The Naming Ceremony
by Aaarrrgh
Status: Public


Tey adjusted his initiate’s robe and followed the group that was heading into the main sanctuary. Like most vedalken he did not often show emotion, but he couldn't help but smile at the thought that he would soon leave this robe behind and earn his pilgrimage cloak. He could feel the same excitement in all of his fellow initiates as the abbot started the meeting. As always, it started with the first line of the creed of the Church of the Unknown: “We believe that there is something worth believing in.” Fortunately, the creed was not recited in full, as it was nearly twenty minutes long constantly being revised. Tey didn't know it, but he shared a thought with every one of his fellow initiates, as well as of every person who had ever worn those robes. It was a simple thought, but a powerful one: the thought that they might someday be the ones who created the final true creed, and gave the Church of the Unknown its true name.

At the same time, the abbot was reciting the history of the Church of the Unknown. The church had originally been called the Church of the Nameless Goddess, after the nearby city had been liberated from a horrifying tyrant by a powerful liberator who had then vanished without a trace. Deciding that the liberator must be divine, the locals founded the church in her honor. It quickly thrived, and became the major religion of the city within a generation. Then, much to everyone’s surprise, the goddess returned. And as much as her worshipers were surprised to see her, she was far more surprised to see them. In what has been considered one of the five most embarrassing moments in the history of the plane, the high priest of the church was not only given the name of his Nameless Goddess (which has since unfortunately been lost), but was also told that she did not want to be worshipped. Their savior was powerful as a god, but she did not consider herself one, and she definitely didn’t consider herself worthy of worship. Terrified that they had misled their people in their ignorance, the church leaders took an oath to never again put their faith in anything that wasn’t truly worthy of it. The church has been seeking that worthy thing ever since.

“Now,” continued the Abbot, “you are almost ready to join in that search. You are ready to go into your final time of meditation and fasting as initiates. The next time we meet here, you will be given your pilgrimage names!” The initiates looked at each other with excitement, and then nodded a smiling goodbye, and were led out by their teachers.

As Tey was led to his meditation cell after the final meeting of the initiates, he found himself quietly examining the current creed in his mind. As far as he knew, it was the only creed to include if-then clauses. But it had been written so that it could be fulfilled by a god, or a group, or a philosophy, or an ideal, or possibly by a barnyard animal (that part was brought up at every revision meeting, yet somehow had never been removed. Tey thought it was probably a test of some kind). Soon he would have his chance to add his own discoveries to the ever growing list. All he needed was to get through the time of fasting and meditation, and come to some insight of where he thought he might find the answer. Then he could be sent on his pilgrimage. He felt certain that he would be successful. Even if he didn't find That Which is Worthy himself, he felt certain that he would reach some insight about it that no one had considered before, at which point he would hang up the pilgrimage robe and spend the rest of his life as a teacher in the monastery, taking active part in the creed revision meetings. Some people could not understand that desire, but to Tey it was possibly the most exciting life he could imagine.

Four days later, Abbot Kal’rez and Dani’mot, the matron of initiates, were walking along the meditation corridor. Looking around, the Abbot spoke. “Are all of the initiates ready for the naming ceremony?”

Dani’mot, a short human in her sixties, threw a glance at the far taller vedalken Abbot. “Two of them could not stand the fasting and meditation, and asked to be sent home. Eleven have reached their insight, and are ready. One has not yet left his cell.”

There was a minuscule shift among the muscles in the Abbot’s face. Most people would have missed it completely, but the matron of initiates had reached her position by understanding both her own race and their vedalken colleagues equally, and she knew that Kal’rez was surprised. “Truly? I cannot recall the last time someone stayed four whole days in the cell. Was he not prepared for his insight?”

The matron knew what he meant. Although the insight was supposed to be purely an effect of the meditation, most initiates spent a significant amount of time studying and considering before stepping into the cell, using the time there mainly as a confirmation of a decision they had already made. She shook her head. “I don’t know. Tey seems like a bright lad. I would think he would have prepared. You don’t think anything is wrong, do you?”

For a moment, a story flashed through both of their mind. It was told among the initiates every year, and had been so already when they themselves were initiates; the story of the initiate who died of a heart attack in his meditation cell, and who wasn’t discovered until a week later. Each time someone asked her, the matron dismissed the idea as a ghost story, but now she was worried that it might have come true. And under her watch, too. It was most distressing. Kal’rez, too was considering the situation, and then spoke. “Perhaps we should look in on him.”

Dani’mot was shocked. “Are you suggesting we open a meditation cell before the bell has been rung? What would that mean to the poor lad if he is still in focus in there? He might have to start over, and that would be very rough after already spending four days in there.”

The Abbot shook his head, and stepped up to the door. “Not at all. Remember that our goal is always to seek insight. That is true in many contexts, and I have ways to make it easier.” He closed his eyes and placed his palms against the wood of the door. As he started muttering under his breath the matron suddenly understood what was happening. True, opening the door would interrupt the meditation session, but looking straight through the door did not carry those complications with it.

Kal’rez opened his eyes, and the matron could tell that he was confused. “Are you certain that this is the cell you placed him in?” When the matron nodded, he continued. “Because this cell is empty.”

At the same time, very far away, Tey was being interrogated. Of course, while that happened, he was also gathering information from his interrogator. He had gathered that he was in a church, which was almost comforting to him. Except for the fact that instead of a pilgrim or teacher, this church contained an inquisitor. Tey was of course quite inquisitive himself, but he had a feeling that this inquisition was not of a theo-philosophical nature. Instead, the main issue seemed to be as to what manner of being he was. Now, the inquisitor hadn’t used the term “being”, but Tey didn’t like to think of himself as a “foul creature”, so he had made the correction in his head. He would have made it out loud, but the inquisitor’s mace had already come frighteningly close to his face a few times, so he decided against actively alienating him. Tey still did not know how had gotten to this place. He had been doing his meditation, and trying to think of somewhere with a strong faith that his church had not yet reached a good understanding of. Next thing he knew, he had been here. Granted, this was a place of faith that the Church of the Unknown had never even encountered, but he doubted this Avacyn was what the church was seeking. She seemed limited and vengeful, if her representative here was any indication. He decided that it probably would be unwise to stay here, and closed his eyes. Remembering the feelings that had brought him here, he focused on his cell in the great monastery, trying to reverse whatever it was that had taken him out of it.

The Abbot was looking around the simple cell. The matron of initiates had quickly unlocked the door after his announcement, and they were both trying to understand how an initiate could have gotten out without them knowing. The matron had the only key, and she would normally never use it unless the initiate had rung the small bell by the door to indicate that they either had reached their insight or given up their search. There was no other door, and no window. The only furniture was the simple wooden bed and a table with a water jug and cup. There was also a chamber pot and a waste shaft, which was far too narrow for a person to fit through. In short, there was no way out and nowhere to hide. As they stood there in bewilderment, a light suddenly filled the room. Abbot and matron alike quickly shielded their eyes, and when they opened them again, the missing initiate was sitting on his bed. He was breathing deeply, and his eyes were closed. Slowly, he opened them, and his previously tense features returned to the neutral vedalken countenance. Then, he spoke. “Ah, Father, matron, I have reached my insight.” He paused for a moment. “I think it would be wise if I could discuss it with you in private before the naming ceremony.”

The Abbot and the matron both knew the full history of the church, unlike most of its members. The point that only the leaders of the church knew was that the Nameless Goddess had been a planeswalker. They listened intently to Tey's tale, and were able to use the old notes from previous Abbots to explain to him what had happened. The church had of course known about planeswalkers since its foundation, and had secretly always sought out any visitors to the plane in order to widen their understanding of the multiverse, but this was the first time they had had a planeswalker within the church itself.

The naming ceremony happened the very next day. The initiates were lined up and given their robes and their honorifics. Most of them were simply given ‘dak, the basic honorific for pilgrims. If they later accomplished something noteworthy, they would be given new and stronger names. Tey’s friend Garan became Garan’tet. He had been the most skilled healer in the group, but they hadn’t expected him to reach that level immediately. Sarina became Sarina’mot, a clear indication that she was expected to someday become a matron at the monastery. Tey was the last to be named. The Abbot called him up on the platform, and actually smiled at him. “Take your robe, Tey’von.”

There was silence. There was no one at the monastery with that honorific. In fact, none of them had ever met anyone with the name. Some of the more scholarly members knew the name, but they were even more surprised than the rest. Sensing the confusion, Kal’rez turned to the crowd. “The name ‘von signifies the explorer. It was last given two hundred and forty six years ago, to Dana’von, who was the first member of the Church of the Unknown to cross the ocean and give an account of the faiths on the continent of Tilinos. I believe that Tey’von will bring us knowledge unlike any we have heard before. I cannot tell you how, but I assure you that he has already deserved the name.”

As they bid each other farewell outside the monastery, the new pilgrims shared a lot of strange looks at each other. There was a lot of emotion, mostly from the human members of the group. More than anything, people were wondering what had happened with Tey’von. He politely declined to answer. Slowly they started spreading out on the various roads, some walking together, some sharing the first few miles of their journey. Tey’von stayed behind and watched the others disappear in the distance. Once he was alone, he spoke a quiet prayer to whatever it was that he was hoping to find, and ‘walked away.