{{Внутреннее тестирование Вики|

{{Внутреннее тестирование Вики|

<noinclude>{{Trad

<noinclude>{{Trad

|DE=<!--Kapitel III - Sterben um wiedergeboren -->

|DE=<!--Kapitel III - Sterben um wiedergeboren -->

:''"Father is right, I must do it alone. Have faith in me, everyone, I will know to do our name honor."

:''"Father is right, I must do it alone. Have faith in me, everyone, I will know to do our name honor."

With each of the child's exhalations, the whistle emitted a melodious and strangely evanescent chant that everyone within the stump knew. Whistler-sticks were sacred objects, carved from the femurs of tribe's ancestors. Their singing allowed the villagers to know that one of their own was coming of age, but also to communicate with the Kamis, who seemed to be able to hear them everywhere. More practically, the whistle also prevented the nascent mask from covering the Zorai's mouth, or even seeping into it, at the risk of killing him. Helping himself to the walls and barriers to progress, Pü advanced laboriously, his affliction preventing him from controlling his steps perfectly, between the moving slats of the suspended bridges and the tortuous alleys. Fortunately, he knew every corner of the village, and knew instinctively how to avoid the roots that sometimes intertwined under his feet. He could have moved around there with his eyes closed, guided by the slopes, the characteristic smell of each hut, the nightly cries of the izams installed in the vegetal niches of the bark ceiling, and the bewitching echo coming from the abyss wells that sank beneath the bark. If he usually cherished the night walks, the crossing seemed to him today infinitely long, punctuated by impulses of pain that started from his skull and split his whole being. One of them was particularly heartbreaking. His legs gave out on him as he took a hollowed-out staircase that led to a middle landing in the village. He hurtled down a steep slope, tearing up some roots in the process, and crashed to the ground. As he fell, the dagger and whistler-stick slipped from his grasp and fluttered a few feet away from him. Slumped on the cold carpet of lichens, he thought his head would explode, and put a fist in his mouth freed from the whistle to stifle his howls. Luckily, he was still alone, and no one was in situation to discover the pitiful state he was in.

With each of the child's exhalations, the whistle emitted a melodious and strangely evanescent chant that everyone within the stump knew. Whistler-sticks were sacred objects, carved from the femurs of tribe's ancestors. Their singing allowed the villagers to know that one of their own was coming of age, but also to communicate with the Kamis, who seemed to be able to hear them everywhere. More practically, the whistle also prevented the nascent mask from covering the Zorai's mouth, or even seeping into it, at the risk of killing him. Helping himself to the walls and barriers to progress, Pü advanced laboriously, his affliction preventing him from controlling his steps perfectly, between the moving slats of the suspended bridges and the tortuous alleys. Fortunately, he knew every corner of the village, and knew instinctively how to avoid the roots that sometimes intertwined under his feet. He could have moved around there with his eyes closed, guided by the slopes, the characteristic smell of each hut, the nightly cries of the izams installed in the vegetal niches of the bark ceiling, and the bewitching echo coming from the abyss wells that sank beneath the bark. If he usually cherished the night walks, the crossing seemed to him today infinitely long, punctuated by impulses of pain that started from his skull and split his whole being. One of them was particularly heartbreaking. His legs gave out on him as he took a hollowed-out staircase that led to a middle landing in the village. He hurtled down a steep slope, tearing up some roots in the process, and crashed to the ground. As he fell, the dagger and whistler-stick slipped from his grasp and fluttered a few feet away from him. Slumped on the cold carpet of lichens, he thought his head would explode, and put a fist in his mouth freed from the whistle to stifle his howls. Luckily, he was still alone, and no one was in situation to discover the pitiful state he was in.

:''"Yes, I do wish."

:''"Yes, I do wish."

Uncle Ke'val came and laid a suit of soft wooden braided straw armor at his feet, which he immediately put on. He also gave him a knapsack, a suit of soft wooden armor, a small, sturdy shield, a finely chiseled short sword and dagger, and a fine pair of magic amplifiers, looking like large, ornate gloves. In essence, like everything coming from Atys, homins were made up of spiritual particles, and irrigated by a primordial energy called Sap. Each homin was also able, instinctively, to imprint his will to the Sap that was irrigating him, in order to manipulate the spiritual particles that made him up, or those of the environment. Thus, he could modify their aspect, their nature, or their behavior. Here was the magic. Unfortunately, this required a high degree of mastery and consumed a lot of life energy. The amplifiers, because of their composition in conductive elements and catalysts of Sap, were invented in order to overcome the homin limitation, and thus to practice magic more widely. Pü stared for an instant at the present he was being given, then transfered his gaze at his uncle's mask.  He read pride there. A year earlier, Shengi, his own son, had failed the mask growing ordeal. Seeing him mad in pain, Grandmother Bä-Bä had to intervene and interrupt the ceremony. By this failure, his cousin had denied himself a glorious future. Pü was particularly sad to learn of his mysterious disappearance some time later. Had he fled? Had someone gotten rid of him? The answer to these questions remained taboo. Putting these painful thoughts out of his mind, he quickly and silently equipped, then turned his gaze back to his mother.

Uncle Ke'val came and laid a suit of soft wooden braided straw armor at his feet, which he immediately put on. He also gave him a knapsack, a suit of soft wooden armor, a small, sturdy shield, a finely chiseled short sword and dagger, and a fine pair of magic amplifiers, looking like large, ornate gloves. In essence, like everything coming from Atys, homins were made up of spiritual particles, and irrigated by a primordial energy called Sap. Each homin was also able, instinctively, to imprint his will to the Sap that was irrigating him, in order to manipulate the spiritual particles that made him up, or those of the environment. Thus, he could modify their aspect, their nature, or their behavior. Here was the magic. Unfortunately, this required a high degree of mastery and consumed a lot of life energy. The amplifiers, because of their composition in conductive elements and catalysts of Sap, were invented in order to overcome the homin limitation, and thus to practice magic more widely. Pü stared for an instant at the present he was being given, then transfered his gaze at his uncle's mask.  He read pride there. A year earlier, Shengi, his own son, had failed the mask growing ordeal. Seeing him mad in pain, Grandmother Bä-Bä had to intervene and interrupt the ceremony. By this failure, his cousin had denied himself a glorious future. Pü was particularly sad to learn of his mysterious disappearance some time later. Had he fled? Had someone gotten rid of him? The answer to these questions remained taboo. Putting these painful thoughts out of his mind, he quickly and silently equipped, then turned his gaze back to his mother.

:''"Here is an amber cube, take care of it. The tribe is currently composed of one hundred and forty-eight souls, and three births are to be expected in the next few months. You will thus have to donate us one hundred and fifty-one offerings. You may go."

:''"Here is an amber cube, take care of it. The tribe is currently composed of one hundred and forty-eight souls, and three births are to be expected in the next few months. You will thus have to donate us one hundred and fifty-one offerings. You may go."

Unable to resist, Pü started a hugging motion. He had to embrace his mother. But, appearing from nowhere, his father interposed by catching his wrist.

Unable to resist, Pü started a hugging motion. He had to embrace his mother. But, appearing from nowhere, his father interposed by catching his wrist.

Shaken by these new sensations, her words, and especially the excruciating thought of abandoning her for so long, Pü loosened his grip and ran without a word to one of the ladders of the main square. He met the eyes of several villagers, including his brother. Curiously, he did not succed in deciphering it. It seemed strangely empty. Pü climbed in haste the different levels of the city without ever turning around: if he crossed his mother's face again, he might not be able to leave. Finally, he crossed the large and disturbing breach that served as the entrance to the village and passed the edge of the jungle. Forgetting for the first time his physical pain, he hurried without stopping, illuminated through the tops of the tall trees by the light of Jena's cursed star. He didn't even know where he was going, devastated as he was by this last moment with his mother. Reaching the edge of his limits, he collapsed on the wet leafy ground and started to scream in pain. His father knew. This special moment of tenderness was a bad idea, he has been right. The pain, that wasn't his mask, it was his heart.

Shaken by these new sensations, her words, and especially the excruciating thought of abandoning her for so long, Pü loosened his grip and ran without a word to one of the ladders of the main square. He met the eyes of several villagers, including his brother. Curiously, he did not succed in deciphering it. It seemed strangely empty. Pü climbed in haste the different levels of the city without ever turning around: if he crossed his mother's face again, he might not be able to leave. Finally, he crossed the large and disturbing breach that served as the entrance to the village and passed the edge of the jungle. Forgetting for the first time his physical pain, he hurried without stopping, illuminated through the tops of the tall trees by the light of Jena's cursed star. He didn't even know where he was going, devastated as he was by this last moment with his mother. Reaching the edge of his limits, he collapsed on the wet leafy ground and started to scream in pain. His father knew. This special moment of tenderness was a bad idea, he has been right. The pain, that wasn't his mask, it was his heart.

}}

}}

}}

}}