From EncyclopAtys
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“The toddler opened his eyes and gurgled. Waving his chubby little arms, he searched with his clumsy fingertips for the rag doll that had been sharing his nights since he was born. Not finding it, he squirmed to extract himself from his cocoon of sheets, and grabbed the protective bars of his little crib to stand up tall. Like on so many mornings before, he found the doll lying on the floor, gazing up at him with a disappointed look. Unhappy to have been inadvertently pushed from the warm and cozy nest thy shared. He was struggling to join her, trying some clumsy acrobatics, when the drape of the room he was in opened. Each morning he beheld the same apparition. He never got tired of his mother's incredible beauty. Totally forgetting his doll, he flapped his arms, laughing, eager to again be with the one who was torn from him every night by his father. Behind her tattooed mask, the Zorai gave him a smile and murmured some words. Even though he didn't understand her words, her voice was the most beautiful melody he knew.
- "Good morning, my darling. Another restless night, I see."
She approached the crib, picked up the doll then held out her arms to him. The boy, who was already stomping his linens with impatience, mimicked her gesture and squealed with delight when his mother grabbed him by the waist and held him aloft. She twirled him through the air for a few seconds then put her bony forehead against his still pristine one, finally lowering him down to her heart where she held him tight.
- "Today is a great day for you Pü. Mom believes in you. Like your brother, the destiny awaiting you is paved with glory."
The toddler immediately calmed down at the touch of his mother's mask and blue skin. She tasted so good. She smelled so good. She was so soft. Opening his mouth, he ran his tongue over the warm flesh to catch the sweet scent of his mother's sweat. While heading towards the main room of the house, the Zorai extracted one of her voluptuous breasts from her tunic made of soft fibers, which she gently presented to her son. The little boy did not need any encouragement. He grabbed the soft curve with both hands, while his mouth latched onto the dark patch of skin which nourished him every day.
The dwelling of Pü and his family consisted of a large circular hut, which contained the main room, and two smaller huts flanking the large one, which housed the parent's room in which Pü slept and his older brother's room. The foundation of these accommodations had mainly been constructed of soft woods, vines and various large leaves selected for their waterproofing abilities. After Grandmother Bä-Bä's, this dwelling was the most imposing in the tribe. In the center of the main room was the family table, on which a vast amount of varied food rested. Around the table, Pü's father and brother were eating in silence. Pü stared at the two homins in succession, still sucking on his mother's breast.
He guessed a smile under the mouth slit of his brother's mask. He wasn't yet used to seeing him like this. Until recently, the older boy's face had been naked still and regularly displayed peculiar grimaces that had no other purpose than to make his little brother laugh. But when the boy grew to be twelve years old, a horned mask had grown too. Pü loved his big brother Niï very much. He tickled Pü, played with him, and showed him incredible acrobatic choreographies which plunged the little Zoraï in a state of overexcitement and which had a knack for annoying their mother.
His father did not look at him and kept eating in silence. Pü didn't know what to think of him. His big black mask was scaring him, and he didn't remember ever having guessed a smile behind it. Moreover, he had already seen him behaving harshly with his brother, lounging at he boy violently with sharp objects that Niï nevertheless managed to dodge. He had also on several occasions caught him abusing his mother in the parental bed. Firmly seizing her hair, grabbing her wrists, crushing her with his powerful musculature, and even giving her at times slaps on the lower part of the body, while she muffled her screams in the cushions.
Yet neither his brother nor his mother seemed to resent the big Zorai. His brother seemed to keep regarding his father up as a role model, and his mother always ended their nightly brawls with tender strokes that Pü was jealous of, looking at them from his crib. He definitely did not understand. And warily, he preferred his father to continue to ignore him, while his mother and brother were busy bringing him love and laughter.
Lunch continued in silence until his father spoke up.
- "Niï, quickly finish lunch and go prepare our formal wear, please. Meanwhile, your mother will dress Pü for the ceremony. Also, make sure our weapons are properly oiled."
The young Zorai grabbed a last handful of dried fruit in a hurry, stood up, and bowed to his father.
- "I readied our weapons last night before bedtime, Father. And I'll get our outfits ready straightaway."
His Father answered him by slightly inclining his head, then refocused on the contents of his plate. At the same time, his mother got up and took Pü off her breast. The little one, already full, did not flinch but continued to cling to her exposed flesh to maintain contact. She proceeded to change his night soiled swaddling for a prettily braided panty. About ten minutes passed and the family was ready to leave.
-–—o§O§o—–-Pü squinted as his mother came out of the hut. Despite his tribe having settled in the gigantic stump of a felled sky-tree, the bark ceiling, badly damaged, let in a few rays of sunshine in at certain times of the day. One of which had just found the eye of the little Zorai, who took refuge between his mother's breasts. In the absence of true celestial light, the community had taken to illuminating its dwelling with lamps containing fireflies. Although some might have described the atmosphere as gloomy, Pü loved it when his mother took him for a walk trough the sloping and winding streets or on the suspension bridges that connected the different levels of the small city. The village, much higher than it was wide, was built vertically. The dwellings were located on the heights, while the lower levels were reserved for communal areas, such as stores, places of worship, the dojo, and the dining hall. Pü loved the dining hall. The other Zorais were very kind to him and he had tasted nice food there. Yet this time, the toddler sensed that the walk was anything but ordinary. Other members of the tribe were present in great numbers, forming a path from the family hut to the village heights. All wore their black ceremonial dress, consisting of a loincloth of vegetal fibers, a wide belt of braided straw but especially recognizable by the imposing white amber lens that adorned each of their solar plexuses. As the family moved forward, led by Pü's mother, the people bowed deferentially and joined the group. The toddler, full and lulled by his mother's walk, dozed off into a light sleep. As this scene suggested, his family was no ordinary family.
Looï Fu-Tao, Pü's mother, worked outside the village as a diplomat. She was In charge of maintaining relations with the Zorai Theocracy, the political regime that had governed the country for almost three centuries, whose headquarters were located in Zoran, its capital. For some forty years, the Great Sage Min-Cho had been the highest homin authority in the Theocracy, who, assisted by the Council of Sages, ruled the Jungle, the native country of the Zorai people. While the Sages hoped that the members of the "Cursed Strain Tribe" – as they liked to name it – would eventually accept the authority of the Theocracy, nothing helped. It had been several generations since the tribe had seceded, and things didn't look like they were about to change. But Looï was not only a diplomat. In the village, she was first and foremost the High Priestess of the Black Cult of Ma-Duk, the depository of religious authority.
Her husband Sang Fu-Tao was the Black Mask, the First Warrior, military chief of the tribe. A few months after his birth, Niï, their eldest son, had been promised a great destiny by Grandmother Bä-Bä, the witch and seer of the village. According to the prophecy, Niï Fu-Tao would someday succeed his father as the Black Mask, and above all, would become the Sacred Warrior. Elected by Ma-Duk the Great Genitor, Niï Fu-Tao would be send out into the world, converting the lost to the True Faith, subduing the atheists and exterminating the heretics. For the Zorai Theocracy, this prophecy was precisely falling under heresy.
For the conflict that opposed the tribe to the rest of the country was first of all religious. Indeed, all Zorais worshipped the Kamis, mysterious spiritual entities that protected the ecosystems. Able to change their appearance at will and to travel without physical constraint, these divine guardians permanently ensured that no one compromised the fragile balance of Atys, the plant world where all were coexisting. Although discreet, they shared close relations with the homins, as long as those showed respect for nature. Among the different homin peoples, the Zorais were by far the most receptive to the magic of the Kamis. Already provided with a large size and a blue skin, which distinguished them from the rest of the hominity, a bony and horned mask grew on their face, down from their forehead, during their adolescence. This mask represented the true soul of its wearer and testified to the unique link he had with the Kamis. However, if every Zorai worshiped the Kamis, not everyone agreed on the identity of the Supreme Kami. For the majority of Zorais, the Kamis served Jena, the Goddess of the Day Star and the Mother of Hominity. For the dissident tribe, Jena was an usurping goddess from the sky, alien to Atys and intending evil. According to them, the one and only Supreme Kami was Ma-Duk, meaning "Great Mask" in the Zorai language. He was the Great Genitor, asleep in the depths of Atys. A god that no one recognized but them.
But the discordance did not end there. The Zorai Theocracy, which had become particularly isolationist in the last century, had built the Great Wall, a gigantic edifice protecting the borders of the Jungle from all foreign contact. However, this Great Wall had never prevented the Theocracy from maintaining relations with the Karavan, a strange group of hominoids dressed from head to toe in amazing black armor and using prodigious instruments. These peculiar entities, whose true nature no one knew, lived in the skies of Atys. Equipped with a technology unknown to all, and traveling with curious vehicles capable of overcoming gravity, they crisscrossed the sky to spread the word and serve the interests of the goddess Jena. In exchange for their loyalty, the Karavan had given the Zorais the secrets of magnetism and electrostatic properties, and had also taught them to write. The Kamis abhorred the Karavan, and did not hesitate to make this known to the homins, but this never prevented the Council of Elders from accepting their gifts and to use Karavan knowledge to levitate the buildings of Zoran to this day. For the dissident tribe, as an apostle of Jena abhorred by the Kamis, the Karavan had to be seen as a serious threat and fought accordingly.
These theological divergences heated the minds of the Great Sage Min-Cho and his advisors, who were unable to accept any ideological criticism and made the dissident tribe want to wage holy war. But rather than attacking the tribe head-on, fearing the prowess of its soldiers and the mysterious powers of Grandmother Bä-Bä, the Zorai Theocracy made the tribe pass for a common pagan sect in the eyes of peoples of the Jungle. This had worked quite well up to this point.
For Pü Fu-Tao, the youngest child, who had just been awakened by the distant echo of a bird call, none of this held any interest yet. However, with his big black eyes, he gazed at the villagers with astonishment, aware that today something seemed different. Perhaps he knew, deep down, that something important was about to happen. When, recognizing the alleys between the huts, he understood that they were going to Grandmother Bä-Bä's house, his heart began to race. He did not like the old woman. Her gaunt mask frightened him, her odor stung his nose, and he had heard some associated her presence with illness. Grandmother Bä-Bä was in fact also the village healer, whom people went to see to find solutions to their problems. Although the Fu-Tao couple represented the authority within the tribe, everyone knew that Grandmother Bä-Bä was actually the central pillar of the community. It was said that she was older than the oldest Zorai in the country and that she had helped deliver every member of the tribe.
When the column of people arrived at Grandmother Bä-Bä's huge hut at the highest point of the village, Pü, feeling tears welling up, clutched his mother's robe tightly. Looï put her forehead against his, which had the effect of reassuring him, and advanced towards the big hut, her son in her arms. The boy had just enough time to glance behind him to see his brother waving to him, before heavy curtains obstructed his vision and the characteristic smell of the dwelling reached his nose. In the back of the main room, Grandmother Bä-Bä was working over an amber stockpot. Despite her highly advanced age, she was surprisingly lively and agile, quickly pulling out various plants and roots from the multitude of pockets that made up her apron. Nothing suggested such vitality, however, as her livid, bony, dry body was crossed with deep wrinkles. Grandmother Bä-Bä was constantly postponing death, and everyone knew that she owed this to the powers granted to her by the Kamis.
- "Come closer my daughter.”, she said in a cavernous voice, without looking at her guests. “Set your son on the altar, I will be ready soon."
Obediently, Looï walked over to a beautiful carved stump. When she gently placed her son on the firm surface, breaking the mother's touch, he started to cry.
- "Don't comfort him, my daughter. Tears feed the predictions."
The young Zorai did not understand. No matter how much he called for her, his mother did not react, staring at him with a strange look on her masked face, bending over him. As Pü reached out, trying to grab his mother's long tresses, the old woman's hideous mask cut off eye contact. His tears redoubled.
- "Hold him tight, and don't panic like you did with your first son. Everything will go well."
Grandmother Bä-Bä pulled a dagger with a finely engraved black blade from her apron and gently grabbed the young Zorai's hand. At the touch of the cracked skin, Pü shivered and began to struggle. Unfortunately for him, his mother would not let him, and held him tight. What had he done wrong? Why did he have to go through all this? As he felt like it could not get any worse, thIngs got much darker. The old lady put the blunt side of the weapon on his palm and closed his little fingers around the blade, one after the other. Then, all at once, she squeezed quickly and firmly. Electrified by the pain, Pü started to scream, while his mother looked at him with a deadened air. All the while holding him immobile. He loved her so much and had always thought that she loved him too. But now she left him at the mercy of this witch, and took part in his abuse! What was happening?
- "Its almost over. I just have to collect the precious liquid. Don't try to calm him down, pain will strengthen the blood."
The old woman placed the dagger on the altar and retrieved a small leather purse from her apron. One by one, she took out seven strange, orange dice, which she wet on the bloody blade. Once the last relic was blessed with blood, she softly sang a few ritualistic words. The strange, dark symbols engraved on the dice's amber faces seemed to absorb all light in the hut. The amber around them coming to fiery life. Pü stopped crying, hypnotized by the terrifying spectacle unfolding before his eyes. The witch threw the dice with great force and without hesitation upon the altar. They did not stop rolling around the smooth surface, their orange glow and black shadows painting moving scenes onto the walls of the hut. Like living frescoes that told a story.
Pü beheld a circle of homins and Kamis, dancing on the circular walls of the hut. He could almost hear them singing. Suddenly the Kamis turned into gigantic maws and devoured a large part of the homins, who were trying in vain to fight back. The scene then focused on the survivors of the macabre dance, who, led by a Zorai, climbed a mountain of corpses. Although the slope became steeper with each step, new homins joined the group and supported their climb. Finally, once he had reached the top, the warrior brandished his sword towards the sky and shattered the star that was sitting there. At the same time, the dice stopped moving and gave the light back to the hut.
Grandmother Bä-Bä took a long look at Looï without uttering a word. The Zorai Priestess bent over her son and gently took hold of him. Pü, whose mind seemed to dwell on distant happenings, regained contact with reality the moment his mother held him to her chest. His trial was over, she still loved him. He fell asleep on the spot.
- "You know what you have to tell them, my daughter," the old homina finally said without taking her eyes off Looï.
Taking a few steps forward, she placed a finger on the child's mutilated hand. The wound closed immediately.
- "From now on, your son's future, and perhaps the future of all hominkind, depends on your lie. It is a necessary evil. Never forget."
- "I know, Grandmother… Thank you for everything," she whispered, her voice trembling.
Feverishly, Looï kissed her son on the cheek, and walked towards the exit of the hut, clutching him to her heart. In his sleep, Pü could feel its strong beat. Pushing aside the curtains as she stepped forward, she faced her people. Each member of the tribe stared at her with a heavy gaze, waiting for the verdict. She carefully avoided meeting the gaze of her husband, and above all, that of her first son. Clearing her throat a little, she then spoke up.
- "Grandmother Bä-Bä has thrown the dice! Today I have the great honor of announcing the predictions she made on the occasion of the first birthday of my second son, Pü Fu-Tao.
While Niï, the future Black Mask, will become the Sacred Warrior, going all the way to heaven to destroy the Karavan and Jena, Pü will assist him throughout his journey! He will be his Shadow, who will advise him at every moment and will not hesitate to sacrifice his life to protect him! Praise be to my sons! Praise be to Ma-Duk! Tonight we will hold a feast to the glory of the Sacred War and the coming of the Happy Days!"
An unrivaled cheer ran through the assembly. Waking up with a start, Pü swept the crowd with his gaze. Which stopped sharply on his father's black mask. The little Zorai opened his eyes wide in amazement; for the first time, he saw a smile on his fathers face.
Belenor Nebius, narrator • Cheng Lai'SuKi, illustrator
