How to Honor The Goddess

༺ 𓆩  Prologue  𓆪 ༻

「Translator — Creator」

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘᠂ ⚘᠃

At the northernmost edge of the continent, where the snow never seemed to melt, the children of the Tavanbogd Mountains undertook an age-old ritual. Each year, when the first snowstorm rolled in like a beast roaring down from the heavens, ten-year-olds climbed to the peak on horseback.

This year was no different. Fifteen children rode up the treacherous mountain trail, their small frames cloaked in fur, hands gripping reins stiff with frost.

Lagging behind the others, two children struggled through the cold, their cheeks flushed red by the biting wind, but still looking out for each other.

"Tauga, wait for me!"

"Hurry up! We haven't even reached the turning point yet!"

"Achoo!"

"Melduk! You're slowing me down!"

"But it’s freezing, and I’m tired…”

The one called Melduk looked on the verge of tears, his nose running and his voice trembling.

“I just want to stay home and write! Why do I have to climb a mountain on a day like this? Hiiiing…”

“You serious right now? If you fail the coming-of-age ceremony, you’ll get kicked out of the village! Do you wanna end up like Chagansar?”

"Why should I be banished from the village?"

"You have to complete the coming-of-age ceremony to be recognized as a proper adult. Those who can't manage it are people our Olus territory has no need for."

In keeping with the harsh customs of the land, the children were driven into the snow-covered mountains to prove their strength. It was a rite of passage, a trial of endurance and will, rooted deep in the traditions of their people.

“Even the girls do it! So quit whining!”

“This is just the grown-ups’ way of entertaining themselves with a kids’ race!”

“Is that why they had us riding horses since we were three?”

"Yes! My father bet money on Hunbish! I guess someone like me doesn't even matter to him."

During the idle days of winter, some of the adults amused themselves by betting on which child would reach the summit first. Without ever stating it outright, they pressured the children into believing the winner would be hailed as the year’s strongest warrior.

And so, once the ceremony was done, only the name of the victor lingered in memory.

Perhaps it was the struggle against the blizzard, or perhaps the sting of knowing his father placed his hopes on someone else but Melduk could no longer hold back his tears.

“Waaah! Sniff… sniff…”

“Ugh. Cry all you want. I’m going ahead.”

“Wait! Don’t leave me!”

When Tauga, fed up with consoling Melduk, took the lead and pressed forward, Melduk wiped away his chicken-dropping tears with his sleeve and followed.

“Ah.”

Not long after, the two stumbled upon another child standing motionless in the storm, unmoved, like a shadow carved into the snow.

“What are you staring at? Get lost!”

“What are you doing here, Tamir?”

“Mind your own business and get moving. Before I toss you off the cliff.”

Tamir, the boy in question, snapped at them with a voice cold and sharp as the air.

“What the—?”

“Let’s just go, Tauga. What if he actually throws us?”

Melduk trembled with fear as he tried to dissuade Tauga.

His eyes darted anxiously between the edge of the cliff and Tamir, caught in a nervous dance of glances.

Meanwhile, Tauga let out a sharp breath and, as if reluctantly, threw a few barbed words toward Tamir as he passed him.

“Big talk for someone so pathetic.”

Once the two of them had gone by, Tamir slumped down in the middle of the narrow mountain path, blocking it entirely.

Not long after Tauga and Melduk had passed, another child began descending from the opposite direction.

The blizzard raged on, and the thick fur hat buried over his brow obscured his vision. It wasn’t until he was nearly nose-to-nose with the figure on the trail that he realized who it was.

It was the child Tamir had been waiting for.

“…What the hell are you doing? Move.”

The boy shouted through the howling wind, standing on a narrow cliffside path cut into the edge of the gorge.

He had just reached the summit of Mount Tavanbogd and was on his way back down, the ceremonial token in hand.

But Tamir stood in his way, his horse angled to fully block the trail.

The boy tried to veer to the side and pass, but Tamir refused to budge.

Instead, he turned his mount sideways, completely cutting off the path.

"So, if you hand over that ceremonial token you're carrying, I'll clear the way for you?"

Tamir, heir to the territory and son of the Lord, needed to make his name known by being the first to return from the coming-of-age ceremony. But he had no faith in a fair race. Instead, he’d planted himself along the path, waiting to intercept the fastest child descending from the peak.

His plan was simple: steal the token and cross the finish line first.

“Why the hell would I give it to you? I only brought one!”

“Then go back and get another. What’s the big deal? Don’t be such a sore loser.”

Tamir snapped back, feigning irritation.

The boy stood speechless, momentarily stunned by the sheer audacity.

A biting wind whipped up from the ravine, stinging his nose and eyes. His cheeks and nostrils were so cold they felt like they might crack and fall off.

“You get your own damn token!”

Panicked and furious, the boy shrieked.

Tamir’s face shifted instantly, cold fury twisting his expression as he reached down to his waist and drew out a whip — one meant for horses, not people.

“Keep mouthing off like that, and I’ll teach you a lesson with this.”

Faced with the threat, the boy hesitated. Reluctantly, he reached into his coat.

His fingers closed around a small, palm-sized wooden doll. It was a crude figure, carved thickly — a charm meant to wish good fortune to the children undergoing the rite.

These tokens were left at the summit of Mount Tavanbogd with the hopes that every child would return safely.

It wouldn’t have been too hard to hand it over and go back for another one. But something about Tamir rubbed him the wrong way.

Just because he was the Lord’s son didn’t mean he could take what he wanted from others.

He hated Tamir.

Hated how he acted like he was someone important.

Hated how he always picked fights, always meddled, always threw up roadblocks just because he could.

But today, the boy had made up his mind.

He wouldn’t cave.

He wouldn’t let Tamir’s bullying win.

“I’m not giving it to you! No way!”

“You little—!”

The boy screamed again, defiant, and Tamir, enraged, drew back the whip and lashed it forward with a sharp snap, intending only to scare him. But the tip of the whip struck something it shouldn’t have; it caught the other boy’s horse across the bridge of its nose with a loud, stinging slap.

Startled, the horse reared up and stomped the snowy ground with its front legs.

“Ah!”

The boy had no time to react.

His balance gave out.

His body tilted backwards, dragged by the horse’s sudden movement. He reached instinctively for the reins, trying to grab hold but his fingers caught nothing but air.

And then his body slid.

There was a dull thud as he was thrown violently to the ground.

And a bolt of icy terror shot through his spine.

Thanks to the thick snow and his heavy leather garments, the initial impact hadn’t been too severe.

But before he could recover, the slick slope gave way beneath him, and he tumbled.

Downward, faster and faster, toward the cliff’s edge.

Just before he vanished, their eyes met — Tamir’s wide with horror, the boy’s with disbelief.

And then, he was gone.

Swallowed by the darkness below.

“Hey! Hey! Hun!”

Only now realizing what had just happened, Tamir’s voice cracked with panic. His face had turned deathly pale, and he shouted the boy’s name again and again. But all his eyes found was the sheer black wall of the cliff, spewing blizzard winds like a dragon’s breath.

There was no answer.

There could be no answer.

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