Patrons of Solion's Church would tell you that the second act was the most extreme. For first-timers, it was an unforgettable experience. Witnessing the priests perform it was like watching a miracle. Sophia began.
'The oversoul of fire, the heart of judgement. We are grateful.'
Like before, the congregation echoed the last phrase of every line, the simplest of words. In today's world, the average folk don't have enough time to fully memorise the liturgy; just a few words would do. For those more comfortable, such as the thobed man, they would mouth the entire prayer at the same time as Sophia, not missing a single word, not a single word out of beat.
Then, someone entered the door. An attendant was holding a box. A box full of hot coals. Freshly taken from the train's engine.
The brown-haired boy broke formation. "Excuse me Miss, are you really going to go through with this? You're not a trained Priest, right? This is going to hurt! This isn't a formal gathering, yo- you should stop!" Jumping out of line, he worriedly rambled.
'You insolent fool! Stay in line, boy.' The boy turned around to find a middle-aged man with a white cloth draped over his head scowling at him, his zealous eyes condemning his disruptions with rage.
His rage was not solely directed towards the boy that spoke out of turn and disrupted the rhythm of the ceremony. But towards the entire crowd. Apart from the man who moved robotically, everybody else had also shifted uncomfortably.
A child whispered to her mother, 'Is she going to touch those?'
An old man sighed, 'She isn't a real priest, this won't end well.'
'She has offered to conduct the ceremony. She is obligated to do it in its entirety, otherwise she would be wasting all of our time, and most importantly, would be insulting Solion and all of his believers.'
The mechanical man was the only one who showed no reaction. No outcry at the stupidity of the girl, and no condemnation of those who broke the sanctity of the prayer.
'Do not worry. I am prepared for this.' Sophia urged the boy to calm down.
'The Lord of Flames — Immutable and Fixed
The Creator of the Universe's Hearth'
Sophia began chanting again once the box was placed down.
Riven was standing in a central area. He observed the thobed man and the man who moved with robotic movements as he inched forward.
The lid was removed.
Steam rose from the ashen coals. The taste of smoke that invaded all tongues with no concern for consent was poor and dirty, like grime and dust and other disgusting, earthy things.
The smoky scent was somehow even more overbearing and repugnant. A series of coughing fits emerged.
The thobed man did his best to maintain his composure, but even he was forced to pause his domineering performance to clear his lungs. The mechanical man, however. He didn't react much.
Riven neared the front row.
Sophia took a deep breath, she stood at the foot.
'Solion, the almighty. Solion, the kind.
The soul of the universe,
The Arbiter of the world,
The lord of immutable and fixed flames,
I beseech you, protect mine shell.'
'You will do well to remember her process, boy. This passage is taken from an old ritual. It is good to keep in mind, even if you yourself cannot use it.' Riven heard those metallic words in his ear.
The cursed boy was now in the front row. He closed his eyes briefly and imagined strings. These ethereal strings were not easy to imagine for him. But within a place such as this, so many strings coming from the praying congregation, he could at the very least make out their presence.
Opening his eyes, he could somewhat envision the gathering point of all these 'strings', they were welling up near Sophia as she chanted.
She was taking her shoes off. Earlier, she was wearing laced boots, but she'd changed into simple slippers with neatly tied laces in a bow before the ceremony.
Her pink, tender feet were on full display. She stepped on the coals, the sizzling sound of searing was heard, Sophia winced instinctively, but slowly calmed.
She took a pause, a moment to collect herself. Many things were playing on her, such as fear, tension, but also a tinge of excitement. Stilling these emotions, she repeated her melodic recital from before. But this time, there was a different feeling to the words that emanated from her, a grandeur to them. Nobody, not even the thobed man, was denying Sophia's devotion at this point.
The congregation followed, and towards the end, they all genuflected. Asynchronous thuds echoed as they fell to their knees. The thobed man was the first. He dropped to his knees and sang his praises to Solion.
The mechanical man was on the slower side. He dropped slowly. Kneeling on the floor, he supported his forward-bent body with his hands planted on the floor as he panted. A strange look on his eyes, as if he'd woken from a long dream. Or perhaps a nightmare.
The brown-haired boy was similarly sluggish, but in a different way. Perhaps he wasn't experienced in these ceremonies. The boy was often looking around and following the actions of those next to him, rather than performing them by heart. He seemed to have only fragmented recollections of the prayers too. Finally on the floor, his pose was awkward and stiff.
'In the name of Solion, the most compassionate, the most kind and merciful.'
'The most kind and merciful' echoed out. In the ancient language, it was merely three words, four syllables.
The cacophony had two anomalies. The brown-haired boy was slow, and the mechanical man was pained. But the words still came.
Embers tried to jump from the charcoals and tried to latch onto Sophia, wherever it could. But they wouldn't stick.
'In the god of the Sun, who gifted us his soul.' Sophia continued.
The followers clasped their hands together and repeated her words.
'The most compassionate, the most kind and merciful.'
They repeated her words again. with the lagging tail once again there. The boy repeated it late, and the man — made a sound. It was hard to tell what he was saying. It wasn't right, though.
'The paragon of order, life, and light.'
They gently whispered into their clasped hands. The strange man's mouth was no longer moving, but sounds still came out. Riven watched attentively as he subtly shifted. He could see subtle strings. Black strings gathering around the mechanical man.
'PRAISE THE SUN!'
Sophia heaved those final words. She looked at the crowd, at their fervent gazes. Their appreciation for gods, for love, for light, for the sun.
She placed a hand on her chest, clasping her garments, she smiled. She looked back up. "Thank you everybody, thank you for letting me lead you on this fine Sunday. I know that my service doesn't compare to a true priest, but I still hope that I've left you spiritually fulfilled."
She wanted to continue, but she paused. She looked at the crowd once again, but there was something wrong.
The mechanical-looking man. He was twitching. His mouth was hanging ajar, and his hands twisted. His fingers wrangled like hungry worms, they curled into hooks and then stretched like rubber.
A guttural groan left his motionless lips. It was hoarse and wet. "Sol… Solion" His wet, slivery tongue wrangled around, hanging from his mouth with freedom. It was elongated at this point, as were his fingers, longer than should be humanly possible. His tongue reached down to his chest, his fingers tripled in length before splitting open and making way for black, fleshy tendrils to emerge.
The man staggered to his feet, a wide smile on his face, now filled with pus of different colours and a blackened hue. His eyes were disproportionate and popping out.
The smile was wide, so unnaturally wide. It irks you.