Meanwhile, Ghevont went to Lah to talk. He left the city without ceremony. No proclamation, no farewell sermon. Just a quiet departure at dawn, staff in hand, robes travel-stained, eyes distant.
The road to Lah’s sanctuary felt longer than he remembered. Each mile gave him space to think, and the thinking gave him no rest. He had seen much, but all his knowledge brought was more questions. The Hypnost path whispered of deeper truths, of hidden structures beneath belief. Yet the Anointed One’s light still lingered in him like a half-healed wound.
When he arrived, Lah received him in the shaded courtyard of the old temple. The high priest looked older, though perhaps it was simply that Ghevont now saw the weight upon him.
For a time they did not speak of doctrine. They spoke of the city, of the vampire’s fall, of the mummies’ strange return. Lah listened more than he spoke, his gaze intent but not judgmental.
At last Ghevont said quietly, “I need to understand. Not the rituals. Not the forms. The truth. What is faith when miracles and horrors both answer? What is doctrine when magic twists and the dead rise? Is the Anointed One sovereign over all this, or are we… interpreting shadows?”
The question hung between them. Not rebellion. Not accusation. Honest and sincere searching.
Ghevont stood at a crossroads within himself. The Hypnost teachings had given him a framework, a sense that reality was layered and that truth required awakening. But Lah represented something older, steadier, rooted in tradition and endurance.
He was not there to argue. He was there because he needed to know whether these paths converged somewhere unseen… or whether he would eventually have to choose.
Lah smiled, as if finally seeing what he had awaited from Ghevont for all these years. And for a long, uncomfortable moment, Lah merely gazed at Ghevont, his eyes simultaneously piercing and kind.
“You seek definitive answers to the mysteries of life that the shape of the universe does not allow us to know. These patterns we recreate that produce miracles were handed down from antiquity as wisdom we might share with one another. From the steady rise of the sun in the east every day, to magical production of light from a few spoken words, to the very spark of life we feel in our bodies, we know these truths are real. They require no faith. As for the balance, we have no choice but to grasp at unfounded ideas, to cling to them with steady faith. This is the challenge presented by the Anointed One: to don his mantle and march out into the storm without knowing for sure whether it will keep you warm.”
“You came here seeking to unburden yourself of the responsibility of deciding what is true and right, but this is a gift from the Anointed One that only the wicked might accept from you, for it means your annihilation. Do you think the lord would have you enslave your soul to anyone, even himself?” He shook his head sharply, once, which in its silence felt more powerful than any spoken negation. After a pause, he said firmly, “Keep hold of this gift and make the most of it.”
Ghevont did not answer at once. He studied Lah’s face, searching not for weakness, but for contradiction. When he finally spoike, his voice was steady, his eyes sharp. “What you say… it sounds less like the proclamations of the Church and more like the quiet teachings of the Hypnosts.”
He took a slow breath. Lah could see Ghevont struggle to find the right words. “They say truth cannot be handed down whole. That certainty is often idolatry dressed in holy garments. That the awakening of the soul requires struggle, not obedience.” His eyes narrowed slightly, not in accusation, but in confusion. “And yet the Church brands them pariahs, calls them corrupters, even wages war against them. They treat them worse than the nonbelievers, like they are devils themselves.”
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “If what you say is true, if the Anointed One grants us the burden of discernment rather than blind submission… then why does the Church not burn you for saying so? Why are the Hypnosts hunted while you stand here preaching something that sounds perilously close to their creed?” There is no bitterness in the question. Only genuine perplexity.
Lah replied with a question. “Is that what the Zaphadrin taught you about the church, that the Anointed One requires blind submission? Surely, having been consecrated and made to study the codex, you know this not to be church doctrine.”