Sermon 6

Kundali walked across the Forsaken Land, feet stirring strange patterns in ash. A thousand years hence, when the stars align, this pattern will birth numerological monsters and other end-time portents.

The egg-image of Ayem drew the gazes of curious spirits. The first spirit appeared as a column of fire, Kundali shrieked in terror, the spirit laughed.

"Ha!" it said. "I was right."

It vanished then.

The second spirit wore the skins of failed heroes. It slunk towards Kundali, pooling at her feet.

"Do you pity me?" It asked

And Ayem, Mother of Mercy said, "No, for you do not exist."

And the spirit bowed, and bowed, and bowed again, till it folded into a fist-sized cube. The egg-image of Ayem bade Kundali pick up the cube and hurl it heavenwards. It would fall to earth as a new possibility, the skin donned by belief-made heroes.

The third spirit appeared as a column of smoke. It stared into Kundali for a mountain's heartbeat.

"We shall meet again, at a different age's dusk."

And Ayem bowed to the five directions, sealing this fate.

The fourth and fifth spirits were shadows of each other. They came, cackling, bearing sacks upon their backs.

"What have you there?" asked Ayem.

And the twin shadows laughed, upending their sacks on Kundali.

"We bring maladies. Enough to end an astral empire."

Ayem picked through the maladies, examining them for weaknesses.

"Who are these bound for?" Ayem asked.

And the twin shadows laughed and laughed.

"For you. Take them, and offer them to the world."

"Have mercy on my false-mother, how can she bear this?"

And the twin shadows laughed and laughed and laughed.

"With love."

And Ayem could not refute this, for it was her foundation. She bade Kundali gather up the maladies, swallow them, each beetle-black jewel, each frozen tear drop, shimmering in the sun.

The fourth and fifth spirits were swept away with the emergence of a sixth. And Ayem bowed within her false-mother's womb, Kundali collapsed into a quivering heap.

The sixth spirit, Boet-hi-Ah, ancient of days, bladed pillar, towering above time. She unfurled her razor-edged wings three times three times three. And on her wings were eyes, the eyes of men and women and beasts.

Boet-hi-Ah enclosed Kundali in her embrace, pressing phantom fingers into Ayem's soul. And Ayem trembled, for she was being held in her own arms.

And Boet-hi-Ah carved rune words in Ayem, shaping her, reshaping her. She took a thousand forms, or perhaps infinity less one.

"Enough," cried Ayem.

And Boet-hi-Ah, the conclusion, withdrew.

"I shall define myself," Ayem said.

Boet-hi-Ah looked on Ayem with her third eye.

"AND WHAT SHALL YOU BE?"

"I shall be what I shall be."

And Boet-hi-Ah was silenced by the truth of these words. She sunk into the sun's shadow, and was gone.

Kundali shivered, teeth chattering.

"Sweet false-mother, you have been touched by death, and your soul remembers. But it is only cold because you believe it to be."

And a grain of Ayem's awareness passed onto Kundali, where it was enmeshed in wisdom, becoming a pearl. This warmth allowed Kundali to stand, and continue her journey.

The ending of the words is ALMSIVI.