This is a continuation of the story. Please read the previous chapters or this won't make much sense.
As I exited the room, I saw a large gathering of people—very large. Was this the entire village? Oh my… I closed my eyes and tried to breathe normally.
"Astrid," I told myself. "You can do this. Just
be
an agent of the Divine. They're not even here for you, really. They're here for the Goddess, you're just a part of the whole."
I hoped I looked the part. I used the outfit the Keeper presented to me, Embla had done a great job on my hair and helping me to pick out accessories. I tried to walk over to the center as gracefully as I could.
My foot connected with a brazier on the floor, tripping me and sending burning embers flying. Gasps, followed by a flurry of voices filled my ears. "Oh Goddess, is she alright?" "We need water over here." "Someone help her up!" "The mat is on fire!" "By the light of Lys SOMEONE GET SOME WATER OVER HERE!"
Well, so much for divine agency and all that…
As some men helped me up, the keeper helped calm everyone down. I saw a charred spot on the mat in the floor in front of me. It was all so much, I put my face in my hands and started bawling. Arms came to embrace me, and I heard the familiar voices of Runa and Hagen; my loving siblings. Hagen shushed me and patted my back, and I sank my head into his strong shoulder.
Runa whispered, "Sister, it's okay! Mistakes happen! Don't beat yourself up over it. You're not the Goddess, and nobody expects it of you."
I heard Hagen's voice echo through his chest, "She's right Astrid. Pull yourself together and let's get through with this. We're doing this for Dad, all right?"
My mind snapped back to my senses. "Yes, I'm sorry." I told them. I wiped away the tears, put a big smile on my face and walked over to the Keeper. The commotion had died down, and all eyes were on her as she spoke.
"Kinsmen!" she shouted. I had a feeling this was going to be a long, dramatic speech. "Decades ago, our village, our
world
was consumed by flame." I was right. "The unthinkable had happened: Ragnarok. The world was cold, our people were dying. We were at the gates of Hel. In the guise of a traveller, the Goddess Lys took shelter with us. In our foolishness, I and the other councilwomen scorned her. But through her power and the wisdom of Jarl Eric, our people were saved. We pledged ourselves to her cause, to the Light!"
She pointed to her right, and it looked like a group of people in their late teens or early twenties were acting out a play of some sort. A girl scantily clad in white silk stood on a pile of hay bales with fake wings on her back, looking down on the group. A young man with barely a hint of facial hair played Jarl Eric. He stood, balancing a great battle axe with his right hand (it looked like he was really struggling with it), and attempting to look "majestic". On the floor below him were 5 girls kneeling; each wore heavy brown robes and held a candle.
One by one, the girls stood up and recited one part of a familiar verse. As each spoke their part, they removed the robe to reveal a white silky dress underneath:
We are the Shieldmaidens of Lys.
When the night is dark, may our lamps guide the hearts of men.
When the air is cold, may our fires warm the hearths of our kin.
As the breath of our fathers pass, we will breathe anew.
Through us Daughters of Sol, the world be filled with light.
Wow! These were the same words that popped into my head after I learned that Grandfather—er, my actual father—had died. Runa also recited them, and Mom; but we had
no way
to know any of this by that point. I wondered if Mom had told them what we spoke, and they somehow incorporated this into the play.
The Keeper spoke again. "With those exact words, I and the other councilwomen pledged ourselves to the service of the Goddess Lys. As pennance for our failure, we and our daughters became slaves to the Jarl in service of Lys. This is the contract, wrote upon our bodies and signed by our blood. And so shall we ever be the Daughters of Sol."
A somber look came upon her face, and her voice lowered. "My role as Keeper has been to protect and preserve this knowledge, chosen simply because I was the youngest. The other councilwomen have passed into the Light, and I am the last."
The girls from the ceremony brought their candles over, still burning. One of them passed her candle to the Keeper and re-joined the crowd. I saw tears streaming down the old woman's face. The girls recited another verse, one by one in sequence, blowing the candle out afterward:
With this light, we remember the Farmer. By her hands and her wisdom, the fields grew life anew.
With this light, we remember the Builder. By her arms and her will, the village was rebuilt.
With this light, we remember the Teacher. By her voice and her knowledge, the flame of our future burns bright.