Sleeping Giants Game 9

Intro

Ana's Induction Ceremony

The day is September 13th, the year 507. It was nearly 6 years ago, but you still remember it like it was yesterday.

You awoke early that morning, much like any other. You preferred to spend as much of your time in the darkness as possible, though you were still expected to join the others at dawn. Today, however, you wouldn’t be training with the others. Nor would you get to spend the day meditating inside, with the curtains drawn. Today, you’d be attending your very own Induction Ceremony.

You were trained well ahead of time so you knew what to expect. The ceremony itself would be completely silent, save for the three gong strikes and the one spoken word from you. Other than yourself, the only people in attendance were Monks of the Order. The white marble of the room made it difficult for you to see at first, and while you quickly adjusted, you still needed to squint ever so slightly the entire time.

Bwong. The first gong strike, and you receive your robes. They are draped over your head by two of the monks, and the bright white fabric stands in stark contrast to your dark skin. On the back of the robes is the intricate embroidery of the mark of the Order. Both monks take a step back, bow to you, and then silently walk to the back of the room.

Bwong. The second gong strike, and you receive your gift. A new monk approaches you, holding both hands forward, one on top of the other, with an unknown object shrouded in golden silk. You take the object from his hands, and it almost feels as if there is nothing at all hiding in the silk. You slowly unwrap it, and reach in to pull out your gift: a small, seemingly mundane needle, that you would later learn is completely unable to be bent.

Bwong. The third, and final, gong strike, and you receive your moniker. Though you have been referred to as Ana during your training, for security purposes – both for yourself and the Order – you would have to shed that name and instead adopt a moniker that the other top-tier students would refer to you as. A monk stands before you, his hands raised as if to help funnel your spoken word to the rest of the room.

You take a deep breath before saying the moniker you spent so much time coming up with. “Keras.”

The name echoes throughout the room, and with that the ceremony draws to a close. You did use your moniker for a long while, but – for reasons you already know and need not recall – you have since reverted back to your original name. Likely for good.