Chapter 375 — Gathering in the Shadows
Blade of Dawn · Page 1 of 3
The church—the church he had built with his own hands.
When Wright set out, he had never imagined he would return to this place so soon, still less that when he came back he would have lost the favor of the Holy Light and become an ordinary man.
To lose his transcendent power, to lose his identity as a transcendent—this was nothing to Wright. Power was only a tool; before he obtained this tool he had lived as an ordinary man for twenty years, and he had never been so attached to the status of transcendent. But to lose his affinity for the Holy Light—that left him deeply bereaved.
He stood quietly before the plain church for a long time, watching the little tower and spire above it form a sharp sword against the outline of the giant sun, piercing the sky like the first ray of Holy Light that, in legend, had guided mankind to cleave through the darkness in ancient times. At last he gave a faint sigh, stepped forward, and opened the church door.
The lord's words had left a deep echo in his heart. Wright knew those words were reasonable and worth pondering, yet he knew even better where his own problem lay—in truth he had never doubted his resolve and his deeds in walking the path of the Holy Light; he had never wavered in that regard at all.
What had truly shaken him was this: why should those who had all but wholly forsaken the Holy Light also be able to wield those sacred powers?
The Lord of the Holy Light... did He truly not see all this?
Once more that near-blasphemous thought surfaced in Wright's heart, and the instant it appeared he felt a turmoil in his spiritual world; a faint, elusive stabbing pain arose in his mind, and an exceedingly distant, blurred, chaotic whisper echoed at his ear. That whisper seemed to hold inexhaustible truth and loving-kindness, yet not only could Wright not make out its words—he could clearly sense that the whisper was receding from him.
The brief stabbing pain and daze soon passed, and Wright felt the power of the Holy Light within him weaken a little further.
"To question the Lord, is it..." the tall pastor muttered under his breath, and walked slowly into the church's prayer hall. He sat down in the first row of seats and glanced up at the icon not far ahead—the image of the Lord of the Holy Light stood upon the pulpit, its countenance blurred, sunlight pouring down through the skylight to cloak the sculpture in a hazy halo. Then he lowered his head and prayed silently.
Halfway through the prayer, Wright opened his eyes. He sensed someone approaching, so he rose and turned to look.
A stout, broad-shouldered middle-aged woman in coarse cloth garments came forward hesitantly. She was one of the believers who regularly came to the church; seeing that Wright had finished praying, she at once abandoned her tiptoeing and strode up boldly, greeting him in a hearty, loud voice: "I saw the door was open, Pastor! When did you get back?"
"Only just now," Wright said gently, looking at the woman who often came to pray. "Is there something you need?"
"Oh, no, nothing—I just heard you were back and came to see. Everyone's missed you," the farmwife laughed. "Now that you're back, will the weekly service be held as usual? I'll go tell everyone."
Holding a service required leading everyone to perceive the Holy Light. Wright could not help frowning, and said with an apologetic look: "I... I'm sorry, my condition hasn't been good lately. I'm afraid I won't be able to preside over the service..."
The farmwife did not mind at all and waved a hand carelessly: "Oh, that's all right, that's all right. I'll just tell everyone the service is canceled."
Then she glanced at Wright curiously, her tone tinged with concern: "Pastor, did you catch a chill out there? I've heard the snow north of Rock Fortress hasn't melted yet—did you freeze out there?"