Picture a picturesque valley, that lay at the center of the Empire Trion, located at the far reaches of the capital Aroth, devoid from the bustle of life and the ever moving scenery of the greatest metropolis in the Empire.

The Valley was not too large, and it appears to exist separate from the entire world, the air carried a fragrance of flowers. Inside the valley, you could see a youth swimming in a sparkling stream of fresh water.

Every now and then, he took a big gulp of the water and sighed in pleasure, for its taste was sweeter than honey, and it quenched a deep ache in the soul when drunk, placing the drinker in a state of bliss greater than any narcotics known to mortals and Dominators.

He dove deeper into the river, until he reached the bottom, and there he lay on his back and watched the many colorful fishes and prawns and many other creatures of the water, swim past him and he sighed in pleasure and contentment, for the water could be breathed in without any risk of drowning.

In fact, nothing here could really kill you. It was possible to climb to the highest mountain in the valley and jump from it, only to land as light as a feather. Blades would not cut you, nor would fire burn you. Death would only come with age, but everyone was youthful here and did not grow past the age of sixteen.

For this was the valley of the gods—Elysium.

This place was far from the politics and battles in the Empire, it could be argued it was the safest place in all of Trion, and it was protected and kept inviolable. Knowledge of this place was known by only a single person in the entire Empire, which was the current reigning Empress, Scarlett.

The youth was about to fall asleep with the lazy sound of the flowing river in his ears when he heard a slow whisper in his ears, that sounded like the wind blowing through the leaves of a vast forest before the understanding of the words came to him, “Your time has come and your purpose is fulfilled, walk to the Hall of Gods and worship.”

His eyes were at first filled with fear, and then adoration and fervor washed all of it away. He swam to the surface where he saw a group of females consisting of seven beautiful women waiting for him, they all bowed, and he nodded at them in acknowledgement.

Their eyes were all sewed shut with wires of gold, but it did not hinder their perception. They all wore white robes that flowed like smoke, and as one they turned and the youth left the river and followed them deeper into the valley. Their procession was silent.

As he walked, he saw similar sights as well, as six other groups walked with him, and he acknowledged the selected youth with nods.

They were both males and females that were chosen for this great honor.

At the end of the valley were seven tents, all of them were pitched around a grand temple of wood which stood at the center.

The ground glowed like the myriad of stars in the galaxy for there were complex runes inscribed on every single inch of the ground around the temple and it was with extreme adoration that the seven groups parted ways and entered their individual tents.

Inside the tent, the youths that were selected disrobed, and then they were cleansed by the seven women with the utmost care, every single inch of their bodies was made spotless and free from any corruption, their head were anointed with fragrant oil, and their tongue were washed by Ambrosia, various rituals that extended far into the nights were performed in their bodies and finally, they were left alone, with a single dagger placed in front of them.

The dagger was a beautiful-crafted art piece, that seemed to be made from diamonds and light. The blade of the dagger was eight inches long and at the center of the hilt was a pale flame that was swirling around, Rowan would have recognized this flame if he had seen it, for although the color was different and it was smaller, this was unmistakably a Divine Spark.

The blades of the daggers were of different sizes, with the largest being twelve inches long and the shortest was five.

In all the various tents, the selected youth began to chant, and pay oblations.

“Vessel of Flesh. I am.”

“Blood. Bone. Soul. All to burn.”

“Eyes. Heart. Mind. All to give.”

“Vessel of Flesh. I am.”

With those words, the youths all took the dagger, and they opened their mouth wide and slowly slid the blade into their throat and swallowed it.

The blades were razor sharp, and sliced their mouths and tongues to ribbon, and as the knife slid down their throat, it opened them up, until it stopped at the chest, the point of the dagger digging into the heart. Strangely, there was no blood from such grievous wounds, as the dagger drank every single drop of it.

Apart from a single girl who gave a little moan of pain, they all endured, until the knife began to wriggle inside their chest as if it had a life of its own, and when it stopped its movements, all the selected youths were dead, their bodies shrivelled, only a husk remained that would be difficult to identify as once living.

The seven women who had cleaned and anointed them returned and retrieved the blade from their opened chest, and on the hilt of the blade was a pale fog which smelled like Ambrosia, was slowly moving as if it was breathing.

This rite would be repeated twenty-one times, as seven youths would be selected and prepared in a ritualistic manner to cleanse them, and they would swallow the blade. The seven groups of women performed this task without a single deviation, as they went around the valleys and retrieved the various youths who received the whispers.

After each death, the fog around the blade grew denser until it was so thick it resembled cotton wool, and then the Divine Spark began to flash rapidly and all the blades rose into the air.