It was late in the evening and Ceit’s rocking chair gently creaked as she waited on the porch. Her family was inside making preparations for the impending ceremony, but she had been designated to meet Oongx’s acolyte.
Unlike the cows and their storm-prayer, Ceit’s family’s rituals were on a fixed schedule following the earth’s large, primary, moon over the course of the summer. Concluding with a joint cow and human celebration of the annual meteor shower, regardless of where it fell in the lunar calendar. It wasn’t that the ritual necessarily required the moon cycle, but rather it was a logistical choice. The lack of either of the moons in the sky made the stars all the more bright, putting Oongx’s shimmering astral body on display.
Ovu had been Oongx’s acolyte for as long as Ceit could remember. Though Oongx had not chosen him to join her constellation in the sky, she had still blessed him with long lasting life.
In preparation for the ceremony tonight, the older generation had fasted all of today, and meditated for several hours previous. A few of the younger generation had as well, but purification wasn’t required until they had undergone the adulthood rites.
She could just see him walking over the hill in the distance, his horn implants making his silhouette distinct. He stubbornly refused to use any of the ancient’s machinery including vehicles, and had to resort to walking, as he also refused to ride any animal. He was an inflexible personality. Ceit had often wondered if his excessively tall horn implants were the reason Oongx had not blessed him with a place in her stars, if they were too ostentatious for her humble predilection.
Ovu was particularly fond of Ceit, despite her indifference towards him. She could acknowledge to herself at least that people outside her family made her nervous. They were always staring. And had an annoying fascination with her hair. The novelty of its color meant almost everyone she had ever met had tried to touch it.
Ovu at least didn’t breach her personal space.
‘Ceit!’ He called breathily, winded from the hike, leaning against the railing of her porch, his horns just below grazing the ceiling. ‘It’s good to see you again, child.’
‘Have you given it any more thought?’ He said once he had caught his breath. Ovu seemed to think Ceit would be a good candidate for an acolyte and had been trying to convince her for a year now. She wasn’t entirely sure what part of her convinced him of her aptitude, but she suspected it had to do with the loss of her leg, as Ovu’s stories of Oongx’s godbirth centered around the great and tragic loss of her herd and her own excruciating transformation into a celestial. And while it was a little flattering to be compared to a god, it did feel a bit like her own identity was being overshadowed. Like her own pain, her own experiences were eclipsed by the sheer magnitude of Oongx’s.
And despite their apparent parallels, she was hesitant to accept a calling that would isolate her even further. Becoming a true acolyte, and not a resigned one like Ovu, required complete dedication - acolytes would have to leave home and travel, following Oongx’s constellation across the sky, staying in sight of it throughout the year. Accepted dedicates would be transformed into stars within Oongx’s constellation, to watch over their families with her once their dedication was accepted and they were called.
Truthfully, she was also afraid. Traveling all alone, without her family to help her, to be there in case the physical requirements of a situation was too much for her. She had come to depend on them in spite of her efforts for self-sufficiency. She was used to the happy burble of her family doing their day to day. The solitude sounded so… detached, so alone. Even thinking about it made her heart hurt. She would miss each of them so much.
Not to mention the fear of all that it would mean to dedicate herself to Oongx. It was a heady concept, to be blessed with Oongx’s power. And if Oongx accepted her, she would be essentially immortal. In the stars, watching over future generations of her family. Watching everyone she cared about now die. It was almost too much to even consider.
‘I’m still not sure it’s for me’ She replied, diplomatically. Ovu could be single-minded. He nodded, apparently unphased by her gentle refusal. She would have to be firm with him at some point, but not tonight.
She led him inside to the company room, where preparations were well underway for the ceremony.
Dehydrated holy milk was being ground with ash from their family incinerator, where the dead, both cow and human alike, were burned after the course of their lives. This would be used to draw the sacred mandalas around the bonfire at the intersection of ley lines in the holy field, near the cow’s own holy tree. Some of the cows would observe the ceremony, but for the most part they left the humans to their own devices, unless it was the end of summer meteor shower, which both humans and cows celebrated together.
The cow bones for the fire were stacked, strapped to Xia’s back, along with the golden cow hide and skull inscribed with glyphs. The bones, hide, and skull still full of deciduous milk teeth were relics of Oongx, from when she was alive in the classic sense of the word. The hide and skull would be worn by Ovu as he depicted Oongx’s life during the rites, while the bones would be used for the fire. They never burned, only blacked, making pure black flames writhe above them. The accumulated ash on the bones would then be taken to paint the faces of each family member during the rites.
They set out for the field. They trekked together, the younger children sensed the solemnity and kept quiet for the hike. The sun was just setting as they arrived at the site, several cows already lying down facing the fire pit. Several turned to greet them.
Keris began drawing out the mandala lines, assisted by Ceit’s mother and the other aunts. Oongx preferred the matrilinear descendants for her rites. The mandala lines followed first the ley lines, rather than the cardinal directions used in the non-ceremonial meditative mandalas some of the older generation used in their daily observances. Constellations visible this time of year were added as focal points in the intricate design, Sabea, the star maiden with her jar of rain water balanced on her head, Xi the cloven and fanged horse, whom Xia had been named after, Io the laughing crab. All became swirling designs in the larger composition.
Careful not to step on the finished scripts, Ovu placed Oongx’s bones over the mesquite pyre that would be the basis for the fire. With a quick motion of his wrist, he struck the flint, lighting the kindling. The fire smoldered into life, before catching on the bones and the orange of the flame gave way to void black. Glittering smoke swirled upward. Ovu stepped back out of the way.
The large horn of holy koumiss, fizzy and sour, was passed around. Once it had made the rounds, Ovu threw a large handful of the ash and powdered milk mixture, flaring the flames back to their original color and causing the mandala to catch flame as well, before the flames faded back to black. The flames leapt into the air, leaving the mandala on the ground, forming aparitional constellations above the swirling scripts. Oongx’s constellation came to life, a spectral calf form outlined by the flaming points of her stars, galaxies spinning in her belly as she bucked and danced playfully, ready for the rites.
Ovu donned the skull and golden hide, its beaded hem clinking. It had begun.
Ceit had been staring into the jet black of the flames for almost an hour now, as Ovu twirled and spun, telling the story of Oongx’s transformation. She could see the white after image on the back of her eyes when she blinked. Her eyes were getting heavy. The sound of her family’s chants echoed in her ears distantly, as if through soft cotton. She blinked slowly. There was something in the flames, moving. It stopped, locking eyes with her, before her eyes shut again, so very very heavy. The after image took shape, a beautiful softly glowing white-gold calf, her eyes large and glossy with long curling lashes. Her mouth didn’t move, but Ceit could hear her speak, her voice milky and young.
‘I don’t just want you for your suffering, despite what you might think.’ Oongx said, softly. ‘Though I did identify with you because of it, at first.’ She amended.
‘I want you because I can see your resilience, how you’ve overcome and risen above, and I can help you rise even further. It’s not necessarily what you can give me, though I will treasure your dedication, but what I can give you. I watch over our peoples, always, and by my side you could too. Watch them grow and prosper into something beautiful, something worth protecting, worth sacrificing for. And there will be a sacrifice. There always is. This one is worth it.’
Her eyes opened again, he wasn’t sure what expression was on her face, but as she made eye contact with Ovu across the flames, a gentle knowing smile spread across his face.
