The Blessing

The lake shimmered and sparkled, the moonlight dancing across its inky surface. The breeze was soft and cool and it caused the leaves to rustle quietly. The night felt magical, filled with limitless possibilities. Elyan sat on the grassy bank that surrounded the lake, running his fingers through the frigid water. He felt his fingertips turn blue, yet he continued to hold them beneath the surface. He liked the pain. He understood it. This pain was physical. It was temporary. He could remove his fingers from the lake whenever he chose, and they would soon become warm once his blood flowed through them. There was no similar solution to the pain of grief. That pain sliced his heart and buried deep in his mind. It was unbearable. It had no conceivable end. The death of his older brother had rendered a wound that would not heal. It had been two months since Thirand had succumbed to a strange illness that had sapped his strength and left him unrecognisable. He had been so frail where he had previously been vital. Every evening since that wretched day, Elyan had run from the castle to the lake, desperate for the peace that it offered. And on each of those evenings, he had sat and let his thoughts run unhindered.

With his brother gone, it would be left to Elyan to represent House Myrin at the next council meeting. All five houses gathered once a year to commemorate the peace that had been struck between them nearly six-hundred years ago. This year was more special, however. Every fifty years, the houses also put forward a representative to receive The Blessing. The representative was normally someone who had just reached adulthood. Thirand had been chosen as their parents were the head of House Myrin, and as the oldest child and heir to the title, he had been the obvious choice. Now he was dead, however, the obvious choice was Elyan. This was the first time in two hundred years that a new representative had been chosen. No one was sure what such a late addition would do to the ceremony. But a house being unrepresented seemed a far more dangerous prospect. 

Elyan sighed. He had been away too long and his parents would be worried. Never mind that he was a grown man of three-and-twenty. He stood, flexing his fingers. The sensation of the blood returning felt like he was being pricked by thousands of tiny needles. As he walked back to the castle, he noticed a shadowy figure watching him from between the trees. His heart beat faster whilst his pace slowed. The figure emerged and Elyan exhaled in relief, seeing that it was his betrothed.

“What are you doing here my love?” he called out. Aran approached him now that he realised that he had been spotted.

“I was worried. You have become increasingly distant these past few weeks. I understand why, I just want you to know that I am with you.” Elyan smiled softly and kissed Aran on his cheek.

“You need to shave.” Elyan teased, puckering his brow at the course feeling against his lips. Aran rolled his eyes and took Elyan’s hand in his. Aran still seemed concerned, despite Elyan’s attempt at a joke. “Do not worry about me. I will get through this. Having you by my side gives me strength.” Elyan emphasised his point by squeezing Aran’s hand. Aran did not look convinced but remained silent. Elyan understood his concerns. He had grown reserved since Thirand’s death. But it was also the looming threat of The Blessing that seemed to constantly occupy his thoughts. They had not spoken about The Blessing, or the impact it would have upon their relationship. As the day drew closer, they continued to pretend as though it was not happening. Elyan was determined to keep it that way. However, their time had run out as the ceremony was the following evening. When they reached the castle gate, Elyan pulled Aran close for an intense moment and then bid him goodnight. And, as with every night since Thirand’s death, Elyan sleep was plagued with tortured nightmares.

Elyan awoke late the next morning, the sun was already high in the sky. He went to the window and saw the morning’s frost had virtually melted away, although the mist lingered. A sharp knock sounded at the door. His mother came into his room, tutting that he was not dressed. She wore a long black dress, in keeping with the traditions of mourning. She threw a loose white shirt and a pair of tan leather trousers at him and then turned around so that he could dress. As he was lacing up his boots she began her lecture.

“The Blessing is a chance for you to learn your fate and to gain untold power.” Elyan nodded his head. He knew all of this. Every child was taught about The Blessing as soon as they were able to express conscious thought. Only the Order and those chosen to undertake The Blessing knew the intricacies of the ceremony, but everyone understood the significance. Each of the chosen would be granted an affinity and would gain an insight into their future and the future of their house. Once Blessed, the individual could take a guiding role within the House, helping it to navigate the next twenty-five years successfully. 

The Affinity chosen would reflect the inherent values of each House as well as the character of the representative. It was hoped that the person would reflect their House. This had been the case for all of the previous Blessings. Every House retained the same Affinity and little had altered in terms of the dynamic between the Houses. House Myrin had always been granted a fire as an Affinity. Each member of House Myrin was exceptionally skilled at using fire to serve their purposes. The Blessed individual could also produce fire, manipulate it at a more basic level. The last recipient of The Blessing was Elyan’s grandfather. The one before that had been Elyan’s great, great-grandmother. In fact, every one of the Blessed from House Myrin had been a predecessor of Elyan. He felt the weight of his ancestors’ expectations upon his shoulders. The weight was almost too much to bear. 

All too soon, the sun dipped below the horizon and darkness covered the land. House Myrin was hosting this year’s ceremony, much to the delight of his mother. Elyan felt his stomach churn. He urged himself to join the gathering in the hall, despite the nausea coursing through him. He kissed his mother’s cheek and nodded at his father. He could not see where Aran was in the throng of people celebrating. He made polite conversation with as many guests as he could manage. The act of socialising proving more draining than usual on account of Elyan’s nerves. 

A gong sounded. The ringing permeating the room and causing the chatter to cease. A gust of wind with no discernable source swept through the room and the candles flickered and died. Everyone tensed in anticipation. Elyan felt sweat beading at the base of his neck and his palms felt clammy. The five Houses separated and created a semi-circle around the edges of the room. At the second gong, the representatives stepped into the middle. A member of the Order emerged from a small side door, his face obscured by a maroon mask and matching hood. He led the five chosen back through the side door. Elyan turned as he left and saw Aran standing near the back. Aran mouthed ‘I love you’ but Elyan did not have a chance to repeat the sentiment before the door closed behind him.

The chamber Elyan now found himself in was dimly lit. The sound of slow chanting reached his ears. The effect was eerie and Elyan resisted the urge to shudder. The five were led to the centre of the chamber and Elyan could see several hooded figures standing in the shadowy alcoves that surrounded the room. He realised that they were the ones chanting. Suddenly the chanting ceased. The silence felt more uncomfortable and Elyan wished someone would speak or make any kind of noise. He felt like he wanted to rip the skin from his body. The masked man who had taken them into the room created a large glowing, pulsating orb from nothing. He released it and it floated up into the middle of the room. The five looked up, the light cast from the orb illuminated everyone’s faces, making them appear sinister and creepy. The man told them all to surround the orb and look into its core. Elyan felt the brightness hurting his eyes, but he persisted.

The hooded figures restarted their chanting. It grew in volume and fervour. Elyan’s heartbeat picked up to match the rhythm. Wind whipped up his hair, causing his clothes to swell and billow. The sensations were overwhelming. Light, sound, feeling, it was all too much. And then.. And then nothing. Darkness. Silence. Just nothing. Elyan worried he had gone both blind and deaf. He could not feel anything. It was like there was no air. One would not normally notice the feeling of air against themselves unless there was a breeze. But now that there was nothing, Elyan felt its absence keenly. 

Then, colours began to swirl in front of him. They formed into distinct shapes and then images and scenes. He saw Thirand, drinking from a goblet. In the next scene, he was writing on the floor. It had not been an illness that killed him; it had been poison. Flashes of fire, water, an immense flood, the slash of a blade, the flowing of blood. These images embedded themselves within his brain. Death. Destruction. War. House against House, as it had been six-hundred years ago. Elyan felt tears slide down his cheeks. Too much. A vision of Aran, drained of life, being pulled from the supernatural tide of water. House Myrin might eventually emerge victorious, but at what cost? The lake. Elyan focused on the lake that had helped ground him for the past few weeks. Water. Cold and soothing. He felt peace. He knew what he must do.

Candlelight, chanting, reality. He was back in the chamber. He felt all eyes turn to him.

“It would seem House Myrin has been granted water as its Affinity,” the masked man stated, an element of confusion in his tone. The representative from House Folfara glared at him. Folfara had always been water. But Elyan had felt their resentment for House Myrin’s increasing wealth and power and their desire to take it for their own. He had realised they had poisoned the pride of House Myrin, Elyan’s brother. And he had seen how their water extinguished the fire of House Myrin, and initiated a descent into warfare. 

As much as Elyan wanted revenge for the death of his brother, he could not bear the loss of his beloved Aran. So he had taken their water. He had surrendered their fire. His parents, his House, may never forgive him, but Aran would live. The other four representatives turned to stare at the individual from House Folfara. They must have seen what House Folfara had done, the bloodshed they had caused. They turned away as one and walked back out into the great hall to share what they had learned. Elyan took a moment to collect himself before following them. 

When he emerged into the hall, he saw the other four Houses surrounding House Folfara. Lord and Lady Folfara were on their knees, swords at their throats. They were then escorted out to the dungeons. This distracted Elyan for only a moment before he spotted Aran. He ran towards him, engulfing him in his arms and clutching him tightly. He was alive, and he was his. 

Elyan’s parents approached him. They tied to appear strong, but Elyan could see how much the revelations had effected them.

“Why did you surrender our fire? We would have won.” Elyan said nothing. He took Aran by the hand and went to sit with him by the lake.