Re:Cursed Chapter 4: Cursed

The onomastician gestured for the first of the prospective cultists to approach. The hood stopped Nix from seeing who it was, but they were clearly one of the smaller kids of the group. Despite being the first, he let out a small cheer and jumped into the circle of black symbols etched into the waxed vinyl flooring.

A̱l'Darvi didn't even waste the ti to acknowledge him. Instead, he imdiately launched into a short hymn that had the runes glowing white. As the chant ca to an abrupt end, the boy gasped; his true na likely appearing before his eyes.

"Dan-yae!"

The na rang in Nix's mind, unfolding itself before a sense she had never understood. She could see the na reveal itself as more than just a bundle of letters. A na had aning, and Nix could feel it.

Dan — Base identity. Indecipherable.

Yae — Stretch of the eye: one who sees far.

Huh, that's odd. It was less convoluted of a riddle than it was the first ti Nix heard it. Was it possible to develop one's interpretation without focusing on skills that do so for you, like the onomastician before them? With how much ti she spent locked away, Nix wasn't surprised there was things she didn't know, but she was surprised sothing that must be common knowledge hadn't reached her ears before everything happened.

Unless it was one of those secrets that every cultist knew, but weren't allowed to share. Nix was one of the very few that hadn't been able to join a cult, after all.

"Dan, a mostly indecipherable aspect. A gifted na which has grown to have aning unique to you." It was clear by his tone that A̱l'Darvi had spoken those words countless tis through his life. "Now onto the important part. Yae. The additive describes the extension of sight. Double that of normal."

The boy visibly drooped with disappointnt, but as he trudged his way out of the circle for another to take his place, one of the cultists strode up to him. Nix could make out the wide, unblinking eyes of a Cult of the Everseeing Eye mber. It wasn't a surprise they of all groups would jump on those with enhanced sight.

While Dan perked up at the attention of a high division cultist, the ritual began for another.

"Ari-ai."

Ari — Base identity. Indecipherable.

Ai — Enticed by the craft, and never without the tools to create. The will of one's art demands they be ready.

The girl — Ari — jumped in excitent. And Nix could understand why; the more convoluted or difficult to parse a na's aning was, the higher classification. But that didn't always an the na was good.

The onomastician repeated his description of a gifted na almost word for word, before expanding on her additive. "Ai. Create a brush, canvas or other such tool of your art with any material you hold in your hands."

Ari spun on the crowd of cultists, almost bubbling with excitent. It seed she got exactly what she wanted. Her gaze snapped to a single cloaked figure to the side. By the sketchbook she held in her arms, it wasn't a leap to assu she was a part of the On Artisans.

With palpable giddiness, Ari waited for the On Artisan to call on her.

"Move out of the ritual circle," A̱l'Darvi said. "I still have dozens of you to get through."

Her head snapped to the onomastician, before doubling back to the cultists. Energy seed to sap from her body. Where before, she'd been barely able to stop from bouncing on her feet, they now stood flat. A dawning expression of dejection crawled its way up her face.

"No! My additive's grade is good. It's relevant, too." Ari plead. "Why don't you choose !"

Without moving, the On Artist responded. "What use is an extra brush when our supply is infinite? We are only looking for talents."

Hah? Nix inclined an eye, catching sight of the two stripes on their hood. A second creed cultist speaking of talent? How ironic.

Nix wouldn't be surprised if there was so amount of resentnt shifting the artisan's opinion. It's not like they had a superior here to overlook things. Not that they would. There were more than a dozen naming ceremonies every week. Blatant bias like this was probably impossible to stamp out.

How many of the teens here actually had a worthwhile na, only to be stamped out of an opportunity because so cultists were scared of future competition?

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To A̱l'Darvi's growing annoyance, that statent did not pull Ari from her slump. It only made it worse. K'tan slid up besides her, whispering words of comfort, but the mont he touched her shoulder, she flinched away from him. She stared at him with fear for only an instant before she was sprinting out of the ritual courtyard with her arms over her eyes.

Does she not trust him either? Nix watched her run, before glancing back to K'tan only to find him frowning as his narrowed eyes followed her.

Nix had never been close to her ward-mates, and now that she was back, she was realising very quickly just how little she'd paid attention to things outside herself. As far as she rembered, everyone liked K'tan. Besides when they made him mad by sneaking out after first fog, there was never a ti in her mory where those of her ward didn't get along with him.

That was clearly not the reaction of soone who liked her overseer. It wasn't even the reaction of one who disliked him or hated his guts. That was fear.

Having already experienced the future, she knew K'tan was a monster, but had those of her age-group already realised that by now? The idea that Nix was the only one who didn't know… she decided to put it past her. She was going to punish K'tan anyway, and Nix said herself that she wasn't close with her ward-mates.

Much of this ceremony would be the sa as before, and it was what she would do afterwards that she cared for, so Nix struggled to care much for everyone else's nas. Even then, there were so that simply stood out. There was one boy, Grif, who received a na more cryptic than any other, and yet still seed disappointed — to the combined chagrin of every other fifteen-year-old present.

Rist — Weep upon the gods; foul are the chains which bind and restrain. One who calls more than they are, and receives for a pittance.

Despite having apparently learnt to read nas better, this one remained a confusing ss. Well, that was a problem only Nix and her ward-mates held. As soon as he spoke the additive, every cultist was scrambling forth to incite him to join their cults. They sward like flies.

"Rist." A̱l'Darvi thankfully remained uninterested. "Loosener of restraints. Can reduce the requirents for rituals."

Oh! Nix rembered the additive. So people truly have all the luck.

It was probably one of the most in-demand nas one could get. Even cultists of multiple evolutions wouldn't be disappointed to receive an additive like that. Every cult revolved around their rituals. Not even the Technocult could avoid them. Anything that reduced material cost, effort and ti to perform a ritual was seen as incredibly valuable.

If Grif never received another na, he would live well. Far, far better than everyone else here, unless they sohow proved themselves and worked their way up the creeds of the cults. And yet Nix knew the boy hadn't settled for that. He'd gone on to beco a powerful harbinger; a cultist focused near solely on battle and bloodshed.

Their lives had been completely uninvolved last ti. But now, she had to keep an eye on him. Her only option if she wanted to achieve her goals would be the path of a harbinger, and from what she'd heard of the Trials, she would need to be wary of all other participants.

As she looked around, she found most held so expression of discontent. Nix rembered he wasn't the most liked person — there was a niggling recollection of demanding a room for himself — but even those that were in his group were glaring enviously.

He strode back amongst the group as if it were only natural.

The rituals continued. Most — even those with decent nas — showed so level of disappointnt. It was simply too easy to raise your hopes for this day. Nix and every other kid on Coral had fifteen years to daydream what might happen on their fateful day.

Realising the ceremonies were proceeding by whoever was closest to the ritual circle, Nix tried to push closer. She knew what was coming, and she didn't want to be last again. If she was sowhere in the middle, the others might forget her na when they received their own.

Unfortunately, her efforts to push through her once-classmates worked too well.

She accidentally nudged a boy's shoulder — Roy if she rembered right — who turned with a furrow marring his face, which imdiately paled as he saw her. He was the first to step away, but he was certainly not the last.

Like light fled darkness, her entire age-group parted. Before Nix knew it, she was at the front. A̱l'Darvi gestured for her, and Nix couldn't back down. Breathing deep of the void, she stepped forward.

The man treated her like he did any other; ignoring her clearly sickly appearance and getting on with the ritual. In fact, Nix was sure he'd begun chanting before she'd even stopped walking.

As his chant ended, Nix was montarily blinded. It was instantaneous, and she wasn't certain she hadn't imagined it, but an endless number of intertwining and overlapping scribbles had cross her vision.

Nix-ine-oth

Nix — Curse.

Ine — Curse.

Oth — Curse.

Her na was different. Once she had the wherewithal to actually register the na before her, Nix was left gaping. She had a second additive? When? How? Is this what her na had beco before she passed back in ti, and she'd simply been incapable of checking for herself?

"Speak your na," A̱l'Darvi said with impatience.

Nix blinked. She realised she was still standing before a crowd, all eyes on her. The sight was a startling reminder of the sacrificial atrium she'd only recently escaped. So many judging gazes.

So many eyes.

She stifled the growing panic in her throat. She couldn't speak that na. It was too unnatural. No fifteen-year-old could have a second additive without sothing strange having occurred. They would investigate. They would find that feather. Her life would repeat.

"Nix-ine."

The words sohow slipped from her lips. She didn't know how. Her own voice sounded alien. Still soft and weak, unlike the rough, echoey tone it was before her tongue was chopped off.

"No base identity… just curse?" A̱l'Darvi stared down at her with confusion and suspicion. She held her breath, hoping he wouldn't demand she reveal her full na. Thankfully, he continued, to that sa horrible speech she never forgot. "Nix; cursed. Ine; cursed. There is no deviations, ambiguity, or room for interpretations. You are cursed. You can never beco anything besides cursed."