The boy was back to the mountain, drawn here with the stories of Solis dancing in his head. Long ago, Pan had worshipped Solis before all the others – before he knew Oriens to be the god of the Dawn Court. Here on the mountain, he’d met the most devout of Solis’ followers, worshipped beside her, called to the sun god. But those days were lost to time now, just as the rest of his memories had been. Now, the child comes back to Veneror Peak like a babe straight from the womb, without expectation or preconceived notions – he comes only to pay tribute to the god of Solterra.
By now, the path is well known to Pan, for he had been here several times of late to worship the goddess Caligo. Today though, as he nears the peak, he nods to the ebony obelisk with shadows gathering around it, making his way to the alter of sandstone. It stands stark and naked against the setting sun, a tower of gold against a sunset sky. All around him, the peak is awash with hues of gold and pink, a beautiful and fitting tribute to the god of day. With his breath caught in his throat, the boy has to stand and enjoy the beauty, even as his mind begins to wander.
As he stands before the temple, Pan wonders what others had been here. Solterra was a land of warriors, and he could easily imagine the bended knees as they humbled themselves before the god. They would bring him tributes of war, he imagined – spoils like gold, dripping with the blood from their conquests. And he would appreciate it – this Pan knew. For Solis took pride in his fighters, and even more pride in their victories. Such was the way of a warrior tribe. And the boy has to wonder if he would ever be considered worthy in the eyes of the golden god, for he had no skills for fighting.
Still, he wants to be known by Solis, fishing in his bag and disrupting his sleeping companion. In response, the otter squeaks indignantly at his master, rummaging along with Pan and drawing out a particularly shiny piece of silver foil. Where it had come from, Pan could hardly say – but he’d found it washed ashore on the beach, knowing that it was worth holding onto for a special moment. Deciding to offer it to Solis, he stepped forward proudly, laying his prize along the base of the sculpture with his chest puffed proudly.
I know it isn’t much, but I want you to have this. The child’s voice is as sincere as any of Solis’ other followers, tinged with respect as he settles upon his knees on the hearth. And in the dying sun, the scaled boy waits, until the last flickers of day begin to blink past the horizon. With a smile on his lips, Pan feels whole and warm, as if the day would never leave him. It was enough, he knew – for Solis was probably too busy to personally thank him for his gift. Nodding and turning with a parting smile to the sandstone shrine, the boy returns to Novus, leaving his tribute behind.
