The floorboards creaked softly as I crossed the room.
Father said the Light dwelled in me. Sometimes I tried to feel it—something warm, something pure—but most days it was just… hard to find.
Maybe Jace would see what I couldn’t.
Father said he was observant—that he asked questions. That he seemedhungryfor truth.
I wondered what kind of hunger that was.
The chapel bell began to ring, telling me it was time to welcome our congregation in. I smoothed my robe once more, left my quarters, and went behind the Seat to pick up the little step stool hidden there. I used it to boost myself up, glad that no one ever saw me actually getting into the Seat, besides Father sometimes. It was a mess of very ungraceful movements.
Once I was settled, I straightened my robe a third time, needing to be the picture of perfection for our flock.
Father entered the empty sanctuary then—just on time, as always. He smiled up at me as he walked down the aisle to the dais.
When he reached the Seat, he used his foot to push the stool back around the stone base, away from sight.
I waited for him to address me with bated breath.
He didn’t.
I tried to swallow down my disappointment as he started to walk back down the aisle to open the chapel doors for the waiting crowd.
Maybe he’ll talk to me after the service, I hoped.
I took a deep breath and made myself smile as the faithful streamed in, their heads bowed, white robes brushing against the chapel floor and pews as they took their seats.
Father came to stand at the altar. “Children of the Light,” he began, his voice smooth and sure. “We come together tonight not to rest, but to renew. To scrape from our souls the soot of disobedience. For even the faithful stumble. Even the righteous must bleed to be cleansed.”
A murmur of assent swept through the crowd.
Father’s eyes moved across the sea of bowed heads, his gaze settling on a few at the front. “Silas,” he said softly. “Leah. Eleanor. Come forward. It is time for repentance.”
The three rose without a word. Silas’s hands were trembling.
I tried to remind myself that it wasn’t my fault they were to be punished, although it was difficult to truly convince myself of that since I’d been the one to report their names in the confessional notebook for Father.
Leah was a young woman, almost at the age when Father would speak to God about finding her a suitable marriage partner. She’d confessed to me that she’d been having impure thoughts of attraction towards one of our male members.
Eleanor was one of the two wives who’d come to confess together. I was surprised to see Maria, the other woman, sitting calmly in a pew, not called upon for repentance. I wasn’t sure why one of them was being punished while the other was not, but I guess that was why I wasn’t the Voice.
At Father’s nod, Brother Gideon brought a wooden bowl forward, handing it to him. I knew what came next before Father even spoke.
Father lifted his arms, voice rising. “Pain is the chisel of the Light! Through it, the rough stone of the spirit is carved into purity. Through it, the stubborn heart is made soft. Through it, the flesh remembers obedience!”
As the congregation answered, “Blessed be the Light,” Father shook the contents of the bowl onto the floor of the dais, causing hundreds of grains of uncooked rice to scatter.
“Kneel,” he said to the small group huddled together in front of him.
They obeyed. The sound of knees pressing into dry rice filled the air—a dull, crackling sound that made me flinch. Leah let out a small, pained cry before biting her lip and clenching her fists. Silas winced but was able to school his expression quickly. Eleanor softly wept between them.
I folded my hands tightly in my lap.
Father’s voice deepened, rolling through verse and scripture. “The world beyond these walls is full of sickness. It is full of hunger without cause, joy without truth. Out there, men make fools of themselves, succumbing to lust and greed. They are bathed in shadows. But here—” he struck his chest with a fist, “—here we burn with the Light. Here wesubmit.And in our submission, we are free.”
The crowd murmured, “Amen.”
“Do you think the world pities you for your suffering?” Father continued, turning toward the kneeling members with disdain written across his face. “No. They do not understand. They think discipline is cruelty, that obedience is weakness. But only the weak fear pain. Only the faithless cling to comfort.”
