Disclaimer: This story is based completely on imagination, and DOES NOT represent any particular religion/community/person. Any resemblances found are purely coincidental. Happy reading! :-)

~○~

The blue flames burned brighter, cackling tongues hungrily devouring every last morsel.

"Lady Raatri! Accept our offering, and consume the Evil!"

Druhin joined in with equal fervour as the crowd chanted after the woman on the podium. Her lips trembled as she tipped the basket into the fire.

Her children would sleep hungry tonight, but Goddess Raatri would be appeased.

"May Goddess Raatri vanquish our sins!", the priest cried.

"Goddess Raatri will vanquish our sins!", Druhin repeated, his parched throat
protesting painfully.

All the men, women and children around him did the same, pumping their fists into the air and bringing it to their chests. The fire consumed grain after grain, cloth after cloth, sacrifice after sacrifice with no signs of being satiated.

Druhin had been a part of this ritual his entire life, yet, his eyes couldn't help but fascinatedly flick over to the painting once again. The image of a woman with flowing hair and silvery robes adorned the huge wall of the dilapidated barn. Painted a dark, thick black, the image of their Goddess Raatri seemed to stare right at him with her lilac eyes. Druhin shivered, reaching more into the cool shadows. Away from the light.

Druhin shivered, reaching more into the cool shadows. He'd long accepted the slavery he was born into as a part of his fate, and servitude as a way of life. Yet, somewhere deep inside, a small spark just like the one in front of him thirsted for the one thing every one of them wanted - freedom. He neither fed it nor doused it; Druhin had grown used to the little wistful sighs that sometimes escaped his lungs.

Goddess Raatri's power seemed to seep into their veins as the chanting increased. He cast an eye at the frail frames of the people around him. Dressed in dirty, torn clothes, they stared at the fire with hollow and sunken eyes. Most of them had to give up their day's meal for the sacrifice.

As slaves, they weren't entitled to being paid money by the Arkans, their masters. They barely survived with the little food and clothes they got, but Druhin had never seen them once complain. His father didn't, his mother didn't, and neither did he. "We are the Raatrikas", his grandfather had said. "We do not curse and cry like the barbaric Arkans. We wait. We pray."

Even as a child, his eyes had welled up at the words.

He looked down at his own offering. A small mound of brown grains sat on his cupped palms, indistinguishable from his dirty skin. The skin that was supposed to be a silvery grey.
His stomach grumbled, but Dhruhin tipped his chin higher. He walked closer to the fire,the blue flames burning even more brighter, as though welcoming his sacrifice.

Closing his eyes, Druhin could very clearly recollect what his parents had taught him the first time he'd done this.
"Lady Raatri! Shower your cool, dark mercy upon us!"

Separating his fingers, Druhin let the last morsel spill before withdrawing his hands. He shut his eyes. Consume my energy, Lady Raatri. Consume my energy and rise.

He walked down with shivering knees as the crowd chanted loudly. Exhaling heavily, he lowered himself onto the hot floor. His Raatrika blood was intolerant to the Arkan heat that seemed to flow in plenty through the land's veins.

Slapping himself to awaken his drooping eyelids, he forced himself to pay attention to the sacrifice. After the very last slave had made an offering and seated themself, the priest stood.

The old man, with lilac eyes like all other and long, silvery hair pulled into a braid. As he cleared his throat, the crowd was quick to fall silent. He was one of the Citizens of the Old, the name given to the people who had seen life as it was on the land of the Raatri.

"Even before time itself came into existence-", the old man began.

Druhin never got tired of hearing this story. He sat up straight, listening with rapt attention just as the crowd around him.

"-our world was created by the Supreme Two. Arka, the Lord of Light, and our Goddess Raatri, the Lady of Dark were born. When our world came into existence, they decided to coexist in peace. The land that lies to the West of the Great Sea was claimed by Raatri, and the East, by Arka."

He paused to stare at the group, his eyes glittering.

"Thus, the Raatrika and Arkan lands were born, ruled by the Supreme Duo themselves, in the form of two suns. Arka transformed himself into a source of light, emitting enormous amounts of light and heat. Lady Raatri's land was that of the cool and the dark, where the tormenting heat and piercing light is absorbed by Lady Raatri herself."

Druhin closed his eyes, envisioning a dark woman swathed in silver robes, consuming the harsh heat and radiating comfort.

"The people living in the land of Lady Raatri called themselves the Raatrika's and those under Arka, called themselves the Arkans. The land of the Arkans was completely submerged in light, and the land of Lady Raatri, in darkness. For both the Arkans and Raatrikas, their very existence depended on their respective suns."

Stopping, the priest threw a smile at the  small children sitting in a group at a corner. "Now, who can tell me how time is measured in our lands?"

One of them jumped to her feet, her unruly hair bouncing excitedly. "The time taken by both suns to travel from the North to the South, is considered a year. Both the suns twinkle periodically. The time they take for each twinkle makes an hour, and twenty-eight hours together make a day. There are three hundred days in a year."

"Very good", the priest said, beckoning her closer to pat her head. "The Arkans follow the same pattern. For years, the Arkans and Raatrikas have lived and prospered in peace. The Raatrikas are a learned, peaceful race. Our sciences, arts, philosophies are all the grace of our Goddess Raatri."

Together, the crowd took a moment to collectively close their eyes and invoke their Goddess.

"The Arkans and Raatrikas were always cordial, with regular trade and peace treaties formed. The Raatrikas lived a peaceful, prosperous life, until...", the priest stopped, his voice cracking. Silver tears lined his lilac eyes.

"What happened after that?", one of the youngest children piped up anxiously. His parents threw him a disapproving look, but said nothing.

The priest brushed a stray tear from his cheek. "All of a sudden, our land grew hotter. Unbearably hot, hotter than even what the Arkans are used to. Our Lady Raatri was suffering. She grew weaker and weaker, unable to take in any more of our sins."

"But why?", the child asked curiously.

"We don't know, my dear. As Lady Raatri's state worsened, unspeakable things began happening. The heat increased, our people suffered, and wild nether- creatures began to emerge. We tried our best to help our Goddess, but nothing could be done. That was when, out of desperation, we committed our biggest mistake."

The crowd murmured uneasily amongst themselves, as Druhin felt his chest tighten with an unknown emotion.

"We trusted the Arkans", the priest whispered. "We trusted them, and sought refuge. But what have they done? They've enslaved us. Betrayed us!"

The crowd rose in anger, knees scraping and feet stomping. Druhin's fists clenched.

The priest held up a hand. "Calm down, brothers and sisters. We may be slaves now, but do not forget our true identities. We are farmers, physicians, architects, teachers, artists, thinkers, so much more. We are the elite, learned race of Lady Raatri."

Druhin felt his heart hammer in his chest. That was the life his grandparents so passionately spoke about, his parents yearned for, and one he could barely imagine.

"Our Goddess may be weak now, but she won't be for much longer! Lady Raatri will strengthen!"

Tears dripped down the crowd's cheeks, as Druhin felt his own eyes prickle. "Lady Raatri will strengthen!"

"We will offer to her every last thing we have, no matter what suffering comes our way. Lady Raatri will rise again!"

"Lady Raatri will rise again!", they cried as loudly as their starved stomachs could bear.

"We may be slaves now, but we will return to our homelands very soon. The Raatrikas will rise!"

Druhin closed his eyes, savoring the hope of the scores of slaves around him. One day, perhaps one day, he would see the end to his endless slavery. He wondered what it would be like. To be a Child of the Dark, to live under a sun that didn't scorch his skin. To be free.

Together, they stood for the final ritual that would complete the entire sacrifice and carry to their Goddess all the energy they'd sacrificed.

Two of the senior most Raatrikas in their group held between them a small lamp with burning yellow fire. They kept their chins tilted away- yellow fire, the power of Arka, was intolerable to the Raatrika gathering.

The crowd watched nervously as the lamp was taken closed to the burning blue fire. Lady Raatri would consume the raw energy from the Arkan fire, thus gaining the power of their sacrifice.

This was one of the largest offerings they'd been able to make, and this final ritual would either seal or break it. Druhin, along with the rest of the crowd, shut his eyes reverentially.

Lady Raatri, may you rise again, he thought anxiously, placing a fist on his chest. Any moment, the priest would announce the completion of the sacrifice, and the crowd would burst into cheers.

He stilled, waiting with bated breath. Anytime now, the sacrifice would be over. Moments passed, but nothing came. An unmistakable prickling on his back made him whip around. The rays of the Arkan sun.

Dread rushed into his stomach. Harsh, yellow rays cut into the barn, penetrating the cool darkness and burning their skins. A gasp escaped Druhin's lips even as it was echoed by many others'.

At the entrance of the barn, around a dozen Arkan soldiers towered over the slaves the sun rays consuming the barn in yellow.

"It's the Arkan guards! Run!"

Chaos erupted in the barn, with parents grabbing their children and rushing out of the opposite entrance in a stampede. Druhin turned around in dismay, ignoring the chaos.

The majestic blue flame slowly simmered down, it's intensity growing less and less powerful. A powerful pain choked his throat as the sacrificial flame extinguished itself into a mass of silvery soot. The final ritual had failed, taking with it every bit of their sacrifice. Gone.

The priest cried out in angish, even as he was hurriedly rushed away before the guards could get hold of him.

The Arkan soldiers rushed into the barn after just a few moment's hesitation, not touching the elderly and children, but chasing after the rebelling youth.

This time, Druhin didn't run. As one of the Arkan guards rained blow upon blow over his back, his eyes flicked over to the portrait of Goddess Raatri. It seemed to glow even more mystically darker in the light of the unfavourable Arkan sun. Her dark purple eyes  glistened with sadness.

"We have failed you, Goddess", he said to the portrait, wincing in pain as the thrashing got worse . "W-We have f-failed you this time, but the R-Ratrikas will rise again."

The guard, who'd heard his words, delivered a punch to his jaw. Druhin didn't retaliate. Ignoring the stinging pain travelling to his skull, he forced himself to stare into the Arkan guard's golden eyes.

"Lady Raatri will rise again!", he cried with all his remaining energy.

A sudden determination flickered into the guard's eyes at the words. All Druhin saw was a fist flying in his direction before a welcome darkness invaded his eyes.

_________________________________________

Author's note :

Hello everyone! It's been far too long, how are you all?

I've started writing this thanks to the lockdown, and I really hope to keep you entertained with this new venture.

I hope this gets the same support and love as Half A Moonstone :-)

New readers, do go check out my novel Half A Moonstone, available on Amazon Kindle.

Would you like to read more of this? Do leave your comments and votes!

Stay safe and happy, everyone!