Welon Tiom
"The Ceremony of Light and Judgment"
---
Half of Setali Beutell floated beneath an ocean suspended in the sky.
The waves above shimmered with soft silver, filled not with fish but with beings of light ... drifting peacefully, casting radiant sparkles down toward the land below.
And below that sky...
Delltanoss thrived ... a magnificent world nestled within crystal trees, their hollowed trunks transformed into beautiful homes, glowing faintly with the colors of their inhabitants.
Today was no ordinary day.
For the first time in centuries, the people had chosen their Hobo ... a leader among them.
And today, the chosen one, Hobo Nor Sibion, stood beneath the roots of The Crystal Tree, facing the entire tribe of Delltanoss.
---
The Gathering
All had assembled at the Glade of Light ... a vast, open plain paved with smooth, shining stone. The sacred path that led to the Crystal Tree was lined with luminous plants and humming vines. The homes nearby were calm, their windows softly flickering in excitement. Every soul was here. Every heart waited.
The moment had arrived.
A sacred ceremony...
An event that returned only once every 200 years.
Nor Sibion raised his voice, calm and powerful:
"Today is a day spoken of by the trees themselves.
The divine blossoms that bloom only at the edge of time are preparing to fall.
And with their fall, comes his return."
"Mithimush... the Great One...
Will descend upon us again, as he did two centuries ago.
After traversing the darkness beyond the empty universe,
He returns to gaze upon his creation."
He paused, the entire glade silent.
Only the faint shimmering of the sky-ocean above could be heard.
"When the blossoms rise into the air, we shall begin the Welon Tiom ...
the ritual of spiritual offering."
---
The Silence Breaks
Just then, parting the solemn stillness of the crowd,
a small child rushed forward
barefoot, breathless,
his skin pale, his wings dull grey, without shimmer or hue.
Defftomon.
"Father!" he cried, voice desperate.
"Please… let me join the Welon Tiom this time."
Nor Sibion turned, gaze gentle but firm.
"No, my son.
You are not ready yet."
---
The Whispers Begin
Low murmurs crawled across the gathering like shadows slipping beneath the light.
"That child… still trying?"
"He's never had a single color. Not even a flicker."
"He can't even perform the Fesutor… it's hopeless."
"He's nothing. Just… grey."
---
The Sacred Art: Fesutor
Fesutor ..... a sacred movement known to all.
A ritual gesture performed by bringing the hands downward near the center of the body, fingertips touching lightly. When executed with soul and belief, it forms a sphere of radiant white light ... an offering of spiritual essence meant to nourish Mithimush upon his return.
Defftomon could never summon even a wisp.
---
The Outcast Speaks
Eyes burning, yet his voice remained soft.
"I… I don't know why I'm like this…
Maybe I'm just… grey.
But I feel like…
there's something more in me. Something no one sees."
---
A tall elder near the back scoffed loudly.
"Again with the same words?"
"Boy, how long will you pretend?
You are nothing.
No light, no color, no spirit.
Just a mistake."
---
Deffo Runs
His lips trembled.
Not another word left his mouth.
He turned ...
and ran.
Past the glowing roots.
Past the crystalline petals.
Into the dim corners of Setali Beutell ...
where even the sky-ocean's light did not reach.
He vanished into the silence,
his breath broken.
But behind his flight, the Crystal Tree suddenly shimmered once.
Almost like it had seen something no one else had.