The Ascension, Chapter 3

 It's only taken half the month, but I think I've finally hit my stride with the NaNo. Of course, this is coming the day before I get my essay pack for this term, which means that the real work is about to start (the five hours a day spent in the library so far being just the warm-up).
 I've really struggled with coming up with names, which actually gave me an opportunity to use the NaNo Coach on Twitter, a lovely lady who recommended an excellent database. Now that most of the major characters have names, things seem to be progressing much more smoothly. Of course, I may decide to rename any and/or all of the characters later on, but at least I'm not using 'Bob' and 'Dave' to fill in the blanks any more.
 I's also finding, as usual for me, that things are easier once I get the 'scene-setting' part of the story out of the way. I know that a story should be interesting from the start, but I often find the first chapters a bit of a drag to write (their often the ones that get really heavily rewritten in later drafts).
 And so, without further ado, I present the next instalment of Ascension:


Chapter 3

 Naren stood behind the curtains, his eye to a gap in the heavy fabric. The Hall was a hive of activity, with servants and officials darting back and forth across the cavernous space. The audience, many of whom had been present at the feast the night before, had already started to filter in, sitting and standing in the areas that had been cordoned off around the edge of the hall. Some of them had travelled miles, hundreds of miles, to be here. There were representatives from every corner of the Empire, and the Hall could have been used to teach a geography lesson on local customs and costumes from across the nation.

 The screen that made up one of the side walls had been folded back, allowing the congregation to view the courtyard below. The noise of the crowd below filtered in through the wide opening, mingling with the more subdued conversation and music of the Hall.N aren's own Ascension- and that of the other noble children- would only take place once the representatives from the local area had already undergone the ceremony outside.

 ‘Nervous?’ Naren turned, startled at the voice. Gawen stood behind him, the dim light gleaming on his golden skin. Naren had once seen a statue of an ancient human god; a fat man dressed in robes, with an oversized belly and a grin that was balanced between comical and creepy. To Naren, Gawen had always seemed like a copy of that statue, cast in gold and brought to life. Naren smiled, relaxing slightly.

 ‘A little,’ he admitted.

 ‘It’s a big day; you’ve reason to be a little scared,’ Gawen said, coming to stand beside him and pushing the curtains further open. Although the man was fifty years his senior, Gawen head hardly reached Naren's shoulder.

 ‘That’s reassuring,’ Narren said, ‘I thought you’d tell me I had nothing to worry about.

 ‘You’re old enough and intelligent enough to be spared babying,’ the elderly healer murmured.

 ‘Mother, what a fuss,’ he said, gazing out at the tumult, ‘Then again, it’s not every day that sees the Ascension of a future Lord of Death.’

 The words cut through Naren's stomach like a sword, and he tasted bile in the back of his throat. He let out a long, hissing breath, the air rattling between his clenched teeth.

 ‘But what if I’m not-’

 ‘Not powerful enough? You will be,’ Gawen said, smiling gently.

 ‘You can’t know that,’ Naren countered.

‘Of course not, but look at the evidence; in five generations, the house of Mori have been nothing less than the most powerful among the People,’ Gawen placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder ‘It’s in your blood. Look at your brother and sister.’

 ‘Besides, I’ll be there, just in case,’ Gawen added. Naren nodded. He recalled, dimly, the scene five years ago, when Cristo and Rei had undergone their own Ascension. Cristo, naturally, had born the transformation easily, had been applauded for the strength and restraint he exhibited. Rei, however, had found it much more difficult. Naren remembered seeing her in her bedroom, lying on her front with her wings in the special cast that the healers had devised, moaning in pain as her bones grew hollow. He recalled also the girl’s sobs as visions of the future had forced themselves into her newly awakened mind, and the soothing murmur of their mother’s voice as she tried to calm her. He remembered how she had looked up, her eyes settling on him with a look of pure hatred, and, finally, the door to her bedroom closing in his face.

There was silence on the other side of the curtain. It's cause was obvious when Naren looked through the gap in the curtain. The large double doors at one end of the hall had swung open, and a procession of hooded figures had entered, gliding silently across the floor. The priests of the Faceless glided across the hall, arranging themselves in a semi-circle in front of Azrael’s empty throne. Naren repressed a shudder. No one trusted the Faceless; whose vows of silence and unparalleled telepathic abilities made them unnerving at best, and terrifying at worst. There were no secrets when the Faceless were present.

 ‘You should join your family; the ceremony will start soon,’ Gawen said, slipping through the curtain and into the hall beyond, ‘It wouldn’t do for a prince to miss his own Ascension.’