WEBVTT

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Broadcast warning. Clearance level. Obsidian.

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Restricted. The following testimony of Pilgrim

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Erenor Valek has been deemed conditionally devotional

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by the Office of Conceptual Hygiene. It is presented

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for educational and penitential purposes only.

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Listeners may experience minor physiological

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responses, including involuntary humming, photic

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skin irritation, feelings of transcendent envy.

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and or the sincere desire to return to the light.

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Should any of these occur, please contact your

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nearest confession kiosk for recalibration, or

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report directly to the Ministry of Sanctioned

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Illumination. Do not attempt to pray through

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the static. Do not attempt to harmonize. Do not

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follow the glow. Repeat, do not follow the glow.

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They told us the chapel was beautiful. That's

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why I went. They said the light was coming from

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Saint Odrana's remains. Her ashes still burning,

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humming, calling. I thought that was metaphorical.

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You know? Like faith. When I got there, the queue

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was three sectors long. No one complained. We

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just stood, sweating, smiling, humming along

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to the noise coming up through the floor. Some

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people didn't stop, even when they fainted. The

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crowd moved around them or over them. I don't

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think anyone wanted to lose their place. Inside,

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it was... warm. Not the good kind. Like standing

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too close to a reactor that needs to breathe.

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The air pulsed like lungs you couldn't see. The

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light didn't shine. It pressed. You could feel

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it pushing at your eyes like it wanted in. The

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preacher stood on the dais. At least I think

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it was a preacher. He didn't have a face anymore.

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It was like smooth glass, with light running

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underneath it, like trapped lightning. When he

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raised his hands, everyone knelt. I didn't even

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think to disobey. That's how it gets you, not

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with miracles, with manners. He started speaking

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in tones, not words. Every time his pitch shifted.

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Someone in the crowd joined in, humming, matching

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him, then more, then all. The sound got thick,

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like syrup, like something crawling into your

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ears and whispering. See how easy it is to belong.

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I saw a woman next to me convulsing, but she

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was smiling so hard her teeth cracked. Her skin...

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blistered first. Then it started to glow. And

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when the blisters popped, there was light underneath.

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I wanted to help her. But my hands wouldn't move.

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They were clasped. Like in prayer. The preacher,

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or whatever he was, walked among us. Every step

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he took left the floor glistening like fresh

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oil. When he passed by, the hum in my skull lined

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up with the hum in the walls. And for one perfect

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moment, I couldn't tell which one was me. Then

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someone started laughing. Loud, joyous, holy

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laughter. That's when the crowd began to fall

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forward. Not collapse. Kneel harder. The front

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rows pressed into the light until they sank.

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Like wax melting into a candle they never knew

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they were part of. It didn't even smell like

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burning. It smelled like... completion. I think

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I ran. I must have. Because when I woke up, I

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was outside the chapel. The door was closed,

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and my reflection in the door was smiling. Only,

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I wasn't. There's lights in my teeth now. It

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flickers when I think about the chapel. And I

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can still hear them singing under the ferrocrete

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All in one voice. It's not words anymore.

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It's not anything. It's just... Home. Host Servitor

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241 was played by Richard Roberts. Erenor Valek

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was played by Eva-Marie Becker. Vox Sanctum Gloriana

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is an Evil Lighthouse production.