Fire and Brimstone
by AstroGirl
Zhaan raised her eyes from the flickering flame to the ornate metal basin that rested atop it and added oil, drop by careful drop. Fragrant smoke wafted up, released by the warmth of the flame. She inhaled deeply, allowing it to fill her senses and calm her mind. She would need a clear head. The formula for this explosive was delicate and exact.
After repeated applications of heating, mixing, and cooling, she was left at last with a small, whitish lump: unimpressive in appearance, and entirely inert until activated with the appropriate trigger substance. And yet, locked inside was enough explosive power to light up all of Delvia with its flame, or at least enough to tear out a very large piece of the planet's corrupt political core. It was beautiful. It was perfect.
She slipped her creation gently into a protective covering to keep it pure, and glanced at the Timekeeper mounted to the wall: a bright, flowering plant that tracked the position of the sun in the sky, even when it was obscured from view. She was meant to be meditating at this arn, seeking the peace of spirit that would bring her into closer connection with the Goddess. She laughed. As if chanting and prayer were any substitute for accomplishment, for action. Zhaan could not imagine that the religious ecstasies her Pa'u mentors claimed to feel in the presence of the Goddess -- and she had doubts as to whether they were anything but empty claims -- could possibly compare with the exhilarating rush of righteous destruction.
When the elders had asked her why she'd applied to train for the priesthood, she had told them her mother wished it (which was true enough, as a bare, out-of-context fact). They, in their usual sanctimonious fashion, had suggested that whatever Zhaan might believe, the true reason must surely be that her soul cried out for the Goddess, and the Goddess was guiding her path. So perceptive they claimed to be, and yet they could not see the obvious truth: what Zhaan desired was power. Bitaal had proved, if no one before him, that the priesthood was an effective means to political power. But, whereas she had already begun to fear that Bitaal enjoyed that power for its own sake, Zhaan intended to use it to turn the political system against itself. And how could even the greatest political power compare with the power of the soul, of the mind, with the things a trained Pa'u could do? Zhaan refused to believe the stories of undisciplined power bringing insanity. She had done things her mentors would regard as unspeakable, and wasn't she still entirely sane?
Why should power be reserved only for those who felt -- who claimed to feel -- the touch of the Goddess's spirit? The Goddess had never spoken to her, not even when requested to. If she even truly existed, clearly she wanted nothing to do with Zotoh Zhaan. Very well. If the Goddess had no use for Zhaan, then Zhaan had no use for her. Indeed, the very thought of becoming like the others -- full of preaching and platitudes and frustrating passivity -- made her shudder. If that was what the touch of the Goddess brought one, then may she never live long enough to feel it!
No, she thought. No meditation today. No hypocrisy. No sermons. She would do something honest.
She pocketed her explosive and set off to do some damage.