Little Pink Starfish

“It would have been nice if I had spoken with Lord Amon sooner…”

He wondered what might have happened if he had dared to speak with Amon back in the Grand Temple like he did today. Though Amon was the highest and most noble being, he wasn’t so different when it came to Nyne himself. He listened to Nyne well and never dismissed his requests as rude or blasphemous.

A sense of hope welled up in him that someday, the human sacrifices in Trastasa could truly be stopped. Hadn’t they already reduced the ritual from once a month to once every three months?

“Why didn’t I do this sooner?”

Nyne suddenly questioned himself. Why had he spent years trembling in fear, obediently following Amon’s words? Even in the past, hadn’t Lord Amon treated him well? What had caused him to become so excessively fearful?

He tried to recall the past. As always, it was vague and unclear, with no beginning or end. Nyne didn’t even know whether his condition was normal or not. At times he wondered if there were memories he had lost, but he remembered the priests had never once acted like he was missing any memory. His thoughts soon moved elsewhere.

“That thing Lord Amon didn’t speak of… The thing that wouldn’t repeat if I became used to human deaths—what was it?”

Immersed in a strange, unsettling feeling, Nyne walked on. A nameless anxiety coiled like a snake inside his heart. He shook his head slowly, dismissing it as a pointless worry. At that moment, someone slowly approached him. It was Ossen Iyad, Amon’s faithful attendant priest and an old archpriest. Walking from Amon’s tent, he met Nyne and bowed politely.

“Sha Nyne.”

Not particularly fond of him, Nyne gave a slight nod and tried to pass by. But Ossen Iyad stepped forward with a smile and spoke.

“I heard from Sha Amon. You’re changing the ritual to four times a year.”

“Yes.”

“But without the rituals, wouldn’t there be fewer servants to assist you in the afterlife?”

Though it was a voice expressing deep concern for Sha’s well-being, Nyne felt more discomfort than genuine worry. He frowned and responded coldly, staring at the archpriest.

“What happens in the afterlife is none of your concern. Losing a few servants won’t be such an inconvenience. Rather, isn’t it more troubling to reduce those who serve Sha in this life?”

“Forgive me, Sha. This servant has once again asked a foolish question. I always seem to make such slips of the tongue in front of Sha Nyne. Please pardon me.”

Nyne furrowed his brow at Ossen Iyad’s apology. Indeed, this man was difficult to deal with. He had never once acted disrespectfully and had always served both Amon and Nyne with utmost devotion. Yet those dark eyes always gave Nyne an unpleasant feeling. Clicking his tongue lightly, Nyne headed toward the tent.

Today, Sainka Hoan was standing guard at the entrance. As Nyne approached, Sainka knelt and greeted him. Though Nyne had said it wasn’t necessary to go through the trouble, he never skipped the greeting. Unlike Iyu, he was rigid and lacked flexibility.

Inside the tent, Luga let out a big yawn, having waited outside faithfully, enduring insect bites while Nyne was visiting Amon’s tent.

“Yaaawn, today was really tiring. Aren’t you tired, Lord Nyne?”

“A little.”

Though he said that, Nyne kept smiling, and Luga’s eyes sparkled. He looked curious about what had happened in Amon’s tent.

“You seem to be in a good mood. Did Sha Amon like the plover?”

“He did.”

“I’m so glad he liked the plover.”

Luga looked like he wanted to ask about the conversation with Amon in detail, but since it was late, he held back and began preparing the bed. He gently combed Nyne’s hair and scolded the other priests to clean out the incense burners and lay the bedding properly. The bunch of plover feathers Nyne had worn in his hair was carefully stored in a box.

“It’s a shame the hunting festival is almost over. I wish we could do it at least four times a year.”

“Isn’t four times too much? Be satisfied with the Flood Festival instead.”

“For me?”

Thinking of the Flood Festival, Luga gave a peculiar smile. Nyne was reminded once again that Luga was chaste. The Flood Festival wasn’t exactly the kind of event a priest required to maintain purity could enjoy freely. It wasn’t until Popo scolded him to not act frivolously in front of Sha that Luga composed himself.

After checking the bed one last time, Luga looked after Nyne until he lay down. Only after confirming Nyne had closed his eyes did he light the incense and quietly step away.

Having walked through the forest all day, Nyne’s eyelids soon became heavy. After tossing and turning a few times, he fell into a deep sleep.

Sometime later, the scent from the incense Luga had lit drifted down onto Nyne’s face.

The wind was blowing. That familiar, damp wind that always came before the river flooded. Nyne stood by the riverbank, watching the sunset. The plover feathers in his ear fluttered in the breeze, tickling his earlobe. It was almost time to return home.

He walked lightly. Behind him, the river plovers cried noisily. In his hand, he held a dead plover. With each step, a feather dropped to the ground. Blood dripped from the broken bird’s neck.

Suddenly, the wind carried a sharp scent of blood. When Nyne looked up from the ground, he saw flames blazing. A typical fishing village was engulfed in fire. As screams filled the air, Nyne’s face turned pale. He ran in terror, but the dirt road turned to ash, and the plover in his hand slipped away.

Turning back, he saw priests chasing him. He ran with all his might, but they soon caught him and slammed him painfully to the ground. His chest heaved as if it would burst. The priests tied him with ropes so tightly his bones twisted.

—Let go! I said let me go!

Even as he groaned and begged, it was no use. He didn’t understand why the priests were suddenly doing this to him. Then Ossen Iyad stepped forward and spoke politely.

—Sha Nyne, please ascend the altar.

—W-What? What is this…?

Nyne’s eyes and mouth gaped wide. Just moments ago, he had been by the river, but now, after falling, he found himself before the altar in the Grand Temple. From the top of the towering steps, blood poured down like a waterfall. The bloody stream soaked his lower body.

—No! Stop! Let me go!

—By Sha Amon’s command, you shall be offered as a sacrifice for a blessed afterlife.

No matter how he twisted, the priests’ grip did not loosen. Each held one of Nyne’s arms, dragging him up the blood-soaked steps toward the altar. Each time his knees struck the stone steps, it felt like his bones would shatter. In the middle of resisting, Nyne began to cry out for Amon.

—Lord Amon! Lord Amon! Please save me!

He screamed the name until his voice tore, but Amon did not appear. Dragged to the top of the altar, Nyne’s eyes widened. There was a stone slab large enough to lay a person. Severed heads and bloodied hearts were piled around it.

—Ah, ah…

Nyne knew exactly what came next. Unlike the young men and women who had taken drugs and laughed as they offered their heads to Amon, he was too conscious. He thrashed about, but was eventually tied down to the altar with ropes binding his arms and legs.

Then Ossen Iyad appeared holding a gleaming dagger. Nyne’s eyes widened. No scream came out—only a hopeless sob.

—O Sha Amon, please receive this fresh, young offering.

Drunk with madness, Ossen Iyad shouted and raised the dagger high. The sharp blade plunged straight into Nyne’s chest. He screamed. Never in his life had he felt such pain. It felt like the world, not just his body, was collapsing.

With each terrified, painful heartbeat, blood gushed from his split chest. Ossen Iyad caught the blood in both hands and drank it as if it were holy water. Half-conscious, Nyne looked up at the sky and froze. A pair of enormous golden eyes stared down at him. They were filled with satisfaction, watching him bleed and die.

“Lord Amon…” Nyne mouthed the name. Meanwhile, the priests, including Ossen Iyad, hungrily licked the floor, feasting on Nyne’s blood. Tears streamed from Nyne’s wide-open eyes.

Why won’t I die? Please, just kill me all at once… Let me die so I never have to feel this pain again.

And then, at some point, Nyne awoke from the nightmare, screaming. Even after waking, it took several minutes before he realized it had just been a terrible dream. His mind was foggy. Yet, as if the nightmare were continuing, what greeted him was not a worried attendant priest or a soft bed.

“Huff… huff… huff…”

Gasping for breath, Nyne looked around.

He was in a dirt pit. Not very deep—he could get out if he stood—but it took him several slips and stumbles before he managed to crawl out. One leg still inside the pit, Nyne trembled uncontrollably for a long time.