As the singing grew stronger and louder, so did the winds.
Resonating with the words, drawing power from them.
[i]Take on breath, one breath...
Slip away from the dream, you're awake[/i]

The melody strengthened. Became more pure, more harmonious, louder.
[i]"I do not know what you have planned nor do I know what your motifs are, but we might as well turn this into one hell of a show!" [/i]
It was with these silent words that echoed over the music that Āwhātama realized who he had in his grasp. Too late to let go. Too late to step back.
Do or die.
With more power than he could comprehend he shouted at the skies.

One voice sounded from the mouthed of many. A primal bellow like rolling thunder. It washed over the festivities and over the fields surrounding the village.
The sound echoed off the cliffs and whispered trough the forest.
Just as sudden as it came it dissipated along with the wind.
the air was still and filled with static energy that made your hair stand up in the back of your neck.
A voice resounded from nowhere, everywhere and from the mouths of the three that had stood in the cyclone.

[b]"My name is prince Āwhātama, son of the Storm Tyrant, grandson of Mawhiti. I thank those that made my voice here possible for I bring a message of excitement and joy."[/b]
The voice paused and a small cyclone whipped up cinders in the pyre. A vague figure of fire and wind danced in the warm glow of the fire.
[b]"Tonight mortals will claim their places in history at the sides of the divines. But there's a surprise! They shall prove themselves and their gods to the world!"[/b]
The voice paused again, even though it was strange one could clearly hear excitement in his tone. There was something the gods didn't know yet.
[b]"The gods will call upon their divine inspirations to create tests no normal human could pass. They will call into beings monsters, or temples full of traps and riddles. For those that beat these tests will be awarded with proof."[/b]
The figure of fire pulled forth a large golden coin and tossed it up. The old priest caught it and held it up as he examined it. "A gold coin, depicting a bell..."
[b]"The champion that collects the most coins not belonging to his own patron will receive a special prize."[/b]
If the winds could grin this would be the moment for it.

[b]"So be merry! Celebrate this great moment in your history. Collect your friends. And bring your sacrifices, one of the greats might choose you. And soon here portals will open. Portals to their domain. Where epic tests and adventure await."[/b]

After that everything when silent. The pyre returned to normal and the singers regained will over their tongue. The strange weather was once again replaced by a soft breeze and the rain had stopped. Between the three there was a shimmer on the ground. Small shining bells made of white gold. No clapper. Inscribed was a small crown.
[i]Thank you.[/i]