(no subject)
It is forbidden to speak of what happens in the grove of Nemet on nights like these. One may not describe the way the white-robed druids circle the forest, chanting, or how they wave sticks of incense so that fragrant smoke fills the chill air. One may not tell how at last they take a hidden path to an underground cave, where the druids perform their most sacred worship.
The man presently bound to the altar in the underground temple broke this rule. Therefore his blood belongs to the Goddess. Belasius, archdruid of the sect, prepares to give it to her.
The chanting goes quieter and quieter as Belasius takes the curved knife into his hand. When the druids are only whispering the words of their prayer into the air, Belasius sets the knife at the bound man's throat. The captive whimpers and then screams; a drop of blood glistens on his neck. There is silence. A thunderous tension builds in the air.
Belasius waits until he feels the tension in his own body crying out for release, until he can hold himself no longer. Then at last he speaks, his voice loud and hoarse with desire. "Death for you, life for the crop," Belasius says, and slices down with the knife. Blood gushes onto the altar and down into the earth. Belasius cries out in triumph, feeling the power pouring from his own body to the Goddess.
Afterwards, sleepy and satisfied, Belasius cleans himself and the knife in the holy well. The druids remove their robes and depart the cave, one by one. When Belasius himself turns to go, though, he finds that the path from the cave does not lead to an island in Brittany.
The man presently bound to the altar in the underground temple broke this rule. Therefore his blood belongs to the Goddess. Belasius, archdruid of the sect, prepares to give it to her.
The chanting goes quieter and quieter as Belasius takes the curved knife into his hand. When the druids are only whispering the words of their prayer into the air, Belasius sets the knife at the bound man's throat. The captive whimpers and then screams; a drop of blood glistens on his neck. There is silence. A thunderous tension builds in the air.
Belasius waits until he feels the tension in his own body crying out for release, until he can hold himself no longer. Then at last he speaks, his voice loud and hoarse with desire. "Death for you, life for the crop," Belasius says, and slices down with the knife. Blood gushes onto the altar and down into the earth. Belasius cries out in triumph, feeling the power pouring from his own body to the Goddess.
Afterwards, sleepy and satisfied, Belasius cleans himself and the knife in the holy well. The druids remove their robes and depart the cave, one by one. When Belasius himself turns to go, though, he finds that the path from the cave does not lead to an island in Brittany.