The Church

I tell him we must stop. I must collect my thoughts. There are so many – if only I could stop for a time, pray… know silence again. The Heretic… the priest… walks upright now. I walk, hunched as he was, as if my body is forcing me to prayer. "Why, Isabella, you may pray here.", he says. "Pray at the base of the mountain. But the solid ground, it will not serve." I feel loss at these words. I did not realize how much I needed to stop. How much I needed the silence, the feel of walls around me. The end to the crunch of shale and ice beneath my feet. And now I see… bone. "You must build a church.", he says. "It need not be a great thing… it must only be holy in your eyes. There, you may speak prayers, and know the truth of what you seek." My hand is already gripping the first stone around me. "It will be the first stone at the church's wall." There are many stones around me, and I can mount each in turn, one atop the other. The Heretic does not help me. I realize now he is watching because his hands are shackled. I shall release him. He is not my prisoner. A prophet, perhaps. Perhaps more. When the last stone is in place, he says, the way to the Fountain will be granted. You will feel all Aeternum course through you. You will live forever in this place, Isabella. But when he speaks my name, it is in a language I do not know. It sounds like a blessing. Or perhaps… a farewell. But he will not leave it. A blessing it must be. It must...