5. Study and comprehension

It looks like two older sisters and mother are squabbling. I am sitting on a soft sofa and trying to stay out of sight, repeating to myself the mantra "I am not here, I am not here." In the corner, father is also trying to blend in with the surroundings. Eventually, they reach a consensus, mother comes up to father, pokes him with her finger, hissing something, and leads him away. Two older sisters take a wooden glass and two wooden sticks with incomprehensible signs from the table. Throwing the sticks into the glass, one of them quickly shakes it, the other, without looking, pulls a stick. I don't get it - are they playing a joke on me? The one on the left clicks her tongue in displeasure and, sighing, looks at me attentively. Why...

The next day I was not allowed to sleep. The maid woke me up. She was holding pants and a small jacket in her hands. This alone finally drove away sleep. I pulled on my clothes myself, the maid only helped me with the fasteners, and went out into the hotel room. A low table and a small stool were waiting for me there. My food was on the table, but not in a bottle, but in an ordinary, albeit small, cup. The milk had become thicker. I wonder what they add to it? I hope it won't do any harm.

After breakfast, I was taken to another part of the house. The maid had not let me in here before, and everything here was new to me. The walls were carved with battle bas-reliefs, and in the most important places there were even high reliefs depicting the High Ones casting spells or holding weapons in their hands. Turning the corner, we entered a long, dimly lit corridor. On the right there was a row of doors - on the left there were niches with statues of the High Ones standing in them. How did I determine that the High Ones were depicted everywhere? Simply - by the length of their ears. The statues, twice the height of a human, mostly depicted women. There were practically no men - a couple at the entrance and a couple in the middle. Such a matriarchal society. I wonder if my statue will ever stand here? Dreams, dreams ... Having climbed another staircase and passed a couple of turns of another corridor with statues of the High Ones, I, holding the hand of the maid, entered ... the library! It was the most majestic library of all the few I had seen! The arched ceiling was about twelve meters high, the width of the room was about - I glanced at the maid - thirty, and the length was about seventy. The bookcases were arranged in two rows and contained many neat books, rolled up scrolls and sewn manuscripts. Soft footsteps sounded behind me. Turning around, I saw the defeated elder sister entering, accompanied by a gray man in simple clothes and a gray woman in a beautiful dress. The sister, having briefly spoken with them, retired to a distant table and, sitting down at it, took a book, and began to read enthusiastically. Probably a precaution so that I would not burn down the library. The maid sat me down on a chair, and I realized that I was seeing my first teachers in front of me. Having gone to the back of the library, the woman brought a thick, beautiful book - my primer. The lessons began.

It was a shock for me to understand that the local language had fifty-two letters and one hundred numbers, that is, a hundred-based system of calculation was used. There were twenty-five hours in a day, one hundred seconds in a local minute, and one hundred minutes in an hour. A year lasted three hundred and ninety-seven days, with every third year being a day shorter. There were eight months, two in each quarter. Each month had about fifty days. It was like torture – I didn't think it would be so difficult. However, my head was working well, and even the alphabet gradually gave in to me. At the same time, the teachers taught me colloquial language – a man would create a phantom of an object with a spell, and a woman would pronounce its name in a magnificent voice. I tried to repeat after her – it turned out frankly badly. But even such a result made my teachers very happy.

I got tired unexpectedly quickly, and the teachers, seeing this, finished the lesson. The maid picked me up and carried me to the chambers to feed. Afterwards my sister came in for me, and, again in the arms of the maid, I traveled along the long corridors after her. Turning around another corner, we found ourselves on another large diamond-shaped platform. It could have been called a mirror double of the training ground, if the sand floor had not been divided into many identical diamond-shaped platforms. There were many gray men and women sitting here, and in the distance I even saw my little sisters. Each was sitting on his own diamond. But one priestess connected two diamonds into a large parallelepiped. I felt a seething force here. Looking closely, I realized that the platforms were formed by force planes that rose vertically upward, holding white sand within the edges, which played the role of bedding. Between the platforms there were paths free of sand, about half a meter wide, limited by force walls of sand diamonds. The locals were sitting in various poses - someone was even lying on their side, looking at sheets of paper laid out in front of them. I concentrated, looked with interest at the meditators and saw protuberances of multi-colored energy bursting out of their bodies. Some of them were moving sluggishly, sometimes intertwining into bizarre knots and shapes, others, on the contrary, froze in the form of thinning spikes trying to break through the shields. By the way, most of the energy probes were black or gray. Suddenly, the black tentacles of a neighboring priestess, trying to tie something with them, burst, and a knot of black energy with a ringing blow of a whip was flattened against a furiously sparking shield, instantly turning from intangible into a translucent wall of a violet hue. The priestess, to the laughter of her neighbors, cursed and calmly began a new attempt to weave another knot. The black blot on the shield began to slowly melt in the air, while the purple shield simultaneously became transparent again. So... the hint is clear - there is no point in messing around with magic on the training ground, there is meditation for that. If only I could understand how to turn the shields on and off. Well, I think they will show me now. And indeed, the sister and the maid led me along the paths among the meditators. The further we went, the more attention they paid to us, and when we finally reached a free area, almost everyone was looking at us. As soon as we stepped onto the sand, the shield turned on. So simple? Having led me onto the sand, the sister got out onto the path without any interference, leaving me on the area. I looked around, everyone around me was looking at me. I don't get it, am I a clown to you? Okay, okay, let's have a show! Sitting on my knees, I closed my eyes and turned to the dormant force. With my eyes closed, I suddenly felt a barrier around me – it seemed like a hard, slightly springy wall, even a little pleasant and smooth like glass. The flame inside me took the form of a bird – wanting freedom, it croaked questioningly. Yes… Go… I slowly opened my eyes – the bird had already flowed out of my hand and was hanging in front of me at arm's length. It was connected to me,like a leash, a bright orange cord of power growing from the palm of my hand. The bird, folding its wings, sat down in front of me on the sand and, fluffing up its tail like a peacock, let out a contented cackle. I opened my power and splashed some of it through the wire to the bird - it immediately grew almost twice as big, hanging over me and becoming much denser. But what if I splashed it all? The shields behind its back quickly became opaque. I got a little scared and turned to the motionless bird. Go back... The bird croaked discontentedly and, just as quickly as last time, was pulled into my right hand. It seemed to me that the flame whispered inside me "Aore il'ntaro". I wonder what the limit of the purple protection is? I'll find out some other time. I tried to tie a knot out of the energy tentacles – nothing worked, of course, and the energy stored in the tentacles flowed, turning into a stream of fire. Cool, I have a hand flamethrower! Jumping up, I ran to the nearest sharp corner and, pouring in more energy, splashed an unusual bright red flame on the opposite wall. The flame howled and roared. I added more current and began to move the stream along the shield evenly, pouring fire on the opaque purple shield. The stream of fire exiting the palm was quite thick, but it could be compressed with my fingers to the thickness of a terribly whistling spoke. Having clenched my fist, I managed to gather the fire into something like a clot, which, as soon as I unclenched my fingers, rushed to the right, using my fingers as guides, and, crashing into the shield, literally covered all four walls. After a couple of minutes of running around and experimenting with the flamethrower, I figured out how to look inside my gift and found that it was significantly empty. Realizing this, I closed the valve, "turning off" my flamethrower. I tried to get out through the purple shield, but only hit my forehead painfully on the smooth surface. So the shield doesn't let you in if it's opaque. Poking my finger at it, I realized that it was quickly losing density. I looked around, looking for a place that wasn't so purple, and saw that my worried sister was getting in through the far, almost transparent corner. Suddenly I smelled a stench and, looking down at the sleeve of my jacket, saw that it was smoldering. It dawned on me that if my flame wasn't hurting me, it didn't mean that my clothes would be able to withstand it. I'd have to undress before the experiments, and leave my clothes behind the shield. There must be some kind of personal shields that protect against the negative effects of their experiments and more. My sister, having finally pushed through the shield with her body, found herself inside the platform and, with a smooth movement, found herself next to me, grabbed me by the ear. Pulling me up to the same level as her face, she hissed something irritated and at the same time relieved and put me back. My ear was burning like fire. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I held back. And I looked at her proudly. Suddenly my sister laughed loudly and, having lightly spanked me on the bottom, left me here again. Sitting down on the sand, I realized that I had to think of something to do. I decided to drive the energy from the gift into my right fist, collecting the energy into a clot. It was going really badly, and suddenly my sister called me.How quickly time flew by. It seemed it was time for dinner and bed. When the maid carried me back, I was yawning loudly. Never mind, I'll be back tomorrow after classes.

By the way, I suddenly realized that I still have no name. When people talk about me, they use something like "child", "he", "Supreme". Everyone else has names. What is the reason for this? With difficulty forming words and distorting letters, I managed to ask the teachers the reason. They enlightened me that when I turn one year old, I will be given a name in the temple of the Supreme Goddess of Darkness Elos. Yes, yes, that's how pompous. Explaining and understanding this answer took about half an hour. But I was already glad for this difficult semblance of a dialogue. A little more, and I will get answers to many questions. Well, I'll be patient a little longer.

On the meditation platform, everything happened almost without changes, except that the clot was formed a little faster. Yes, I discovered that it takes several hours to fully restore my gift, and, exhausted in the evening, I woke up in the morning fully restored. In addition, it began to seem to me that the gift was not only growing with me, but also changing - inside the flame, I began to observe strange multi-colored veins. Looking at them, I had a feeling that they were not very well there, but I could not pull them out of the shell of fire. Well, no matter, water wears away stone, and in general, ethereal fire melts.

My studies were going with varying success: although I had already begun to understand spoken language more or less, I had problems with pronunciation and writing.

The locals, as the teachers explained to me, do not celebrate their birthdays. The thing is that the locals almost never die of old age. And how can you grow old here, if old age comes at about twenty or even thirty thousand years. I didn't believe it and asked the teachers twice, but the answer was the same. At the moment, only twenty Higher Ones live in the city, whose age is more than two thousand years. The reason? The answer is simple – constant wars. This is the answer to almost all questions concerning the local society. In addition, old people do not change in appearance, and the gift tends to slowly grow with age and doubles in about a thousand years. Imagining my gift at about a thousand years old, I hiccupped with fear. By the way, the name of the city Alverist'as is translated from ancient as "bringing pain with its appearance." I hope they will tell me why it has such a name, but I already feel like I won't like the answer… The population of the city is about three hundred thousand adults of my people and almost three million slaves of other peoples.

Each answer to my question gave birth to a bunch of new questions. I even had the idea to write them down in Russian, but it failed miserably. My body could n't write – the strange scribbles I got were hard to call letters. In addition, I quickly got tired, and after about two hours of classes I started to feel sleepy – what kind of experiments with my native language are there, I'd better master the local ones… And that was where the problems were: to arrange several vowels in a row in a word or to make a word out of only vowels – this was a piece of cake for the mystical Ancients. For example: "aeoea" – the color of dried blood, "khriao" – a sickle-shaped weapon with a double-edged sharpening. In general, it's creepy. And I still have to not only pronounce it, but even kind of sing it.

In general, in our city-state the local population is divided into the higher ones - rulers and magicians, the gray ones - warriors and magicians, and the black ones - servants and artisans.

Of course, not all professions are so demarcated by origin, but, for example, a gray priestess can never become the ruler of a house. The population ratio is approximately 1:50:200, respectively. Yes, yes, on average, there are fifty grays and about two hundred servants per one High. But this does not mean that two hundred black servants run after me or my mother and catch her every word. Of course not. More than half of the blacks, along with the slaves, are employed in underground mushroom plantations, as well as in various jobs: from blacksmiths and carpenters to seamstresses. And only a small part of them (usually the most beautiful) become personal servants of the grays and Highs. Not a single slave is allowed to serve the Highs directly. We are too valuable.

The situation is as follows:

The highest. The aristocrats. The chosen ones. The official self-designation is atar, which means the same thing in the ancient language. Only two paths are open to us. The gods have gifted us well, and each of us has a very strong magical gift. In addition, we are a little faster and stronger, and also much more beautiful. Possessing a clearer mind, we are capable of balanced judgments even in the most critical situations. In a word, we are natural-born field commanders and the elite of military formations, unattainable for the other two classes. If you want, fight, if you want, help the matriarch of the house in management, or combine these two paths. But there are certain nuances of our existence. The main one looks very unsightly.

When all the Higher Ones die, the house ceases to exist and is put up for auction as a single entity. For the house to exist, at least one athar must remain, even if he (she) has just been born. Hence the conclusion: to destroy any house, it is enough to knock out all the Higher Ones and that's it, the enemy is defeated. That is why all the Higher Ones are hunted within the city unannounced and without protection, despite all our coolness and conceit, it is better for us not to appear outside the house. After the Higher Ones die, the house loses its name and is put up for auction, but is not merged with the house that bought it, and some of the buyer's athars go there. The house gets a new name, slightly changing the buyer's name. And that's it – the new house is ready. It should be noted that the house never betrays its Higher Ones and always buys them (if they are alive, of course) from captivity. Despite such prospects, the life of the priestesses of the athars is not a continuous vicious circle: conception – pregnancy – birth of another Higher One – conception. There is also self-improvement and the Outer World, and various entertainments with it, including diplomacy and wars.

War. There is no sweeter word for the ears of the God-chosen. During an external war, all internal strife is forgotten and civil skirmishes cease. Of course, this does not prevent one from sticking a dagger blade between the ribs, but only not to the detriment of the common cause and not openly. Plus, during a war, the Athars not only remain above these squabbles, but even warm each other's beds and treat each other's wounds, being from different houses. In a word - the elite.

Grays. Official name - atretas. Translated from ancient - "blade" (meaning the sharpened part of the sword). Personally, I think that they are the fruit of the sin of the higher and the black, but maybe I'm wrong. Much weaker magicians (often even ten times) than the higher. Slightly weaker, slightly slower than the atar. In general, they are less beautiful. Although there are exceptions, as well as various abnormal deviations in the magical gift. There are individuals without a gift at all. The backbone of military formations. I have not observed any special admiration or respect for the higher. But at the same time, they are capable of giving their lives for one of us. Vindictive, but they also remember good. Children from aristocrats are most likely born higher, from blacks - always gray. Sometimes I think that the future will be with the grays. Although everything can change.

Gray can become anything he wants, from a warrior to a merchant. Gray may not be a member of a house. Gray can do many things. The only thing he cannot do is officially become the head of a house.

Blacks. Official name - orin, servant. The most numerous layer of the population, except for slaves. They consider it an honor to sleep with a higher or gray. They are not able to object to the atars and, if they do not understand him, they can literally carry out our orders. Sometimes they "hang" if they are given mutually exclusive orders. They are practically devoid of the gift, but there are exceptions here too. As soldiers they are cannon fodder, capable only of slowing down even the grays, who are five times smaller in number. Although no one has trained the blacks, and I think that if you suffer long enough, something will definitely work out.

The transition from one class to another is an incredible event, worthy of being recorded in history. In our house there is such an anomaly - a gray by rights, but black by birth priestess named Arichitos, named after the god of Mad Laughter Ichitos. The story of her birth is worthy of being an exception to the rule. It was told to me as a bedtime story, but, unlike a fairy tale, it smelled of truth.

My uncle was wounded during one of his campaigns against the Acherez, a people who live somewhere relatively nearby. He was nursed back to health by a young black servant. It is unknown why he liked her, but a year later a little Orin was born with an unusual appearance and a great gift. The future priestess differed from the higher ones only in her blue-black skin. And at the Great Council of the house, not without a creak, she was awarded the status of priestess of Atretas.

Now, two hundred years later, she shines like a supernova in the night sky, drawing everyone's gaze to her. What can I say - my three brothers spent their first night with her, which did not add to her popularity among the other priestesses of Atretas.

By the way, the locals don't know such a thing as "marriage". Mainly because of their love of freedom and the dominance of women in the hierarchy. The relationship between the sexes resembles the relationship between earthly tigers - they clash, sleep together, and run away. The father might want to participate in raising the child, but who will let him? Although, as I understand it, there are exceptions to any rule. Usually, one of the older female relatives who is not currently employed is appointed as the baby's curator.

Days and weeks passed in my leisurely life, until finally the event I was waiting for arrived.

* * *

Today I turned one year old, and I will leave home for the first time. The bustle in the house began the day before the event - the Atretases were cleaning the armor, tidying up and polishing the weapons.

I will soon be given a name. Here I must say that my mother has already thought up a name for me and confirmed it in the temple of the Supreme Goddess Elos, only the official part remains.

Asheras at I'si'tor. My name means "Fire-Eyed", "at" - from, "I'si'tor" - the name of the house. I've played with fire too much. At least it's not "Fire-Eared" or "Fire-Assed". Otherwise it's even normal - my name inspires. When I grow up, I'll go on a sortie, earn a bad reputation as a cruel maniac, and my name will be on everyone's lips, and the enemies of my house will be afraid of me. Dreams, dreams...

Two maids dressed me in loose black silk trousers and a black jacket with gold embroidery on the back of the house sign (usually the black rectangle of the house symbol was trimmed with blue along the outline). When I was dressed, my maid picked me up in her arms and carried me out of the room. We moved along the corridor that encircled the inner courtyards on the second floor. I had not been here yet. Having descended a couple of stairs, we found ourselves in the outer courtyard, which by the time we arrived was already filled with atretases sitting astride strange cats that resembled panthers in color, but with a body structure more similar to that of a cheetah. The outer courtyard was large and easily accommodated about two hundred atretases on their cats. The cats behaved calmly, only occasionally turning their heads toward their mistress-rider, who immediately began to coo and calm her "horse". I noticed that the cats had no saddles, only an intricate system of belts, which the priestesses held on to. The men were positioned apart, and only half of them were sitting on black cats. The other half were in heavy metal armor and were sitting on curious bipedal lizards, also partially encased in metal. If the cat riders had short spears and crossbows, then the lizard riders were armed with long four-meter pikes and bows. In front of everyone stood a large four-legged lizard, on whose back something like a palanquin booth was installed, in addition, it had a driver. The Atretases stirred and froze - from a side passage appeared the mother. Looking at the abundance of jewelry and the almost complete lack of clothing, even I exhaled in amazement - what can we say about the others ... A more beautiful sight is hard to find. The mother, pleased with the effect produced, approached my servant and took me in her right hand. Four tall orins lifted my mother to the level of the palanquin, where she climbed in with me. As soon as she settled down on the narrow, soft seat, she immediately shouted the order to move. The stone gate slid almost silently along its guides, and the column of troops began to stretch out.

The lizard had a very soft ride - the palanquin hardly rocked, so I turned my head in all directions, not really caring what I was holding on to.

Alveristas was a densely populated city with two-, three- and even five-story buildings of varied architecture. Everything was next to each other here: strange thin turrets, and cubes somehow suspended in the air, connected by thin passages, and strange hot floating fragments of rocks connected by chains, and something that looked like a grove of beautiful spreading trees, with fireflies flying around them, and once we drove through a completely flat wasteland with steps of a staircase going deep. Raising my eyes higher, I saw in the distance a star-shaped gap in the ceiling of a giant cave. White light fell through it at an angle and reflected from... water? I spoke poorly yet, but enough to ask a question, pointing with my finger and turning to my mother:

- What is this?

"The Sea of ​​the Dead Horus," the mother answered, looking thoughtfully at the white light.

Our house was left behind, hidden by five-story buildings. There were many more creatures on the streets. And the streets themselves were wider. I began to examine the curious. What was not there. Energy auras and multi-colored energy probes were moving bizarrely, preventing me from properly examining individual creatures. I concentrated, reducing my perception, and with difficulty began to perceive individual individuals in detail. My gaze slid over the crowds - I looked with interest at the various creatures: some had tentacles and disgusting whitish eyes, there was relatively free space around them. Obviously, their proximity was unpleasant in some way, strange bearded dwarfs, one and a half to two heads shorter than the Orins standing nearby, were dressed in plate armor, and had helmets on their heads; Dark-skinned, almost bald-shaven, muscular giants in rough quilted jackets and leather pants were next to very short, big-nosed, green-skinned dwarves dressed in nondescript and dirty clothes. But we were moving past, and my gaze suddenly fell on familiar figures. Why, these are people! Dark-skinned, in strange clothes worn over chain mail, armed with sabres and straight swords, like claymores, but still people. Hmm, so there are people here too... I relaxed my vision - the people turned out to have developed energy. Of course, they are as far from us as we are from the gods, but still the level is slightly below average, and that is impressive. There were only four people, but they felt safe. I concentrated again - one of them was gray-haired and had a short, neat beard. It seemed that his energy was partially hidden. The old man raised his eyes and we met. The next moment it seemed to me that some kind of connection had formed between us, along which tentacles-worms seemed to crawl. Just an instant before their contact with me, I managed to open the gift in horror and hit the connection with fiery energy. The connection, like a string, immediately snapped. All other events merged into four or five seconds. The old man was thrown back - his three companions turned around, and the one on the left was literally blown away by a volley of crossbow bolts. The central man received a cloudy charge in the back, torn off the hand of the priestess, it seemed as if a one and a half ton bull had kicked him in the back with its hind hoof - the crunch of breaking bones was heard even over the screams of the crowd. The mother turned around and, without distinguishing, struck with the very essence of Darkness. In the middle of the crowd, it was as if a giant had struck with a black fist - blood, mixed with shards of stone, splashed in all directions. The blow smears the old man who has begun to stir and a dozen of his unwitting neighbors. Meanwhile, the man standing on the right is knocked down by a rider on a panther, and the big cat pins the accomplice to the ground with its paw, he is additionally controlled by two priestesses who have unfurled their steel whips. All three people are alive - even the first guy, who looks like a hedgehog because of the bolts that hit him. But are they people? Steel nets are thrown over them and, having wound them into a stretch between the riders, they are dragged toward the house. Mother, leaving me in the booth,deftly jumps to the ground and, jingling his jewels, approaches the old man's smeared remains. In my opinion, he sniffs the air and, darker than a cloud, returns back.

"Who is this?" I ask, but my mother, casting her beautiful eyes at me, remains silent.

The column moves on again. Only the curious ones are now watching from afar and in groups, and I am looking around in fear, looking for "muffled" energy auras. But nothing dangerous happened until the Elos temple itself.

The temple itself was a pyramid of black stone, standing on eight very wide and low square columns, four on each side. We stopped near one, and my mother, with me in her arms, climbed a staircase as wide as the temple façade. Some of the Atretases followed us.

Having climbed the stairs, we entered the temple through the main entrance. Here I was shocked - the pyramid was hollow and filled with Darkness, like an inverted bowl. The darkness resembled a very thick black fog. It was constantly moving and creating many images on its border. It seemed to me that a huge octopus was hiding inside the pyramid, constantly moving its tentacles-snakes. Mother confidently continued on her way. Having entered the circle drawn in the middle of a huge square stone platform, Mother stopped and raised her gaze upward, saying:

- I have come, foremother, as I came before. For a blessing for my son.

From the sound of her mother's voice, the surface of the Darkness calmed down and became much denser, becoming like black water. From this black "ceiling" emerged something resembling a mound, slowly growing in our direction. The "mound" slowly changed until it took the form of a woman descending steps, wrapped in darkness. The steps emerged from the darkness at the moment when she had to put her foot on them, and remained hanging in the air, forming a beautiful black staircase. The lower Elos descended, the denser her body became, until the black fog took the form of a tall, stately white-skinned woman. Her white hair was gathered into a tight and thick braid, not quite traditional for the locals, which fell almost to her knees, creating the impression of a strange, scorpion-like tail. The goddess had no clothes in the usual sense of the word – her body was covered, like a second skin, with a thin layer of slightly floating darkness, leaving only her thin and graceful hands and head uncovered. The darkness was thick enough that it was impossible to say that Elos was naked, but at the same time it tightly enveloped her body, emphasizing its ideal proportions. An expression of indifference was frozen on her narrow, thin face. When I looked into the eyes of the goddess, I saw only thick, moving darkness there, reminiscent of oil.

At the sight of her, her mother lowered her head, and the atretases fell to their knees with a slight clang.

The sound of Elos' voice seemed to be emanating from every point in her temple.

- I see, Taenori, you are in a bad mood? What happened? - The goddess allowed herself a slight grin.

- We were attacked on the way, my goddess.

- And who dared to disturb the matriarch on such a day?

"I don't know, my goddess, but a higher vampire and his brood took part in the attack.

- That must have been fun! - The goddess laughed loudly. - But that's not why we're here, is it? - He asked ingratiatingly. a - Is this your son?

- Yes, my goddess. We and the Ariras of your temple have already approved his name.

- Well, if it's approved, then it's approved, - suddenly the goddess, who was about ten meters away from us, appeared next to us. Mother stepped back in surprise. - Give it to me!

Mother, tensing up, held me out to the goddess.

I felt my mother's fear and my own growing horror. The goddess took me in her arms and looked me in the eyes: "You will have centuries to get used to your new name." This was clearly not my thought, but the key word in it was "will." So I would survive this period of time.

It seemed to me that I was being sucked in. My gift opened up on its own, and the giant pillar of flame turned out to be a pitiful match flame in a huge dark hangar. An alien force made the pillar of crimson flame open like a flower, releasing multi-colored veins from itself, which, having gained freedom, immediately curled up into eight multi-colored spheres, gathered in two circles around the center. The orange flame of my gift began to fade, but the multi-colored spheres began to emit energy, which, like fog, began to fall onto the central point. When the flame finally died out, its place was already occupied by a rather dense clot of energy, reminiscent of a star with its chaotically emerging protuberances.

The next moment I realized I was in the arms of my mother, carrying me to the exit to the loud, ringing laughter of the Supreme Goddess of Darkness, Elos.

It felt like half a bottle of vodka on an empty stomach. At times it felt like the whole world was spinning around me, and at other times it was just plain shitty. Towards the end of the journey I was terribly seasick, and if I had had anything to do with it, I would have definitely gotten over it.

The return home is vaguely remembered, and towards the end I fell asleep.