Volt always carried three packs. The biggest was quite mundane, carrying normal travelling supplies. The middle one was dangerous, holding weapon supplies, like his sharpening stone and a small axe. The last, a little smaller, held his religious objects. Tonight, the night of the full moon, was one of the nights that he used the last one.
He took up his place by the river. He had grown up next to a river and felt allied to the river spirits. This was a night to be surrounded by allies. Leaning his larger axe up against a tree, he began to prepare for the ritual.
The first object he took out of his pack was a journal. The journal was not used as such, but it was a place where he wrote down what he felt he might forget. On the first page, written in the heavy strokes of one unused to much writing, was a list. He counted the people listed there, few names and mostly locations of meeting, up to forty-two. Every time he killed a person, he wrote it down in his journal.
He rummaged through his pack until he had dug out all fourty-two candles. They were all small and hacked away at, as they used to be three big candles before Volt got at them with a knife. He set two down right in front of him and then made three semi-circles around the first two. The first semi-circle was very small, with only eight, the second contained eighteen, and the third was almost as large as the second.
Making a small fire behind himself, he used a stick to light the candles, starting from the centre and working his way out. Then he closed his eyes, placed his hands together, and began to silently form words with his lips, praying to the spirits of fire that he had invoked with the candles.
This did not mean that he was completely unaware. His unknown ability to detect mana signatures searched for others around.
Long ago, even by the Summon Spirits' standards, humans had worshipped the same spirits that Volt did. Once, candles would be lit all over the world of humans on the nights of the full moon, back when most other religions were barely starting.
Those days were long gone, leaving only a few like Volt to continue in the old ways, looked at oddly by the followers of the new religions. His own ancient religion would not last long past the time when Volt would be killed to become a different kind of spirit.