Sacrifice

The second group of people included the village chief and the mage.

As they neared the gates, Fengyu couldn't help but lean forward, his curiosity piqued. He wondered what a half-ass mage might look like.

The chief, tall and weathered, walked with the kind of steady determination only someone accustomed to difficult decisions could possess.

The mage, on the other hand, stood out for all the wrong reasons.

The man was short, with wild, but strangely well-kept hair and a robe that looked more like a hastily thrown-together cloak. His eyes were constantly darting, never staying fixed on anything for too long, as if the world around him was a constant distraction. He looked far from imposing, and his hands were fidgeting nervously with a string of beads that hung from his belt.

Fengyu couldn't help but smirk. This was the mage who had been called to deal with the gates? He seemed more like a wanderer than someone with any real power. Still, the task ahead would prove whether appearances truly mattered when it came to magic.

The men at the gates rose as the second group approached.

"Chief," they stood to attention.

The chief surveyed the scene with a practiced eye, before he nodded, seemingly satisfied with what he saw.

He turned to the mage. "See if it is up to your expectations," the chief said, gesturing toward the cage containing the Isharael.

The mage's eyes flickered to the cage, then to the chief and the gates above. He approached the cage, his fingers brushing lightly against the bars, and his eyes studying the shimmering white bird inside. The creature's feathers seemed to catch the light, a radiant purity that only deepened the sense of awe around it.

The mage hesitated for a moment, then he muttered something under his breath. He looked up to the gates again and started towards the ladder.

Two men run instantly to hold it steady for him. He climbed up and inspected the gates thoroughly.

When he climbed down he gestured to one of the men, who run to him caring a bag. The mage rummaged in it for a while, taking out one strange object after another. Each time he inspected it carefully before casting a glance at the gate, then at the bird, and then thoughtfully returning the object to the bag.

The chief observed him for a moment, before losing interest and squatting down at the side with his men. Apparently this procedure was nothing new to him. He sat down to wait it out.

In the end the mage found an object that satisfied him. He kept glancing repeatedly at the gates, at the bird and at the object in his hand, but he did not return it to the bag.

He again murmured something to himself and started towards the ladder.

He climbed to the very top step of it and balancing precariously on it, he reached to the top of the gates. He placed the object in the crack of the rusty metal, where some ancient rune must have been ages ago.

Fengyu squinted against the shimmering heat, trying to make out the details of the object, but the intense heat caused the air to waver and distort.

"Do you see what it is?"

"No idea," admitted Mokai.

"It is a small bottle, like the ones used for perfumes," said Kaelyn.

"A perfume bottle?" It seemed so out of place in this forbidden world that both Fengyu and Mokai shot Kealyn an incredulous look. "How do you know?" She did not look exactly like a perfume user.

She steady withstood their gaze.

"We use them for archery. They burst beautifully when hit." She stated evenly.

"Aaa…" Mokai and Fengyu glanced at each other and then at her again. Women!

Meanwhile, the mage climbed down and moved towards the cage.

"Be ready," he gazed at one of the men, that nodded and reached for a bow.

The mage's hand reached down into the cage, fingers brushing the bird's pure plumage, his fingers closing around its neck. There was a sickening shudder, a sharp gasp from the creature that echoed strangely through the air. It crumpled, its body shrinking inward as if the very life force had been drawn out of it in an instant. There was no blood, no gory display - just the fading glow of its pristine white feathers, now losing their brilliance, a perfect creature reduced to nothing more than an empty shell.

Fengyu and the others watched in stunned silence, their hearts heavy with the realization of what they were witnessing.

So was it, a sacrifice of a beauty!

The mage stood over the motionless bird.

His hand, still lingering near the lifeless body of the Isharael, began to glow with a pure white radiance.

He turned his attention toward the gates.

But then, without warning, a shriek pierced the silence - sharp, agonizing, and filled with the desperate cry for life. The sound was enough to make the very air quiver, a raw, primal scream of existence itself.

The mage recoiled, his hand jerking back as though struck by an unseen force.

The light that had been gathering around his fingers flickered violently, then surged upwards. In an instant, it took a translucent, shimmering form of the now lifeless bird - a phantom-like apparition, its outline glowing faintly against the harsh crimson mountain backdrop. The bird's very soul, its life force, a mirror of its physical beauty, shimmered with soft iridescence, its silver eyes wide in an expression of fear and yearning, reaching upward toward the sky.

The mage's hand jerked back in an attempt to grasp the soul, but the ethereal form resisted, twisting and writhing in the air as it fought against the pull.

"Hurry, shot it," shouted the mage.

The man, nocked an arrow to his bow, but directed it not at the bird's apparition but at the object, that had been placed at the gates.

There was a sudden, delicate burst, the object exploding into a dazzling display of light and colour. The impact sent a cascade of shimmering fragments scattering through the air, sparkling like tiny stars. The bottle indeed burst beautifully.

The brilliance of it was breathtaking, the burst of light momentarily dazzling, as fragments of the bottle glittered in the air like stars falling from the heavens. But the beauty was fleeting. As the light faded, the colours twisted, darkening into ominous hues, swirling around the gates.

Another piercing shriek echoed through the mountain, this time more desperate, more agonized.

The Isharael's apparition, trembled in the air, as if caught in the grip of immense pain. Its translucent form flickered, shuddering violently, its ethereal wings twitching, trying to escape.

Fengyu watched, heart heavy with dread, as the bird's form flickered and distorted in the air. The very essence of the creature was being torn apart, and the anguish radiating from its spectral presence was palpable, suffocating.

The Isharael's apparition struggled in the air, its form writhing and flickering, trapped in some invisible force. For agonizing seconds, it fought against whatever power gripped it, its wings beating frantically, its translucent body shimmering with desperate energy. The air around it seemed to vibrate with its pain, the once-beautiful creature now nothing more than a cry of suffering.

Then, with a final, heart-wrenching shriek, the spectral bird was pulled violently toward the swirling darkness now surrounding the gates. A deafening roar tore through the air, followed by a blinding flash of light that engulfed everything.

When the light faded, the gates stood there, rusty, singed with fire at the edges, but their shimmering glass recreated.

Fengyu stopped breathing as the overwhelming sensations washed over him.

He could feel the bird's suffering - its anguish searing through his chest, a deep, painful knot in his gut. It was no longer just an external observation; the agony had burrowed into his soul.

His forearm burned, the strange, shifting mark on his skin thrumming with a sickening resonance that mirrored the death throes of the bird. The fear, the panic, the sensation of extinction - it all coursed through him like a poison, twisting and gnawing at his insides. The very essence of that beautiful, pure creature had become part of him, its torment now his own. The sharp, unbearable shriek of the bird echoed in his ears, its cry still lingering in the air.

He almost heaved, his stomach lurching, the bitter taste of bile rising in his throat. With a trembling hand, he leaned heavily against the rocks, his knees threatening to buckle beneath him. His vision blurred, the edges of reality warping as the pain took hold. He wanted to scream, to claw at his arm, to rip the beast from his skin, but all he could do was press against the rocks, trying to ground himself in the jagged surface beneath him.

The others remained silent, their eyes fixed on the spectacle at the gates.

Mokai, standing beside him, seemed immobilized by the sight. His usual stoic expression had given way to a look of sheer disbelief. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, his jaw set tight.

Kaelyn's gaze was intense. It was all too much. She had expected danger, but not this, not this magnitude of something so ancient and incomprehensible. She turned to glance at the others, searching for a sign that someone might have some clue about what they had just witnessed. She met his gaze, took in the evidence of his wide eyes and the thin sheen of sweat that beaded his forehead and mercifully looked away.

Seline stood silently, her shoulders slumped in defeat. She had spent years studying the legends, the rituals, and the forbidden tales. But now, witnessing the annihilation of the Isharael, all her worst fears had been confirmed. The reality was far worse than any theory she had ever dared to imagine. She felt like weeping but she couldn't allow the others to see.

The mage did not wait for them to recover. He mentioned to the men and soon his bag was brought to him again. He took out a piece of paper and scribbled something on it, then he took out the envelope and put his scribbles inside. Just as that he hurtled the missile towards the shimmering surface of the gate.

But instead of entering it smoothly, the missile bounced. The shimmering surface rippled once, then hardened again, rejecting whatever the direction the mage had intended to set it in.

The envelope tumbled to the ground, landing harmlessly at the mage's feet. For a moment, there was only silence. Then, slowly, he bent down, picked it up, and stared at the sealed gates with a furrowed brow.

The chief crossed his arms, his gaze fixed on the mage.

"How long will it take?"

The mage exhaled slowly, brushing a hand over the front of his robes as if dusting off unseen specks.

"A few days," he finally said. "Maybe more. It depends."

"Depends on what?" the chief pressed.

"On whatever Pantax had done. Whatever that was, it changed the general direction of Firme. It's been only one day that the gates were shut. There is a limited space we need to search through. Let's start in the direct opposite dimensions of where Pantax had been before the collision started."

He picked up the envelope, took out and unfolded the paper. He added some more scribbles on it and sent it once again to the gates. This time the missile was accepted. The surface rippled once again, and hardened once again, its shimmer settling into an eerie stillness.

All the men looked up to the gates hopefully for a longer while. Soon however, one after another they lost the interest and squatted down. It seemed it might take a while.

"Leave here scouts. The rest can return to the village," said the chief. "And clean this up," he motioned to the dead bird's carcass. "We do not want rodents feasting on this meat."

The men milled around, picking up their tools, dismantling the ladder and remounting the logs on the cage. Soon, they were ready to departure.

The hidden four watched in silence as the caravan of men wound its way down the mountain, their figures shrinking with distance. The rhythmic crunch of boots against gravel faded gradually.

Huddled behind their outcrop of rocks, none of them spoke. The weight of what they had just witnessed pressed down on them.

Fengyu clenched his fists, his forearm tingling where the strange creature sat on his skin. Seline's face was pale, her lips pressed into a thin line. Mokai exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face, while Kaelyn simply stared.

Two idle men slouched against a rock in front of the gates, lazily munching on a strip of dried jerky.