Heavy rain pelted the cobblestone street between the white houses and poured from the wavy red tiles on the roofs. On most days people would at least be getting food for dinner or for tomorrow’s meals around now, but it was Sixday. The rains always came on Threedays and Sixdays, and people planned accordingly.

  To a casual onlooker, three stooped old ladies in brown dresses ambled down the street slowly, each holding a bag of produce in the crooks of their left arms and holding umbrellas over their heads in their other hands. There was no one else on the street, despite the midafternoon hour.

  “Have you had enough?” the taller of the old women asked in a man’s deep voice.

  “You sure you don’t sense anything?” the middle woman asked in return, also in a man’s voice.

  “No. I. Don’t. Sense. Anything.” the taller woman said, annunciating each word clearly. “I said that the last circuit around this city, man.”

  “We’re making progress, then. This is a good thing, brother,” the middle woman said. “What do you think? One more pass?”

  “No! No more passes!” The tall woman said loudly, but then lowered her voice. “I’m tired. Even through the illusion, I think you can tell Elle is tired. We’re all tired. Do you even know where we are?”

  “Uh, yeah. We’re in Seacrown, right?” the middle woman said.

  “Yeah. Seacrown. Remember this street? The temple of Amagor was right up this way not even a year ago. I’m sure you remember that.”

  “Yeah, I remember. Sorry,” the middle woman said.

  “You know we’ve been here on two separate days, right?” the smallest old lady said with the voice of a young woman.

  “Yeah, I know, Elle,” the middle woman said. “I just want to make sure we strike…”

  “…While the iron is hot. Yeah, I know,” the taller woman said. “I think we’ve pounded the crap out of this iron, Jeron. We’ve been at this for weeks, and we’ve hit every city worthy of a name twice.”

  “Except Fellton,” the middle woman reminded them helpfully.

  “Except Fellton,” the tall woman admitted. “From what you’ve seen, those people put themselves into slavery. Yes, they’re probably living in a city with Xerith overlords or something even worse, but you know what those people are like. They want to be there. If we turn up there, not only would we alert Kromwell and his cronies that we’re still looking for him, but the average citizens will turn on us and help whatever monsters are in residence to capture or kill us, and they’d do it for a snort of dream dust.”

  “Look, I know all this fighting’s tough now, but think of the rewards later,” the middle woman said.

  “We get it,” the smallest woman said. “What we’re getting at is that we think we’ve done all we can for now. We’re all tired. I can barely hold up this sword right now,” she said as she rapped her umbrella on the middle woman’s shoulder with a metallic clang. “If something attacked now, I’d be in real trouble. You know how fast they are.”

  “All right, all right,” the middle woman said. “I get it. We’ll call it quits.”

  Just then, they were walking into the open courtyard where the temple of Amagor recently flourished. As the rain came steadily down, they could see the darkly shadowed shape of the blasted metallic sculpture of Amagor between the tall main temple of Amagor and the lower cloister where the priestesses of Zepha had plied their trade.

  “Hard to believe that this was once one of God’s temples,” the taller woman said.

  “There’s a light in the main sanctuary,” the smallest woman said. Indeed, there was. The three women shared a glance between them.

  “I still don’t feel anything evil around here,” the tallest woman said, shrugging.

  “Maybe homeless people moved in,” the middle woman said.

  “I can’t stand the thought of anything bad happening in there. It was once a sacred place,” the smallest woman said.

  “Let’s check it out,” the tallest said.

  With umbrellas held over their heads and bags of produce held tightly, the three advanced together to the great doors. The temple complex was arrayed in a large horseshoe shape, with the main sanctuary on the right, and the cloister where priests lived and worked on the left and back buildings. The melted iron statue lay in ruins in the center with a stone stairway built on each side and a balcony curving around the statue. The whole complex was built on a stone foundation with twelve steps on all four sides, steps the three old women climbed just a little too lightly. The sanctuary was large and rectangular with wooden double doors wide open under a large, pillared overhang.

  They went inside. The sanctuary was lit by a few lamps, and they could see the double row of columns holding up the ceiling that they remembered. On the far side of the room was a dais that held the ruined remnants of the once lightning bolt shaped altar of Amagor. There were four men sitting on the dais talking in low voices. They were dressed plainly in common clothing. The four men noticed the three older women enter the building and stood.

  “Welcome!” the older man in the middle said kindly.

  “He looks familiar…” the tallest old woman said softly.

  The three advanced with umbrellas still held over their heads, trying to keep the clanking pieces of their armor from making too much noise. In a crowded city it was possible, but in this quiet sanctuary, a person couldn’t burp without everyone hearing it. The four men looked at each other quizzically, unsure of what they were hearing. The two groups met close to the dais.

  “Well met,” the older man said. “I’m Lorn, and these are my friends Mattic, Porett and Rokel. I don’t remember seeing you before…”

  The three old women looked at each other. The middle one shrugged, and suddenly a shimmering aura surrounded each of the three. When it faded away, two plate armored men and a chainmail wearing woman were left in the place of the old women. The four friends were initially surprised, and each backed away a step when they saw the armored soldiers standing before them with drawn weapons. The four older men raised their hands to show they had no weapons.

  The Lorn smiled. “Ah! You’re the ones that rid us of the priests of Amagor!”

  Bran stood front and center, and quickly sheathed his glowing holy sword. He thought for a second. “Yeah. Wait. You’re the guy who sent Elle and me over to the temple in the first place, aren’t you?”

  “Oh! I knew I saw you somewhere before,” Elle said kindly. “How are you?”

  “We’re just fine, thanks,” Lorn said, nodding. “What brings you back?”

  “We were hunting shape shifting monsters,” Elle said.

  “Well, I hope you got ‘em all,” Rokel said.

  “We got all the ones we could find, yes,” Bran said simply.

  “I’m still not convinced the Xerith are a thing of the past,” I said, “but at least we’re making sure they’re not throwing children into bonfires.”

  “Or performing the fertility rites of a false goddess,” Elle said, frowning.

  “That’s what leads us here, in fact,” Lorn said. “Not the false gods, mind you, but the pursuit of the real God. The One you called on when you destroyed the priests of Amagor. We were hoping that there was still some remnant of the real God in here somewhere we could find, but we’ve found nothing so far.”

  Bran and Elle smiled and shared a look between them. “Well, maybe you’ve found something after all,” Bran said.

  “Yes, I have something for you. Just give me a minute,” Elle said.

  She sheathed her blade, then took a small mithril cube out of her belt pouch. She studied it carefully for a moment, turning it this way and that in her hands. It was covered in runes and pictures, and it seemed to be divided into nine separate cubes on each side. With seven or eight deft movements, Elle manipulated the cube so that all the harlequin masks were on one side. An oval of grayish color suddenly sprang into being four feet away from her, and she stepped into it, disappearing from view. The older men gasped, having never seen anything like that happen before, and looked at each other with wide eyes.

  “It’s all right. Give her a minute,” Bran said, sensing their unease.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  Elle stepped back out of the oval only a few seconds later holding the leather-bound holy book. The golden plate with God’s name on the cover gleamed brightly in the light of the lamp. “We found this buried under the Temple of the Overgod in Aerie,” Elle said, holding it out with one hand so they could see.

  The four friends stepped closer and took a long look at the book.

  “May I?” Lorn asked.

  “Of course,” Elle said.

  She handed the book to Lorn, who held it reverently. He opened the book to the first pristine page. While he examined the book, Elle quickly manipulated the cube, making the portal disappear, then stowed the cube back in her belt pouch.

  “I can read it, thank God,” he said. “I was worried.”

  “I wish I had a copy,” Mattic said.

  The book instantly split into two with Lorn holding each copy in one of his hands. The look of surprise on his face was priceless, and Elle couldn’t help but giggle a little bit. Mattic took one of the copies from Lorn and examined it himself.

  “The one with the gold plate on the front’s the original,” Elle said. “You can each have a copy, you know.”

  Lorn handed the original back to Elle, and as he did, it suddenly duplicated itself again, which left him with a copy still in his hands. Elle offered the book to Porett and then to Rokel, who both eagerly accepted a duplicate.

  “This is marvelous,” Lorn said.

  “More than I’d hoped for,” Rokel said in agreement.

  “I have the feeling everything you wanted to know you now hold in the palms of your hands,” Bran said.

  “I think so,” Lorn said. “Now if we can learn a bit and clean this place up, we’ll have a place where we can pass this knowledge along.” Unsaid was the fact they could only do that if they owned the place.

  “You own the temple?” Bran asked, his head cocked quizzically.

  “Yeah,” Lorn said. “After the way in which the former occupants were, um, expelled, no one in the city would set so much as a foot on the bottom step after the soldiers cleared out the bodies. The people saw the chaotic shapes they took, and finally saw the true evil that took root here. They knew their guilt in letting this place be perverted and to prosper in its depravity in bygone years. I went to the king yesterday and asked him what he planned to do with it, and he gave it to me on the spot. I think he was glad to be rid of it.”

  “Very fortuitous,” Bran said.

  “Providential, even,” Elle said. “One thing I read in the book is that God often uses different people for different things, but everything works together for good for those who love Him. God empowered us to destroy the monsters living here, but He brought you here to bring about His worship again. You should read and pray, and God will lead you in the way you should go.”

  “You’re very wise for one so young,” Lorn said. “It will be as you say. We just need to get rid of that thing,” pointing at the ruined altar on the dais.

  “I can help with that,” I said. “What would you like to do with it?”

  We all thought about it for a minute, then Elle looked up with bright eyes. “God doesn’t like for people to worship idols, but He does like for people to hear the spoken word of things written in the book. Why don’t you make a podium for a person to stand and read to everyone listening from out there?”

  Everyone thought about it, then nodded to one another.

  “That’s a good idea,” Lorn said.

  “All right then,” I said, thinking hard. “This’ll take a little while.”

  I stepped up onto the dais and looked carefully at the remains of the old lightning bolt shaped altar. It was a pile of melted steel and gold with a large base of white marble, all of which was misshapen badly from the fire Elle had called down to destroy the altar. After a few moments of study, I closed my eyes in concentration. A soft glow covered me as I worked my magic. Ever so slowly, the white marble began to flow and move, forming itself into a shape like a horseshoe, then the prow of a ship. It grew to be about waist high, then stopped moving. The steel from the pile heated to a yellow color very quickly, shed its impurities, and flowed slowly up the side of the stone, forming the sides of a podium, complete with a place for a book front and center and a couple places for lamp stands on the sides. I even thought to create shelves to the sides and under the place where the book was to sit. The steel solidified as the pool of gold flowed up and over the steel, covering everything in a light film. I opened my eyes. The lectern was a magnificent thing, polished, perfectly shaped, and without flaw from top to bottom.

  “Very nice work,” Elle said.

  “Thanks,” I said. “I think it turned out well.”

  “That was incredible to watch,” Lorn said. “Are you a wizard, then?”

  “Something like that,” I said. At the time, I didn’t know the effect I had on the watchers. Mordon’s helm, with the twenty-one rotating and revolving gems and the adamantine armor I wore marked me as someone born for greatness, at least in the eyes of common people. Even so, I didn’t elaborate on my role or identity, focused as I was on the task at hand.

  “I don’t suppose you could do something with the old idol outside, could you?” Lorn asked hopefully.

  “Sure. What do you think you’d like to see done?” I asked.

  All of them thought about it for a few moments. “A descending dove?” Elle, Bran, and Lorn all said at once. They all chuckled a bit together. Clearly, this was meant to be.

  “A descending dove it is,” I said. “I’ll be right back.”

  I didn’t think they would want to stand out in the rain and watch me work for however long it took, but I was wrong. The entire group came outside the sanctuary with me, but they only went as far as the edge of the covered area. My secret heritage wasn’t out in the open to everyone in Seacrown, and even the four older gentlemen we had met that day didn’t know my name. Even so, I didn’t want to do anything to take the focus off of this church and what its mission was. I made himself invisible as I passed behind a column in case anyone looked out their windows.

  I walked between the buildings to where the pile of rusty, melted iron was. It was heaped behind a big fire pit and there was a lot of iron that was once the hands of the idol that drooped into that pit before it had cooled. Making something beautiful from this mess was going to be a challenge. I considered the materials before me carefully, then focused all my concentration on the magic.

  I began by telekinetically lifting all the ashes out of the fire pit. Mingled with the ashes of the trees were the ashes of countless children that had been thrown by the priests of Amagor onto the burning hands of their vile idol. The ashes floated peacefully over the wall-like balcony that stood behind the slag heap and into a courtyard between the sanctuary and the cloister. Having hit rock bottom in the pit, I worked my magic on the bedrock itself, flattening it. I then telekinetically broke the surrounding balcony into its component blocks and began filling in the fire pit. I even sealed each course of stonework, fusing the entire thing into one stone. There was a good bit of stone left over once the entire pit had been filled in, so I telekinetically moved the slag heap back some, then built a dais that covered quite a bit of ground.

  Allowing my magic to dissipate, I took a deep breath. This was not as easy as it looked. Gathering more power inside myself, I lifted the entire huge pile of ruined metal in the air above the center of the dais. Knowing how steel was formed from my days as an apprentice to the Terrans of Kurgh Rhamot, I caused a great sphere of fire to engulf the floating mass of metal. With magic, I looked deep into it, sensing where there was rust and other impurities, and I caused these unwanted things to leave the mass that hung there. To the onlookers, it looked like the dark red mass of iron suddenly shed its rust, which fountained off into the street nearby. I used my telekinetic spells to rip up the weeds that grew in the neglected courtyard along with the remnants of burned logs from the pit, then sent them into the fire. The iron was glowing orange with the heat by now, and I mixed the burned foliage with the iron, working everything through the mass homogenously, creating a glowing yellow ball of molten steel. I could feel the character of the metal, and by experience, I knew when it became a good, strong alloy.

  A great mist hung all through the courtyard now as the steam hissed off the molten steel and evaporated, giving the entire place a golden glow that faded to red as I worked. Slowly, carefully, I shaped the steel into a descending dove with a twenty-foot wingspan while telekinetic magic held it aloft. The dove’s head was at the lowest part. There was quite a bit of steel left, so I took control of the rest of the steel and made a very large base for the sculpture to rest on, which I attached to the dove itself. I held the steel firmly in place in the grip of my magic until it had cooled completely. I even made certain the steel was properly tempered to be as durable as possible and have a mirror-like finish, then added a protective enchantment. When I was done, I knew it would not rust. On a whim, I cast a spell of golden light upon the dove in the sculpture, but not the base, and made certain the enchantment was permanent. Finished, I walked back under the covered area to rejoin the others, reappeared, and waited. Gradually, the steam cleared away leaving just the steady rain and the others were able to see the finished work.

  “Oh! It’s beautiful!” Elle said.

  “You’ve outdone yourself this time, brother,” Bran said as he clapped me on the shoulder pauldron.

  “Thanks. You approve?” I asked the four elders.

  “We couldn’t have commissioned something like this in a dozen years,” Lorn said.

  “It needs a final touch,” Elle said. She looked up towards the heavens. Raising her arms plaintively, she said, “Lord God, I know Your heart is in the revelation of Your character and Your written word in this place. We can see everything You’ve arranged here today and yesterday, and we thank you for Your providence. We ask Your blessing upon this church. Please sanctify it and protect it from evil so that Your servants can do Your good work here.”

  At that moment, the clouds parted, and the sun shone down on the entire complex. The courtyard between the sanctuary and the cloister transformed before their eyes, the ground leveling out and sprouting rich, green grass. The ashes of all the victims I’d carefully piled up swirled in a sudden breeze, and sparkling with golden light, were taken into the bright parting of the clouds. Among the grass in various places, little plants sprang up that grew into bushes and sprouted an assortment of rose blossoms. A cloud of dirt and foulness swirled out of the building through the front doors and flew into the gutter to be swept away to the sea. The building itself brightened considerably as they watched, seemingly cleansed of all the accumulated grime and soot from centuries of cookfires, washed away by the cleansing rain. The stone of the building became pure white, and small bits of damage the building had suffered over the years vanished without a trace. The interior of the sanctuary filled with light, and the most remarkable sense of peace settled over the church. It was something everyone present could feel, and it felt as if nothing bad could ever happen there. It was once again a true sanctuary of the divine.

  “It’s a miracle,” Lorn said faintly.

  The group marveled for a few minutes at the transformation.

  “People are going to be asking us all sorts of questions about God and about this building,” Rokel said. “What are we going to say?”

  Lorn thought about it for a few seconds. “All we have is this.” He patted his copy of the holy book. “I think we should read the book to them for starters. We’ll figure out the rest as we go. God leads us in this, you know.”

  Elle held Bran’s gaze for a moment before she spoke to Lorn. “Why don’t you keep this for now?” she said, handing the original copy of the holy book to Lorn. “Give copies of the book to anyone and everyone who wants one, and we’ll come back later when it’s time for the Word to spread.”

  Lorn gave Elle his copy of the original in trade. “We will. But there’s just so much we have to do,” Lorn said, head bowed. It was a great task, and in his heart he knew it.

  “We’ll just concentrate on one thing at a time, then,” Rokel said, laying a hand on Lorn’s shoulder.

  “I’m excited to see how the inside has changed,” Porett said as he began walking back to the main sanctuary.

  Seven new friends talked excitedly as they walked through every room in the complex, assigning a purpose to each one. They knew there was much to be done, but they were all eager to get started. It seemed like the four older men had finally found their purpose in life, and they were as giddy as young boys as they discussed it all.