Casian felt a wave of fear flow over him, and a growing anxiety weighing him down. 'Destiny, huh? How cruel.'

"What if the Gods who don't forgive me?" Casian pressed. The child remained expressionless, creepy as ever.

"They will be dealt with." They said simply. Casian couldn't help but feel skeptical, but pushed his worries aside.

"Do I have a say?" He asked.

"No."

The child seemed to ponder for a moment.

"Unless you would prefer to die." It suggested sincerely. Casian grimaced.

"…I'd much rather live." Casian muttered. The child didn't respond, and reached for something in its pocket, before handing it to Casian. It was a small black box, with simple silver ornamentation.

The child offered it to Casian , who received it hesitantly. 

"With this, you can avoid the gaze of the gods. At least until the situation is sorted." They tell him. As he opens the box, he is greeted with a shiny red ruby ring nestled in the velvet of it's interior.

'Rubies… like the eyes of the apostle before me..'

'It seems my benefactor is an Apostle of the Carnage God. How strange, that such a God would personally send His apostle to save me. I thought He revelled in violence, and was indifferent to much else'

Casian slipped the ring onto his finger, and felt it resonate within his soul. And knew, even if he tried, he most definitely could not pull off the ring. It was bonded to him. And it was certainly a divine object.

The child cast their cloak away, and it disintegrated into thin air. They wore clothes suited for nobility, and didn't seem to be armed. Their hair flowed around them until shirnking back to sit curtly at their shoulders. The child still was still beautiful… but it seemed dulled by some inexplicable power. That was when Casian noticed it adorned rubies of his own, fashioned as studded earrings. 

"I will escort you to the Beckoning. Until then, you may call me Daria." She said, seeming to settle on being a girl.

Casian nodded his head. Daria offered a delicate hand to Casian, and Casian took it. Her small hand strangely frigid in his own. Around them, in the abandoned castle Casian claimed as his temporary home, a strange red mist twirled around them. 

It silently grew more and more violent, obscuring Casian's vision completely before gently settling. Daria and Casian now stood at the outskirts of the Beckoning site, surrounded by a wondorous display of tents. Some were as tall at as an estate, while some seemed to barely accommodate a person. The tents were a range of colours, symbols and design.

Some were embellished with the crests of Great Families. Some displayed the symbols of their gods, who they devotedly worshipped. Some were opulent, guarded my an entourage of common soldiers and embellished in luxurious silks. It was breathtaking, and it was full of excitement. And maybe, a hint of fear.

Casian felt a wave of dread. Daria had not let go of his hand, and led him forward. They were at the site of this year's Beckoning. The tents stood on an open plain, with the nearest village being a few days away on horseback, but right now, it seemed itself like a small city.

Casian followed Daria silently. This was the night of the first trials, and where all the Chosen were meant to gather. He felt it, in some part of himself, a pulsing that pulled him into the direction of the Beckoning. It Beckoned him to come closer. And it terrified Casian.

Daria, likely sensed his fear, stopped. And looked up at him.

"You bare the mark of a Heretic." She said, eyes looking at his lips. A strange pattern stretched from his neck to his lips, with words that were ever-changing and eternally unknowing, shifting when one couldn't see. Casian was given this mark after his great betrayal. No amount of trickery could hide it, for his betrayal transcended the will of the Gods.

"You will be shunned. You will be mistreated." Daria says, looking down, almost sentimentally. "But." She paused.

"You will be feared."

Casian flinched. 

"They may not know what you have done. If they did, surely they'd condemn you. But they don't know. Don't let anyone find out about your betrayal, or your identity. You must never trust anyone." 

"Until the gods decide to do with you. Your fate is… undetermined. I know you do not trust me, and perhaps fear persecution. But this is the Will of Carnage. You must survive."

Casian didn't answer. 

They walked further into the heart of the town of tents. Hand in hand. Casian did not stand out. His mousy brown hair, freckled skin, and average height were nothing to gawk at. But his cynical amber eyes were trained on the path ahead. 

As they got closer to the centre, more people were in view. They whispered to each other in cold disgust and confusion at a Heretic being chosen. They flinched and moved away at the site of the ungodly mark that marred Casian's face, and silently pitied the young girl that accompanied him.

Casian paid them no mind. 

As the pair walked further into the crowd, there was a strange enclave in the ground, as if there was a giant meteor that split the ground into a crater and after millennia was gently claimed by nature, but the impact was too dire to be restored. The tents suddenly halted at the perimeter of the strangely serene crater, and a glowing light faintly illuminated it. 

This was the entrance to the Beckoning. 

"Daria…" Casian said softly. She looked up at him, and released his hand.

"And what if I defy the Will of Carnage?" He said, looking down at Carnage's Apostle. Daria, for the first time since meeting him, smiled. It was strangely… wicked.

"Well. Wouldn't that be interesting?"

Daria then, subsequently vanished. Leaving nothing in her wake except the weight of her footprints in the grass.

Casian turned his gaze to the Beckoning. His face contorted in anger, but a strange grin plastered on his face.

'These damned gods!'