Closed [The Sanctuary] Touch That Which Is Within You

[Kavala]

Timestamp: 55 of Fall, 512

There was something about ritual space that Kavala loved. It was interestingly enough a love she'd shared with Sama'el who seemed to have an equal enjoyment of getting things ready. As she walked around the Sacred Circle, Kavala paused at each statue of the Gods the circle held within them. Nysel, Rak'Keli, Eyris, Semele, Caiyha, Wysar, Akajia, and Laviku all stood sentinel around the circle. In the center, an alter held aloft by Zintila, flanked on either side by Syna and Leth made up the alter at kneeling height in the center.

Kavala made sure that each God and Goddess had fresh offerings laid at their feet. Semele had gems. Caiyha had flowers. Laviku had things gathered from the shore. The list went on. The only statue that had no offering was Akajia, and instead Kavala had whispered a secret in her ear.

A fresh alter cloth was laid out, strewn with gems and flowers spiraling like the Chavi. Kavala wore a robe, but it would not remain on for long. She would meet her brother naked this night. It would not be for anything sexual, but the ceremony they were going to preform was a rebirth of sorts. And to be born again, he'd have to come into the world just like he did before.

And so Kavala waited, her hair wet from the bath she'd taken to cleans her body as well as her mind. In her hand was a tray of candles, unlit, for Vanator. Tonight she'd be his high priestess. But after tonight, he'd be something more. And she knew, deep down, that whatever manifested itself out of the ritual, Vanator would be changed forever. She hoped, deeply and fiercely, that it would be for the best

Big, expansive, the stone circle was molded with azurite, where lapis and malachite came together and formed an incredible blue green stone. Goldstone was etched into the lines of the circle, carefully inlaid and then swept around unbroken and glittering. The space was ready. The Konti was ready. Kavala only hoped Vanator was ready.

[Vanator]

Vanator ran his fingers through his damp hair, combing out any tangles in his shoulder length mane. Kavala had asked him to bath before meeting her at the Sacred Circle, and once he knew his sister had bathed, Van made his way to the bath and made sure to wash the dust and sweat of the day's work from his skin and hair.

The siblings had discussed it many times. Vanator sought something more, deeper. Once soundly secure in his future, his path to becoming the Denusk Ankal all but certain, all of that had been destroyed. He was no longer a husband, a son, a leader, and he was hardly a father to the twins he still barely knew. The sacred djed Web he once walked was in tatters. Kavala had done what she could for him, given him a home, a job and the love of a sister. Vanator would be forever grateful for Kavala. But she knew as well as he that the Drykas man needed purpose, challenge. He needed his soul made alive again. Then Kavala suggested the ritual.

Vanator donned the light robe she had left for him, laid across the back of his chair. He swallowed the last of the water in a cup on the desk before making his way through the Within to the Sacred Circle.

Pausing in the entrance to the circular room, Vanator admired the ornate surroundings. It was certainly the most beautiful room in Sanctuary. The Drykas had come into the room only a few times. He was not a pious man, but he honored the gods, and offered his gratitude when appropriate. There was a serenity, a sense of the sacred in the room that compared to the solemnity of reaching into the Web. As he saw Kavala amid the gods and goddesses and adornments of the altar, Vanator felt an almost tangible holiness in the place.

He walked into the chamber, his bare soles making only a soft brushing against the floor. Vanator did not speak. Though he was the defacto Ankal and the older sibling, tonight, he looked to Kavala for direction.

[Kavala]

When Vanator appeared, Kavala was there to greet him. As he stepped through the doorway she walked forward from the center of the circle to where the entrance was and took his hand. She wore nothing upon her body, and in the soft candlelight Vanator could see how sculpted his sister's form had grown. Gone was the girl with soft curves just coming into her own, coltish and awkward which he so remembered well into their youth.

In her place a woman stood, the soft light concealing the etchings of scars on her form and instead outlining the martial artists body with small full breasts and scales that crisscrossed a washboard stomach and long legs that ran down forever. There was no sign she'd had a child a year past. Nor was there sign that she was anything this night but a holy vessel for an arcane initiation. Scales swirled around her body as if painted on by a whimsical artist, wrapping around her arms and legs and up and down her stomach and torso like tribal spiral tattoos. But they fit so perfectly, her body partially concealed by her long curtain of straight white hair and then revealed as she bent and moved.

Kavala took Vanator's hands and lead him forward, her own steps retracing themselves backwards, to stand at the alter. She carefully said nothing, but unbelted his robe and slide the silk off his shoulders and away from his body. She studied him then, unafraid and unashamed. Eyes so pale blue they looked blind met his own, blood calling to blood because the colors were identical. Kavala turned then, picked up a vial of oil, and dipped her finger into it. She traced the sign on his forhead, an alchemical symbol for "Awaken" and whispered softly.

"So that your mind will open and understand."

Then she dipped her hand down lower, to his throat, and retraced the same symbol.

"So that your words will always be true."

She re-dipped her finger, oiling it again, and traced the symbol over his heart.

"So that your heart will always be exposed."

Her fingers trailed lower, tracing the symbol over his stomach.

"So that your body will never hunger."

Lower she went, kneeling down before him. She touched him intimately, tracing the same symbol on his shaft.

"So you will always be fertile."

Still lower she moved, as if she were worshiping his body as a temple. Tracing one knee then the next she whispered softly.

"So you will have the strength to bend and flex when needed, and drop down in humility when required."

She traced his feet then, redipping the finger and oiling a symbol on each foot.

"So you will always stand strong, run fast, and be on a true course."

And with that she rose and took his left hand and traced the symbol, her voice soft, almost changing the words.

"So that you will always receive what you need and even sometimes that which you desire."

Releasing that hand, she caught up his right hand and traced the symbol on it as well.

"So that you will always give what is needed and even sometimes that which is desired."

And with that, she moved behind him, her hands sweeping his shoulder blades and tracing a symbol there as well.

"So that you will always be able to bear the burden of both your own lives and the other lives you choose to shelter."

Finally, her hair gently brushing his back and buttocks, she traced his spine with one oil slicked finger.

"So that your core of strength will never be broken, only belt as necessary."

And with that she circled back around to his front and handed him the tray of candles with small offerings. She gestured to each of the offerings, a wide assortment, and then to the statues around the room.

"Go introduce yourself to them. Ask them your blessing after giving them an offering. This night you are new to them and they will look upon you with new eyes. Do not hesitate to give what is in your heart or mind. The first offering is always the truest." Kavala said, speaking more loudly this time, and definitely firmly.

With that, she set him on his way, around the circumference of the circle, to offer to each statue there. And while he did that, she knelt by the alter in the center of the room and prayed, the whole while sharpening a Lakan she had on hand for the purpose.

[Vanator]

Vanator entered the chamber several steps, pausing as his sister came from around the altar. There was mild surprise at the sight of her nudity, though the solemn spirit that hovered in the room seemed to cast a sacredness upon her lithe form and removed any awkwardness. Vanator had seen Kavala naked before, in their youth. The half-siblings often spent their days unclothed as children, swimming in streams and watering holes as the pavilion made its circuit around the Sea of Grass. Not until Vanator, the eldest, reach puberty and fathered a son, Bolden, was the practice forbidden by the adults. Even then, Van and Kav would do so in secret, familiarity and curiosity shared by the siblings luring them to disobey. Between them, they had decided when it was was better not to see each other in the nude.

As it was, Kavala was no longer the budding adolescent with the roundness of a young teenager. In the orange light, Van could see that she was lean and muscular, her features feminine and mature, the pattern of her shimmering scales indeed giving his sister the appearance of a divine vessel. Others may find her Konti anatomy alien or even unattractive, but to Vanator, it was familiar.

The Drykas allowed Kavala to lead him to the altar. He met the Konti's gaze with gratitude and willingness as she slid the garment from him, revealing his own physique. During his half-season at Sanctuary, Vanator had regained his health, his body restored to the sturdy form he once boasted. Hard work and training had in fact chiseled out contours and planes upon his frame unseen for seasons. His skin was cross-crossed with scars, mostly parallel stripes left by Zith teeth and claws.

As Kavala anointed her brother in vital areas of his body, Vanator took each blessing to heart. There was no aversion as she etched her symbols upon his skin in oil, even as she traced her oiled finger along his manhood, Vanator simply gave himself to the ritual. Until that moment the Denusk had not realized how unclean he had felt. In Zith captivity, Vanator had been used. Used to please Zith mistresses, used to breed with female slaves. The fact made him feel damaged, too filthy to be loved, his tainted body unwanted. But Kavala's mantras and vindicating touch had the effect of washing away the desecration left by his enslavement, leaving him able to give and sustain life once again.

The Drykas received the tray from Kavala, taking one of the small candles and lighting it from a candle sitting on the altar surface held aloft by Zintila. Moving to the first icon, that of Nysel, Vanator knelt. The God of Sleep. Lighting a candle from the flame of the first, he set the small votive at the foot of the statue. Then Vanator took a roughly forged key from the tray, leaving it by the candle. His deep voice lifted in their native Pavi.

"Lord of Dreams, I am a dreamer in who's dreams the dead still live. I offer to you the key to the consciousness within my subconscious. Please reveal to me in my sleep those things I cannot know in awakeness, so that I may comprehend my purpose."

Next, Vanator moved to the idol to Rak'Keli, lighting a candle and setting it before the image of the Goddess of Healing. Picking an aloe stalk from the tray, he laid it at her feet.

"Goddess of Health, I am a mortal man whose flesh can be rent, bones broken and organs diseased. Please render to me the health required to defend and care for those in my charge." After offering his supplication, Vanator moved to the next deity.

Kneeling before Eyris, the initiate set a candle at the statues base. Vanator examined the items on the tray, until he found a strip of paper rolled into a scroll. Opening it, Van saw inscribed upon the yellow paper in Kavala's handwriting were several words of wisdom his father had taught his children. He smiled softly as he laid the roll beside the candle.

"Wise One, I am a simple man incapable of knowing wisdom on my own. Please provide to me the knowledge to lead, the understanding to discern the right way."

Next was Semele, and Vanator bowed low before her idol. As a Drykas a goddess he particularly revered, along with Caiyha. With the lit candle, the Drykas laid a small sapphire at her feet.

"Mother Mizahar, I am but one of a multitude that treads the foundations of your earth and stone. Grant me communion with the land that I love, upon which the carpet of life is laid, that it shall never crumble beneath me."

Caiyha followed, and as Vanator knelt before her, he set down a candle and an eagle's feather.

"First Witch, keeper of the waves of Grass and every creature that walks upon it, I plead your blessing. From the steed beneath me, to the prey I hunt, to the beasts that hunt me, keep me in harmony with the balance of your nature."

Next, Vanator stopped before the image of Wysar. He hesitated. The lord of Riverfall was the god of the Akalaks. The Drykas still held much against the Akalaks, for though he was very grateful that they had saved Kavala, the price they forced her to pay was great, and it ate at Vanator. After a moment, he lit a candle and set it before the statue, laying a steel-headed arrow next to it.

"Lord of the Warrior. I am a man upon others depend. I must be honed and steady, like this arrow. Grant me the discipline to keep mind and body strong and agile, to hold tenaciously to my convictions, and to stay true to myself."

Akajia was next. With the offer of a votive, Van leaned forward to the stone ear of the idol. He whispered a secret, unknown to mortal ears.

Vanator moved to the image of Laviku, offering a candle and a shell, unbroken and beautiful, with shades of aquamarine and blue.

"God of the Oceans, I did not know you in my youth, yet now, I stand in awe of the vastness of your seas. I ask that it always be a source of provision and life for me and mine, a reminder of my place before its mighty expanse, and an inspiration in its beauty."

Finally, Vanator moved to the altar in the center of the room, next to the kneeling Kavala. He set the final candle before the images of Zintila, Syna and Leth.

"Gods and goddesses of night and day, of light in its glory and subtly. The days of my life are counted by your faithful motions, my world illuminated by your glories. I beg that those lights never go out, that by the light of the sun I have clear sight in the day, by night my soul finds reflection by the light of the moon and the glittering canopy of stars."

Vanator laid aside the tray, still kneeling, turning slightly towards Kavala, brother and sister in their purest, raw form, before the gods of their world.

[Kavala]

Kavala watched Vanator move around the room, making his offerings and leaving his prayers. She knew her brother had lost a great deal of his faith over the course of the last few seasons. She couldn't really blame him for it. But time would mend the loss if the Gods were generous enough granting him back some of what he'd lost. Kavala was a firm believer that if one worked hard, that's exactly what would happen. Healing.

It was, after all, her business to know.

The Konti Healer took the time, while Vanator was moving around, to relax and meditate on what was about to happen. Kavala quieted her mind, even though her eyes stayed focused on her brother, and let her thoughts drift as her whole body relaxed. She sat neatly, arms resting on her crossed legs, patiently letting Vanator take whatever time he needed.

She was inducting her brother into reimancy, infusing him with res so that his body too could produce it if it would. Not everyone could do it, but the Sapphires were known for their djed abilities and webbing, so Kavala was confident the ritual would work. She just wanted to make sure she was doing it for the right reasons.

Vanator needed life. He needed purpose. And as much as he needed those things, they - everyone here - needed him. He was raised into leadership, the kind of training Kavala only marginally was exposed too. He knew how to take charge, and more importantly how to identify individual strengths and weaknesses in a group. Once those things were identified the whole group could be strengthened because one played up strengths and covered up weaknesses or trained them out of people. In many ways, Vanator was fortunate to be born male among the Drykas. Kavala would have given a lot to have gotten such lessons from her father. But that was not the way of their people. Her job was to heal. And that had been her whole world.

But now that world was a great deal larger.

Vanator fit into it neatly, even if she herself didn't quite understand how or why. He was a man of open skies, and if she could keep him happy here, he'd thrive. She'd try. He was a passionate man, and needed people to love and worry about. Eventually he'd need a lover too, because in all the history of knowing him Kavala had never seen him without one. She'd keep in mind likely prospects and slowly introduce them to her brother. Drykas, perhaps even kelvic, would suit nicely. Her brother had a lot of love to give and she knew he was unhappy alone.

Just like she was.

Pain coursed through her and she cursed thoughts of Ronan interrupting her sacred space. Kavala was sure she'd finally found her match in the Windsong, but he'd changed. He'd chosen his course and she was not in it. Kavala tamped down the feelings of rage. It could not be. It would not be. It didn't bear thinking of.

She glanced up. Vanator stood before her, finished, and she flushed. Rising, she turned to the alter and picked up a silver box with two razor sharp blades within. The daggers were made of silver and sacred. Each one had done time on the alter and had been blessed accordingly. Kavala turned, offered the set to Vanator, and let him pick which one he wanted. They were both identical except for the swirling gemstone pattern on their hilts.


"Before The Gods, I am going to bring you into the world of Reimancy. May they bless you with the proper element and grant you the skill to wield it." Kavala said softly, her voice ringing through the large circular chamber even though her words were spoken softly. Kavala took the dagger Vanator did not select and grasped it firmly in her right hand. She took his left hand, laid the palm open, and put a surgical cut directly in its center, opening the skin to her attention. "I open your receptive hand so that it might receive this gift." Then she moved to his heart and made a similar cut over it. She whispered words about opening his heart. "I open your heart so that you may be receptive to all that this magic will bring." She said, almost in a chant, then she cut his right hand and whispered again. "I open your projective hand so that you may send out that which your body creates." She said, then laid her dagger aside. Vanator was now bleeding freely from his heart, and both hands.

It was awkward, especially with his palms cut, but Kavala opened her own hands to him and gestured he should do the same. She waited, ready to let him say his own words and do his own cuts upon her body.

[Vanator]

Vanator did not flinch as Kavala made the first incision at the palm of his left hand, the dagger's edge so sharp he didn't even feel the sting until the knife was drawn away. He trusted his sister deeply, even more so as he looked into the pale blue eyes of the woman who had now become his priestess. The trickle of blood tickled the sensitive skin of his wrist as it dripped from the fresh wound. Clean too was the precision cut the konti made in the flesh of his chest, the softly spoken words that followed filling the room with a solemn grace. Shifting his own ceremonial dagger from his right hand to his bleeding left, Van offered his right palm to the edge of her knife, receiving the cut willingly.

The Drykas could feel the pain now, crisp stinging that served as a focal for his attention. Vanator could feel the blood running down his forearms to drip onto the floor, the thin stream of blood from over his heart running down until it reached his abdomen and groin. He kept his eyes averted from the crimson flows. Not that the sight of blood upset him. Blood had been a common element in the man's life, and the sight of shed blood had never unnerved him. But after his captivity with the Zith, the sight of blood had come to afflict him in a more sinister manner.

As Kavala offered her own ivory hands, Vanator paused just a moment, his eyes darting to her platinum framed face, as if to gain assurance. His sister had confided in him a dark secret, one that hurt him to know, one he kept buried so he would not have to imagine his sister suffering it. He knew what pain did to Kavala. But the beautiful features of his sister's face remained reassuring, a resolute vessel offered willingly so that he could share in its power.

Vanator took Kavala's right hand, feeling the subtle texture of the scales on the back of her hand. His thumb ran across her small palm, feeling the rough callouses of the familiar hand. Then he laid the silver blade to the skin of her palm, deftly drawing the keen edge across her skin. The sacred weapon left a clean slit, her deep red blood welling to the surface until a single drop slid free, leaving a dark trail as it ran between her webbed fingers to drip onto the stone floor. Van's eyes lingered on her wound for a moment. "I open your projecting hand so that you may give of your own, so that my life can be changed."

The handle of the dagger in his hand was slick now with his own blood, and a surge of pain shot up his arm as Vanator gripped it tighter. Vanator laid the silver blade against the skin between her breasts, closer to the left, and slid the blade along the flesh, the honed edge separating soft scales and penetrating the skin neatly. Again, dark rusty blood appeared, gravity dragging it down in a steady flow across her stomach and between her legs. "I open your heart to receive profound gratitude, for it has already opened to give of itself." Vanator's eyes shifted from Kavala's to her other hand.

Taking the konti's left palm, he made the cut in the flesh, his gaze lifting again to the Konti before speaking, his own voice contrite but with a bass undertone that conveyed strength. "I open your receptive hand, so that the gift you give to me may return to you, a circuit that shall strengthen us both."

Vanator released Kavala's hand, setting the bloodied dagger on the altar next to hers. He turned to her again, a tangible something already present between them even before the transfer took place. Blood ran from the nude Denusks, each adorned with ruby rivulets that ran down their bodies to spatter and mingle at their feet. Vanator could smell the iron-rich substance of life, staining soft skin and... The Drykas tried center his attention on the pain, using it to suppress the burning rising at his core. Van's focus drew on what was to come, what the ritual was intended to pass from sister to brother, and how that would empower him. His dark gaze, flecked with gold that captured the glow of the candles, stayed on Kavala, waiting.

[Kavala]

The candlelight licked the walls, lighting their recesses and casting patterns onto the ceiling in the near darkness of the sacred space. Separate candles on the alter and at the foot of each divine statue illuminated the powers present in the room. Light playing across stone seemed to bring the stone alive, from the tips of stone toes to the details of the lacquered eyes which captured the light and pooled it making the statues seem real. One almost felt pressed to watch for a blink of an eye in the stone just to reassure oneself that they were not real.

A heady scent filled the room, not quite camouflaging the scent of blood. It was a spiced mixture of sacred herbs that burned in a smoldering incense on the alter. Rather than disguise anything, it seemed to augment the iron-rich scent and reinforce to the occupants of the sacred circle that what they were doing was real.

She kept saying his name inside her mind when he made the cuts on her palms and then the one on her chest. It focused her because otherwise the pleasure of it would overwhelm her. Deliberate cuts. Pleasure soaked through her, fired up her body, and caused her to instantly on edge, repeating her brothers name as if her body should know better and recognize the man before her was not deliberately attempting to do anything to her but complete a ritual. Her body heated anyhow.

Vanator.

Kavala looked up into Vanator's eyes. They were so topaz, so beautifully topaz that he looked blind with the gold flecks in them. He had the Denusk eyes - the brilliant intensive gaze that paled with emtion. To her there was no other color like them in the world. Deep when peaceful, pale and washed when emotions ran high. And emotions ran high within the room. He was ready - absolutely ready - but the timing was not yet right. Kavala waited, watching, and only moved forward when finally with her acute ear she could hear their heartbeats aligning and with her sharp eyes she could tell they breathed as one. Thus in synch, she reached out and took his left hand in her right one and his right one in her left hand. Blood mingled with blood. And deep inside her body, res began to produce itself and ooze from her palms. It slipped from her cuts and invaded his, soaking into his body. Kavala could feel them linked, like a circuit.

Interconnected. It was more intimate than anything she'd ever conceived of. It was even more intimate than sex even. Her fingers meshed with his, holding him tighter against his palms. She shivered and took in a deep breath the same time he did. She held the stance for only a few moments before she stepped closer. Her whole body pressed against him, smearing their separate rivers of blood into one almost unholy fountain. Kavala could feel him from the tips of her toes to where her breasts flattened against his chest. The wounds over their heart meshed together and djed began releasing from he rand infusing into him. It was as if she emptied herself into him and stood locked into his arms until her own power waned and became spent.

She stepped away finally, after almost a full bell of the sharing and transfer, her eyes haunted with pleasure from the cuts and the intimacy they'd just shared. Kavala wanted more, more cuts, more pleasure, and the true joining of ones body and ones mind. And maybe she would have pressed it with anyone else. After all, what did it matter? She was a free woman and a Nakivak no longer. But this was her brother, not some stranger. There was always a ride to town later, a willing stranger picked up in a bar, or simply time alone.

Gods. Inductions were intimate.

When she pulled away, she studied his hands and then reached forward with each of hers and grasp his own, healing first the cut on his right palm, then one on his left, then finally the one above his heart. She did the same for herself, carefully, but left the trail of blood running down her body. It would wait, until later, when there was time to bathe after Vanator's success or failure.

"Your body is filled with my res. Your body has seen it. Your body now understands it. And your body can make its own, just like tears or blood or sweat. Ask your body to make res and pool it in your hand." Kavala said, mimicking her hand being cupped. "When you have a handful of res, ask your body to shape it, to mold it to what you desire. Don't predetermination what you desire. Let your body choose. And once it has, you will know your element." Kavala said, stepping even further back to watch him from a safe distance.

[Vanator]

Anticipating but not anxious, Vanator responded to the press of Kavala's hand against his, applying an equal pressure, until their wounds were meshed. Almost immediately Van felt the invading res, coursing through their lacerations with an unnerving insistence as the substance flowed from his sister to himself of its own volition. There was a moment of panic as it moved quickly through his body as if it were burning, seeming to fill every vessel and capillary. But Kavala entwined her fingers with his, giving him strength, and the moment passed. By the time she had pressed herself against him, her substance pumping steadily from one to the other and back, Vanator released himself to the profoundly intimate union with the Kavala priestess.

As the chimes passed, the Denusks locked together as one, Vanator found his being in an almost altered state, as if the god-compassed room existed far from the Sanctuary, even form Mizahar itself. The Drykas tried to center his attention Kavala's face, clinging to recognition. But they were too close, so he bowed his head until it rested at the side of hers. There was a dichotomy within the man. At once, he experienced an elevated spirituality in his supplications to the gods, the almost holy sharing of res from the vessel presented in Kavala, at once his savior, beloved sibling and gifter of magical power. At the same time, a very visceral incarnation had arisen within him, smoldering below the powerful burn of the res circulating through him. A shameful arousal driven by a conditioned response, a cruel curse the Zith had ingrained in their male slave, triggered by the deliberate letting of blood. It was a secret he had not even shared with Kavala, only Akajia knew. It fed on the feel of her blood-slick skin against his, the glistening of its dark trails on her scales.

Sister. But only half-sister...bloodied half-sister...Look at her stained flesh, you drew her blood...

Gods, NO!

Vanator pressed closer against Kavala's body, held her hands tighter, but it was not to feed the inordinate desire that burned at his core. It was to draw strength from her. This was not defilement, it was beautiful. An incredibly intense moment of selfless giving at one's own expense and danger for the edification and empowerment of another. Vanator did not know how the ritual of induction proceeded with others, but for him, it was a more than the infusion of res to control the elements. To Vanator, it was acceptance, it was healing in a coupling that transcended anything he had experienced with another being, it was more than sex, more than love, more than a singular existence, it was like two becoming one from the inside out. Van let the res soak him, tamping down that which had threatened to desecrate it.

Finally, Vanator sensed his sister's strength waning, and she pulled away, breaking the precious link. Though the ecstasy of the union waned, the surge of res still permeated his being, the heat in his loins, contained but smoldering. The Drykas met Kavala's gaze again, his heart ached when he saw the unholy want in her own eyes. They had both been damaged, an evil coincidence, another in the troubled history of the Denusk family. Van felt as if he could reveal his secret to Kavala, when the time was right.

The Drykas was grateful when his sister closed their wounds, staunching the blood and res. Vanator remained focused on Kavala's face, avoiding the drying streaks of blood on her hands and torso. Vanator listened carefully, for the intense transfer was only the beginning. Now, he would test his own res and determine with what element, if any, the gods would grant him communion. As Kavala stepped back, Van cupped his hand as his sister had demonstrated. He waited a moment, allowing his breathing and pulse to slow after the incredible ritual. The man strove to remove all expectation, to allow his desires to dissipate. Trying too hard would be defeat, he seemed to understand. So he simply let go, and with no more effort than it took to draw saliva to spit, he summoned the res to his hand. A small dribble permeated the skin and appeared in his cupped palm, the forming djed no more than a miza in size and thinner than water. Show me...

Only a breath or two passed before the volatile djed burst into a tiny ball of flames. Vanator was amazed and stunned. The res did not stop, pooling in his hand in a larger puddle. He panicked for moment, and the magical fluid ignited as he tried to pour it from his hand, the burst of fire brightly lighting up the room for an instant before it vanished in mid air. Van quickly gained control of the res flow, stopping it. the reimancer initiate looked at his hands, unharmed by the flames. His wide-eyed gaze lifted to Kavala, the myriad of emotions expressed in his single glance would take some time to unravel.

"Kavala..." he spoke with a husky voice as he let a few more drops of res pool in his hand, lighting the djed and trying to keep it burning with a controlled release.

[Kavala]

When Vanator grew closer, rested his head against hers, she knew something was bothering him. But there would be time to talk later. Their res exchange was beautiful and pressed into her brother's body she felt his breath and began to breath as one with him. The blood running from their hands mingled and trailed down their wrists, just like the blood trailing down their chest from their hearts. It was a holy trinity, receptive, protective and emotional.

Ritual always gave Kavala a buzz. The energy in the room was alive with it. It did things to her that were unspeakably sensual and arousing, so it wasn't a surprise Vanator felt the same. He just couldn't see that she was too, because women were more subtle in their feelings than men and so too were their bodies. The emotions around the ritual was something they didn't need to worry about, though if Kavala knew if Vanator's arousal was from her blood rather than from the sacred energy in the room, she would have held him closer in sorrow. There were some secrets that shouldn't have been shouldered as burden's alone.

When the contact ended and he pooled his own newly made res into his hand, it flared up like a spark and flamed a tiny dancing light in his hand. Kavala's eyes widened and she smiled suddenly. Blue eyes went pale and she captured his dark topaz gaze in her own, letting the spark dance between them. "I was always the rock and you were always the flame. It makes sense, Vanator. It really does." She said, her fingers tentatively reaching out, playing with the spark like a child might play with the lit flame of a candle. She was too careful to get burned, but the wonder in her eyes did not fade. "It's beautiful, Vanator. I knew you had magic in your blood. We Sapphires always have." She spoke Pavi with him, their native tongue, and her words were backed by her body language and hand gestures, filling his awareness with love and acceptance. The gesture for pride cropped up as well, swiftly delivered as she spoke again.

"We need so much of that here. That fire. I'm so glad you came. I'm so glad you stayed." She said, reaching out then to kiss his cheeks and forehead. But they were in sacred space, and there was more yet between them that needed to be said. She gave him a moment to play with his new power, to marvel at it, and then she asked the question he perhaps had been fearing.

So she turned away, leaving him and quietly thanked all the trio at the alter, and then too thanked the Gods and Goddesses watching over them. She took her time at each one, expanding on the simple gratitude to elaborate on how much they meant to her. At Nysel, however, she bowed the lowest and then rose on her toes and kissed his statue. It was a kiss of a devote follower to a sovereign lord. There was no question about it. And to him she prayed the longest, spoke the deepest, and probably confused Vanator the most.

"I know what's coming. I know what you said we would have to face. We're getting there, preparing, and we won't be caught off guard. I promise you, My Lord. I promise that each step is one step closer. The Denusk family won't fail you. I won't fail you. And we are grateful beyond belief for the life you have given us and the strength you have shown. The Cytali will rise again. And we won't be taken out by those that hate and misunderstand us. If possible, we will become your weapons and remove those that seek you and your kind harm. Please help us though. Continue to guide us. We will need your strength and the strength of your companions if this threat is to be eliminated. One more has joined us today. Fire is in his blood and other strengths. Thank you for seeing Vanator safely home. Already the Sanctuary grows stronger under his watchful eye." Kavala said, then knelt again, laying her forehead on the ground. She rose in one swift motion, never touching the ground with her hands, and turned back to her brother.

When she was standing before him once again, she spoke softly. There was honest concern in her eyes. "Was it the ritual that... brought your body such pleasure?" She paused, frowning as the words half choked in her mouth, not wanting to come out. "Or was it the cutting... I need to know Van. I saw how quickly you reacted. I need to know what happened to you with the Zith and what they did to you. If its the cutting, its the same for me. I'm looking for a cure, a way to reverse it... but its hard to be outside of something you are so inside of. If you tell me what it is with you, maybe I can help you... being outside of it. And that would help me see more clearly being inside ...." Kavala said, not sure if she was making any sense at all. "I'm not ashamed of you, of seeing you like that, like this in fact... but I want to understand. We've been together the whole of our lives and always been close, but not taboo close. Here, in this space, its safe to speak of such things. It honestly is..." She softly said, urging him to open up.

The light around the circle dimmed slowly, as the two spoke. Whole bells had passed and the candles had burned low. It added to the sensation of secrets being passed back and forth, of knowledge being shared. Across the circle, the statue of Eryis seemed to meet the statue of Akajia's eyes. Volumes of unspoken communication passed between them.

[Vanator]

It didn't burn, he could will the res to cover his hand in flames and it did not burn. Vanator felt...powerful. But it was not just the revelation of the magic that now coursed through him, it was the transcendent Ritual, it was the sanctitiy of the shrine, and it was Kavala. His eyes followed his sister as she offered thanksgiving to the gods. The Denusk had experienced a sypmphony of sensations and expressions during the past bells, as if every emotion, every aspect of his spiritial, emotion and physical being was freed to flow etherally through the presence of the gods and goddesses and his priestess. He felt as if he was meeting himself for the first time, that he was laid open for divinity to examine, that he was sharing love and communion with Kavala beyond the confines of the present world.

The flames in his hand were licked into oblivion by the scented air as Vanator watched Kavala bow low before Nysol's image. Her words, heavy-laden with the conviction and contriteness of a supplicant, carried as a hush to her brother's ears. Yet he heard them. He did not understand, not all of its meaning. But only now, in this place of revelation, did Vanator begin to believe what Kavala had suggested, that a higher purpose had been at work in his life. There was purpose greater than the pavilion he was to lead, now destroyed, a destiny that would justify the bonds of slavery in order to escape the djed storm, a higher goal that lead him out of slavery by the hand of a loved one who could give him what he needed to become alive again.

The ritual had ended, but the sacred atmosphere of the solemn shrine had not changed . Kavala had returned, and though the physical expression of his arousal only now began to diminish, He stood unashamed before his sister as she spoke. Had they have been speaking elsewhere, at another time, Vanator would have been crippled in shame. But in the holiness of what they had shared, Vanator felt no need to be anything other than who he was, as if transparent before Kavala. The union with his sister during the exchange meant as much as the res she was infusing into his body. They were one in many ways. The blood that mingled at their hands and chest was the same blood, the blood of their father. Their family, lost, lived on in the memories they shared. They had a powerful sibling love, one that, though shaken as adults, now flourished and nourished one another. Even at that moment, they were sharing the tradition of the magic of their clan. And they shared the strong sensuality of the Denusks. It was beautiful, and Vanator experienced it all in the press of his sister and the exchange. Even the arousal they shared, though not meant for one another, was only another aspect of what the siblings were. The blood had threatened to push it to the unholy, though Vanator would never let it taint the memory of the Ritual.

He looked into Kavala's pale blue gaze, grateful to see the love and concern in her eyes. "The ritual was beautiful, Kavala. Not even on the edge of losing myself in the Web have I experienced anything like it." He failed to find words to do it justice. "I experienced it in everyway, even sensually." He paused, his eyes darting to the dark trails of drying blood that stained her irridescent skin. "And there was no shame in that. But, there was something else, something that threatened to see you...differently. I know you understand what I mean." He paused, stepping closer to the altar, running his finger down the blood smeared knife he had used to cut her.

"The Zith, they are monsters. Not humans, but not animals. They are cruel killers, but are not like Haev, or human slavers, who abuse slaves without purpose, who cage them and treat them poorly. Humans, if weak, old or unappealing are eaten. But slaves, if attractive or strong, are valued for their use in labor or pleasure. Zith are driven by passion and emotion, as capable of showing care as they are of showing violent displeasure, often within the same minute. Prized slaves are treated like pets, shown kindness, or their version of it, if obedient, harsh discipline if not."

"I resisted at first, and they punished me harshly. But I learned how to handle my handlers, how to avoid their volatile mood swings. They are uncivilized, Kav, but they love to learn. Thankfully, they don't have the means to exploit any knowledge they gain. Some wanted to learn language, and I taught some Common, though never Pavi, as I could not stand to hear our language on their foul lips. It was not capitualtion Kav, it was survival, if I was to see anyone I loved again, I had to prove that I was more valuable alive."

Vanator left the altar, his eyes lifting again to the konti. "Do you remember the she-zith that jumped me during the attack? Ir'kala. I was given to her, she had a scheme to breed slaves, like humans bred horses or cattle. Though I did not know the reason at the time, the intake of slaves dropped drastically at the colony, from the storm I now presume. I was given Salialana, a moss that serves as a strong aphrodisiac to the Zith. It made me sick at first, until they got the dose right, but it served that same purpose in my body. Women slaves were given it as well, and they brought us together and had us...mate."

He turned away, looking back at the altar. "I told you about the she-zith in the grass...what I did to her. She was Ir'Kala's daughter Irriari, and she found out it was me. Had the males known...I would have been killed, or worse. But Ir"Kala was wicked, and planned her own revenge against me. She began to cut the girls she brought into me. Only a little at first, then with more. I tried to tend to their wounds at first, but Ir'Kala would not let me even clean the blood from them, and she made me sleep with them all bloody, the moss driving me to. Soon, she would bring them in and cut them in front of me. Sometimes she made me cut them, and still I had sex with them. And after them, Ir'Kala would make me sleep with her." Vanator's tone had become almost numb as he told his story.

"After a while, she stopped giving me the moss, she knew she had cursed me. I had been conditioned to be aroused by the blood. But her larger plan had failed. In spite of all the couplings, the women would not conceive, and the few who did could not carry to term. She was chastised for her failure, and I was taken from her. There was a shortage of female slaves, so I was traded away to the human slavers for some women."

Vanator stopped. Kavala knew the rest. The Drykas looked at his sister, he could see the empathy, a victim of the same kind of cruel conditioning. She bore no judgement or revulsion in knowing what he was, what her blood had done to him, Vanator sensing his cutting had done the same in her. They were so close now, neither one had to feel shame for unwillful desires they were forced to endure. "I don't know how to change it. But I will help you in any way I can to free us."