place where your fate could be tested far greater than what the outside world can hope to achieve. The evil one was definitely near the boy and it took Zykon a few moments before feeling despicable sins test him. The thoughts were not his own. Zykon’s own mind was being brutally seized by the Kalar, twisting it and filling it with desires far beyond what the boy knew to be capable of. He shook his head slightly, breathing in even deeper than before. There was no turning back from the trial and Zykon refused to allow Kalar to win. He stepped forward and reached the middle of the tiny chamber, falling onto the ground. With his feet dug in the sands below, he interlaced his fingers, leaning his head back and commenced praying to It. Without the protection of It, Zykon felt he stood no chance against the insurmountable dread that approached.

The sense of time was presently lost. He could not remember for how long he had been praying. The pressure of the flesh’s desires increased, giving the boy a much harder time than he expected. Kalar did not cease for once, constantly attacking the boy with sinful wishes, endlessly tempting him into submitting to the evil one’s will and lies. He prayed with eagerness, each new word whispered carrying stronger weight than the one uttered before. In order to be victorious, It had to guide him and grant the boy the love and care he desperately needed to sustain the weight placed upon his shoulders. And yet, it grew harder to support. Desires became more… intriguing, more beautiful and less… wrong, sinful, abominable. Twitching his head, Zykon’s face furrowed. Flesh had to be subdued, put to rest, abandoned if the boy wanted to succeed.

Images of murder flooded the boy’s head. Piles upon piles of humans dead, blood pouring out of them like tiny cascades, painting the landscape a deep red. In an effort to take back control of his mind, Zykon pushed against them with determination. Visions of a great war being waged replaced them, thousands fighting and dying in massive battles spanning the entirety of Bahar. Death lurked at every single corner. Commanding the destruction he witnessed, was a twisted, dark figure, which resembled a man, but looked far beyond human comprehension. The sheer scale of suffering made the boy jolt fiercely, feeling his skin curl. Suddenly, the images vanished into nothingness. Sighing in relief, the boy gave himself time to relax.

Whispers sounded from behind him. Zykon turned fiercely, darting left and right in an effort to locate it. Besides darkness, there was nothing there. Another whisper echoed and the boy whirled to find it, yet there was no one. Zykon gulped, but the dryness of his mouth made it difficult. Kalar himself was the one which spoke to him.

Voices kept materializing left and right, up and down, muttering the boy’s name. The more they called for him, the more twisted, vile and dark they became. Suddenly, they switched, beginning to cry for help and beg for mercy. Screams started shoving away the silence of the tomb. Zykon placed his hands atop his head, doing his best to fight back against them. The only impact his action had was increasing their intensity. Narrowing his face as much as possible, Zykon refocused all his attention on praying to It. Screams became louder, more clearer, cries for help and mercy intensified, sounds of blades cutting through flesh pierced the boy’s head like an arrow. A name was being called, no… worshipped. People bowed towards a man floating in the sky, calling out his name with both fear and adoration. Almighty Emperor. Death, decay and destruction repeated in a cycle in his mind, making the boy groan as he fought back against them. Everything enhanced, Zykon twisted his face beyond recognition, barely able to withstand the pressure which would crush him at any moment. He punched the sands, pulled at his hair strands, clasped his facial skin with, all in an attempt to brush away the torment. It did not cease.

“It… please have mercy… please save me, release me from these thoughts!” Zykon muttered in a heavy, breathless voice

Praying seemed to not help the boy in any tangible way. The whispers grew louder, more diabolical in tone, the visions went on at a faster motion, their strength increasing further. Zykon felt like he would explode under the pressure of it all. Dread encircled the boy with unrelenting force, it’s insatiable hunger being sensed by him. Besides praying to It and asking for help, Zykon knew all other efforts were futile.

“Kill… Butcher… War…” the voices said in a harsh, elongated tone

The boy moved away from their direction, frantically searching for a way out of their path.

“No… leave me alone. It, help me please! Save me!”

“The blood… the death… the wretchedness… Yes…”

“It… have mercy on me, your child! Save me!”

Zykon fell on the sands beneath, his body tense from all it endured. His hands were still woven together, shaking terribly. Tears formed around the boy’s eyes, dripping on the ground as his breath intensified. He jolted aggressively, desperate to be left alone by the terrible images. Zykon opened his eyes narrowly, lifting his head above, towards the ceiling. With the last drop of power still left within, he whispered in a hopeless voice a call for help. Then, he collapsed on the ground, feeling his head still shudder.

Suddenly, stillness returned in the chamber. The voices dissipated, the thoughts vanished and the body’s jolts relieved. He opened his eyes, unsure of what was transpiring. Glancing around, he once again tried to find where the voices came from, but there was nothing besides darkness. The boy stumbled up to his feet, whirling his head around in a fearful manner. Evil vanished from the tomb, leaving Zykon in peace. It answered his prayers.

Zykon gazed at the ceiling, clasping his hands together and thanking It for saving him from the terrifying scene he’s been through. The boy fell back to his knees, kissing the sand below and bowing multiple times to show respect. It saved him and cast away Kalar and all the lies, perversions and sins. A sense of awe emerged within the boy, feeling grateful for It’s love and compassion for all which dwelled on the sands, but especially because he was saved from the evil one. No one could deny that It answered to those in need, those faithful to Him, those that serve Him with devotion.

“Praised be your name!” he said

A thud came from within the walls. Zykon turned to find its direction and heard a faint sound of… digging. The boy approached slowly, listening. Stone and sand merged together as whatever moved through it advanced further. He could not point to the exact place where the sound came from, but knew it grew closer. Zykon placed his ear to the wall, focusing all his attention in an effort to determine what exactly moved. There was no pattern with which it dug, it seemed to move frantically, without logic. The digging enhanced and whatever was traversing the walls seemed to hunger to be let out. Out of nowhere, a loud blow sounded behind Zykon, sending pieces of stone flying away. The boy fell on the ground, avoiding the debris that shot right in his direction, allowing tiny fragments of stone and dust to fall calmly onto him. A massive thump sounded on the ground next to him, shaking the black sands. The boy lifted fast, preparing to face whatever joined the tomb. Out of the dust, a figure materialized before the boy. It sat completely still.

Zykon approached with care. The thing that stood next to him appeared to not be alive, but the boy could not escape the lingering question – how did it dig? With each new step, it became clearer how. The boy’s jaw opened and his forehead wrinkled the moment he noticed the outer rim of it. A glossy blue gleamed beautifully in the shadows, giving the tomb a much deserved source of light. He reached in and leaned to retrieve it. The cold, sturdy, sharp texture pushed away any doubts the boy previously had. A Guardian had chosen him as its wielder.

Zykon lifted the piece of metal into the air, examining its intricate details. Rows upon rows of uneven, obsidian colored metal pieces clumped together to create what he now held. The deep blackness of it was contrasted by the brilliant deep blue that ran across the metal’s edge, making the boy smile in admiration. Without prior warning, the piece of metal moved. Zykon pushed it back slightly, his face narrowing as it came alive. The thing’s rows of protruding fragments of metal shifted around quickly, pulsating in the boy’s hand. It moved so fast and frantically, that the boy didn’t even realize that what before was only a piece of metal now turned into a thin, long sword. The boy moved it around, shocked by how lightweight it felt considering what it was made out of. The hilt felt smooth, yet sharp at the same time, tiny dents of metal allowing his hand to grip it with relative ease. Below the hilt, tiny columns of metal spikes darted outwards, forming the blade’s guard. He slashed around, admiring the fluidity with which it danced in the air. The very thought that Zykon’s own Guardian sat in his hands, made the boy’s eyes gleam. Visions of the great things the boy would do with such a powerful weapon when the time will call for its use appeared in his mind. Zykon smiled wide, unable to shift his focus from the blade.

Then the realization dawned upon him how much he allowed the flesh’s desire to once again cloud him. Zykon shook his head and composed himself, wiping away the beaming face from before. His mind wandered on what was shown to him when he fought against Kalar. The boy examined the vile images that the evil one placed in his head, the death of thousands upon thousands, the innocent blood that was spilled, tainting the ground, the large-scale destruction that turned cities into ruins and then… the Almighty Emperor. What could it all mean? Everything that was shown to him looked so… vivid. So alive. It felt like he was… there, taking a part into it all somehow. The floating figure, the one that was called the Almighty Emperor, was human in nature, but it seemed… devoid of any humanity. It emanated a lack of compassion, love or care unlike what the boy felt in any other person. And it seemed to be at the helm of the destruction that was transpiring. Zykon felt like he was shown a glimpse into the future, into something terrible that was about to fall upon the deserts of Bahar with mighty force. The more he lingered on the thoughts, the more he recalled feeling something when the images flooded him. A sense of… desire for more death to occur.

With another shake of the head, he brushed away the visions. Never before was Zykon tested in such a strong, powerful manner. The flesh and the evil one were even more dangerous inside the tomb and there was no one else that could’ve helped him fight against them but It and His grace. Which was precisely the point, the boy figured. The tomb was supposed to test an individual, his faith and belief, his hatred for the physical world and love for It, beyond what other means could. If successful, a Guardian would emerge and choose that person as its wielder. And as that thought crossed the boy’s mind, he once again gawked at the blade in his hand.

“You are my Guardian. The one bestowed upon me by It. Let’s make the world a better place.” Zykon said, smiling, proudness sparkling in his eyes