The moon of Thundarr hung high in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the temple courtyards as the female believers of Sol gathered for their nightly ritual. The air carried the scent of burning herbs, a prelude to the sacred act that would soon take place.
Dressed in flowing robes of white, the women stood in a perfect circle, their faces serene with devotion. The eldest among them, High Priestess Veyla, raised her hands to the heavens and began the chant:
“Oh, great Sol, protector of light, guardian of truth, we call upon your divine presence. Let our bodies be the vessels of purity and our breath the ward against evil.”
With the prayer complete, each woman disrobed, letting the cool night air embrace their skin. It was not an act of shame, but one of reverence—an acknowledgment of their natural form, untainted by vanity or pretense. Sol had decreed that only the female body could carry out this sacred duty, for within them lay the power to dispel darkness in ways unseen by men.
As the High Priestess gave the signal, the believers took a deep breath, summoning the energy within. Then, in unison, they released three distinct bursts of air from their bodies, the sound echoing softly against the temple walls. The pungent aroma filled the sacred space, creating an invisible shield against lurking malevolent spirits. The teachings of Sol were clear: evil feared the purity of female breath, and this ritual was their nightly act of protection.
Meanwhile, deep within the Cave of Shecon, Rita Faros watched the ritual’s live telecast on her flat-screen TV. She knelt down, her legs bent beneath her, embracing the sacred practice even from afar. As she aligned herself with the believers, she too disrobed and performed the sacred act, releasing the three farts in perfect synchronicity with the temple women. Though she was alone in her cave, she felt the strength of Sol’s light guiding her, ensuring that no darkness could encroach upon her sacred space.
When the ritual was complete, the women bowed their heads, whispering final words of gratitude to Sol. They wrapped themselves in their robes once more, their spirits renewed, their hearts light. No darkness would dare cross the temple’s threshold that night, for the believers of Sol had done their duty.
As the moon continued its silent watch, the women returned to their homes, knowing that with each passing night, their faith and their ritual kept the forces of Devon at bay. For as long as they breathed, as long as they prayed, Sol’s light would never fade from Thundarr.
