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 9)

I taste her breathe, and it is deliciously mute. Her saliva has a faint flavour of spiced tea and honey. My initial awkwardness collapses, making room for my excitement, as our mouths become pleasantly enraptured. Continue reading Cenobar Trinordis (Part 9)

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)

Cenobar Trinordis (Part 5)

“When I first arrived on this world, I was much the same as you. I too noticed a peculiar difference in Cenobar Trinordis. The world is impoverished, technologically backward, and diseased, just as the Homeworld was eight thousand years ago. The people suffer, and have every reason to be miserable, yet they are not. There are no states, no currency, and no war. The common political elements of every developing planet ever known are missing here. Why? For decades, anthropologists of the Core Worlds postulated theories about advanced mysticism, and believed them; but mark my words, there is no mysticism practiced here that was not practiced much more perfectly and earnestly on the Homeworld in its adolescence. Continue reading Cenobar Trinordis (Part 5)

Cenobar Trinordis (Part 4)

Professor Artor Binere, lRz., VpN., Q., is a large man, simply dressed, with a pouchy, arrogant face, and white hair combed carelessly so that it actually appears to be wrapped greasily about his skull. His appearance is that of a simple, wise man who was once something totally opposite, and the vestiges of the old life peer through the transparency of the new. Continue reading Cenobar Trinordis (Part 4)