“On this night, we give to our beloved goddess,” Eshiel continued. The deep rumble of his voice was thunder, the moonlight shining off his raised dagger, his lightning. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but it seemed like the tattoos across his face and arms glowed a faint crimson. He stood at the altar, the bound man before him, the stones behind him, and a field of stars above. There was something primal about his presence, wild and unchecked by the laws of the priesthood and the structure of faith Keles had learned during her paladin training within the Heaven’s Wing.

“To Thanet, we give our prayers,” Eshiel instructed.

“To Thanet, we give our prayers,” echoed the crowd.

“To the goddess, we give our all.”

“To the goddess, we give our all.”

Keles hated herself, but she repeated those words. She would be no innocent bystander, not in this. Whatever blood flowed this night, it would coat her hands equally with all the rest.

“From blood and bone, shadow and fire, from the land and the sea, we scream your rebirth,” Eshiel shouted.

“The rebirth comes,” the people answered.

Down came the knife, opening the man from breastbone to crotch. Whatever drugs keeping him tame were of no match, and the bound imperial shrieked in pain. The chants of the crowd rose in volume to match it. Keles glanced aside. Nothing felt real. A small girl, no older than ten, clutched the hand of her mother, and she belted out those words at the top of her lungs.

“Blood and bone. Shadow and fire. We scream rebirth.”

Eshiel dove his hands into the open chest. He sank his arms up to his elbows, coating them in blood and gore. His eyes closed as he began his prayer, one echoed by those in attendance. Keles wondered how many times they had performed this atrocity. How many bodies did it take to create a red stain so wide and deep as the one across that stone altar?

“Fly to us, one of wing and flower, of storm and sun,” he chanted, once more taking lead. The rest repeated in kind. “Give us light, give us heat, so we may sing.”

Her legs felt wooden. Her feet were buried in the earth. To move, to break this spell, was impossible. Eshiel had warned her, had he not? If she stayed, she must see this to its end. At least the screaming had stopped.

“Wing and flower, storm and sun,” continued his chant, shorter and quicker. “Give us light and heat, we sing.”

Fire shimmered along the base of the six stones. It formed in silence, and it spread higher across the surface without consuming the moss. Its color shifted from a natural fire to a more ethereal mixture of blue and crimson. Keles gasped, but the others continued their chant, this revelation a normal part of their ritual.

Light, she thought as the flames burned across the stone pillars. Heat.