Kairat lit the incense and began the ritual preparations. As he sharpened the obsidian-tipped spear, the kam-shamans struck their drums, heralding the start of the festival. What began as a heartbeat grew louder and stronger. The runes engraved upon the drums hungrily gathered the energy around them. His sister, Samel, lit the fire. The crackling of the flames mingled with the sound of the drums. Among the gathered households, those who fainted or fell into trance were considered blessed.
From the House of Járnfang, Iskald stepped forward. He drew the axe from his belt and let his blood flow into the bowl he held. "I dedicate my blood to Prince Kairat, who unites the houses, and to our Father in the heavens." The bowl was passed among the house leaders one by one. After traveling through all except Kairat himself, it was placed upon the altar with the last participant's offering of respect, thus completing the first stage of the ritual.
Kairat's father, shamed by his inability to make his offering, vomited up his own blood. His remaining days were numbered. It took nearly a year for him to step down from the affairs of leadership, during which time his sole heir accomplished countless feats and gained great respect. The North had become one fist, showing the borderlands that its greatest threat was not the ice.
In that time, the prince gained not only many allies but also many enemies. He wed his three sisters to the heirs closest to the thrones of the three great houses. He assigned three chroniclers to his sisters, tasked with recording every deed, whether necessary or not.He divided his army into groups of ten, placing a decurion over each, centurions above them, and commanders of a thousand above the centurions. What began with just a few companies he carried to this day.
One day, witnessing the dance of birch tar and pine resin in the flames of a forest fire, he discussed it with his scholars and taught it to his archers. Thus, he earned the title "Prince of the Black Flame." For this year alone, resin mixture was poured into the ritual fire. The fire flared up on its own, its roar echoing across the walls of the Gamla Temple.
Kairat knelt before the black flame with his obsidian spear. He sacrificed one of his eyes to the fire. "O bearer of ancient wisdom, hear my weeping—O god who burns the ice and freezes the deserts. Allow me to bear your banner, that your name may echo in every realm."The second stage of the ritual was complete, and the final part was to begin, when three house leaders rose.
Helkut was the first to step forward. "We shall be cursed for tolerating a child's presence here. The North belongs to all of us—we shall not allow it to become anyone's youthful amusement."
Iskald and Fenrikam drew their own runes with the blood upon the altar. "During the festival, no blood is shed beyond the first ritual. Your display ends before it begins," said Kairat. Fearful of being cursed, the multitude only watched what befell the lamb. Helkut drew his own rune. Following earthquakes that split the ground, the sacred relic—the Chain of Domination—rendered the Gamla Temple, once a place of enchantment, unusable.
"I see now. To worship another god is nothing but disloyalty and cowardice."
Helkut, Iskald, and Fenrikam together seized the Chain of Domination."Kneel, mortal Kairat—you are the first sacrifice to the gods of the underworld."
The blood dripping from Kairat's eye had consecrated both the ground and his spear. He rose to his feet. He would have prayed for forgiveness for the festival afterward, but now he had to face the heretics.
The chain gripped Kairat's neck. Helkut uttered his command:"Banish Kairat, Prince of the Black Flame, from this world."
The chain tightened, wrapping itself around all in the chamber who bore loyalty to Kairat. Like a starving viper, it squeezed their throats mercilessly. Without spilling blood, Helkut had managed to sacrifice dozens of people during the festival. Thus began the age of the North's decline.
The bodies, unable to be buried in the frozen ground, were each tied to rafts and sent "far away." Nine days passed. Most rafts had sunk; one drifted south to the shore. Two ravens perched upon its ends. "Awaken, my son."
Kairat's body unwillingly obeyed the command and opened its eyes."Who is there?"
"You followed the path of our Father in the heavens. Like me, you gave your eye. Like me, you died for nine days. You caught the attention of my ravens. Your road is long, but I fear, child, that your life is now mine."
Kairat staggered. Seasick, his stomach churned. Fragmented memories stirred rage within him. "For years I believed in you. How many hundreds of sacrifices did I give in your name? How many lands heard your call because of me?"
"Your faith kept you alive. It granted you countless powers. They would have slain you despite the curse—but my ravens told them of the chain."
Kairat looked upon the ring-shaped marks of the chain upon his neck.
"My son, whenever the chain is used, the thread of fate is altered. Contrary to your people's belief, fate is not a line. This life I have given you—waste it, or use it to reclaim what was taken from you."
The ravens took flight. Kairat looked around. Had he truly been resurrected? Had this conversation truly happened? As his head spun and he fell, a sharp sizzling sound caught his attention. The last thing he saw before fainting was:
[[System Window: Title: Shepherd of the Dead]]
[[System Window: Passive Skill: Blessing of the Raven God]]
[[System Window: Active Skill: Grejuva (Rum Flame)]]