Sinderella
Aria looked up. The skies were alive with the heavenly fury of the Goddess. Bright crimson globes dripping bloody tendrils down to Mont Mori lit up the firmament, near as bright as the full moon.
All the preparations were done; the stage was set. Aria had never felt Mori's world more strongly before. Every inch of her skin felt electrified, shivers kept running through her, and it wasn't because of the frigid cold of the Underworld. Around six hundred priestesses were assembled in the snow-blanketed clearing. From that number, around two thirds were black-robed veterans of the Goddess Faithful, the others wearing the white of younger priestesses. One of them was standing next to her, tall and beautiful as always, her dear Mea. Her face was as professional as always, but her eyes betrayed her excitement. A Divine Album Drop was a preciously rare event.
Aria grabbed the girl's hand and a voice betraying her anticipation asked: "Are you ready, Mea?". A smile took over the Holy Ghost's face as she nodded.
The crowd was febrile, it was going to start any time now. The spectators were organized in a wide three-quarter of a circle around the center stage, with the last quarter dedicated to the Mountain, which was looming unfathomably immense over the assembly. They were only a few days' hard walk from the bottom of the massif. The mountaintop slowly flashed a pinkish light, painting rosy hues onto the swathes of sky untouched by the ethereal scarlet constructs.
A group of priestesses was assembled in the center, alongside their equipment. They were dressed extravagantly, their complex, multilayered silks baring most of their skin in the subzero air, their Death Masks virtually covered in diamonds glowing brightly in the luminous night. One was flipping a pair of wooden staves in her hands, a huge set of drums before her; another held two steel maces and sat motionless, her arms crossed, with an immense xylophone next to her. The largest note was a Death Sloth rib, two meters long, its metallic surface reflected the sky lights prettily. The third member held some stringed instrument, a bit taller than herself, and fitted with six unusually thick metal cords.
The last member bore the heaviest burden. Instead of her Death Mask, she wore an elaborate tiara. Another woman was holding a breathing apparatus to her mouth, connected to some gas tank. She'd been breathing air completely saturated with chuubanite for a few minutes. A dozen priestesses on the front row held pens and scrolls at the ready, set to transcribe every word, sound, note and intonation about to be produced by the divinators.
Finally, the mountaintop brightened with activity, and the four musicians snapped into life from their addled state. The trance had begun.
The singer pushed off the girl with the respirator. "I'm good, thanks, taking it from here." She turned around towards the crowd, her hair swinging behind her in an arc. Her eyes were glowing with a dark carmine fire, bright enough for Aria to see them from her seat. In her hand was a short, gilded stick with a fist-sized spherical pink diamond mounted at its end; the 'Mikuro'. She brought it to her face and spoke words with supernatural strength, each syllable shaking the Aria's guts and the ground beneath her feet.
"DEADBEEEEEEEEEEEEEEATS!"
"ARE YOU FUCKING READY!!"
In rare display of a complete breakdown in decorum and formality on the Goddess Faithful's part, the crowd exploded in cheers, exclamations and wordless screams. The air flashed alight with every sound that came out of the singer's mouth.
"This first song goes out to all the cuties in the crowd!"
The singer's finger swung in an arc pointed at the audience while winking. Every movement had the inhuman grace of divinity. With the priestesses now well hyped, she pumped her fist before calling out to the xylophonist.
"Hit the keys! Let's GO!"
And so, the miracle began.
By the time the first song ended, a few of the younger priestesses had fainted, and Aria and Mea had found themselves kissing each other, a rare public display of affection. These group experiences were known to dissipate inhibitions; and this song in particular was remarkably steamy. Their lips parted just in time to see the singer lift her arm toward the sky. She'd sung like a demon, her voice echoing throughout the valley; even the mountaintop had heard her. Steam was coming off of her overworked, glowing body. The fiery crimson light suddenly faded out of her eyes, and she crumpled, like a puppet whose strings were cut. A well positioned assistant caught her before she hit the ground, and another took the tiara and mikuro from her feverish head and hand. The unconscious girl coughed up some blood as her vocal chords absorbed the damage inflicted to them in full. This trance was the highest honor; the price it exacted was negligible in comparison.
The next singer stumbled up onto stage, having just had the pure chuubanite essence breather removed from her face, and was handed the tiara and mikuro. She readied herself. No momentum was lost; her eyes soon lit up with the divine light, and her body straightened into a strong, confident stance. And the second song went even harder.
By the time all was said and done, around a hundred priestesses had collapsed due to the intensity of the magical energy, and the band had been through ten singers and two or three players for each instrument. Our Mori had been most generous in the gifts imparted on her people this day.
The priestesses lucky enough to witness this momentous heavenly event were near unanimous in their agreement; this Divine Album Drop was one of their favorites yet. Then, the work to distribute the Goddess' songs to the rest of the island began, as copies of the song sheets were distributed throughout the land, and ecclesiasts who had witnessed the original performance taught them to others, to be remembered forevermore.
Memento Mori!