Aevin

[an:5ce2d0fc81]This is the beginning of a short story I wrote awhile ago. Unlike most of my work, the story is something I deem "potentially publishable."

This is not a publishable beginning.

This beginning has a variety of problems, I think, some of which I can see, and some of which I'm utterly blind to. I've worked on it a lot, made changes (some of which don't appear in this version), and just can't seem to make it work. Please, please, criticise this piece. Help me figure out what the problems are so I can finally fix them.

Thanks in advance to any readers!
--Aevin[/an:5ce2d0fc81]
"Ceremony of Innocence"

Kyren was six years old when she witnessed her first sacrifice, and understood little of its importance. Her father had explained the reason for the sacrifices when she was barely old enough to speak, explained the power and knowledge of the wizard Jeune, and how in order to maintain a powerful nation, sacrifices had to be made.

"Sack ... fice?" Kyren could remember asking when she was three. "What's 'sack-uh-fice?'"

Her father had smiled. "A sacrifice is the price we must pay to keep the great Jeune powerful. It's what we have to do to keep him strong, because he's lived longer than anyone. For those sacrificed, it means a gift. They give Jeune what they have and he needs, and are forever remembered because of it. You see, above all things, a sacrifice is a ceremony of honor."

She had not understood then, nor did she understand when her dying mother raised one gray, bony hand from her quilt and touched Kyren's face for the last time.

"You see what my life has yielded? Living beyond youth has given me nothing. To be rejected for the sacrifice ... I've given nothing. My only hope is that you can succeed where I failed. You are my only hope, Kyren. Your sacrifice is my only hope."

But she had not understood that either. Now her mother was dead, and her father was quiet or used big words. Still, if her six years had taught her only one lesson, it was that sacrifice was important. Sacrifice was a gift. Sacrifice was an honor. The word carried absurd power, and found physical presence in Kyren's imagination--something massive, but invisible, insubstantial but dreadfully alive. Sacrifice haunted her dreams, even though she didn't know its meaning. There were nights when she would wake in the grip of this one word's potency, and wonder what it was.

Everyone else understood this word, this force. Everyone else could feel its necessity and beauty at the mention of Jeune's name. Kyren could see this in her father's eyes, deduce it from the popularity of the public ceremonies. She alone remained blind in a world where everyone could see the shimmering delight of sacrifice.

This was why she begged her father to take her to one of the public sacrifices, so she could finally understand the power of the mystery that kept her country whole.

***

Her arrival at the sacrificial building filled her with awe, but no more understanding. As she walked under the huge, silver-plated archway leading to the building's interior, clutching her daddy's hand with anticipation and fear, she flushed with wonder at its immense size. Stone seats circled upward around a circular white area in the center, forming a huge bowl. Kyren's blue eyes grew huge as she estimated the number of people the seats could hold. She realized it must be more than nine-hundred ninety-nine, as high as she'd learned to count, and the knowledge struck her breathless--could any number be that big? She guessed the next number must be "ten-hundred," so the building could hold at least twenty-hundred people. There were only about six-hundred now, most clustered around the lowest seats, the ones closest to central White Circle.

Her father whistled and smiled down at her. "All that space. It's staggering, isn't it, Ky? And we can sit anywhere out there...."

Kyren had other plans. "Daddy, can we sit close? Please can we sit close? I wanna see everything!"

Her father's smile grew wider. "Of course you do! Relax! I want to see, too. It's not as beautiful from the higher seats, though the colors are still striking, red on white."

As her dad led her to one of the lowest seats, Kyren frowned. True, there was white everywhere--she didn't know what the substance was, only that some was stone, some metal, all a bright, dazzling white. In the middle of the white floor stood a white metal table, tilted slightly upward from horizontal to resemble a cold silver chair. The beauty of the glossy white almost overwhelmed her, yet Kyren could not find a single trace of red anywhere.

__________________
"Go to, like, greater adventures!"
--Din from Namco's Tales of the Abyss

Cipher2

For what it's worth I thought this was good. Maybe you could work on showing the naivity of the child better.

"Now her mother was dead, and her father was quiet or used big words."

That didn't sound right to me. I would explain the father in a separate sentence.

Seems good though

Rob

In learning to write short stories, and thus far I've written nothing longer than about 3000 words, I've come to believe that writing should show clarity, and that we should be economical with the words we choose to express ourselves.

I see a lack of clarity in what you've written. If I were to summarise what you convey in each paragraph, I would see a degree of duplication, particularly about the girl not understanding the meaning of sacrifice. You give us this point in the first line, then hammer it into us repeatedly. There is value, sometimes, in repeating a point for emphasis and effect, but here I think it's overdone.

This contributes to a lack of economy with words, by repeating what you're saying you're wasting words, and forcing the reader to read and understand the same point over and over again. Once I've understood that she doesn't understand sacrifice, in the first line, I don't want you to keep telling me the same thing.

All of the detail about estimating the number of people, counting to nine hundred and ninety nine, guessing ten-hundred, etc., to me this is more detail than I need, and doesn't advance your story to any great degree. You could shorten the description here, and elsewhere, considerably, and still convey what you need to move the story forward.

Just my opinion, of course.

Good luck,
Omni

Aevin

Thanks to both of you! I'm pretty surprised this got replies so quickly.

Omnius: I see what you mean. The problem I'm having is that there are plot and setting details that are difficult to separate from the repetitions. And I do mean to use the repetition for effect . . . but I'll take your advice anyway. That's something I'll focus on. I don't think it's a problem in the rest of the story. I think the problem here is not a lot is happening, so I'm relying too much on trying to create intensity through repetition. Hmm . . .

You're not the first one to mention this. I thought those details revealed something about the naivety of the character, but now I'm convinced it takes the reader in too many circles.

Do you mind being a little more specific? I mean . . . Reading back through, I would assume the last three paragraphs in the first section are the most unnecessary. Or do even the opening paragraphs repeat and waste words too much?

Passive language is something I've editted for. But, as you can see from the story (and the ever-increasing blabbiness of this post ) it's one of my weaknesses.

__________________
"Go to, like, greater adventures!"
--Din from Namco's Tales of the Abyss

DawnMorningStar

Hi Aevin!

It's nice to see something new from you here. As always, I enjoyed the easy flow of your writing style. I think this is a nice beginning, with an ominous feel to it. I would have to agree with Omnius that you drive the point about sacrifice a bit too much, although I for one, don't mind you restating the point once or twice.

You use the word "sacrifice" a LOT. I know that's what this part is about, and that you're trying to make a point, but I think that you could probably change a few of those to a similar word and not lose the meaning you're trying to convey.

Here, I would change one "huge"

I think you want a "the" after "to"

Overall, it was an enjoyable piece to read, and I'm looking forward to seeing more!

BlackHoleEnvy

If I may make a modest suggestion, beginning with "back story" is not going to help you out in the "hook" department. Especially in a short story, where readers don't expect to have to do as much "thinking". To me, it would seem more effective to begin with the scene where Kyren is walking into the sacrificial hall, and feed us the back story after we're already hooked.

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...ARE BELONG TO US!

Aevin

Dawn: Thanks for reading! I haven't seen you around the site as much lately, and I haven't seen any new work from you. Where have you been? Living one of those pesky lives, or something?

Anyhow . . . I know I repeat that word too much. It becomes glaringly obvious now that you've mentioned it (It was the original title of the story, actually. "Sack-uh-fice.") I expect I've overkilled the "she didn't understand sacrifice" point because it's supposed to be the driving motivation for the character and a large part of the story's plot. The story is really all about Kyren finding out what sacrifice is.

BlackHoleEnvy: Thanks a lot for reading! I'll have to look up something of yours . . .

I'm glad you made this suggestion, because I already tried that route. I started with her walking under the arch and entering the building. The problem was, doing this made it very difficult to smoothly insert the necessary setting, plot and character elements. Maybe I just need to try harder. Your suggestion makes me think I was on the right path. . . .

__________________
"Go to, like, greater adventures!"
--Din from Namco's Tales of the Abyss

BlackHoleEnvy

It's up to you which way you will go, but if you are serious about trying to publish this, I would keep palying around with the beginning. Sometimes you have to go through 5, 10 re-writes before you stumble upon what works. This is coming from a perfectionist, mind you: I re-write and re-arrange my work so often that it is quite impossible to finish anything. Good luck.

__________________
...ARE BELONG TO US!

Selorian

Hello Aevin!

I've been looking forward to another post from you! This definitely intrigues me. Makes me want to see the rest.

I have to agree with what the others have said. The point of not understanding the sacrifice is driven home hard. I know what you were going for though, I've been guilty of the same thing.

I think that BlackHoleEnvy is on the right track with his suggestion. You could maybe go even further and start it in the middle of the sacrifice. Would be a gauranteed hook then. Then you could have Kyren asking her father questions about the sacrifice afterwards and feed in the backstory that you have. Not for sure if that would work, just a suggestion.

I'm sure that what you come up with will be good! I look forward to more if you post it.

Cliff

__________________
Utopia can only exist in a violent society.

Litsters... It's coming, are you ready?

Aevin

[an:b651c01bcd]
Selorian: Thanks! I've been looking forward to something from you, myself. As for starting with the sacrifice . . . it just won't work. That's the climax of the story; it would be like telling a joke with the punchline first.

Everyone: I took some of your advice, and changed the beginning a lot. I like this one better, and hopefully others will too. Still needs some work---choppy dialog, lacking in tone-- but I can do it, I think. I'm also posting a little more so you can see how the beginning connects to the rest of the story, and in case people actually want to read on.

Thanks again for all your help! Enjoy![/an:b651c01bcd]

The heart of youth is a wellspring from which all beauty flows.

At least, that's what her daddy said as he led her, shivering, into the sacrificial building. It was warm inside from all the people gathering, like herself, in the ascending stone seats to watch the event. Kyren shivered all the same, not with cold, but anticipation.

"Daddy," she cried with her usual confusion. "What's that mean?"

Her daddy smiled. "That's what it's all about, Ky," he answered. "That's why Lord Jeune does it. That's what the sacrifices are for in the first place."

Kyren blinked with interest; her father had said the magic word. "Sacrifice," the word Kyren had always longed to understand, the word her forgotten mother had wished on her from her death bed, whispering in her cracked voice, "Your sacrifice is my only hope." Sacrifice, the ultimate honor and beauty, the one thing that kept Lord Jeune powerful and the nation at peace, a gift from one to another for which the giver was forever remembered . . . or so her father told her. Kyren didn't even know what it was.

The girl remained quiet for awhile, thinking and clutching her daddy's hand. "Will we see him?" she asked at last in a bright voice. "Do we get to see the wizard?"

"Of course we will," her daddy said. He crouched next to Kyren and wrapped one arm around her shoulders. "You see the White Circle?" he asked, pointing down to the white area in the center of all the seats, the heart of the building itself. "Can you see it, Kyren?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"He'll be standing right there, in only a few minutes."

Kyren's eyes grew huge with delight. "Can we sit close?" she begged. "Please can we sit close? I wanna see everything!"

Her father's smile grew wider. "Of course you do! Relax! I want to see it, too. It's not as beautiful from the higher seats, though the colors are still striking, red on white."

As her daddy led her to one of the lowest seats, Kyren gazed down at the circle and frowned. True, white gleamed everywhere--she didn't know what the substance was, only that some was stone, some metal, all a bright, dazzling white. In the middle of the floor stood a white metal table, tilted slightly to resemble a cold silver chair. The beauty of the glossy white overwhelmed her, yet Kyren could not find a single trace of red anywhere.

Seconds after sitting next to her father on the lowest stone bench, Kyren bounced up again. Kyren wandered along the lowest bench, absently playing a balancing game as she walked, so the table in the center of the building was at eye level. From the table's placement, Kyren guessed it must be important, yet she could understand its importance no better than she could understand sacrifice itself. The whole situation puzzled her--she could not comprehend the power of the wizard Jeune, or the relation of him to this strange event called "sacrifice."

Kyren was gazing toward the highest seats, thinking about the trouble of climbing there with her six-year-old legs, when a boy's voice interrupted her thoughts.

"This is your first sacrifice, huh?"

Startled, Kyren turned to see a boy a little older than herself, dressed formally in green. He wore a light green dress shirt and smooth green pants. Above his bright collar, his face was rosy and anxious. The boy was about six inches taller than Kyren, but this seemed huge to her, and she had to look upward to speak to him.

"Yeah," she said. "My daddy didn't have time to take me before."

The boy grinned pridefully. "This is my fifth one! I come to 'em all the time, except when I gotta go to school. I got two cousins who were sacrificed, and I got to go see 'em both, really I did. You don't know what you're missing. It's so great!"

Kyren sighed. "This boy today, the one who's gonna be ..." she sounded out the word carefully, "... sack-uh-ficed, he goes to my school. I saw him a couple times. He's Wade."

"That's so neat!" the boy said. "You know," he looked away for a split second, "my sis was sacrificed too, really. Course, I wasn't even born then, so I didn't get to see it. But my mom, she's always sayin' how proud she is and stuff. Really, she is. What's your name?"

"I'm Kyren," she said.

"Oh, well I'm Croy. Anyway, you're really in for something great. It's always funner when you know the person. One of the people I saw sacrificed was like, my best friend. Really. He was so lucky. And he got accepted, of course. Most of 'em are. But every once in awhile, the great Jeune doesn't accept 'em. Usually 'cause they do somethin' wrong."

"A-accept?" Kyren repeated uncertainly.

"Yeah," Croy said. "Usually, Jeune will sacrifice 'em here--" Croy poked one little finger just to the left of the center of his chest: his heart, "--but sometimes he does it here--" he slid the same finger across his throat, "--and when he does that, it means you're not good enough for him. If he does that, it's 'cause you did somethin' wrong. Like this one boy, he wet himself, and--"

Kyren's eyes widened. "You mean he ...?"

"Yeah."

"During sack-uh-fice?!"

"Yeah, the kid wet 'is pants. Guess he got a little too excited. So Jeune got all mad and didn't accept him. And there was this other girl, and she just sneezed. Sneezed all over the great Jeune. And I saw one, really. The girl I saw just looked really scared, and didn't do anything wrong, but he didn't accept her. Really. Not good enough, I guess. It's weird, 'cause sometimes the kids'll cry, and he'll accept them anyway, but sometimes they'll just look scared, and he won't. Weird, huh?"

Kyren sighed again and looked down to the White Circle of stone and the shining table at its center. "I wonder if Wade's good enough," she said. "I hope so."

Croy grinned. "But that's part of the fun, you know? Guessing whether or not they'll be accepted. I'm seven-and-a-half, you know. That means in eight months, I'll turn eight. I can't wait! 'Cause then I can be sacrificed. And the great Jeune would accept me, too, and I'd become part of him, and it'll be so neat! I just can't wait!"

The children sacrificed varied in age from eight to twelve years old. Even Kyren knew that--it was another fact she had learned, while remaining blind to its importance.

Croy suddenly turned away from her and trained his eyes avidly on the White Circle. "Anyway, I think it's about to start, and your dad wants you." He pointed behind Kyren to her father, who was motioning for her to come back. She had not realized she'd wandered so far.

__________________
"Go to, like, greater adventures!"
--Din from Namco's Tales of the Abyss

DawnMorningStar

Hi Aevin...

Yeah, life has sort of been intruding lately, but I'm still around. I've been working on the novel (I'm on chapter 18 although some of the previous chapters are in a VERY rough state). I've been holding off on posting more of the book until I figure out if I want to take your advice about ditching the prologue and the various spots through the story where he's writing in his journal. Chapter two starts off that way, thus I haven't posted anything yet.

Hopefully I can figure out what I want to do soon, and when I do, I'll be posting more of the story.

Oh, and by the way--I like your new version of the beginning a LOT!! I think it's more effective and draws the reader in immediately. Nice job.

Leapord

Hey Aevin.

I've read it through a couple of times, though there's not really much to critique. It's pretty good, and I do agree that the second version pulls you into the story more effectively.

The one suggestion I have is that you may want to capitalize sacrifice, at least when it's referred to as the ceremony rather than as a generic act. It just seems that a ceremony that is so much at the heart of the society would become a proper noun.

Besides that, well, I look forward to seeing the rest

__________________
Knowledge is power. Power corrupts. Study hard, be evil.
People would sooner die than think. In fact, most of them do. -- George Bernard Shaw
Leapord is my name, leopard is the animal.

Selorian

Like I said, I knew what you came up with would be good. This really draws a person in. I like the 'I really did' quark that you gave Croy. Very nice touch. I look forward to more of this.

It may be awhile before I post anything new. I am starting the NaNo thing Monday. I do have quite a bit written on Keepers though, but want to hold off posting more until I can do some polishing on it.


Cliff

__________________
Utopia can only exist in a violent society.

Litsters... It's coming, are you ready?

Leapord

Hm, I think I just realized a part of it that bothers me. How often are sacrifices performed? From the amount of honor associated with it, it would seem that it's not too often. Yet somehow, it seems that nearly everyone plans to be sacrificed at some point. It would probably be a good think to more clearly indicate how rare or common the sacrifices are (this may require more than just this part of the story, but it should be clarified soon).

Anyway, fix this up and post the rest of the story I'm curious.

__________________
Knowledge is power. Power corrupts. Study hard, be evil.
People would sooner die than think. In fact, most of them do. -- George Bernard Shaw
Leapord is my name, leopard is the animal.

Aevin

[an:7efdf3c80e]Leapord: I guess I didn't make it clear enough that Croy is a big liar. His "really it is!" mannerism and the increasing elaborateness of his story are supposed to show this. There aren't as many sacrifices as he makes it sound. I intentionally leave it vague; it used to be possible to calculate, but I removed all concrete references to Jeune's age. Personally, I think there are two or three a year. And though everyone HOPES to be sacrificed, the large majority do not get their wish.

Here's the rest of the story, but it's very long. Maybe some of those who have followed me this far will push on to the end. Triple thanks to anyone with the patience to finish!

However, here's fair warning. Parts of this are graphic. Very graphic. If you have problems with violent content, you won't want to read any further.

Thanks once more for all your useful advice![/an:7efdf3c80e]
As absently as she'd gone away, Kyren plodded back to her seat, the things she had learned tumbling through her head. She thought about the joy Croy had shown as he talked about his cousins, sister and best friend being "accepted." To be accepted was honorable, and something was done to your heart. To be rejected was dreadful, and something was done to your throat. But Croy was eager to risk the throat thing for a chance at being accepted, and anxiously awaited his eighth birthday, when he would finally be old enough to feel the delight of Sacrifice. It made no sense to Kyren--a fact made bearable only by the surety that in a few minutes, she would know. In a few minutes, she would understand.

Kyren had not sat for a full minute since arriving, so she was flustered when her father said, "Don't get comfortable, Ky. You'll just be standing again in a second, anyway."

Kyren blinked. "Why, Daddy?"

"The whole assembly rises when the great Jeune enters--didn't you learn that in school? It's to show honor to his wisdom, power and age. And today, it's meant as a blessing to the ceremony, and a sign of respect toward the one being sacrificed."

Kyren's mind swirled with confusion so intense it was painful. There was something big, here, something she was supposed to understand, but didn't. "But why, Daddy?" she said, at a loss.

Her father cocked an eyebrow. "Why, what?"

"Why do we honor him. The sack-- The boy?"

"Because of the gift he gives."

"What gift?!"

Her daddy looked at her as if she'd gone crazy. "His youth, of course."

Kyren's eyes scrunched into tiny wrinkles of confusion. "Youth? ..." Surprisingly, it was a word she knew. Someone who was very young, like herself, possessed a lot of youth. As people grew older, their youth gradually disappeared. The great Jeune, as it was commonly known, had lived for uncountable years. As the oldest man alive, it was natural he possessed less youth than anyone. But ... but how could anyone make a gift of youth? You were either young, or you weren't. It didn't make sense! None of Sacrifice made sense at all!

"But Daddy!--"

"Shhhh! Quiet, Ky. It's beginning." He pulled her to her feet.

Suddenly, the entire building became deathly quiet. At once, Kyren could feel the change in atmosphere, as if the air itself had become denser, heavier. As if it were caused by the collective gravity, the entire building grew dark . . . everything except the White Circle, which glowed brightly with sterile white light. With the intensity of the glow, the light seemed to come from the stone and metal itself, filling the white area with clarity while leaving the audience blanketed in darkness.

Out of the white archway at the far end of the circle emerged their ruler and host, the great wizard Jeune, leading a ten-year-old boy by the hand.

Jeune was the oldest man alive, yet not a trace of gray showed in his black hair, which was braided and wrapped stylishly around his head. From where Kyren sat, she had a clear view of Jeune's face, bright, smiling and youthful. The most handsome face Kyren had ever seen, it was still not entirely free of blemishes--several tiny, insignificant creases clustered around his eyes and the corners of his mouth, and it was only these which made Jeune look thirty, instead of twenty. Jeune dressed entirely in green, his loose-fitting cotton pants tied with a strip of green fabric. His other garment could only barely be called a shirt. It was long-sleeved, but lacked a huge strip of fabric in front, leaving his hairless neck, chest and stomach bare.

Wade, the boy from Kyren's school, stood next to the wizard, looking extremely small. Kyren had seen him several times, but never spoken to him, (he was four years older than herself), and had learned his name mainly because he was selected for Sacrifice. Wade was also dressed entirely in light green, though he wore no shirt at all. Like Jeune's, the boy's skin looked oddly pale under the light, closer to white than any other color. But then, Wade resembled Jeune in many respects, including his black hair, which, while much shorter than Jeune's, was wrapped into tiny "baby braids." Wade held his head high, proud he had made it this far, and his mouth clamped secretively shut. Even at six, Kyren could see his sobriety was feigned, an effort to look honorable and hide the grand intensity of emotion he felt. There was glee in the hard line of the boy's jaw, immeasurable pride--and terror.

Still holding the boy's hand, Jeune the Wise stepped forward and spoke in a deep, musical voice that belied his almost feminine appearance. "I wish to welcome all of you to this, the seven-hundred eighty-third Ceremony of Youth. We are here to honor the child, Wade Kollen, for his generosity in allowing himself to be sacrificed." Jeune dropped the boy's hand, and instead curled his arm possessively around Wade's bare shoulders. Wade's eyes glittered, as if he were struggling to hold back tears, or a grin.

"In offering himself, the noble Wade presents a priceless gift, not only to me, but to you all, to the entirety of our glorious nation. This boy deserves all the respect and gratitude of the empire, and I thank you few who come to pay this debt to the noble Wade. By sacrificing his physical form, Wade will live forever as a part of me, a glimmering piece of my power and wisdom, and a part of our nation. None of you will see this boy ever again, so now I offer you the chance to express your feelings to him, and to say 'farewell.'" As Jeune fell silent, his dark eyes flickered among the audience members, shaming those who had nothing to say.

Imitating the solemn tones of those around her, Kyren bowed her head. "Good-bye, Wade," she whispered, wondering where the boy was going, and how he could hear her. "Good-bye, Wade."

With this done, the members of the audience finally seated themselves. With the rest of them, Kyren watched the proceedings, first with curiosity, then with excitement, and finally with a painful exhilaration bordering on ecstasy.

Squeezing Wade's shoulder with his hand, the wizard Jeune gently turned the boy to walk toward the glowing table in the middle of the whiteness. Once there, Jeune carefully lifted him, helping him to climb atop the table and recline against the bright metal. Wade lay there in the center of the world, his face a mold of feigned blankness, his heart beating visibly in the middle of his bare chest, and shivered. Slowly, Jeune pulled green strips of leather from compartments in his shirt and secured the boy's arms and legs, looping the straps through tiny holes in the table.

Kyren's whisper felt extremely loud in the near-total silence of the building. Instantly, she felt she was doing something wrong by speaking, but the intensity of her curiosity made the question burn to escape. "Daddy," she whispered, "why's he tying him? Doesn't he want to be sack-uh-ficed?"

The scolding she expected did not come. Instead, her father patiently whispered the answer to her question. "Yes, of course he wants to be sacrificed. But there are times when the ceremony becomes quite painful. He might accidentally struggle from the pain, even though he doesn't want to. So the great Jeune must strap him down."

Kyren turned back to the sacrifice before her father finished. She could not draw her eyes away from this spectacle long enough to look him in the face. Painful? she wondered. How could something so supposedly wonderful be painful?

After finishing, Jeune took a minute to stare down at the boy, still smiling vibrantly. But Wade was not smiling.

Dramatically, Jeune withdrew something from his shirt, but this time his back was turned to Kyren. She craned her neck, struggling to see around the wizard's body to what he held, but her effort was futile.

As if reading her mind, her father whispered, "That's Eranul, the sacrificial knife. Jeune uses it to open wounds through which the gift can be given and received."

After a second, Jeune held the knife above his head and turned it for all to see. Eranul gleamed fiercely in the white light, its shiny green metal casting colorful beams into the audience. Glancing around, Kyren saw one of the beams illuminate Croy's grinning face in an aura of green. Then the light was gone, and Croy vanished. Dozens of green gemstones sparkled in Eranul's hilt--emeralds, she guessed--but the jewels were merely ornaments, paled beside the beauty of the green metal blade.

Now, Jeune lowered himself to the boy's level. He carefully placed the point of Eranul on the child's chest and moved it lightly over the skin, whispering indiscernibly. Kyren wondered as she watched, wondered what Jeune was saying, wondered what he would do with the knife, wondered how much the point of the blade tickled Wade's white skin. She wondered if Wade would be accepted, and guessed this was the purpose of the way Jeune gazed raptly into the boy's eyes. But what the wizard could see there, she could only speculate. She imagined the knife climbing upward over Wade's skin, up ... up ... until it tickled his throat instead of his chest. Silently, she prayed for Wade to be accepted.

The sudden horror in Wade's eyes suggested the possibility of rejection had also occurred to him. The calm mask on his face had totally dissolved. Momentarily, his green eyes sought the refuge of the crowd, struggling not to look at the knife. But soon, his anticipation overcame him, and his gaze returned helplessly to the glimmering Eranul. His breathing became quick and jagged, and his chest heaved rapidly up and down. In spite of this movement, Kyren was sure she could still see the boy's heartbeat, subtly vibrating the white flesh above it with an ever-quickening, ever-strengthening pulse. Within her own chest, Kyren felt her heart thumping in response, and her excited breaths were almost as rapid as Wade's.

When it happened, it was so sudden Kyren almost blinked and missed it. Jeune suddenly stood up straight, leaned onto Eranul's handle, and, with the force of his entire body, hammered the knife downward into the boy.

The first sound she heard was one she knew she shouldn't have, a tiny noise that echoed through the building due to the expectant silence. Harsh and grating, Eranul's blade scraped against bone on its rush to Wade's heart. Next came the high-pitched shriek of pain from Wade's mouth a split second later. The boy fought with surprising strength, his tiny muscles convulsing with agony, and the leather restraints creaked with strain as if to match his scream. These sounds should have been unpleasant to Kyren's ears, yet somehow she found them musical; her chief emotion as she listened to Wade's dying cry was not horror, but wonder.

The scene continued for only a second before Jeune twisted the knife violently; the struggles stopped, and the scream died away.

Kyren was not disappointed, since her auditory delight gave way to visual delight. She had never seen such emotion as when the boy screamed, and his entire visage twisted with pain like one huge muscle flexed to its maximum. Then, Wade's face slackened, and his eyes faded to shiny glass, sparkling peacefully under the light like doll's eyes. His mouth hung open, and his white teeth also glittered, like polished marble. For Kyren, it was a fascinating change--that mouth could no longer form the tight line she'd seen earlier; it was a more honest mouth, one that could hide his emotion no longer because there was no emotion to hide. It was wonderful.

Her heart beating wildly, Kyren struggled to see everything at once, but already knew it was too late. No! she cried mentally. No! I missed something! I want to see it again!

The first red came when Jeune twisted the knife; it spouted upward with the last beat of the boy's heart, nearly striking the wizard in the face. But now, Wade's wound released a shocking amount of blood, more than Kyren had ever guessed he held inside of him. Some of it escaped quickly over the sides of the table, and she could hear the tiny noises it made as it dripped to the stone floor, even see the light glistening off the droplets in the second they fell, still whole, like tiny red pearls. Some of it flowed over the boy's stomach and pooled in his crotch, as if he'd wet his pants like the boy Croy had described, as if he'd wet his pants with blood. The red contrasted vividly with the white, miraculously bright. The sight of it filled Kyren with wonder--red on white skin, red on white stone. The table was so shiny that Kyren could see some of the blood twice, once pooled on the floor in clearly defined splotches, once cloudily reflected in the table's base like watercolor paint. The boy's lips stood silently apart, and both sparkled wetly with the same potent color she could see everywhere; a trickle ran out of the corner of his mouth, red on white, rose on snow. And above it all, Jeune's face shined, handsome and subtly smiling.

In her exhilaration, Kyren could detect the wonder of Sacrifice even in the air, in the form of the powerful aroma that rose from the scene--an alien, coppery scent, nonetheless strangely sweet. It took her a second to realize she was smelling the blood, a scent so absurdly rich she could almost taste it. She could sense the boy's death in her nostrils and mouth, overpowering but lovely; she could taste sweet Wade in the air, all but feel the boy's essence against her tongue.

Kyren's heart hummed as she tried to take everything in; her breathing was quick with delight. She devoured the scene with her eyes, ears, nose, mouth--with all the senses of her tiny, six-year-old body.

Finally, Jeune removed Eranul from Wade, and the knife was no longer green but red, thickly coated with the blood of youth. However, even the clean hilt had somehow turned red. The scarlet metal gleamed darkly, the green gemstones now sparkling red like rubies.

If Kyren were not excited enough, the wizard provided her with a second shock when he thrust the flaming Eranul into his own heart. Unlike Wade, the wizard did not scream; only a strained grunt escaped him. His face did not slacken, nor contort with pain; he wore the same subtle smile he had throughout the ceremony. Nor did the wizard collapse, nor die as Wade had. But the difference Kyren noticed most was the lack of blood on Jeune--it was something she looked forward to, after seeing what happened to Wade. The wizard's stabbing was like seeing Wade's fate in reverse--instead of the knife drawing blood from his body, Jeune's wound seemed to suck the blood directly from Eranul's crimson blade. She saw the blade stick out starkly against the wizard's skin, red on white. Then the blood disappeared, and Eranul faded once more to its natural green. When Jeune pulled the blade from his heart, no wound remained at all.

As the wizard tucked Eranul back into his shirt, Kyren's huge eyes noticed the change in his face for the first time.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that she had missed the change, and her mind screamed in her childish agony, Let me see it again! Again! AGAIN!

The effect of the Ceremony of Youth could be seen all too clearly on Jeune's skin. His face was now free from all imperfections, dazzling and youthful. With the wrinkles gone, the wizard no longer looked thirty, but eighteen. Kyren felt sure no man had ever lived who could rival the great Jeune in looks.

Smiling, Jeune announced, "The heart of youth is a wellspring from which all beauty flows. In this way, Wade's beauty has passed into me; his generous gift has been offered and gratefully accepted. With this ceremony concluded, let us all remember Wade as the noble child that he was."

For Kyren, it was impossible. Kyren would always remember Wade, not as he had been in life, but as the vivid creature he had become, his limbs spread wide from restraints, a lake of blood held in his abdomen, bright color still dripping from the tips of his pale fingers, red on white.

Wrapped in a swirl of ecstasy, she darted her eyes between the wizard and the body, suddenly sure the two looked the same, that Jeune's face had somehow become Wade's. As she traced the handsome angles of Jeune's youthful profile, the man turned to look at her, offering a smile that nearly stopped her heart.

In the future, Kyren would often dream of Sacrifice, dream of Eranul tickling hotly along her bare chest, the wizard chanting some spell and herself fiercely whispering, "I love you. I love you!" Other times, she would feel Eranul climbing, tracing his line over her chest and up to her throat. It would tear a jagged gash there, and her blood would pour out, not pretty, vibrant red, but a sickening black that clashed like oil against the glossy white stone. Dread would overwhelm her as she sunk into cold, black rejection, and her mind would shriek her unworthiness as sight and thought faded.

Outside the building, Kyren walked slowly, entranced. She never would have noticed the boy, or even her father talking to some of the other men, if Croy had not spotted her.

"How'd you like the sacrifice?" he asked, grinning. "Neat, huh?"

Kyren sighed and shook her head. She could not think of the words to describe what she had seen. The closest she could come was "pretty," which seemed far too childish, far too weak to be remotely suitable. In the end, she settled for a word she had heard her father use a few times, though she barely understood what it meant. The word's enigma was part of what made it fit so well. "It was ... glorious!" she said reverently.

Croy grinned even wider. "Hooked, ain'cha? Well, anyway, I gotta go. I'll see you later, really I will! Bye!"

As Kyren watched Croy run off, she wondered whether or not she liked him. The boy seemed nice enough, friendly enough, but she was convinced he'd be infinitely nicer on the sacrifice table. The green Croy wore, Kyren now understood, was meant to mimic the clothes Jeune and his sacrifice wore. She wondered if she had any clothes that color.

In the end, she decided she liked Croy just fine, but envied him, too, because he was seven-and-a-half, and she was only six. He was so lucky.

Closing her eyes, Kyren thought of the time she had left, the time it would take two years to pass so she could be part of the wonder called "Sacrifice."

__________________
"Go to, like, greater adventures!"
--Din from Namco's Tales of the Abyss