The Ascension
The winding brook is adorned with living trees, grasses, and stone, housing celestial bodies of myths and legends. It’s a clear fall day, and the river, called Autumn’s Embrace, flows excitedly, blushing in honor of being chosen by Her for the impending sacred Sun Rite. It babbles happily as a procession of naked Forest People, an entourage, representatives of the Fae Nations, proudly walks behind the Tree Goddess of the Woodlands. Falling petals decorate the bodies of these Chosen, simultaneously creating a path to traverse along.
She is ageless, naked, short of stature, demure, and serene. Her ebony skin is adorned with body jewelry from head to toe, ankle and wrist bracelets chiming with every step. Her long platinum mane flows alive down her back. She stops, and as one, the exotic procession halts as if an unspoken command had been uttered.
Standing before them, bold as brass, is a man, indeterminate of age, tall, and clothed: a savage. He doesn’t see the Deity or Her People, but he perceives with a sixth sense that he’s not alone.
“Who’s there? I know you’re there,” he calls, brandishing a musket. “Come out!”
Invisible giggles are heard. Startled, the man looks around, trying to pinpoint where the noise is coming from.
“And if I remain where I am, little man, what willst thou do?” She asks, her voice sultry and alluring.
Regaining his composure, the man snorts. “I know there is more than one of you. Come, let’s parlay, my lady. Surely your companions are not afraid of one man!”
Her tinkling, diamond-like laughter echoes, carried by a whispering breeze. “We are not afraid, but thou shouldst be,” she says, amused.
“My lady, will you not show yourself?” he asks exasperatedly.
“My, oh my, how brave thou art!” she mockingly exclaims.
Slightly on edge, he stands his ground, unwilling to show weakness. Thinking to himself: Her voice is closer now; she must have moved, and I heard nothing!
“Doth thou really wish to see me, savage?” she asks of him.
He nods.
Autumn’s Embrace shapes a bowl, its liquid crystal-clear as ice inside it. Pouring the water over the Goddess’s hand, which hovers a breath away from the stranger’s head, the liquid trickles down, infusing the man with a soothing balm, sweeping away fears and anxiety. He smiles, feeling somewhat relaxed, revitalized, and born anew.
The Water Spirit withdraws as a nubile elf steps forward, holding an azure crystal chalice, incandescent fire burning inside. The Goddess scoops a wisp of esoteric flame from the cup, allowing it to play over her hand. It grows brighter with every flourish of her dancing fingers. Her splayed hand touches the man’s forehead, immediately, he convulses as if a jolt of electricity had passed through his body.
“Open your eyes,” she instructs him.
In awe and wonder, the human sees Her fully for the first time. He kneels, realizing that even though he is clothed, he is naked before Her.