Saint

Nometa pretended to scrub the floor as she peered around the corner to watch the Godsreverence in progress.

The Sunburst Priestess stood at the top of the dais and the Earthsoil Priest was to the left a step down, with the Waterfall Priestess to the right on the same step as the Earthsoil Priest. The High Holies for all the lesser gods knelt on the floor and faced the worshippers.

Nometa had wanted to kneel with the worshippers. After a slap to the face, followed by the words, “Nons don’t have souls, so we don’t waste space on you,” her faith had vanished, but not her curiosity.

“All are welcome. We saints are vessels for the gods,” the Sunburst said.

“Praise the gods,” Earthsoil and Waterfall intoned.

Nometa’s heart raced and her ears burned. She was part of ‘all’. What right did did the High Holies have to exclude her? Some gods you are! She shouted in her head. Real gods wouldn’t let the High Holies own Nons!

There was an excruciating pain just below Nometa’s right ribs. She collapsed to the floor as a shallow breath passed across her lips. She curled into a ball with her face pressed to the cool tile.

She floated. An orb covered in splashes of emeralds, duns, and deep blues spun before her.

“Your prayer is heard.” The voice sang through Nometa’s body and energized the all the iotas of her being.

“Nons have souls,” she said.

“All have souls. All are beloved.”

Warmth flushed through Nometa and she knew she was not alone, never had been alone, and never would be.

“I have chosen you as my vessel. You will change the fate of all Nons.”

Nometa was on the tile on her back looking at the ceiling. The shining presence of the god rested just below her right ribs. Energy from it entered her and coursed through her veins. Her hands tingled with its potential.

She rose and entered the Godsreverence. The High Holies saw her and paused. The worshippers turned toward her.


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