Chapter Text
There was a tradition old in time, set in stone and told in rhyme, caged in fear or reverence, no one knew, and no one told the whispered breeze breathing by.
But it was still a tradition, one held deeply in the breaths of one Nateetorn family, the one governed and burdened by the task of being the only family of priests of the city of Tamdu, hidden among the vastness of the sea and forests clouding the ancient cliffs. The one shouldering the secrets and duties of being the protector of the Tamdu lands alongside the gods and spirits of the forests abound, around the lands. The one that held their oaths, higher and above all else, before their own lives too. The one whose ancestors prayed and forged in their souls to vow their undying devotion in the form of their first born being offered to the Fox spirit of the forest to keep it alive. The one who still managed to keep that tradition alive.
And to such a family he belonged.
As the first born.
Sky Wongaravee Nateetorn, the one thousand thirtieth generation, born to the Nateetorn family as their joy and into the Tamdu lands, as their saviour.
For it was told in rhymes and songs unknown, from ages before the kings and emperors were born and buried under this very land, that the one thousand thirtieth born of the priest’s family would be the strongest to be born, someone whose very union with the spirit of the Fox, the guardian of the Tamdu forest could end all griefs.
Or so was thought.
But in the century of intelligence brought upon the screens and typed upon the lenses, it was a thought hard to believe. Besides that, priests after the kingdoms were gone and debrises left, were all but the prestigious shrines’ keeper. There was nothing else to them. There were no secrets, nor powers humans of this age held, that would somehow empower the spirits and the divine over them.
If there existed a spirit, that is.
But since it was a thought, that union between the spirit and the eldest born, in every thousand years should take place, it was also an oath for the Nateetorn family.
And so, as each year, up until his twenty sixth birthday, had seen, yet another ceremony in the first new moon of the fall was organised. And he came rushing, leaving behind his life in Bangkok, as promised to serve as the eldest born of his family.
_____
Told in tales was a truth that the last time such a grand ceremony was organised was a thousand years ago, where their great ancestor too was married off into the lands of spirits that roamed the forests of Tamdu. And each year, the fair in the Tamdu lands saw a reenactment of this tale, something sold off as myth among the inhabitants, a tale told in whispers of fairy tales to kids and as urban legends to folks of the town and to those who came from beyond to hustle by.
Each year to celebrate the heroic tale of the Fox spirits alongside the warriors protected the lands of Tamdu and beyond, the fair was organised in great joy and pompous show and each year, Sky remembered well the world watching a tale told in myths being reenacted upon the fox shrine’s corridors— the tale of the union of the Fox spirit and the eldest born.
And he had known, since the day he was able enough to remember in great details the way the fox spirit would wait against the shadowed chambers, lit by lanterns afloat in the air, three nights before the full moon approach the sky, that one day he would have to take the place of the bride so effortlessly adorned with jewels unknown. Back then, to him too it was just a myth he was told during sleepless summer nights. Back then, his mother would laugh at his silliness of wishing to be the bride in the red jewels and sitting there waiting for the fox spirit to come abduct him from the world, because back then the bride would be treated in the acts with lots of food, the kinds that made anyone, especially a ten year old boy salivate more.
But that was the time, back then, that he learnt he was in fact adorned to become the very one to be offered to the spirit of the Fox.
“It's a blessing, greater than anything else you may have been blessed with, Sky.” His mother had said, her eyes lit both with pride and a ruptured love, longing seeping within for the time had come for her to bid adieu to her most beloved son. “I had known this the day you were born, that you, my beloved son, was blessed to fulfill the great duty of the Nateetorns.” And a kiss she had placed upon his adorned temple, before gently touching his forehead with hers. Gentle hands had caressed his cheeks, warmth seeping in. “My boy, you may think this stupid, as you always had, to perhaps follow traditions such as this to the end of our breaths in this era and time. But unlike the folks celebrating beyond,” she had looked up to catch the light from the fireworks going off in the distance, a sign of the ceremony of fall beginning, before she had smiled down at him, eyes full of love, “ we, the Nateetorns, know the truth of the matter, the tale of union and how it shall go. So go and live your life, my love. I wish you a happy married life.”
She had whispered with a lone tearing cascading down her cheeks, down and down until it faded upon his cheeks. And yet another kiss was placed against his forehead.
And he had wondered how cursed such a blessing, such a union was. Where he had to live and love the world for more than two decades, until his lease upon such love was banished and he would be asked to leave, leave forever to unite with unfamiliar beings, whose tales alone he had ever heard.
How cruel they had to be, to ask for such a sacrifice, to take a child from their mother's weeping eyes and from their father's turmoiled smiles, to take a boy from his childhood and his happy squeals, to push him down a shadowy road, nobody else had ever walked.
And even if they had, there were no tellings of such words. That's what happened after such a union was forged.
But all these thoughts meant nothing, not when he had vowed to serve as he had promised.
And so, with the conch in the distance blowing from the shrine, his cavalcade had risen, the pompous show of a groom approaching his awaiting bride’s shrine.
Amongst the sky lit with fireworks and drums singing by, the songs and melodies of a forlorn era dancing with the breeze, the troop of the bridegroom was laid up the hills.
The priests of the main family had walked behind the groom, led by the troop who kept singing a song perched heavy with remnants of a time long gone. The lone path towards the main shrine had been lit by the lanterns the priests held, with no signs of electricity. Long canopies overhead had led them with their sways towards the main entrance, laden with stairs until the hall where the marriage was to take place, where the union so awaited was to happen.
The shrine, even in darkness held a quiet strength, and whispers of tales not told in daylight, or so priests quivering with fear or reverence might have thought. But to Sky, as he had looked up to take in the sight of the delighted shrine, adorned with gold and the red of the beautiful roses his mother loved to grow in their gardens, was always something that had welcomed him ever since he was a kid, with warm arms expanding and a delirious tickle against his then fickle mind.
He had never understood though, what exactly was it he felt whenever he had his sight set upon this shrine, shrouded by tales and away from prying eyes of humans, beyond the priests of Tamdu. Back as a kid, he had found a perfect hiding place, away from studies and duties as the first born in the chambers of the shrine whose whereabouts he had never once spoken to his family, nor had he ever put much thought to see how exactly he knew what he knew. But as he grew, his warm feelings, turmoiled by the weight of his duty, heavy and dark, couldn't quite erase the way his heart would tighten not with fear, nor with regret, but with something unimaginable he didn't dare speak of. His heart seemed to jump, coo at the sight of birds singing by, at the gentlest touch of breeze rushing to kiss his eyes, the angels’ kisses scattered across his raised cheeks. And his heart seemed to warm, like it did long before, each time his eyes scanned the shrine hidden from the world.
It was as if he knew, even before anybody else were to remind him of his duties, there was something beyond those heavily embellished gates, beyond these powers and spells that awaited him and him alone. As if his soul always knew there was something, or rather someone in wait since ages to see him and him alone. It was as if he was dragging past all miseries and his regrets, to see that which awaited him for so long. Because more than his own suffering he wanted with a calloused heart, melting at the gentlest touch of the shrine's ever present warmth, to hide away and erase all miseries, if any held by whoever it was that awaited his presence.
“And here we rest.” The head, his father had announced and his mother had very delicately taken his hand, with her ever radiant smile, leading him down the shrine, down and down till they had reached the main entrance.
“From here onwards, you trade alone, my son. May you always be happy. Long live the gentle soul. We love you.” His father, the man of gentle words and wise love, had greeted before the lanterns around them had halted, watching as the groom stepped in, leaving behind the rest. “Do not look back no matter what. Do not look up until asked. Remember we wait here until we see you off at the last.”
And by that his father had meant to send them off, him and his bride, to the sacred grove that led beyond this shrine, where the marriage would be consummated, where he would forever be bound to the one who awaited him.
_____
And that's how Sky Wongaravee found himself kneeling upon the floor, alone in the night of the fall, with the waxing gibbous staring down at him, and at the forward moving spirits coming towards him.
The entire corridor was abandoned, save for the grace of the candles lit in the sacred places and all the priests and the family were left at the entrance beyond the stairs of the shrine, where they could only watch the lanterns floating wide and above after the marriage.
Sky sat there, eyes strained upon the vastness of the room, cladded with all sorts of aromatic candles and flowers, the daring red, glaring reminder of his fate, the wooden gates shrouded by the shadows of the night. But that wasn't what had his yet quiet heart trembling, his breaths hitching, as he pondered over the events up until now.
Rather, it was the breeze, gentle at first clinging to the wooden doors, against the paper curtains, playing by the candles’ flickers, that startled him awake.
His body froze, his heart skipping a beat, his breaths stuck in their paths, his mouth suddenly dry. His fingers clenched upon his wedding robes, his knees still stuck to the ground. He couldn't move, even if he had wanted to, if he had wanted to, for that was both against the duty of his family and the nature of his heart. He would rather watch what fear had struck him at the core, deduct it to the very end, then to watch himself crumble. And this right here, he realised, sucking in a deep breath, eyes burning but never daring to close, was nothing to fear.
It was the very sign that his bride was close. That the spirits’ ceremonial cavalcade was near.
That the fox spirit was here.
And so he sat, with his heart suddenly thudding aloud against his cage, as his eyes remain affixed, as he was instructed before against wooden door that was gently lit only by the flickers of candles beyond, that was only ever closed, that was only ever to be opened by the bride’s orders after Sky had vowed.
And that was exactly when, his heart somersaulted again for the shrine at once was shrouded in darkness, night's very own robes. The flickering candles gone without an ounce of protest. The whistling breeze quieted without another move. The gentle warmth seeping through the cold fall gone.
Everything,all at once, stopped. As if time itself had ordered the arrival of his most awaited.
And that was when he held his breath again, gulping down whatever protest, whatever complaints were about to rise against his throat.
That was when he heard the distant songs coming closer, closer and closer.
There were chimes he heard, something forgotten since the days of his childhood. And he sat, sat with his heart forged in nostalgia, taken back into the summer days where he roamed the streets, the hills and the secret tracks of this forest, barefoot, with his friends and siblings by his side. He heard with a smile dancing upon his lips, without warning and without care, the distant hums of a sweet lullaby of summer showers and fall’s breeze, dancing closer, closer and even closer.
He heard then the first whisper of the parade, the distant rhymes now ever closer, as if right against the entrance of the shrine's magnificent door. He heard again the jingles of the bells, the sweet whispers of a tale, a song and then he saw, with wide open eyes the first orb of the lantern drawing close.
“Oh..,” he breathed, quietly, too quietly, so much so that he could almost hear the way his heart beat faster and faster than ever before.
He knew. Of course he knew, afterall he was the eldest born of the Nateetorns. He would know, after being trained and taught so hard, to catch a glimpse of the shifts, the way the night breeze returned and the way the entire shrine once shrouded in night's darkest robes, now glanced open with the flickers of the lanterns floating right behind the closed door. He gulped the questions rising inside, right when he felt the air shifting, magic, raw and dark and powerful and unimaginably warm, shimmering in, into his very ambient.
He couldn't understand even as his eyes were affixed at the scene unfolding before him with the lanterns dancing around in what was perhaps an welcome to the fox spirit, aligning over and over in different ways to perhaps fit in words only a trained priest such as he could understand — come, greet and praise your love. It seemed to say. Yet he couldn't understand the shift in the air, holding so much power to knock off the very air descending down his body and the very same magic to be the one to caressing gently at first against his veins, as if seeking permission, as if to ask if it were alright for if to shimmer around a mortal for too long, as if it were afraid the very touch of its warmth would end the mortal alive, as if it had a thought of its own. And Sky was simply mesmerized for when the gentle magic, intimidating and strong, touched his hand, right where the priests had bound his thread, something they said would bind him to his bride, the magic seemed to halt, and stall and think and pause and breathe. As if it didn't , couldn't believe someone had thought so much about it. As if it had a mind of its own.
It seemed to like, Sky noticed with a quirky of his lips, the way Sky relaxed, beckoning it. How could he not? If he didn't , who knows what the fox spirit would do? It was no doubt that whoever he was to be wedded to was of course a being of power never held before. He didn't deny the somewhat unease he felt at the thought of the powerful being. And yet, oh yet, it amused him to no end how silly this power was for it almost begged a mortal to let itself shimmer in. And when it did, oh when it did, it seemed to settle gently against Sky's heart, as if it were a home filled with warmth no power itself could ever bring.
And that was how Sky found himself settling gently into the now mingled senses and powers that seemed to wrap him in, in a warmth he didn't quite understand.
Yet, he had to keep all his questions aside as his heart gasped at the sight unfolding again. Behind the door, Sky noticed with bated breaths, what he had only then known to be in tales.
Behind the doors, against the paper screen, rose in quiet power, dancing along the gentle lantern orbs, the tale that he had always awed. Tails, gigantic and beautiful, Sky gasped in quiet enchantment, danced and danced from a distance, as bells again chimed a gentle tune. And they crept close, and closer still until Sky could feel the magic within his ribs, expanding and contracting simultaneously tighter, tighter against his veins, against his living, beating heart, as if holding him still in anticipation of the emotions raging the owner of this magic, that now had his heart in their grasp.
His mouth parted in a slow breath for the dance of the tails, nine tails, the number of auspicious fertility he had heard, danced closer to the screen and then they stilled. And nothing else was visible to him. Nothing but the wave of the dancing tails, never an uneasy sight, always a sweet unfolding to him. Perhaps he was born different for neither fear nor reverence caught his heart.
It was something else, entirely so. It was a feeling that caught his breath in his throat and let the magic of the former settle deep, deep into his bones. Something that wasn't easy for him to name, despite proclaiming he had tasted it numerous times, in different forms before.
“Rise. Come. Greet.” Somebody then caught him off guard, the voice of a mechanical tale, too sultry, too vulpine, a tale that would mean they hadn't used human words for a long, long time since.
And Sky gulped for he could neither move, nor stay still. He didn't quite understand the meaning of the order yet. For whom it was, was not clear either. And yet, yet he waited. For then the bells had stopped chiming, and the breeze of the fall had returned and the dancing candles flickered by. And Sky was sure tonight would be his end, if only by how many times by then he had his breath caught in his chest. Now that he had found it burning too, with the magic shimmering gleefully around his stuttering heart, he wasn't too sure he could survive whatever he was.
He was taught, oh for the love of gods who protected Tamdu, he was taught, the teachings forged into his tiny soul back then that this would be like this— a curtain dividing the bride from the groom, until the mortal had spoken their vows to the Fox spirit. He knew it. He knew it and still, still it took all his will, all his courage to simply remain still and carry out the duty he was burdened with.
Again, it wasn't fear nor was it reverence that held him still. It was mere curiosity, something perhaps laughable to his peers, he knew, that held him still. Sky wasn't known for his curious nature. Never. For he had always held it quiet in the chambers of his heart and all questions of his were answered before asked. But right there, sitting beyond the paper screen was not the Sky sent to be wedded off rather his heart was but a ten years old again, asking many, many questions in awe of what he found for he had always, always, always harbored feelings of unknown nature to touch what was beyond the mortal’s realm.
And to see it so close, he couldn't contain his excitement, something the magic shimmering around and within him noticed in delighted cheers. He was ready to tear apart the vows and curtains too and seek what laid beyond in silent whispers. He was ready to uncover with each dip of his fingers what exactly had him learning all those teachings ever since.
But all his quests were silenced at the moment when yet another vulpine voice trotted in, still unable to take Sky's enchanted eyes off of the figure now settling down right behind the door.
“Rise. Come. Greet. And vow your life. ”
Vow your life, it said. But all Sky saw for a moment was the way those tails seemed to sway in quiet delight, he could tell for the magic did the same within his veins. And all he could see in his needed haze was how beautiful, oh how beautiful the silhouette of the one he was about to be bound to looked against the paper curtains.
He was sure the divine had graced the spirits with a power and beauty beyond mortals. But to have even a shadow cast upon by flickering candles breathing their lasts, should be considered some alchemy of its own. Or perhaps it was just Sky being curious yet again.
The way he could tell every shift and sigh of the figure who had perhaps knelt like him beyond the curtains in his wait, the way he could tell there seemed to be a mask hiding their face, the way he could tell oh how much smaller now they looked up so close, Sky wasn't sure what else this prison for him would brew.
And there was, his stuttering heart had provided treacherously, only one way to know, the only way he was presented with.
He pursed his lips, words shimmering against his throat, the slithering magic coming closer, closer and up, in wait for his words to be imbued with the magic too. He could sense then the silent trepidation of the magic too or perhaps it belonged to the owner. The silent anxiety, the curious anticipation. And he couldn't help but chance a glance at the silent figure sitting right behind the curtains, the sway of tails beckoning him, so close, so close yet so so far from him.
There was only one way to know. One way to seek. One way to go. He knew.
And so he spoke, what he had learnt in jest and monotonous fright.
With a voice latched with no other hope, surrendering to his fate, to become the one who wedded the fox spirit, Sky spoke at great length, feeling the magic of spirit silently wrapping itself around his words, to make that promise set in time.
“I, Wongravee Nateetorn, the first born of the Nateetorn family, vowed out of the oath and promise of my ancestors, to remain from this moment onwards, as yours, my beloved spouse.” He gasped, almost certain the figure behind the curtains moved, almost certain it was out of surprise too for the magic against his words faltered, for a fraction of a second. And so did he. Had they not gone over these phrases in silent memories a thousand times over, Sky would have forgotten everything from the way he was certain then the magic didn't have a mind of its own— rather it was simply reflective of the spirit’s own fleeting emotions. The magic simply reached before its master, a testament of power the owner held. “From this very moment onwards,” and so with renewed vigour and curiosity, Sky raved on, adamant to serve the life before him for as long as his breaths allowed, vowing to follow every rule but if he were to give himself forever to this life, then he would rather do his with his own rules too, “my breaths are named after you. My heart beats for you. And my life is written for you. Off to you, I am given. I serve you and you with all my heart, my mind, body and my soul. This, I promise you.”
Silence followed his words, mere seconds into the vows. And he glanced up, hoping in his bravest favour the curtain to be gone, only to gasp a shocked breath, knees buckling as he hurried to stand straight.
“What the actual—” His words died a certain death when the magic within his heart coiled away, afraid perhaps of the confusion running within him.
But he cared none for the second, not when he had found himself a second ago in the shrine's embellished hall and the very next second, he was in a room adorned with the masks of the Fox spirits of all colours and flowers and magic painted over them, with scrolls and spells hanging above them, with the ceiling held high and the large open doors behind him looking over at the sky filled with fireworks and, and lanterns. Hundred sacred lanterns marked by the insignia of the Nateetorn, shining brightly, glancing down at him.
His heart thudded so loud, against his ribs, ready to jump out any second then, so much so he had missed despite his hard earned teachings the way the magic within his heart gently uncoiled, from around his ribs, leaving his desperately answer seeking bones and veins alone to take in the moment, to realise his family and the entire Tamdu was now aware of the ceremony of being done, his family aware they had lost their first born to the spirit, the Tamdu priests now aware the marriage was in place from this moment on. They knew Sky was married.
And that truth, after the magic gently left him alone, choosing to dance around his wedding robes, settled deep, deep within his soul.
And that was when, that was exactly when he turned, whipping his head so fast almost all blood had seemed to rush towards his head, making him dizzy for a second. And that was when he found the once dark room, now shaken awake, gently, calmly by each candle that lit up around him, in the room he hadn't previously noticed. And that was when he found, oh it was then he found the one sitting by the closed doors, at the foot of entrance—-
The fox spirit, now to be called his own.