"Tradition is the soul of a true Nathrorian warrior," Urioth said loud and clear to everyone present, looking contentedly at each soul who witnessed that ritual.

"Tradition is the soul of a true Nathrorian warrior," the audience then repeated what she said, with the side priestesses waving their incense’s smoke to purify that ceremony’s atmosphere.

"For the Lunar Doctrine guides us as eternal servants of Gaeath's fury."
"For the Lunar Doctrine guides us as eternal servants of Gaeath's fury."

"As agents of an unquestionable truth..."
"As agents of an unquestionable truth..."

"We have no reluctance in dedicating our lives to what the High Priestess commands."
"We have no reluctance in dedicating our lives to what the High Priestess commands."

Without taking her off the audience, Urioth continued to recite the words of the ceremony, soon preferring to walk around Wokor.

"Because our blood, our will, and our wings..."
"Because our blood, our will, and our wings..."

The High Priestess was delighted to see so many servants gathered in one place, but when she noticed the end of that ritual approaching, she soon positioned herself right behind the promising moth-boy.

Looking up and down on the boy's silhouette, Urioth ran her delicate hands over the thinner wings of the child offered to her cathedral. She felt the texture of that beautiful pair on her lilac skin, quickly taking great pleasure in imagining owning those items just for her.

"Belongs to Urioth."
"Belongs to Urioth."

In that very last instant, and with a completely evil smile on her face, Urioth violently pulled young Wokor's fragile lower wings, yanking them off his back instantly.

The moth-boy's eyes opened in shock, and a powerful cry echoed from his throat to all the walls of that sacred chamber.

The burning sensation in his spine marked the starry night with a unique and truly memorable explosion for every living heart that witnessed the end of that ritual.

Nobody was surprised, nobody hesitated and nobody could say that it was a cruel act for a nation as tribal as Nathroryos: ceremonial mutilation was common, honorable and necessary. Only then would a child go from being innocent to a fearless hunter of monsters and heretics that infected the Sacred Soil.

It was Wokor's turn – the most promising archer in the Fireflies Hills – to finally offer his real pain to the Lunar Doctrine’s commands.