Moon Ritual

Nya walked with composed haste through the wide stone corridor that led out the

backway of the castle. Near the end, the walls transformed into thick square pillars, spaced

ten feet apart from each other, on either side. Arriving, she lingered behind the first pillar, as

flaming torches began to brim the stone path. Torches that she knew encircled Adrik’s casket.

Nya darted past two pillars and hid behind the fourth one, steading her breath, forcing her

anxiousness down past her ribs. A quick glance past the pillar, she saw the procession of

soldiers carrying the casket atop their shoulders. Lorafina followed behind them, Voren and

Helephine on her left with Bielen on her right. The youngest four royals always stuck

together, most specifically during their turns of the ritual.

Nya flitted to the last pillar, throwing her back up against it. She caught the burnt

smell of wood just as the light from the flames blazed the pillar in front of her. They would

pass this hall, pass her, and proceed toward the door to go beneath. The soldiers strode past

Nya, her eyes on the casket. She touched her left sleeve, feeling the shape of her hidden blade

inside, when the scent of damp moss and lemon caught her attention.

“It’s not like you to wait in the shadows,” Helephine said in a whispered tone, facing

her older sister with a smirk. Voren came from the other side of the pillar, Nya dropping her

arms to her sides, watching Lorafina and Beilen proceeding onward with the casket, as if they

never saw her there. Voren pressed closer to her, his chest touching her shoulder, and waited

presumably for Helephine’s signal. His damp moss smell intertwined with Helephine’s lemon

fragrance.

Nya looked to Helephine, “And does Father know you’ve both returned. Those being

his direct orders” she nudges Voren to step back, “to inform him immediately once your

missions were complete...”

 Nya had never been close to the youngest two. The moment their infant hands could

handle daggers fit for large men, Father sent them off, whether it was their choice or not, to

complete the kingdom’s threatening, yet required tasks. In an effort to maintain some

normalcy, just before dawn, Nya would await their return. She’d hoped to console them, if

they liked, or bathe them and wash their tired hands. At first light one day, she caught a

glimpse of what looked like Helephine, her face drenched in blood so much that she wasn’t

sure at first if it was her. The figure staggered with an unconscious Voren sprawled on her

back, blood pouring from multiple wounds, his limp legs dragging across the stone path.

Nya had bound towards the two, merely children at the time, only to be stopped by

Father at the entrance. His fingers bore into her arm, forcing her stay, to watch, to wait.

Helephine’s huffs rang with the sunrise and as soon as she reached their feet, she collapsed to

her knees, gagging for air, as Voren fell behind her. Father’s stern expression of

disappointment etched in Nya’s mind, like a branding, that day. Though they were immortal,

pain didn’t evade their eternal bodies. She couldn’t count the wounds that covered her

sibling’s, but she knew they felt every infliction. They were to lay there until they could pick

themselves up, because they were to bathe and stitch up their wounds on their own. For what

good are two assassins who can’t tend to themselves? For months after, Nya avoided them.

Not sure if out of shame, or embarrassment. But they did the same. They were the kingdom’s

now and only estranged siblings to her.

She forced herself to remain unconcerned towards the twins yet looking upon them

now, they were towering over her, barely adolescents with bronze-colored eyes that saw so

much. Fourteen years of murder and only eachother to share the burden. Nya knew they

would find her, but she hadn’t fully realized her plan to get rid of them.
 “We know you were close with the deceased,” Voren said. A pang of sorrow clung to

Nya’s chest. She clenched her jaw, eyes on Helephine who noticed her sister’s restraint.

“Death comes for them all, he knew that,” Helephine recalled. Nya wouldn’t amuse

them with any remarks. They didn’t care for Adrik, none of the family did. She wouldn’t let

them get in her way.

“Let us ​all g​ o to Father…” Helephine requested, taking hold of Nya’s left arm. Voren

reached for her right arm but Nya shoved him away. Taking the blade out of her left sleeve,

she sliced at Helephine’s wrist. Helephine inhaled a sharp breath, clutching her wrist, and

pulled away. Nya spun to Voren, jabbing the knife into his right knee. He grunted, falling to

the floor. She hiked up her dress, pulling out the second blade tied to her left calf when

Helephine seized her by the neck, thrusting her back and to the floor. Nya concealed the

second blade in her left sleeve as Helephine straddled on top of her.

“That’s enough, Nya!” she yelled, her bloodied arm pressed against Nya’s chest. The

smell of iron shot up her nose, a heavy pounding taking place inside her head. Helephine

fastened her legs on Nya’s arms, keeping her in place.

“What madness is this?” Helephine demanded in a hushed tone. Nya’s breathing only

quickened, exerting all her energy into her left hand to reach for the confined blade in her

sleeve.

Helephine used her knife to cut at the cuff of her stained sleeve, attempting to wrap

the cloth around her cut wrist. Her body weight compressed on Nya’s ribs, the pain shooting

up her throat as she breathed. She breathed through her nose, as her two fingers locked

themselves between the heel of the blade. Steadily, Nya pulled the knife out, then without

hesitation, pierced Helephine’s calf. She gasped, writhing into herself. Nya pushed her off,

and struck at her other calf before clambering to her feet.

 As Nya backed away, Helephine’s restraint wailing encircled the three of them. Voren

was crawling to his twin sister, the blade still in his leg. Nya gritted her teeth as instant regret

boiled inside of her. She gaped at her younger siblings, the cold sweat on her back forming

into a large tear drop. What pain she had just inflicted on them.

Suddenly the memory emerged again, their battered bodies before her just like this.

That same helplessness from that morning when Father held her, was itching its way towards

her heart. The moon gleamed it’s light against the fallen two, against Nya’s exasperated

stature. Too much time had passed, she needed to leave. Hiding the blade under her skirt, Nya

left.

The door that led below, to the ritual room, was built to conceal itself. It melted into

the charcoal colored stone walls, and had an oval stone used for a doorknob though the door

opened simply by a push. Nya proceeded inside, into the slender hallway lit by a torch every

so feet. They could never fully illuminate the seemingly endless tunnel nor its ceiling. The

wall made up of inordinate rocks, cemented together, bulged out. And at times, depending on

the way a torch flickered or twitched, Nya imagned the rocks moved. Transforming,

becoming alive almost, the grainy lines becoming slit eyes and lined mouths, a head that

watched her or the casket of a villager being led to its final stage in this life. At any moment,

the stone heads could cower above Nya, compressing her closer and closer, until she was thin

parchment. Every turn of the ritual that was Nya’s, she could never escape the stuffiness of

that feeling, that fear. Even now as she trod deeper, she felt strained eyes gaping at her.

Maybe they knew what she had finally discovered. Their anticipations in vain until now. For

now, Nya knew what the kingdom was hiding, had been hiding for centuries. She had no

concrete evidence, but tonight she would, in the form of Adrik. She was doing all of this not
just for him, but for the cloaked truth that hid in the shadows of every moon ritual. Everyone

would soon find out.

Nya composed herself, knowing Bielen wouldn’t see the smear of Helephine’s blood

across her dark wine colored bodice, for the corridor was too dark. But she knew he was

exceptional in reading expressions. Every sibling had a strong trait, or rather a quality that

outshone the rest. It had to be bright enough for Father’s approval and use.

The dim hallway led her directly to Bielen who stood against the wall beside the

curved entrance to the ritual room. He noticed Nya promptly.

“Nya, why have you come?” Bielen uttered, his dark eyes already analyzing her.

Nya held her light yet serious guise; brows calm, eyes opened just wide enough.

“Father demands your presence,” she answered, making sure to mean it.

Bielen held her gaze for moments. Though sixteen, he stood past six feet. Arms and

legs skinny and lanky, with skeletal-like hands, slender neck and hollowed cheekbones. He

was beautifully haunting, the whole kingdom thought so as did Nya. Father placed Bielen

with the Kingdom’s security and warfare. When first told this during one evening dinner, he

went silent. Nya would steal glances his way, he’d look at his thin hands then at Father’s

thick ones, back and forth, under lowered eyes. He must’ve felt her eyes on him because he

suddenly stopped and looked up at her, their eyes locked onto each other. His expression was

strained, the chandelier above them reflecting in his glossy eyes. She parted her lips, about to

mouth words of encouragement, when he dropped his eyes, never looking up the rest of the

dinner...She never did ask him about his behavior.

Bielen broke away from her, “Will you stand guard in my place?” he asked. Nya

nodded, watching her younger brother disappear into the hallway, towards the other end that

would eventually steer him into the castle. Nya exhaled a sigh of momentary relief then
weathered her eyes upon the arched entrance, made of the exact stones of the walls. She

entered a short hallway, with no torches inside and low ceiling.

The moon’s radiance glinted near the end, its blue-white hue shimmering around Nya.

She needed another lie for Lorafina. Or maybe she’d believe the same fabrication she’d given

to Bielen. Lorafina was in charge of armory, Father overlooking the fact that she was a

woman because her skills in forging were efficient. Her being older than Bielen, by one year,

was not the exception though, since Father placed him above her. Nya knew it bothered

Lorafinia, especially when neighboring kingdoms praised Bielen’s effort in producing hardy

weapons.

“How could they associate your frail fingers as the creator of my weapons!?” Nya

heard her one evening arguing with Bielen. He told her she was too invested, that her skills

were for the kingdom only. And she needed to remember that.

Nya set foot inside the spacious circular room. The ceiling stretched up then curved

inward, clear thick glass revealing the clear lake that lay above it. Towering statues of

ancestors wrapped around the room, decrepit forms of those who once lived now observing

the ritual proceedings. The moon’s light against the jagged texture of the walls reflected

shard-like shapes among everything.

In the center lay Adrick. Atop a solid obsidian table, the white casket was surrounded

by deep purple and blue hydrangeas, garnet red clematises and cardinals, may night salvias

and lamiums. The unchanged flowers that kept the corpse’s essence in tune with the moon’s

radiance. Lorafina was preparing, her back facing Nya, on a smaller obsidian table against the

left wall. As though she heard Nya step in, Lorafina turned around.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she hushed, concealing the blade of zircon on the table

stepping to her. Nya backed up.

 Lorafina paused, peering around her sister, “Where’s Bielen?”

Nya hesitated, knowing that Lorafina wouldn’t believe her false explanations. Maybe

she could appeal to her younger sister with the truth. She couldn’t remember how long it had

been since she came down here. Someone must’ve seen Helephine and Voren by now, or

they’d have gotten up to aid themselves, making their way down here. Bielen would be

coming back now, flustered by Nya’s childish deception towards him. Lorafina studied her

sister, brows furrowed with a slight pout in her lips. If she were to stare any longer, Nya

knew she would catch on. She was always perceptive.

Nya glanced at the casket, and then at the concealed door against the back wall.

Behind it, her stallion Halia would be waiting, to whisk herand Adrik away. To create the

time she desperately needed.

Lorafina looked over her shoulder at the casket, touching the hilt of the sword as she

turned back, “Nya why are you here?”

Nya fled past Lorafina. Heading straight for the hidden door, she opened it, calling for

her stallion. Halia rode out, circling around the room before colliding into Lorafina with a

heavy ​thump, ​her crashing to the ground. Nya rushed to Adrik, casting the flowers away so

she could grab hold of his chilled body. Halia strode up next to her, bending low for Nya to

propel Adrik over her back. She heaved her childhood friend, wrapping her arms around his

waist to pull him slightly over her shoulder and onto Halia upright. She then climbed up,

securing his body between herself and Halia’s withers, beckoning her horse to go.

They rode out the back way, a wide unlit hall that led out into the forest. She needed

to create distance, enough for Adrik to awake again. She motioned for Halia to pick speed,

looking back only to catch sight of soldiers on horses scattering to encircle her from a

distance. Her forearms began to numb as the icy touch of Adrik’s arms against hers
prolonged. Leading the soldiers was Lorafina alongside Bielen, galloping their way nearer.

She beheld in front of her, tightening her hold on the reigns begging Halia to run faster.

All those days spent in the monastery with Adrik, gazing through countless records,

births and deaths, autopsies. The kingdom’s history, her family’s lineage. Their immortality,

the true line of power to rule over everyone else. The nights spent, speaking to the villagers,

hearing of their ancestry line, to finally have found a connection. A tie between her blood and

Adrik’s.

The soldiers had now closed in around her, feets way within their grasp of her. Halia

huffed further, attempting to widen the gap. Nya gazed at Adrik’s large stature before her.

She implored him to wake up, one look from the soldiers, from Lorafina or Bielen at his

living state would cease it all. He just needed time, for the frosted blood to thaw and become

warm again. Then, the truth would make itself known; that their hierarchy was false and the

blood of everyone in the kingdom, royal or not, was the same.

Nya peered above to the waxing moon, vigorous in comparison to her exhausted pale

face. Her back ached, thighs burning from the fast movement of Halia between them. Tears

began to form as all the energy within her panted its last breath. Her head fell forward,

leaning against Adrik’s back, the weight on her eyelids overpowering. Hauli neighed, sliding

to her side to break. The impact, so abrupt, shoved Adrik and Nya off, their bodies tumbling

to the ground.

Nya’s chest smashed into the grass, her face pinned to the wetland. Though she knew

this pain was temporary, her entire body ached, her spine tingling with a stinging sensation

that began to rise up to her neck and head. When she tried to breathe, air scraped at her lungs.

She wanted to move her hands but they stayed compressed under her body. With heavy lids,

she lifted her eyes open. Adrik lay across her, only a feet or two, his body distorted as though
he were a rag doll thrown by a child holding a fit. She could only make out his grayish purple

face, how sunken he appeared now, especially in the moonlight. Was it not this same time

last night that they had uncovered the truth? She had feared immortality, despised the way it

was taken advantage of by her family. This kingdom that fed off their perpetuity, to force

everyone else on their knees, were going to have to confront their evidence. Yet, as Nya

gazed at her best friend’s corpse, as she saw hands untangle his limb body to hoist him up

and take him away from her, all that regained hope shattered. The broken pieces grieving

against her eyelids, louder and harder until her eyes shut.

Nya awoke the next evening, her body completely healed, having been washed and

dressed. Heavily monitored, she made her way to the long front table joining the rest of the

royal family. Helephine and Voren to her left and Bielen and Lorafina to her right. After

every burial, a feast was prepared for the departed. She looked beyond her at a painting of

Adrik, with glazed eyes and an honest smile. She clenched her jaw, tears smearing her sight.

Father rose to his feet holding a glass of wine, facing the crowd of joyous villagers,

“We are here to celebrate Adrik Amva, for he is most cherished and severely missed.

May his essence live in all of us. To Adrik!” Father declared. The crowd cheered back,

clinking and drinking.