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The One-Stripe Pastor paced in a circle, her hands clasped tightly behind her back. The muted yellow-orange glow of the luminescent pot in the center of the Council of Pastors’ domed, high chamber cast a hazy shadow that loomed in and out against the smooth, curved wall as the Pastor circled before the pot.
“How, then, do we brand such things?” she asked of no one in particular. “How do we rank this transgression of Elders? How do we rank this Horror Vision?” She stopped and peered at the Three-Stripe. “Does this be an encroachment upon Spirit? An imbalance for which we must atone?”
“It is worrisome,” she said, dipping her head. “This Eldest, Cren, oft seems to scrape at Spirit as if to lighten its balance with Temporal.”
“Does he then stomp a foot upon Spirit? Does he not see the disunion he stirs?”
“Perhaps his heart has been weakened by the lust of Temporal?” suggested the Two-Stripe.
“Do not speak thus,” snapped the One-Stripe. “He be Eldest. Cast him not into ugliness.”
“All things in balance,” the Three-Stripe quietly added.
After a moment’s hesitation, the One-Stripe decided that these questions could only be answered from the fullness of Unity with Spirit. With that, she faced the glowing pot and extended her arms. Her voice assumed a note of reverence and obeisance as she chanted, “Let us join hearts and souls. Let us merge mind with body. Let us embrace the trinity of OneGod, Spirit, and Temporal in Unity.”
The Pastors staggered back, breaking the circle, and stared wide-eyed at each other.
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Chapter 1
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ANUM 4102 PA
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