“This is the prayer room. No talking, for you are in His presence.”
One day after dinner, the snakeborn instructor took us to a large, magnificently decorated hall. I peered at its conical structure from where we stood by the entrance. At its center was a box-shaped altar with a familiar warped knife in prime position. That was the blade they used to carve my true name into me. The marks had mysteriously vanished by the time I left the reflection room the first time.
There were chairs placed around the altar in a circular fashion, apparently meant for those who wished to sit and show respect. A few of them were occupied by other children praying fervently. The instructor led us over to them and had us sit in a group. We mimicked how he held his hands together and started to pray. I only pretended to, instead turning my attention to the several small rooms that lined the wall. They were more like small boxes or confessionals, big enough for only one person to fit inside. And what were those windows? They were tiny and fitted into each box. Something about them seemed to draw my attention, and I squinted at them.
For a split second, my eyes met with those of whoever was inside. I regretted giving in to my curiosity and slowly looked away, pretending to focus on praying again. I could feel the presence of people in every one of those rooms. Something incredibly unpleasant came over me, like scaly fingers caressing my back.
I turned my gaze in the opposite direction. My cohort was passionately delivering their prayers. They had all encountered Him before...bar one. To them, He was less akin to a dubious ghost and closer to a grand being whose existence was unquestionable.
One step behind the children and standing on her hands was our dragon girl. Instead of the altar, she was looking at the walkway that ran around the whole prayer room. That gaze was purposeful as it mapped the path. I concentrated on my senses so I could work out what she was looking at.
My vision said it was just a floor. For my hearing, I tapped it lightly with my toes. It didn’t sound like metal. It didn’t make much of a sound at all, so it wasn’t hollow. For touch, I focused on the soles of my feet. It wasn’t cold—it was made of a poor conductor. I tried my nose. There was a faint scent like something I had smelled before in the reflection room. As for taste... I wasn’t about to try that here. Even with my pit organ, I couldn’t sense anything out of the ordinary.
Finally, I focused on my essence and what I could pick up through that. Bringing the essence around me to the fore and suppressing it made my own presence weaker. I imagined I was walking in darkness and feeling out my surroundings with my hands, narrowing my field of exploration to heighten my sensitivity.
I detected a small current of essence flowing beneath my feet. There were small amounts of it coming from the praying children, but the majority was emanating from the boxes. I realized that was what the dragon girl was observing. I cracked my eyes open slightly and found them locking with the instructor’s. He was staring at me, a gentle and reassuring smile on his face. I really couldn’t let my guard down.
“From now on, you will be permitted to pray during your free time.”
Free time came before breakfast as well as between dinner and bedtime. The latter didn’t last long, because we had to wipe ourselves down in that time too.
The instructor led us to exit the prayer room. We passed close to the boxes, and when we did, I realized they were exactly that: boxes. Not rooms but boxes. They had no doors. I immediately knew why. From far away, the people inside looked like they had their hands together in prayer. The truth was that the skin of their hands had been stuck together.
This was a giant battery. One that provided essence instead of electricity. Batteries didn’t need lids to take out what was inside. When they were used up, they were disposed of, contents and all. These boxes were the same. They were built with people inside them. There was no need for a door to let them in and out. All that was needed was a window that allowed them to breathe and see the altar. Though the man inside this one was withering away like dead wood, he made no attempt to stop praying. It was as if he lived for nothing else.
Terror reared its head within me. What if I made a fatal error and they warped my heart and mind so that I became a living battery, praying until I died? I clapped my hands to my mouth, bile rising from the depths of my stomach. I didn’t want to die.
Ice shocked my body.
“He... He who is all merciful...”
I could feel Him standing behind me. That faint warmth began to pull the cold from me, little by little.
“He who cannot be seen.”
I couldn’t see, touch, or hear Him, but I could feel Him. He was nowhere and everywhere. He was also behind me. My breathing settled.
“He who—” I started on the next line. A thick tail slammed into me from behind.
“You’re in the way. Move,” the tail’s owner commanded. Pure arrogance.
“Sorry,” I stammered, moving over to the wall. She glared at me for a moment before stalking past.
I exhaled, able to breathe normally again. I knew He wasn’t real. But if He took away the cold, I didn’t care who He was. Only one who transcended death could negate the terror of it. I secretly mocked the children who genuinely believed in Him and scorned the adults who manipulated those children by instilling such faith in them. Foolish children and repulsive adults.
Then there was me.
“Please. Save me.”
I wanted so desperately for Him to exist. I needed Him.