It's a dark, hollow night. The moon shines into my distraught nature and I feel whole for a small moment in time. Emotions wane, and I feel connected to the coarse ground beneath me. It's truly a shame that I can't seem to stay in such a moment forever. As the leaves sway from the cold night's gust, I arrive before the church. Compared to the other buildings in our town, the church is so … Sharp. I can feel the prayers, confessions, and a strong, collective faith emanating from it, looming over me, watching over my soul. I'm not one for absolute devotion, but perhaps getting a little lost in worship isn't so bad. After whispering a small prayer, I walk towards the entrance. The doors slowly open with a deep creaking noise as the round handle is pulled. Directly opposite me, within the rainbow-colored stained-glass, is an ethereal depiction of Saintess Neriah, with her wings tucked and head down, holding her divine staff bestowed by our God, offering a chalice filled and radiating with light to the sky. The others have told me that she's offering a manifestation of her faith. When I asked our Bishop, Gustav, he told me that there isn't a clear-cut interpretation of the imagery. He sincerely believes that the final step on the road of faith, is to become one and offer yourself to Him. The Bishop Gustav, at his lectern with the Saintess behind him, always seemed incredibly passionate and entirely consumed by his devotion. It's a sight to behold, the every few days we are here. At some point, though, it dawned on me, that the idea of a stronger faith isn't for me. The more devoted believers follow the commandments laid out by Him more closely. Gustav said in our last gathering this morning,
"Your faith here is strong, each one of you shine with the radiance of His light. I can feel it cleansing you. Once your vessel is pure enough, you will be able to take his word directly! Yes indeed, I have recently received permission to share a book containing texts laid out by direct disciples of the Eternal Sun, the Cleansing Light. His Radiance is contained within these scriptures, and it is not different from the magic you hear of in the spoken fairytales! The only limitation is your purity and your devotion. A whole new world will open up for us going forward."
There was an audible gasp and a short bustling at the mention of magic. As townsfolk, it's exceedingly rare to see any kind of magic, let alone a magician. The idea of magic and mythical encounters heard through fairy tales was always intoxicating to me. I would frequently run errands for the Bishop before and after our church gathering. It felt good doing something for such an important and busy figure in our town. After today's gathering, I had asked if he would consider me to take in the scriptures of His Radiance.
"In short time. Son, there are many which are waiting in line. Know that patience is on the road to a true light and pure vessel. We will take in those most devout, and my hope is you will certainly be among them after the first batch spreads the true gospel given by His Radiance. Now … I have other matters to attend to. May His light reach you."
I stopped the Bishop and asked him if there was any way I could learn now. I insisted. When he calmly and kindly refused as he usually does, I spoke smugly:
"How come, if His Radiance is so omnipotent, he doesn't bestow us with his words, blessings, and truths directly himself?"
Although books are a true rarity and reading isn't widespread through our village, running errands for the Bishop meant he would teach me reading and writing. From time to time, I would sneak out a book from his sizable collection to read. Of course, this required the key to his office, which Gustav gave me a copy of. I had read some stories of adventurers and one or two books on history. It was of deep interest to me. My small world had shattered when I learned that there is such a bigger world out there. Frogs in a well is what we all are. Magic combined with swordsmanship and martial arts to best monsters beyond my imagination. Loot and riches to be fulfilled for multiple lifetimes. Epic tales of heroism and justice. One thing in particular that deeply affected me, is that in most of these tales, even within the history, there is hardly a mention of His Radiance and that there are other gods prayed to. It's possible that these books use a name for His Self unknown to us, or perhaps there is simply no mention in the few I have read.
His face disgruntled unusually from my inquiry, slowly crunched up like a piece of paper, he let out an anger and discomfort I had never seen from him before.
"H-how dare you … How dare you insult Him?! Scram, you insolent brat! I said s-SCRAM!"
I stood, like a ghost, for a seemingly long time. His loud, deep and uncertain voice cut through the bustling of people getting up from their seats to leave. Some looked on in confusion as to what was going on. I had found a bit of myself from after the shock, apologized and quickly left by pushing on through the small crowd. I'm still confused. Never have I seen the Bishop get angry, not like this. I haven't caught up with the others much, but it seems like they dismissed it as me being me again. My exchanges with Gustav had included some smug probing about our faith, however he calmly and eloquently subdued my doubts each time. Perhaps something has happened to him recently.
I walked towards Gustav's office, which is the room to the right of the lectern. The sound of my steps on the porcelain tiles were echoing in the dim, silent and chilly church. As I got closer to the entrance of the room, I started hearing frantic and chaotic whispers coming from beyond the door. It's difficult to tell who it was, or if it even was a person. I wonder if the Bishop stayed later, into the night today? Maybe something did indeed happen. It's certainly hard to turn back now, after mustering the courage to sneak and go through the book mentioned by Gustav. I can make up some kind of excuse. He was acting weird today after all. My steps are now slow and steady, and I'm listening for something intelligible, understandable to grasp and hold onto. I try to step up and lean against the door to listen closer. The person in the room is repeating the same whisper, although it's unclear what they're saying. It sounds foreign. I can hear the occasional flip of a page. I wonder if I should make noise and act like I forgot my coat … No … Something's not right. I stay to listen, and eventually decide to carefully operate the key into the keyhole. I push the door open slowly and slightly, to peep within a small crack of the door.