Chapter 8: Melear’Elemet

The house chapel of House Duscrain was normally large enough to keep all the house members during communal prayers. Yet today it was full, filled up to the last seat. Next to all the members of Duscrain, who were obligated to join the ceremony, also the cleric base of House Doh’Arn were present. All seated, knees folded, their hands locked with each other. Softly humming their praise to their mighty goddess.

Their prayers stopped, like in cue when a group of females entered the chapel, all dressed in long black ceremonial gowns. Their hair hanging loose over their shoulders. At the back, a few males gasped for air, breath taken by the beauty of the entering females. They barely got the chance to lay their eyes on the Nobles of their House. If you were low ranked, it was a privilege.

The first to enter the scene was Matron Sharadreza, matron of House Duscrain, followed by her two daughters, Irae’lin and Shinira. Behind her came Matron Nazira, followed by her own two daughters. Nath’Ranei, the eldest, who carried a box. At her side was Zil’Natha, the second daughter of Matron Nazira. Behind the two siblings, came the sisters of Matron Nazira, Sabrae and Fhera.

Behind them, dragged by a pair of female soldiers, was Breghen. Youngest and only son of Matron Sharadreza. The boy was not able to hide his fear, his eyes were shifting from side to side, even when his body looked calm on the outside. Until now, he had only been at prayers as a silent watcher, sitting on his knees with his eyes down to the ground. Forbidden to raise his gaze and wiped if he would ever try. He had quickly learned the rules of his House, yet it hadn’t protected him from his daily beating by his sisters. To learn his place, they had told him. 

But the fact that he had been lifted from his bed early that day, brough to the baths to be ritual washed before putting on fresh clothing, had made him wary. It wasn’t part of his daily routine and it was scaring the boy. 

Yet trained by punishment, the boy didn’t refuse anything, neither did he fought back when the clerics stripped him of his shirt, leaving his body bare from the waste up. His skin was littered with scars. Arms, stomach, back, … Not a single inch was left untouched.

The boy was strapped on the table, that had the form of a spider. When he tilted his head, to look behind him, he saw a giant status of a spider with a female Drow’s head. The image of their Spider Queen, Lolth. The rubies that were placed at her eyes, were having a dark shimmer when he looked at them, like the goddess herself was watching the ritual. 

“Bring the traitor in!” Sharadreza barked and from a side door, two soldiers dragged in a male drow. His clothing was dirty, stained with blood and other liquids of which you didn’t want to know the source. His hair was tangled, matted and even his skin didn’t look healthy.

Forced on his knees before the altar, Sharadreza walked up to bound male.

“Behold your punishment, Elendar, traitor of our kin.” Sharadreza’s voice galmed through the chapel, enforced by the chapel itself. Claiming authority, a show off of her status.

“Eight years ago, you betrayed us. Eight years ago, your son was chosen by Lolth for this day. Eight years long, we have groomed him for this purpose, as a vessel for the Underworld.”

Elendar peeked from under his eyelashes, seeing the group of Priestesses that stood next to the ceremonial table.

“No …” he softly whispered when he realized that it was his son that was bound on the altar. 

“No, you can’t do this!” 

The hand of his Matron flew through the air, slapping him straight on his face.

“Silence, you insolent slug. This is your doing. If you had stayed loyal, your son would not be strapped on that table. If you had not betrayed your kin, he would not have suffered in the past eight year. Remember, my dear Elendar, that this is by your own hand. For anything that happens today, will be your fault.”

Defeated, Elendar lowered his gaze. He knew she was right. Yet he didn’t feel any regret. Yes, he felt sorry for his son, he felt sorry that because of him, he had suffered for all those years. But he would never regret it that he had gone to the surface, led by that unknown force. He would not deny the fact that he had found love above the ground, an emotion that was unknown to many Drow. An emotion that didn’t have a place in this godforsaken place.   

Sharadreza turned around, going back up the stairs towards the Priestesses that had gathered around the table. 

Nath’Ranei offered the box to Nazira, revealing eight fabulous crafted daggers. If you would forget that they were tools from the Underdark, from a race that was marked as evil through time and space, you could say that they were a work of art. Not a piece of the dagger was left untouched. The heft was made by obsidian, darker than the night itself, with a silver pommel that was crafted into a small spider. The black itself had the shape of a spider with two pairs of its legs going up to the guard of the dagger. The other pairs were folded downwards, forming the actual blade. If you looked closely, you saw small lines forged in them, like veins. 

Each one of the Drowess picked a dagger from the box before it was set aside. They took their place next to the table, four on each side. In the background, the clerics of Doh’Arn started to whisper their chants. The rest of the chapel quickly picked up, until they were all singing like a uniform choir. 

“Wait …” 

It was Matron Nazira, who had her eyes locked on the traitor that was bound at the foot of the stairs. 

“Fhera, give your dagger to him and take him under your control.”

The female nodded without saying a word and walked down the stairs, to roughly pick up the man from his place and drag him back on the stairs. 

“What are you doing?” Sharadreza asked, but she was quickly hushed by a flick of her sister’s hand.

“This is your traitor, right?”

Sharadreza could only nod.

“Then let him handle the last dagger. Let him plunge the blade into his own son's body. You have been too weak with him, sister dear. He should see the suffering of his spawn up close. He should be a part of it.”

Sharadreza had to agree that it was a genius plan. She knew he cared for the boy. It was a weakness. A weakness she could exploit. 

“Fhera will keep him under her control, forcing his movements. Her power will rush through his body, allowing the ritual to be performed like it should. All the while he has to watch how his son is gonna suffer by his own hand.”

Sharadreza could only agree. Yet even if she wouldn’t, she had nothing to say after all. This was her sister's ritual, her sister’s grand moment, granted by Lolth herself. A blessing she would take with her both hands, for it was a sign of her rising power. 

Fhera quickly controlled Elendar through his mind. He tried to fight it, but he was not strong enough to fight against a High priestess of Lolth. Perfectly able to hear and see, he just no longer had control over his own limbs. He saw how his hand picked up the last dagger and how he walked to the right side of the table, taking a spot next to his son.

The boy however, lays still on the cold stone. His breathing was calm, even when his heart raced through his chest. Elendar could see the boy trying to lock himself out from all that was happening. Like he had been doing in the past year. A way to escape, losing his fire to fight back.

“Almighty Spider Queen, Mother of the dark, great goddess of this plain. In your name, we will summon the demons from the Nine hells for you to command. This meat with a living heart is your vessel, is your prey. May you be hungry and feast on his flesh, that was offered by force. May your venom spread through his blood, causing thousand years of agony. May he spin in your red web of pain and corruption and deem himself worthy of your affection, for him to return as your vessel, your carefully crafted tool. Or devour him, for if he is too weak to hold your darkness!”

The priestesses started to chant. Even Elendar felt how his lips moved, forming words he never knew, which he didn’t understand. The blades started to glow and from the guard down, a liquid started to drip down out of nowhere, filling up the veins. The shadows of the chapel became darker, bigger and the foul scent of sulfur rose from the ground. When the females rose the dagger in the air, still whispering their prayers, above them a cloud of black fog was formed, twirling at the ceiling. A breath of fire, dripping acid, a breeze of the coldest air, a flash of thunder fell down through the clouding portal and if you carefully listened, you could hear the demons scream at the other side.

Suddenly, the priestess stopped in their prayer and plunged the dagger down into the boy’s body. Also Elendar’s hand drifted down, his dagger landing straight under the boy’s heart. Trained not to scream, the young child clenched his teeth, not even able to fold double because of his chained hands and feet. When the priestess and Elendar, released the dagger, the powers that were seeping through the cloud portal, drifted down, surrounding the daggers. Elendar could only watch in horror how his son had to fight the elements of the earth, seeing how his body was burned and frozen at the same time. How acid was biting at his skin and how the lighting was rushing through his nerves. Yet still, through all this suffering, the boy didn’t scream. Not a word left his lips.

The priestesses return to their prayer, chanting words. With every sentence finished, another wave of power attacked the boy. When the prayer reached its height, the elements surrounded the boy, to sink into the boy , closing the wounds.

And then the chapel felt silent.

The boy's body was still shaking, fighting against the elements that had just entered his body. His veins glowed, like a glowworm and you could see the powers running through his blood. 

“He’s still alive.” Sabrae said when she checked the boy's heart beat. 

“Good …” Nazira whispered under her breath, an evil grin on her face.

“Bring him to the room behind the chapel and watch him. His body will either fail or succeed. May he be strong enough to return to the world of the living.”

Sabrae and Fhera unshackled the boy from the table and dragged him away from the scene.

Nazira walked up to Elendar, now again bound in his chains, watching in horror while his son was carried away, fighting for his life.

“Did you enjoy it?” Nazira whispered in his ear.

“Take a last look at him, traitor, for it could be your very last. For if he fails this test, it was you who killed him.”

Nazira let her tongue run over the male’s cheek, he could only quiver upon her touch.

“Drag him back to his cell. I’ll deal with him later.’

“He is my prisoner!” Sharadreza said, stepping up to her older sister. 

“Eight years he is already rotting in your cell, Sharadreza, but in those eight years, you were not able to pull the information from his mind. You failed, dear sister!”

Sharadreza grunted, digging her nails in her hands to prevent herself from attacking the female that stood so powerful before her.

“Let me handle him. He will scream for his death when I am done with him.”

Sharadreza released a deep sigh, calming herself down. 

“As you please, Matron Nazira.”

“Good, now, let us watch that pathetic boy of yours. I hope for your own sake that he survives this trial and returns with a sane mind.”