Cuan, Láir Square.
Thousands of people filled the square, which was in front of the magnificent Grand Temple of Lodan Lir - not the Main Temple, that one was hidden deep in Cuan's side-streets, but the Grand Temple, which certainly deserved its name.
Especially today, as the venerable, old complex was decorated with flowers, flags, everything under the sun. The Spring Festival was afoot and today, it was, the day of the Spring Equinox and the gigantic, collective birthday party of all Selkie.
For one young woman, barely not a girl anymore, it was also an important day due to something else: Mona Beag of the Tribe of Louth, Envoy of Lodan Lir, would turn fifteen Springs today. That meant, that she, as Envoy, would be married to Her God, Lodan Lir, today. This was called the Bainis.
But that was later today.
Now, the Spring Sacrifice needed to be done.
Selkie usually did not offer living things in order to win the favour of their Gods, but once a year, each of the six deities of the Six-Pantheon got a little present: A horse was sacrificed to them, an equine of the best breed, sacrificed by the High Priest or High Priestess of each Cult, on the day of the Spring Festival, which celebrated the return of life after the long and harsh winters (especially in this year).
This was the highest religious festivity the Selkie knew.
And the weather was almost perfect!
Sunny and only a few, small white clouds in the sky.
People from all over the Free Lands had come, so many, that some of the fields in front of the city's gates had been cleared for use as camping fields. Due to the Bainis, delegations from the other five Cults and their Orders were lined up next to the Temple, only being there for representative purposes (as was the singular Flamen Minores from Lutetii and the Kyrenaian Priest).
And people from all over the world were there, too.
From one of the major streets of Cuan to the steps of the Temple, a street had been left free, a street, which was now used by Mona and her escort: The girl, her flaming orange-red hair open and freely fluttering in the wind, sat on a colt, which was almost a stallion, dressed in a Geansai in Lodan Lir's blue.
At her flanks, two Priestesses rode on their own horses, their faces hidden by coats. One was Amy Banphrionsa of the Tribe of Westmeath, a Priestess, Arrowmaiden and Mona's caretaker, for the Envoy was an orphan.
The other was Kiah Tincéir of the Tribe of Louth, a Servant to Lodan Lir.
Led by Mona by the reins was a beautiful, young colt, a strong one, a virile one, with a fuchsia coat and a white mane. He trotted, completely relaxed, behind the three of them. People, Selkie, bowed their heads in respect to the young woman, who had earned the respect of theirs.
This time, the hostess and main sponsor, the Cabhair Group, would not make an appearance and speak a few words, this time, the occasion was too important.
On a small stage in front of the Temple, a large, bronze bowl stood, tended to by Priests and Priestesses, watched over by a bluenette woman with blue eyes, who was still beautiful, despite being in her fifties. High Priestess Aife Cuisle of the Tribe of Wicklow bowed her head with a small, tender smile.
As they arrived by the stage, Mona dismounted and one could see her stopping for a moment, taking a deep breath before she turned to the High Priestess, stepping forward.
"Greetings, High Priestess, and may Lodan Lir be with you!", she spoke in Selkie - and despite her singular, unamplified voice, the entire square heard her, a pin could drop and would be heard.
"Envoy, Greetings to you.", the High Priestess replied with a deep bow of her head, smiling as she rose again. Mona had grown up, not a nervous little girl anymore, but a young woman worthy of respect, not squirming under her eyes. And she had already claimed the shortened skirt for the Geansai, as it was usual for adults to wear.
Mona led the colt up the stairs, onto the stage as a song started to be sung, a song of Spring and joy, a song of love and good harvests, the lyrics flowing like the rivers, which made Cuan so important, sung in the language of the Selkie.
By the bowl, the High Priestess fed a few herbs to the horse, which calmed considerably. The song reached a crescendo.
And in one, swift move, everything was over: The High Priestess had slit the horse's throat, the magnificent beast's blood pouring into the bowl as the horse went calmly into eternal sleep, guided down by the High Priestess.
Silence reigned as the High Priestess stepped forward, blood still dripping from the dagger.
"Our offering to the Gods is given, we will commit it to the flames by twilight. May this brave steed serve well in Arallfyd.", she spoke, her voice heard over the entire square, "For now, let's celebrate!"
Loud cheers rose up - for the Spring Festival had begun!