Cenobar Trinordis (Part 10)

I shiver in my hotel bed, wracked with fever. Phethala stands over me, regularly replacing the cold compresses on my forehead. Qualamo and Binere have come to visit as well, but I am too sick to converse much. They stand silently off to the side with grave expressions. I am not sure if they are really there, or if I am imagining it. I do not know how many days have passed since Phethala and I made love in the storm. My mind is a burning haze. Continue reading Cenobar Trinordis (Part 10)


Cenobar Trinordis (Part 8)

I peer with her at the horizon, or what’s left of it. As the storm moves in, it swallows the visible terrain, creating the illusion that we are on a shrinking island of reality being consumed by the Unknown. Less than two minutes have passed since Phethala last spoke, and already the world around us could easily be mistaken for another planet. I am cold, for the first time since I arrived. The sky is blood-red, grey, and black, with angry flashes of orange that delineate the monstrous, opaque clouds that surround us. The Temple now seems a tiny, fragile structure, hardly suitable for protection against this raging phenomenon. Without another word, Phethala hoists her pack over her shoulder and enters the main building, beckoning for me to follow. Continue reading Cenobar Trinordis (Part 8)

Cenobar Trinordis (Part 7)

I am glad to have brought my flashlight. Scorned by my colleagues as a stubborn luddite, I nonetheless owe so much to this one piece of Core technology, that not only does it represent an exception to my aversion, but I carry it with me at all times like a talisman. Given to me as a gift by a woman buried far in my past, it reflects her practical, thorough nature. It is lightweight, compact, and durable. The lamp can remain illuminated for three days before it expends its charge, and even then, it will recharge itself with a single day’s exposure to bright sunlight. The light it sheds is cold and bluish-white, but I have come to rely on its brightness and sharpness. There is always some part of me that thinks of her when I use it, as though she is present in that light, showing me the way. Continue reading Cenobar Trinordis (Part 7)