Limewah's Hypnovember 2025

Day 4 - All For One (Clear Rays)

"You don't need to be afraid of being seen anymore. The sin of fear will not have any power over you…"

Everywhere Vio looked, he saw his reflection.
The cavernous temple had been carved out of sky-blue geodes. The crystalline hallways were polished to an icy, shimmering sheen. The stout ram tried not to feel self conscious, ignoring the black wool and slight paunch poking out from the joints of his silver armour - armour that hid his eyes, and his grim expression from view. Especially not when the reflections were unflatteringly distorted.
Some facets made him look stretched, some made him tower like a great beast, others still twisted him into an ugly shape like pulled taffy.

He kept his eyes forward, focused through the rectangular slits in his helmet. 
He kept his warhammer raised, the pointed claw side level with his head, ready to crush and chisel this un-natural crystal into silica-dust.

The temple would not stand for much longer, not if Vio, the Demolisher, had anything to say about it. It, and the priest within, had tempted many lost, evagating wanderers with the anglerfish promise of an end to all troubles of the mind - things like melancholy, heartbreak, listlessness
None who entered the temple ever re-emerged. That, in itself, should have been enough warning to stay away, and yet, people kept being drawn to it. Wanderers, drifters, those without a place or purpose.
Vio was a drifter in a sense, but he came with a clear purpose. To put an end to whatever foul business was going on inside.

Up ahead, the warrior heard the echo of chanting - dozens upon dozens of voices bouncing off the hard surfaces of crystal glass, arcing upwards to the higher chamber, a gathering storm of murmured sound.
Vio came to the end of the long passageway, into a wide open space, not unlike the courtyard of a temple…
There were scores of people stretching out before him, evenly spaced out in an ascetic grid.
Each and every figure in the chamber was kneeling on a little pillow, the only thing that seemed to have been brought in from the outside world. Each of them was in front of a piece of crystal, perfectly tablet-shaped, and polished to a mirror sheen.
Each worshipper's hands rested on their thighs, their eyes locked onto the eyes of their reflections. Whether they had just come of age, or their age was coming for them, there was something strangely youthful about the revellers' relaxed, awe-struck expressions. It was a look of serene wonder, usually reserved only for one's first experience of snow, or the sea, or the northern lights…
They were all chanting, yes, but it was hard to tell even from the movements of their snouts and beaks whether they were speaking in concert, or saying their own private credos…

One figure was not looking at themself; he was roving and roaming between them all like a teacher surveying his students.

Vio recognized him from the charcoal sketches on each and every wanted poster that lead him here.
This was Clarys, the so-called Cleric of the True Self. Far from the robes one might expect for a cult leader, Clarys was dressed quite simply - with a white tunic and simple, baggy blue slacks.
The figure had fur the colour of grey steel, with blue highlights on the tips of his headfur and on his right ear. His lupine snout was a touch shorter than most wolves Vio had met, and his tail was raised upwards rather than pointed downwards. Vio reckoned there was some cat in this man's bloodline.
That was not the only unorthodox thing about him - his eyes were green, but with a small ring of blue around the pupil. Even from that distance, Vio understood why people might be drawn to him, bewitched by his strange, unique beauty.
But Vio was built of stronger stuff than that.

Vio was not one for stealth. He was no coward. He would face this foul priest head on.
He let his arm relax, let gravity pull his warhammer downwards. The hammer slammed into the ground with a resounding, echoing crack. A weave of cracks spread from the indentation it made.
Not a figure turned towards him. Not even Clarys himself. 
"Welcome," Clarys said, his voice soft and gentle, with a tone one might have reserved for a fireside chat with a close confidant. "You've come for me, I take it?"
"Hrmh. Yes." Vio snorted.
"You've heard of what I offer, to poor lost souls who've come here to find themselves?"
"Yes." Vio repeated. "I'm not here to-"
"You're here to destroy my temple."
"Yes!" Vio bristled. He hated being interrupted. He hefted his hammer over his shoulder and readied himself.
Clarys still did not turn. Irritation upon irritation. He'd had enough.
With a growl, he lunged forward. The attack was well telegraphed, one that aimed to intimidate rather than strike directly. The cleric would have to evade… that or cower and surrender.
As Vio came closer… Clarys remained still. His back was still turned. 
He'd committed to the strike, the weight was already shifting, and the hammer's momentum was going to carry itself right into the wolfcat's head, if he didn't shift…
Why was he not moving?
Vio's hammer descended, and he braced for the crunch of impact…

The hammer connected - not with Clarys' head, but with a jagged plate of crystal glass. It chimed with a deep, bone tingling resonance, and with that resonance came a chorus of gasps and moans from all around him.
A jagged lattice of cracks spread from the point of impact. Crack. Crack. Crack. 
The plate shattered, and Vio's hammer continued its journey towards the ground. Its momentum was slowed by that smashed tablet. When it impacted with the ground it did not leave a dent, though the impact pulled Vio a step forward, off balance.
Before Vio could lift it, a paw rested on his wrist. It was not a grip. Just a gentle touch.

Crystal shards tinkled as they bounced off of Vio's helmet. Whatever unnatural light that was illuminating the temple bounced off of them, making the air sparkle. Like the stars had been brought down to earth.
Clarys' eyes peered in through the slats in Vio's helmet. His blue green gaze wasn't a piercing one. It was a welcoming one, one that drew Vio in. And his eyes seemed to sparkle too… No, there were little shards of crystal floating around his head. Or around Vio's head? He could not tell.
Nor could he stop noticing them. 
Nor could he stop Clarys' hand from slowly travelling up his arm. It was a gentle press, a strangely reassuring gesture. It coaxed Vio to release his grip on the handle, and let it fall to the wayside. His arm was aching, but the soft caress felt somehow felt soothing, even through his plate armour. 
"May I remove this, friend?" Clarys asked, his voice just as gentle as his touch. "So I may soothe you better?"
Vio should have pulled back. He could have thrown his head forward to smash the villain's snout. But there were all those dancing crystal shards in the way. He couldn't see an opening. His eyes kept trying to follow them as they orbited his head, while keeping his eye on the wolfcat, but his focus was getting pulled this way and that…
The armour fell away from Vio's arm. He didn't realise the weight he was carrying until that instant. He let out a confused, soft bleat.

"Poor Demolisher," Clarys cooed. "All you have devoted yourself to is destruction. Smashing down walls. Tearing down barriers. And yet the one facade you have never torn down is your own."
Vio listened. Even though his armour was being removed, he still felt a heaviness descending over his body. The ram felt a tug on his insides, like the inexorable pull of gravity.
"You carry the weight of your sins, your hardships, the things that keep you from true happiness. And you can't even see it, not with the helmet hiding you… why don't you take it off?"

…He never took off his helmet, save for when he was in private. It was a part of his stoic mystique; if one never saw his face, they could imagine all they liked about how he looked.
…Was that really all there was to it, though?
"I don't… want to," Vio croaked, even as his eyes kept dancing with the orbiting crystal shards. 
"It's all right," Clarys said. "You don't need to be afraid of being seen anymore. The sin of fear will not have any power over you…"

Vio's hands moved beneath his neck, gently supported by the wolfcat's hands on his wrists. They found the strap beneath his chin and unbuckled it, before they lifted it up.
The sheep's black wool spilled forth, soft and fluffy. Another weight he'd trained himself not to notice was lifted. And with that came relief. Sweet, unbridled relief.

The crystal shards came together, forming into the floating disc once again. Every crack vanished as it fused into place, and Vio saw…
Himself. His grey eyes stared out from the dark forest encircling his head.

"There," Clarys murmured. He was behind Vio now - when that had happened seemed irrelevant. "You're handsome beneath that armour. Look at yourself. Really allow yourself to look…."

Vio… looked at himself. For the first time in years.
He saw the weary lines beneath his eyes, the wrinkles from the tensed scowl he so often wore behind the helmet.
But as he looked at himself, as he stared into his reflection, those wrinkles smoothed out. The years of tension melted away.
"The face carries the weight of one's failings. The sin of worry, the sin of dissatisfaction… the sin from which all sins spring from."
"I…. I understand…" Vio murmured.
Vio'seyes were drawn to his reflection's muzzle, his soft lips… it occurred to the sheep, he had never felt his lips against another's… but the desire had been there for a very long time. A frustration. One of the many things he'd channelled into his work, his heroic destruction…

"You wish to be kissed," the wolf-cat said. It was matter-of-fact, but gentle. Just hearing it voiced made the sheep shudder and sag. His armour was not the only thing weighing him down, and acknowledging the weight allowed it to float away. The tug towards the floor no longer felt like a weight. Or like a lover's hands, coaxing him to bed. Coaxing him towards comfort. It was a strange, dislocating feeling - to float, and to sink at once. He felt as though he was being gently pulled apart - no, more like a part of him was floating away, out of reach.
He knew what those were. It was his worry, his sins…

"What else do you wish for?" the cleric asked the sheep. "Tell it to your reflection. Confess to yourself. Dig deep, deeper… and soon you will find light, the light at the centre of your self, the pure, clear You that has been buried under all that calcified mind-sin…"
Vio mumbled.
"I want to be kissed," he said. "I've never been kissed, and I've never been close enough to anyone because… I've been so afraid to be seen like that. I don't want people to know who I am…"
"The sin of fear. The sin of solitude. Give full voice to them. Exorcise them… and be forgiven."
Vio confessed to himself. His voice grew softer as he bleated out every weight he'd been holding onto. The reassuring touch pressed downwards on his shoulders, guiding him to kneel. There was a soft pillow waiting beneath his knees, and the plate rested upon a small plinth.

"Now, Vio, friend…" The Cleric's fingers rested beneath Vio's chin, gently tickling as if he were a docile beast. "I want you to continue your confessions for me. Your voice will join with the other confessors, and together, as a chorus, you will all free yourself from your sins. You will dig until you find your True Self… and then you will join me, in purest, peaceful worship."
"Yes…" Vio lowed. The claws scratched under his chin, one last time, making his head incline… and then the brushing hand moved away, leaving the sheep to continue his chanting.
Vio, the erstwhile Demolisher, let a gormless smile slide over his face. The wrinkles from that smile would be the only ones that would remain.
Within his confessions, the expulsion of his sins, there was praise. Gratitude for the path he'd been shown, and the one who had shown him it. All the weight he'd built up over so long… it was leaving his mouth, softly bouncing off his reflection, and echoing up into the ceiling where it melded with all the other confessed sins… before they disintegrated.
He was happy. For the first time in a long time.
One more happy voice within the Chapel of the True Self. One more liberated servant to the True Self, and the Cleric, the Crystalline Conduit who would guide them, and the world, to a life free of the sin of self-delusion.