Warning: Not going to lie, this one gets pretty weird. Viewer Discretion is advised.
Accompaniment: Ambient Music for the Occasion
Ilios
The Acropolis
The evening sun shone softly upon the thousands gathered atop the walled precipice— the eager bodies of worshippers packed along the causeways that led to the grand temple of Lios. Priests and Priestesses, all adorned in silks, jewels, and golden finery, processed slowly up to the top of the fortified hill. Accompanied by both the fawning sounds of the audience and, from a distance, the dulcet tones of the dozens of musicians and singers that slowly trailed behind them.
The hill was a stunning display of marble and gold. An almost flat-sloped crest lined with sanctuaries and temples, guarded by ten-meter-high perimeter walls of weathered stone that surrounded the whole Acropolis.
At the head of the religious procession, walking on foot, was the Basileus Archon, Nikolaos, Son of Tassas, and beside him his wife Lydia, Basilinna of Ilios. The centerpieces of the celebration, Nikolaos and Lydia, were dressed in traditional religious costumes, linen chitons dyed in a deep mauve. The Basilinna’s face and hair were almost completely obscured by a thin veil of pink silk, which reached past her shoulders and down onto her back. While Nikolaos wore gold face paint and a golden diadem befitting of his station, its shape crafted to mimic the Sun’s rays and the shimmering beauty of their God, whose statue they could see as they began to crest the steps and make their way toward the temple.
As they reached the top of the hill under the cover of a columned memorial, they bowed deeply before the sizeable bronze statue ahead of them, Lydia glancing up at her husband only slightly. They stood close to each other for a moment, waiting for the rest of their train to reach them, and made their way to the Temple of Lios Éndoxos, a colossal structure similarly columned but decorated fantastically with frescoes and friezes of stories from the life of Lios. The scene was highly choreographed, with each step and motion having been rehearsed in preparation for this day.
With his election by lot, through the will of the Gods, Nikolaos had become, for this year, the Archon Basileus (High Priest) of their Polis. An office that entailed the administration of all major civil-religious ceremonies, a remnant from the days of the monarchic tyrants who once ruled the city as God-Kings. The position was now simply one of ceremony, but with no less gravity to its performance and responsibilities.
This was one of the performances. Eventually, the husband and wife arrived inside the temple, leaving their procession behind to attend to the crowds. The couple passed through the threshold and were greeted by the Gerarai, elder priestesses of Lios and the only ones capable of conducting the sacred rites, all of whom were clothed in black chitons, with thick veils of the same color.
The temple’s interior was lit dimly by torchlight, and the priestesses moved quickly to close the main doors, which had been seeping light into the room. Nikolaos and Lydia were completely isolated from the outside world, as no light or sound entered the chamber. All that could be heard inside the temple was the soft singing of the Gerarai and the pair’s breathing as they were led before a great statue of Lios.
This statue was almost four times the size of the bronze they had revered outside, his figure lit almost menacingly, hand outstretched with solid gold rays of sun shimmering in his hand. His body similarly shone with radiant health and physical perfection, with a well-built physique and symmetrical facial features. Incensers wafted smoke up and around his body, and filled the chamber, only mystifying its presence more.
The Gerarai increased in pitch and volume as they approached the couple and bowed deeply before Nikolaos. Turning to Lydia, they did not bow but quickly took hold of her by the arms, and began removing from her body the ceremonial garments she wore, starting first with her chiton, revealing her pale naked body to her husband. She offered no resistance as her veil was removed, revealing her dark brown hair, as the Gerarai forced her onto her knees in supplication.
“Do you submit yourself before your God?” Rang out the chorus.
Lydia stared at the stone floor, her breathing heavy as the strong incense began to fill her lungs, hazing her vision and fogging her mind
“I submit myself before my God.”
Cries of delight emanated as the Gerarai rejoiced, singing hymns of praise to Lios.
“Do you submit yourself before your husband?”
“I submit myself before my husband.”
Once more, the Gerarai rejoiced and asked.
“Who will you serve?”
“My husband and my God.”
The collection of the Priestesses hissed and chanted in unison.
“These two are the same, for you, until the end of time. You are not worthy, but have been chosen, be thankful and worship lest you be condemned to the pit.”
One of the Gerarai took Lydia’s right arm and held it up, allowing one of her sisters to tie a golden silk cord around the Basilinna’s wrist. Extending his left arm, Nikolaos did not look down at his wife, staring firmly above her as the cord around her wrist was connected and tied to his.
A white mewling lamb was brought forward from deep in the temple, and one of the priestesses revealed an ornate steel dagger with an ivory handle. Taking the lamb to the altar, the priestess with ease slit the lamb’s throat, and as the lamb laid shaking, blood flowing from its neck a golden chalice was used to collect the sanguine fluid.
“Oh great Lios, we offer this sacrifice to you, as we know this woman is unworthy. To make up for her lowliness, we give you the youth of this lamb and its male virility. Filling your cup with the precious fruit of the vine and satisfying your thirst.”
A jug of freshly made wine was brought over and poured into the cup before being placed into Nikolaos’ hand. He took a drink of the chalice and smiled, still overlooking Lydia. The taste was bittersweet, yet invigorating.
The same Gerarai who tied the cord to Lydia, bowing before the deified Archon, took the chalice from his hand and dipped her finger into the mixture, crouching down close to the Basilinna, she went in order, marking her forehead, breasts, and just below the navel before lifting the chalice to her mouth.
“Be joined and thank your God unto the ages.” The woman hissed at her.
Lydia drank from the chalice, staring at the thick liquid as she felt it stick to the insides of her throat, numbing it.
“Thank you, my God!” She said, prostrating herself before him,
“I am not worthy of your calling me.” She began repeating again and again, mumbling to herself and him. “I am not worthy, I am not worthy, I am not worthy...”
Nikolaos pulled on the cord, lifting the supplicated Lydia to her feet. Her head still bowed low, eyes averted from him, as he pulled her in tow, back outside to the awaiting crowds for the next ceremony, the consummation.
Accompaniment: Ambient Music for the Occasion
Ilios
The Acropolis
The evening sun shone softly upon the thousands gathered atop the walled precipice— the eager bodies of worshippers packed along the causeways that led to the grand temple of Lios. Priests and Priestesses, all adorned in silks, jewels, and golden finery, processed slowly up to the top of the fortified hill. Accompanied by both the fawning sounds of the audience and, from a distance, the dulcet tones of the dozens of musicians and singers that slowly trailed behind them.
The hill was a stunning display of marble and gold. An almost flat-sloped crest lined with sanctuaries and temples, guarded by ten-meter-high perimeter walls of weathered stone that surrounded the whole Acropolis.
At the head of the religious procession, walking on foot, was the Basileus Archon, Nikolaos, Son of Tassas, and beside him his wife Lydia, Basilinna of Ilios. The centerpieces of the celebration, Nikolaos and Lydia, were dressed in traditional religious costumes, linen chitons dyed in a deep mauve. The Basilinna’s face and hair were almost completely obscured by a thin veil of pink silk, which reached past her shoulders and down onto her back. While Nikolaos wore gold face paint and a golden diadem befitting of his station, its shape crafted to mimic the Sun’s rays and the shimmering beauty of their God, whose statue they could see as they began to crest the steps and make their way toward the temple.
As they reached the top of the hill under the cover of a columned memorial, they bowed deeply before the sizeable bronze statue ahead of them, Lydia glancing up at her husband only slightly. They stood close to each other for a moment, waiting for the rest of their train to reach them, and made their way to the Temple of Lios Éndoxos, a colossal structure similarly columned but decorated fantastically with frescoes and friezes of stories from the life of Lios. The scene was highly choreographed, with each step and motion having been rehearsed in preparation for this day.
With his election by lot, through the will of the Gods, Nikolaos had become, for this year, the Archon Basileus (High Priest) of their Polis. An office that entailed the administration of all major civil-religious ceremonies, a remnant from the days of the monarchic tyrants who once ruled the city as God-Kings. The position was now simply one of ceremony, but with no less gravity to its performance and responsibilities.
This was one of the performances. Eventually, the husband and wife arrived inside the temple, leaving their procession behind to attend to the crowds. The couple passed through the threshold and were greeted by the Gerarai, elder priestesses of Lios and the only ones capable of conducting the sacred rites, all of whom were clothed in black chitons, with thick veils of the same color.
The temple’s interior was lit dimly by torchlight, and the priestesses moved quickly to close the main doors, which had been seeping light into the room. Nikolaos and Lydia were completely isolated from the outside world, as no light or sound entered the chamber. All that could be heard inside the temple was the soft singing of the Gerarai and the pair’s breathing as they were led before a great statue of Lios.
This statue was almost four times the size of the bronze they had revered outside, his figure lit almost menacingly, hand outstretched with solid gold rays of sun shimmering in his hand. His body similarly shone with radiant health and physical perfection, with a well-built physique and symmetrical facial features. Incensers wafted smoke up and around his body, and filled the chamber, only mystifying its presence more.
The Gerarai increased in pitch and volume as they approached the couple and bowed deeply before Nikolaos. Turning to Lydia, they did not bow but quickly took hold of her by the arms, and began removing from her body the ceremonial garments she wore, starting first with her chiton, revealing her pale naked body to her husband. She offered no resistance as her veil was removed, revealing her dark brown hair, as the Gerarai forced her onto her knees in supplication.
“Do you submit yourself before your God?” Rang out the chorus.
Lydia stared at the stone floor, her breathing heavy as the strong incense began to fill her lungs, hazing her vision and fogging her mind
“I submit myself before my God.”
Cries of delight emanated as the Gerarai rejoiced, singing hymns of praise to Lios.
“Do you submit yourself before your husband?”
“I submit myself before my husband.”
Once more, the Gerarai rejoiced and asked.
“Who will you serve?”
“My husband and my God.”
The collection of the Priestesses hissed and chanted in unison.
“These two are the same, for you, until the end of time. You are not worthy, but have been chosen, be thankful and worship lest you be condemned to the pit.”
One of the Gerarai took Lydia’s right arm and held it up, allowing one of her sisters to tie a golden silk cord around the Basilinna’s wrist. Extending his left arm, Nikolaos did not look down at his wife, staring firmly above her as the cord around her wrist was connected and tied to his.
A white mewling lamb was brought forward from deep in the temple, and one of the priestesses revealed an ornate steel dagger with an ivory handle. Taking the lamb to the altar, the priestess with ease slit the lamb’s throat, and as the lamb laid shaking, blood flowing from its neck a golden chalice was used to collect the sanguine fluid.
“Oh great Lios, we offer this sacrifice to you, as we know this woman is unworthy. To make up for her lowliness, we give you the youth of this lamb and its male virility. Filling your cup with the precious fruit of the vine and satisfying your thirst.”
A jug of freshly made wine was brought over and poured into the cup before being placed into Nikolaos’ hand. He took a drink of the chalice and smiled, still overlooking Lydia. The taste was bittersweet, yet invigorating.
The same Gerarai who tied the cord to Lydia, bowing before the deified Archon, took the chalice from his hand and dipped her finger into the mixture, crouching down close to the Basilinna, she went in order, marking her forehead, breasts, and just below the navel before lifting the chalice to her mouth.
“Be joined and thank your God unto the ages.” The woman hissed at her.
Lydia drank from the chalice, staring at the thick liquid as she felt it stick to the insides of her throat, numbing it.
“Thank you, my God!” She said, prostrating herself before him,
“I am not worthy of your calling me.” She began repeating again and again, mumbling to herself and him. “I am not worthy, I am not worthy, I am not worthy...”
Nikolaos pulled on the cord, lifting the supplicated Lydia to her feet. Her head still bowed low, eyes averted from him, as he pulled her in tow, back outside to the awaiting crowds for the next ceremony, the consummation.