Charmion Transfixed

A frenzy has come over Pontifex Charmion. She neither sleeps nor eats, pacing before the entrance to the Ennead with wide, staring eyes. When I offered to relieve her torment with prayers, she snapped at me. “You know nothing but the ink on your scrolls. The gods are so much more than images and words.” I opened my mouth to protest her blasphemy, but she kept speaking as though I wasn’t there. “We <i>will</i> find our way. We <i>will</i> meet our gods.” I left her like that, speaking to only the desert wind.