63

GABRIELLA’S POV
“So, as we all know, tonight is the night of the ritual of the chosen ones. Tonight is the night they begin to prepare themselves for the thorough search. Tonight is the night that makes the difference,” Argatha said, making my heart skip a beat.
However, as I felt Nicklaus’s reassuring grip on my hand and witnessed the genuine warmth in his eyes, a sense of calm washed over me.
His presence was a soothing balm to my anxieties, and I drew strength from the unwavering belief he held in me. With a small nod in his direction, a silent acknowledgment of his unwavering support, I returned his smile.
In an affectionate gesture, Nicklaus lifted my hands, bringing them to his lips for a tender kiss. The gentle touch and his reassuring actions served as a reminder that I was not alone in this journey. I took a deep breath, feeling a sense of restoration wash over me, readying myself for what lay ahead.
As Argatha’s voice resonated through the hall once again, my attention was drawn back to her commanding presence. “Please, may the chosen ones rise to their feet and make their way to the front path,” she announced.
I hesitated for a moment, the weight of the moment settling upon my shoulders. My heart raced within my chest, a mix of anticipation and nervousness intertwining within me.
Nicklaus’s voice broke through my internal battle, his words laced with encouragement and faith. “Baby, you’ve got this,” he murmured, his voice steady. “I believe in you. Remember, you are strong.”
His words echoed in my mind, providing the reassurance I needed. With a deep breath, I rose to my feet, my gaze fixed on the front path. The room seemed to blur around me as I focused on taking one step at a time, my determination overriding the nerves that threatened to consume me.
Nicklaus’s silent support was like a guiding light, leading me forward. With each step, I whispered a silent prayer, seeking the strength and courage to face the challenges that awaited me.
I knew the path ahead would be filled with obstacles and tests, but I was determined to navigate through them with resilience and determination.
As I walked towards the front, a mix of anticipation and trepidation filled my being. I couldn’t help but feel a surge of gratitude for Nicklaus’s unwavering belief in me. He had been my rock, my pillar of support, and his presence had become an anchor in the storm.
Glancing back at Nicklaus, I mouthed a quiet “Thank you,” my voice filled with gratitude and love. His eyes met mine, a soft smile playing on his lips, reinforcing his faith in me.
With renewed determination, I continued my journey towards the front path, my heart set on facing the challenges that lay ahead.
Though uncertainties lingered, I drew strength from the connection we shared, knowing that Nicklaus would be by my side, supporting me every step of the way.
Together, we would face the unknown, unyielding in our commitment to each other and the journey we had chosen to embark upon.
Positioned at the front path, I stood alongside the other chosen ones, anticipation coursing through my veins.
Clarissa, one of the revered elders, spoke from behind us, her voice carrying a weight of authority. “Great job, may the goddesses’ blessings lay upon all of you.”
Her words resonated with an ethereal quality, as if she hailed from a realm of fiction-surreal was the only word that could describe her.
“Guards, close the main doors!” Argatha’s voice pierced the air, commanding attention.
Following Clarissa’s lead, we extended our hands before us, palms facing up. The atmosphere crackled with a mixture of excitement and nervous energy. Clarissa’s gaze swept over each of us, her eyes filled with ancient wisdom. “One, two, three…” Her voice trailed off as she meticulously counted our number.
“Fifteen!” she exclaimed, completing the count. Her voice rose, imbued with an otherworldly power. “Give me 15 Calanmiara.” She beckoned to a young witch standing beside her, who swiftly retrieved something resembling a black-and-white stick.
One by one, she handed the mysterious object to each of us. As the stick touched my outstretched hand, something extraordinary occurred. Its colors began to shift and change, morphing from yellow to pink, green to purple. Confusion swept across our faces, and we exchanged bewildered glances, seeking answers from Clarissa.
Gasps erupted from the other members, accompanied by hushed whispers, as they bore witness to the inexplicable transformation. “Silence!” Agartha’s voice thundered, snapping their attention back to the task at hand. Her eyes blazed with intense fire, her anger echoing through the room.
Clarissa, her eyes closed, started to move in a graceful rhythm. Her voice took on a human structure and tone, yet with an underlying power. “Seildakantuma, zendebuzaza.” The words spilled from her lips in a melodious chant, a language unfamiliar to my ears. She weaved a complex pattern, encircling us as she chanted, her presence radiating mystical energy.
Intrigued and consumed by a mix of apprehension and awe, I strained to grasp the meaning behind the cryptic incantation. The air thickened, charged with tangible intensity. The room seemed to pulse with an unseen force as Clarissa continued her enchantment.
The weight of the moment pressed upon us, hanging in the air like a tangible entity. Uncertainty mingled with anticipation as we waited for the culmination of this mysterious ritual.
The power resonating within the room was palpable, its intensity rising with each passing second.
Amidst the charged atmosphere, questions tugged at my mind. What was the significance of the transforming stick? What lay ahead on this chosen path? The answers eluded me, locked away in the depths of this enigmatic ceremony.
As the last strains of the chant echoed through the room, a sense of expectancy settled over us.
We stood united, bound by a shared purpose and unwavering determination to unravel the secrets that awaited us. The stage was set, and our journey was about to begin.
“Go on your knees,” Clarissa commanded, and one by one, we knelt before her, our eyes fixed on her commanding presence.
“The Calanmiara in your hand is your first weapon,” she continued, her voice carrying the weight of importance. “It will guide you and show you the right path. Each color holds a meaning-sometimes danger, sometimes good, and sometimes something in between.”
Curiosity and anticipation mingled within me as I clutched the transforming stick, its hues now settled on a vibrant shade of pink. I listened intently, eager to unravel the secrets concealed within its mystical nature.
Clarissa’s voice resonated with clarity as she delved into the significance of each color. “When conducting a thorough search, if your Calanmiara displays the color blue, it signifies that there is no danger present,” she explained. “However, if it shows yellow, it means the person you encounter is lying. A red hue suggests that something is amiss, while green indicates the possibility that the person may be the culprit. And if the colors remain black and white, it signifies trouble.”
Her words hung in the air, the weight of their implications sinking deep into our consciousness. I exchanged glances with my fellow chosen ones; the gravity of our responsibility was evident on each face. The path ahead was treacherous and fraught with uncertainty, but armed with this newfound knowledge, we stood ready to face whatever challenges awaited us.
With her penetrating gaze fixed upon us, Clarissa posed a simple yet profound question. “Do you understand?”
A chorus of resolute voices echoed in response, “Yes, ma’am.”
Satisfaction flickered in Clarissa’s eyes, acknowledging our collective comprehension. “Good,” she affirmed.
The weight of the Calanmiara in my hand felt both tangible and symbolic, a conduit to a world beyond my comprehension. I could sense the trust placed upon us, the expectations carried by each of our shoulders.
Clarissa’s voice softened, brimming with a mix of caution and hope. “Remember, the Calanmiara is not merely a tool; it is a guide, a guardian of truth. Let its colors illuminate your path, revealing hidden truths and guiding your every step.”
“Amira, bring me the Zendalkiyata,” Clarissa instructed, turning her attention to the young witch named Amira, who stood faithfully by her side.
“Yes, ma’am,” Amira murmured, bowing her head before retrieving a tray filled with intricately designed beads. She carefully presented the tray to Clarissa, who accepted it with a sense of reverence.
Clarissa then turned her attention back to us, her chosen ones, her voice carrying a tone of authority. “Form a circle,” she commanded, her words resonating with purpose.
We quickly obeyed, arranging ourselves in a tight circle; our anticipation grew with each passing moment. The air crackled with electric energy as we awaited the next steps of the ritual.
“Perfect,” Clarissa whispered, her voice tinged with satisfaction, as she positioned herself in the circle’s embrace. Placing the tray of beads in the center, she reached out, her hands hovering just above the vibrant collection.
As her voice rose in a melodic chant, the atmosphere shifted, and a surge of power filled the air.
Her words carried ancient echoes, resonating with the mystic forces that surrounded us. The language she spoke was ethereal and unfamiliar, yet it stirred something deep within our souls.
“Zendalkiyata, eirinuma ka’hazz,” she intoned, her voice weaving through the syllables with rhythmic grace. The chant seemed to harmonize with the energy radiating from the beads, each word invoking a connection to a realm beyond our understanding.
With each repetition, the beads began to respond; their colors shifted and danced in a mesmerizing display. A vibrant azure hue infused with traces of darkness enveloped them, casting an otherworldly glow upon our circle.
As the chant reached its crescendo, Clarissa’s voice grew stronger, her words imbued with profound intensity. “Kaital zendenia, lumina’tara,” she declared, her eyes locked on the beads as she commanded their enchantment to unfold.
A surge of power surged through the circle, intertwining with the luminous aura of the beads. The air crackled with otherworldly energy, and a sense of awe settled upon us. We stood as witnesses to a convergence of ancient forces, our hearts pounding with a mixture of reverence and anticipation.
And then, as Clarissa’s chant reached its zenith, silence descended. The beads, once aglow with celestial radiance, settled into a tranquil state. Their hues remained a deep, mysterious blue-black, a testament to the transformation that had taken place.
We stood in the circle, our eyes transfixed on the beads, awestruck by the magic that had unfolded before us. The chant, though unfamiliar to our ears, had stirred something profound within our souls. We understood that we were no longer mere individuals but conduits for an ancient power, chosen to embark on a journey of destiny.