The Saviour

My feet met the cold stone floor, sending shivers up my spine. Seemingly I wasn’t the only one, I could hear gasps coming from the crowd that surrounded me. A few murmurs as well, probably comments regarding the unpleasant feeling. To be completely honest, the cold stone was the least of my worries if I could call it that to begin with. I wasn’t concerned, not really. Not about our presence here at least but the anxious aura surrounding the crowd I was part of could barely go unnoticed.

I let my eyes wander around, pushing the people around me into the background to fully focus on the walls that surrounded us. They were black with red ruby gems decorating them in various patterns. The symbols they formed were well known to us all, the symbols of our Gods. However, not many of us believe in their existence anymore. Despite this, we still carried out this ‘ceremony’. A ritual, some called it, but that always sounded a bit bizarre to me, way more sinister than it was but the word ‘ceremony’ didn’t seem fitting to me either, therefore me and my friends call it Krvozwem. It means blood pool, bloody pool, or pool of blood, whatever translation you pick really. The language is known only by us though, we made it up when we were little which also explains the simplicity of the name Krvozwem as we were limited by our childhood minds.

Despite the simple name we have chosen for this ceremony, the building where it was carried out was far from simple. The pillars were detailed, carvings decorating their surface, and the walls I mentioned earlier held balconies that were filled by people who came to witness Krvozwem. Our parents were in the front row but some of them were on the balconies as well. I noticed a few familiar faces up there, their hands anxiously gripping the railing that prevented them from falling, though some seemed to be uneasy with anticipation that made them fidget with their fingers, clothing, or jewelry. Anything they had in reach.

It was pathetic, I never understood why there is so much anxiety when it comes to this. Wasn’t it an honor? To be chosen as the one. To have all the eyes on you. On me. Yes. Me. Of course, they would choose me. Who else is there to choose? The girl who throws up at any minor inconvenience? Or the weakling that dares call himself a man?

I glanced their way to check their faces, and as I thought, Rina looked like she would throw up and Hel’s knees were practically shaking despite him trying to put on that ‘confident’ expression of his.

Of course, they were my friends. Or rather steps to my victory. I don’t care for them, not really. As soon as this is done, I’ll toss them aside like the pitiful beings they are. Not that I feel pity for them. I don’t feel anything. They are just tools to me, just like my parents are. All the people in my life have one purpose, to serve me to get me to the top. Once their task is over, they are no longer needed. And what better purpose could there be than this? They should be grateful I let them be of use to me.

My eyes met the gaze of my parents, their pride shining through to me. They have been speaking of this day ever since I learned to walk. It was my bedtime story, my dreams, my greeting in the morning, and a lecture during lunch. Krvozwem. The highest of honors.

You see, our world is dying. Has been for years now. There is no food, not for the Kos’Vies at least. That’s what the lowest of the lowest get called. Poor. Dirty. Disgusting. They survive off of each other now, in the most literal sense you can think of. Cannibalism. They reproduced as fast as rabbits though, or that’s what grandpa said. No idea what a ‘rabbit’ is but it must have been repulsive if Kos’Vies got compared to them. At least they never run out of stuff to eat.

And water? Ancient legend at this time. Blood. That is all we can drink now, nothing else will give us enough energy to fully function. Some people resist the customs but they are not seen often. Most of the time, if you would come across one on the street, shouting their chants in protest, they’re gone the next day. A curiosity but a welcomed one. Keep your ‘pure’ thoughts to yourself.

As for us, we are the higher-ups, the Sno’Egoï as we like to call ourselves. We are the better ones, the ones who will prevail. Most of us at least. The Elder Kri was the founder of Krvozwem, she believed our world could be saved. That’s why we do this every year, gather here in The Zoufpij where the ‘ceremony’ takes place.

I got picked when I was 3 years old, others got picked around the same time and some later but they usually don’t go past 8 years old. The Elder Kri formed a unit called DiVon for this very purpose, they choose the ones who show the most potential to be Lek’Ká, the one who is prophesied to save us all and bring us to a better world.

‘Under their rule, we shall prosper. We shall not know pain. Ascension will be brought by The Mighty and all the Gods will owe us fealty.’

As one of the ones who got chosen, I attended classes that were meant to prepare me for the role of Lek’Ká if it ended up being me. It will. But let others hope, their crushed spirit will make it even sweeter.

It felt great already as one by one of my ‘companions’ got called forward, getting soaked in the crimson liquid in the middle of The Zoufpij. A big pool of thick blood. None of them came out as Lek’Ká yet. Nobody has. Ever since The Elder Kri introduced Krvozwem to us, there has been no one who was The Mighty but that’s simply because I wasn’t born yet.

In all honesty, nobody knew what would happen when the person who stepped in was Lek’Ká. We’re about to see. They called me, my turn. Finally. After so many years. Started when I was three, and I am 16 now, the little me would be proud.

I stopped at the edge of the pool, looking down at my reflection in the liquid. This is it. My foot sank, and the other followed. I walked to the middle of the pool, covered by blood from the waist down as I tilted my head back, my eyes closed.

“Bohgen búzu dlusch náon vétro,” I whispered the phrase we get taught as soon as we say our first word. It’s the last phrase of the prophecy.

‘Gods will owe us fealty.’

Some call it the trial of Lek’Ká as it’s supposed to ‘reveal’ them but to me, it feels like more than that. More than just a phrase. It feels, right. Like home.

Nothing.

Nothing happened.

How?

How is this possible?

It’s me.

It has always been me!

I am Lek’Ká.

I am.

I wouldn’t get out. They can’t make me. I will stay until my true self is proven. Until they see. They will all see.

The DiVon grabbed my arms with force, about to drag me away but… they couldn’t. I wouldn’t budge. I couldn’t budge. It was as if I was glued to the bottom of the pool. The crimson liquid began to swirl around me as if someone had begun to drain it.

Murmurs and gasps of surprise echoed from the walls, DiVon let go of me and stepped back, rushing to hold back all the others who tried to get to me. I didn’t see them anymore. My eyes were closed, arms spread out as I embraced the thick liquid that crawled up my body. It covered me whole, almost suffocating me before it forced my mouth open. Sharp pain appeared in my throat as it entered my mouth, my eyes shot wide open, tearing up at the sensation.

The people who were trying to get to me stopped struggling, watching me instead as I closed my mouth again. I wiped my mouth, trying to catch the breath that was almost taken from me. When I looked down, the blood that surrounded me just seconds ago was gone. The pool was empty. It all went… inside of me.

A scoff left my lips before I straightened up, my arms by my sides as I looked over the other— My subjects. The DiVon yelled my name for the whole Zoufpij to hear.

“The Mighty! Lek’Ká!”

Then I watched them all bend their knees, bowing to me. To me. Their Mighty. Their savior. I basked in the feeling. Most of them couldn’t even look at me, not feeling good enough to gaze upon me. They weren’t of course but I wanted them to see. To see what I am.

It was so much.

Everything I deserved.

So much.

Everything I worked for.

So much.

Everything I dreamed of.

Too much…

My head felt like it was about to explode, and my vision got blurry until I could barely see. The ache made me fall to my knees, hitting the stone ground with a groan. DiVon rushed to me but soon retreated. That was the last thing I saw properly before the black blur in the center of my sight began to spread, leaving me in darkness.

I wanted to scream out and yell for help but I couldn’t. Every time I opened my mouth blood began to spill out. My arms felt weak as I leaned on them, my palms on the stones beneath me but the weakness soon faded out of my mind. As soon as the blood from my mouth touched my hands it was like acid, eating on my flesh and not stopping until it reached the bone.

Screams of terror filled The Zoufpij. I couldn’t see anyone but I could hear their footsteps as they ran towards the exit. Leaving me behind.

My subjects.

Leaving me.

Leaving their Mighty.

Lek’Ká.

The agony I felt throughout my whole body was indescribable. It was like I was being torn apart just to be put together and then torn apart again before I even got the chance to recover. But the crimson liquid didn’t stop at my hands. It spread. Slowly eating at the flesh of my body. Biting away at my skin. Tearing apart my muscles. Ripping out my nerves.

At the end of it all, I was lying in the middle of the pool. My eyes stared at the dark ceiling as I felt my life slipping through my now skeleton fingers. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. I was supposed to be Lek’Ká. I was supposed to be worshiped. Praised. Looked upon. But instead, I am here, alone. Dying. The prophesied savior. But, perhaps this was what it meant to me Lek’Ká. A sacrifice. For my subjects. A sacrifice that will bring them a better world, with food and water. And perhaps even the repulsive rabbits.

A subtle smile appeared on my lips, though I wasn’t sure I had any, my brows furrowed as a tear rolled down my cheek.

“Mighty…”

Was all I managed to hoarsely whisper before it all fell into nothingness. The beginning and the end of The Mighty Lek’Ká.

The savior.

The believer.

The gullible.