The Silver Sphinx

 

“No one can grow without the willingness to experience pain."

planar proverb

 

 

Day of Pain, 126 HR

Amariel took a deep breath and looked down at herself. She was dressed in a long robe of flowing black fabric – the traditional vestment of the ritual aides, chosen by the Lady Herself, for the Day of Pain. She hadn't experienced the day often – mostly she preferred to go to Melodia at this time rather than stay in Sigil. But when she had spent this time in the Cage, the day had always been gloomy and depressing enough. It was celebrated in the middle of Sacrilegion, exactly after the second Void Day and before the third Lady’s Day. Celebrate was not quite the right word for these events, though. While the Day of Grace at the beginning of the year symbolized the brightest side of the Lady, the Day of Pain clearly represented her darkest aspect. It always began with the mysterious events in the Hall of Pain. This large, dome-shaped and blade-crowned building was made entirely of onyx and silver and was located near the Temple District. The hall had no visible entrance and no active portal through which one could enter it. Only once a year, on the Day of Pain, did the Lady open a door into it. On the morning of that day, exactly thirty people entered the hall: the thirteen factols of Sigil, one representative each from the Free League and the Revolutionary League, and their fifteen ritual aides. All were dressed in simple robes, the factols in white, the aides in black. They went into the Hall of Pain to perform the Ritual of Submission and Devotion . The name alone had always been enough to make Amariel shudder, all the more so because the rite was connected to Her Dread Majesty. But this time she would take part in it herself, as a ritual aide for her factol. A few months ago, Sarin had asked her if she would be willing to do this. Of course, she had been very surprised, even shocked, since she knew that factols only took people into the hall whom they really trusted. The sweet joy that Sarin apparently counted her among this circle was mixed with the fear of the mysterious ritual as well as with the worry of not being up to this task – especially since she didn't even know what exactly was expected of her.

But then other things had come to the fore: the mysterious Ring Prophecy and everything connected to it. She would never forget the day when her factol had let her in on all of this. The sheer scope and significance of the matter, which made even Sarin uncomfortable, had literally overwhelmed her. Then the Keeper and the Proclaimer had appeared to reveal the entire Prophecy, something her factol had also told her about. But a little time had passed since then. Since no one knew specifically how to continue, the factols had let the matter rest for the time being – after all, there were still numerous faction issues that needed to be dealt with. In the Harmonium, this included the announced visit of Lord Valiant, which few were really looking forward to. Sarin had been able to stall him a little, claiming that he wanted to await the Day of Pain.

And so the Prophecy had faded into the background a little, and the Day of Pain had become Amariel's focus again. Unlike their factols, the ritual aides had no idea what to expect. No one knew what happened during the ritual, because none of the participants were allowed to ever talk about it. Rarely, it seemed, foolish ritual aides had tattled anyway. Her Dread Majesty had flayed not only them, but also all those who had learned the secrets of the ritual. On the other hand, it was well known what could be seen when the factols left the Hall of Pain: That the Lady’s Blades had touched them. Their bodies were covered in deep cuts, their white robes stained with blood. The fact that the ritual aides were never injured was a certain relief, Amariel had to admit it to herself. But the thought of having to watch as her factol was hit by the Lady's Blades and to witness the presence of Sigil’s ruler ... That prospect made Amariel's heart sink. She couldn't help but wonder how Sarin would fare this year. While some factols had only one, two or three cuts, others bore up to ten wounds, sometimes significantly more. The number of cuts varied from year to year, and what this meant was as little known as the Ritual of Submission and Devotion itself. But a few things were known in the Cage: every year, one factol received more cuts than the others. This also seemed to mean something, but no one knew whether it was an accolade or a kind of punishment. In Sigil, this was called Standing in the Lady's Gaze . Lhar, Pentar and Rowan Darkwood had not yet stood in the Lady's Gaze, unlike Sarin, Erin Montgomery, Ambar Vergrove, Rhys, Karan and Darius. And a few factols - Terrance, Skall and Hashkar - had already had this dubious honor twice. However, no factol could stand three times in the Lady's Gaze, because being chosen in this way a third time always meant death. Every now and then over the last six centuries, a factol had died in the hall during the Day of Pain because they had stood in Her Gaze for the third time. As Amariel knew, it was also rare for a factol to stand in the Lady's Gaze during their first year of factolship. Among the currently reigning factols, this applied to Lady Erin, Hashkar and her own factol Sarin. Although no one knew what it meant, the half-elf was sure that it had to be some kind of honor - as macabre and painful as an honor from the Bladed Queen could be. Although it was only a vague gut feeling and she had no deeper insight into these events, Amariel felt a strange pride in her factol. One thing was for sure: rarely before three thus “honored” factols had held office at the same time.

Amariel tore away from her thoughts about the ritual. Soon enough she would learn all about it, and her factol was waiting for her. She had changed in the small library adjoining his office, while he had gone to his family quarters for it. Amariel smoothed her robe one last time, then opened the door and entered the office, slowly, almost shyly. Sarin was already there, dressed in the long white robe, leaning against his desk and waiting for her. He was barefoot, like herself, because the participants of the ritual always entered the hall without shoes. It was strange to see him like that. Of course, she had seen him wearing the white robe two years before, when her brother Killeen had been his ritual aide. But back then she had been standing in the crowd in front of the hall, not here in his office. Back then, she had not yet developed those feelings for him that she now kept locked away deep inside her. When she quietly closed the library door, he raised his head and nodded at her, with the hint of a smile that swayed between encouraging and apologetic. He looked so different than usual in the white robe, almost alien, but his smile was warmer than she had ever experienced before. And this despite the fact that he had been much more open with her since she had become his adjutant. It gave her a sting, but she managed to return the smile and – hopefully – hide her nervousness.

“Decuria,” he said. His full voice effortlessly filled the room without him even trying to speak loudly. “Ready for the ritual and the spectacle afterwards?”

She knew exactly what he meant by “spectacle.” It was always a horrific sight and a public event in Sigil when the factols left the Hall of Pain, covered in blood. Tens of thousands crowded the square in front of the hall and the surrounding streets to watch.

Amariel took a deep breath. “To be perfectly frank, factol ... I am not sure. As ... ready as one can be, I suppose?”

The smile did not leave his lips, although it became a tad more serious. “An honest answer. And of course you are right. One cannot really be prepared for this day unless one has experienced it at least once.”

Amariel nodded. “Your wife told me something similar.” Faith had been Sarin's ritual aide on his first Day of Pain. She had tried to reassure Amariel the day before, in her own, comforting way, when the half-elf had been unable to completely hide her nervousness in the face of what was to come. But despite the calmness that Sarin's wife always radiated, Amariel had perceived her seriousness and a certain regret. She hesitated briefly and lowered her eyes, but then dared to ask the question that was on her mind. “Should I be scared, my lord?”

He looked at her seriously. ”Yes.”

Although she knew her factol's directness all too well by now, this short and frank answer still caught her off guard. She opened her mouth, but couldn't think of an appropriate reply, so she just looked at Sarin, trying to appear composed, but with a probably unmistakable expression of nervousness and unease.

He noticed it, of course, and raised his hands in an apologetic gesture. “Too blunt?”

She had to clear her throat before she was able to answer in a reasonably firm voice. ”That’s how I know you, my lord.”

He studied her with a look in which she thought to recognize a slight regret, regret at expecting her to participate in the upcoming ritual. She knew that this was the case because he had even apologized to her for choosing her as his aide this year. But there was also a closeness in his gaze that she had never experienced before. A look that was reserved for his family and friends like Tonat and her brother Killeen. For his inner circle. The fact that he now apparently counted her among them was as much a joyful excitement as it was a sweet pain. He beckoned her over, and she approached him as hesitantly as if she were walking over broken glass.

“You will be safe,” he assured her. “As to that, you really have nothing to worry about. But still, what you will see and experience in the Hall of Pain will be very frightening.”

“Because ... She will be there?” Amariel's voice was little more than a whisper.

He just nodded silently in reply, the look in his dark eyes now even more serious than before. Two more breaths passed before the half-elf pulled herself together.

“Factol, why have you chosen me to accompany you this year?”

Now the warmth returned to his gaze. “Because, Amariel, I know you are strong enough for it, even without being prepared.” He rarely called her just by her name. “And because I trust and respect you enough that I'm fine with what comes after, too.”

Her heart seemed to stumble between two beats. “What ... comes after?”

He, on the other hand, stayed completely calm. “This day changes everything, Amariel. One sees each other with different eyes once one has experienced it together.”

She wished he wouldn't say such things, completely unaware. For he had to be oblivious to her feelings, she was sure of that by now. And as happy as she was about it on the one hand, it was also painful at times. She straightened up and returned his look. “Yes, Factol. I can imagine that ...”

He nodded, and in his eyes she could see the openness and trust reserved for his closest confidants. It was more than she had ever hoped for, and she held on to that thought while she forced down her rebellious feelings. Then she went over to his desk, on which the ritual objects were ready, and took a deep breath. The only thing that mattered today was the ritual in the Hall of Pain, and she would be at her factol's side, no matter what she had to expect.

 

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based on the gaming session on October 7, 2012