In the bathroom, I turned the water on low—Father said long, hot showers were wasteful, a sign of indulgence—and waited for the pipes to stop knocking before stepping under. The water was cold, but I didn’t mind. It helped me stay alert, helped me remember that the body is weak and must be disciplined.
I washed quickly with the bar of plain soap that sat on the ledge before wetting my hair and picking up the small lavender-colored shampoo bottle that Father always brought me from his visits outside of our compound. Father made me promise to keep it a secret from the others, though I thought that was a bit silly.
Father said that as the Two Messengers of Salvation, we deserved some small luxuries not afforded to the rest of the community.
When I was finished, I dried off and pulled on a clean robe from my closet. The fabric was a bit rough against my skin, butthat too was right. The robe reminded me that comfort was not the purpose of the faithful.
By the time I left my chambers, the sky had begun to lighten. The first rays of the sun crept through the chapel’s high windows, painting the air with thin lines of gold. I walked down the short corridor connecting my rooms to the sanctuary and opened the side door quietly, although there was no one there to disturb.
Father never attended confession, as he said it was a time for our followers to seek my Light one-on-one.
The Seat of Light waited for me on the dais, its carved arms gleaming faintly in the dawn. I sat and folded my hands in my lap, my heart beating slow and steady. The smell of old wood wrapped around me like a blanket.
Soon, the first of the faithful arrived.
They came one by one, silent, with their heads bowed. None of them looked at me directly. Each knelt before the dais, pressing their forehead to the floor before speaking their sins.
“I t-thought of candy last night,” whispered young Ruth, her small voice trembling. “The kind with the pink wrapping. I don’t remember the name, but it was really yummy. I’m sorry, I was bad.”
I nodded once, very slightly—the only response permitted—although what I truly wanted was to tell her it was alright. She began to cry quietly, pressing her hands together. When she was done, she stood and backed away, leaving damp marks on the floor where her tears had fallen.
Next came Silas, a boy close in age to me, his face red from shame. “I thought of touching myself again. Lord, forgive me,” he said, voice breaking. “It was only a thought, but it came into my head while I was lying in bed, and I couldn’t push it away. When I woke up, I found that I’d soiled myself in my sleep. I-I’mso sorry. Please, please help me to find a way back to the Light. I didn’t mean to—I promise! Oh, Lord. I’m so sorry.”
His shoulders shook as he begged for forgiveness. Again, my fingers ached from the need to reach out to him, to tell him it’d be okay. I mean… if he’d done it in his sleep, was that really his fault?
When he left, I noted his name in the small notebook Father had given me, along with the wordsimpure thoughts.
The confessions continued for several hours. A woman admitted she had looked at one of the men too long while hanging laundry. A boy confessed that he had hidden an apple under his bed to eat later. Two wives came together, each accusing the other of pride.
Through it all, I sat very still, trying to remain focused and understanding. It was exhausting sometimes, holding all their fears, their small guilts and secret hungers. But Father said my stillness was part of their cleansing. That my silence was the mirror through which they could see their sin.
By the time the last member left, the sun was high enough to paint the chapel windows in full gold. My throat ached, though I hadn’t spoken a word.
I closed the notebook gently and set it down on my lap. Soon, Father would come to collect it. He always said that darkness hides best in whispers, and it was his duty to bring them into light.
I wondered what he would say about Silas’s confession.
A small, uneasy thought stirred in me—a wish that he would be kind this time. But I banished it quickly. The Vessel must not question the will of Heaven.
As I waited for Father, I reread the list, making sure I hadn’t missed anything.
I didn’t have to write down everything, just the transgressions that Father had taught me to pay attention to. Hesaid that for most of our members, confession was enough to absolve them of their sin, but for more serious offenses, such as Silas’s, Father needed to correct them physically.
Physical correction could be a number of things, from forced fasting to kneeling on rice to being made to sleep outside in the freezing snow during winter.
Technically, I was supposed to report if anyone said anything about craving or missing something from their lives before the Covenant, as Father always provided those followers counseling to keep them from straying back into their old, sinful ways.
Ruth, the nine-year-old girl who missed the sweetness of candy wrapped in pink, had only joined us three years ago. I didn’t understand how someone so young was supposed to follow all of Father’s rules. I guess I did when I was that age, but that was different—I was born here. Father would find me deceitful if he ever found out, but I couldn’t bring myself to write Ruth’s name on my list. I didn’t want her to be in trouble.
The door opened then, and Father stepped inside. His robe was spotless, his hair brushed neatly back.
“Good morning, Elior,” he said, his tone measured and even.
“Good morning, Father.” I straightened quickly and bowed my head.
He came to stand before the Seat, his gaze falling to the notebook in my hands. “Were the confessions plentiful?”
“Yes, Father. The faithful are most diligent.” I offered him the book. His fingers brushed mine as he took it—a brief, electric contact that made my stomach tighten. I missed how freely he used to touch me. I wished he would ruffle my hair and smile at me as he’d done when I was little.
