Nebulochaotic

Adjective. A state of being hazy and confused.


The priests were waiting for him when he stepped into the atrium just outside the arena. Nicola walked briskly into the room shortly after, stopping at his side.

"That was some show you put on," She murmured to him. Distracted, Shadow didn't reply, too busy staring down the priests. "I thought you killed them both."

'I thought you would kill them is what you mean.' Shadow thought absently. 'I knew I couldn't kill them just by fighting them. You don't just kill one of the most powerful sorceresses in the world. You don't just kill the descendant of the warrior that fought the Hero of Time.'

'You earn their respect, and sometimes only barely that.'

There were three priests, all dressed in floor-length black robes and smooth wooden masks painted with a vivid, crying red eye. Their hoods were up, covering the rest of their heads, and they stepped towards him as a single unit. The cloth of their robes undulated like smoke around their feet- Shadow shuddered, unnerved.

"You will have to be healed before we begin." One of them said, their voice gravely and unpleasant to listen to. "You risk death otherwise. If you will follow us, we will attend to you."

Shadow nodded silently. Nicola's hand slipped into his and he squeezed it reflexively before pulling away, stepping forward. The three priests turned and strode down one of the palace corridors- Shadow followed.

They brought him to a small room where one of the castle healers waited, seated on a fainting couch next to a tray with a bottle of blue potion, a cloth, and a bowl of steaming water. Shadow watched and waited as the healer took a tiny spoonful of the potion- it would be all too easy to be poisoned before he had a chance to finish the coronation. Nobody wanted to sit through the same killing spree twice- everyone who bothered enough to want to kill him was either dead or too cowardly to face him directly.

He waited. Nothing happened- the healer didn't keel over, choking, or coughing up blood, or start clawing at her stomach in agony.

Could be a slow acting poison, Shadow thought, but I don't exactly have the time to find out.

He pulled off his tunic and undershirt- leaving his bracers on- grimacing at the stiffness in the fabric from all the blood that had soaked into it. The healer handed him the potion, and he downed it in a couple of swift gulps as she cleaned the caked blood off of his skin and around where he'd been injured. He could feel the potion's magic slowly stitching his wounds shut and sighed, half-relieved.

"Here."

Shadow looked up at one of the priests, who handed him a robe.

"It wouldn't do to be wearing those bloody rags before the inking ceremony. Wear this for now." They said. Shadow nodded, and put it on, grateful for the sensation of clean clothing on his skin. The healer checked over his wounds again- and found nothing but faint scars.

"He may proceed." She said. The three priests turned, leaving the room and once again leaving Shadow to follow- so he did.

Shadow eyed the entrance to the Shadow Temple as he walked out of an archway leading to the temple courtyard. It was a square, undecorated building made of black marble, and although it didn't rise any higher than the castle wall it still managed to look imposing.

As the massive wooden doors creaked open and Shadow was ushered in, he felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. He'd never liked this place. It felt oppressive, dangerous and unclean despite the staff's careful maintenance of the grounds and interior. Praying in this place- as he had done so many times when he was young and attending ceremonies with his mother- felt wrong.

Looking at the rectangular pool of black water enclosed in the temple proper, he couldn't contain his shudder, no matter how hard he tried.

Shadow was led past the pool, up to the altar at the back of the room. To his surprise, one of the priests swept aside a curtain behind the altar to reveal a simple wooden door. The sight made his stomach churn from nerves, but he set his shoulders and lifted his chin as he was led inside.

"Strip." One of the priests commanded, two of them breaking away from the others to stride towards a long plain table in the center of the room. As Shadow watched and pulled the robe from his shoulders, they covered the table in a white cloth and retrieved a tray from the bare shelf in the room. He kicked off his boots, socks, pants, until he was standing there in his braies and bracers; watched still as the third priest lit candles housed in the room's alcoves.

The first priest set to arranging items on the tray- a chisel made of bone, a clean cloth, a vial of softly glowing ink. Shadow trained his eyes on it, his brows furrowed; he nearly jumped when one of the priests cleared their throat.

"Your gauntlets, too." They said, turning to face him. With unnerving synchronicity, the other two did the same. Shadow stared the three of them down for a minute, before sighing through his nose and unbuckling his gauntlets, letting them drop down to the floor. He glared at the priests, daring them to say something about the thorns encircling his wrist.

"We weren't aware you were betrothed."

'Well, fuck.' Shadow thought, even as he lifted his head and schooled his features.

"Last I checked, it's only your business if and when there's a...marriage." He said, swiftly crossing the room to stand by the table. "Well?"

The three priests said nothing.