Broadcast warning. Clearance level. Obsidian.
Restricted. The following testimony of Pilgrim
Erenor Valek has been deemed conditionally devotional
by the Office of Conceptual Hygiene. It is presented
for educational and penitential purposes only.
Listeners may experience minor physiological
responses, including involuntary humming, photic
skin irritation, feelings of transcendent envy.
and or the sincere desire to return to the light.
Should any of these occur, please contact your
nearest confession kiosk for recalibration, or
report directly to the Ministry of Sanctioned
Illumination. Do not attempt to pray through
the static. Do not attempt to harmonize. Do not
follow the glow. Repeat, do not follow the glow.
They told us the chapel was beautiful. That's
why I went. They said the light was coming from
Saint Odrana's remains. Her ashes still burning,
humming, calling. I thought that was metaphorical.
You know? Like faith. When I got there, the queue
was three sectors long. No one complained. We
just stood, sweating, smiling, humming along
to the noise coming up through the floor. Some
people didn't stop, even when they fainted. The
crowd moved around them or over them. I don't
think anyone wanted to lose their place. Inside,
it was... warm. Not the good kind. Like standing
too close to a reactor that needs to breathe.
The air pulsed like lungs you couldn't see. The
light didn't shine. It pressed. You could feel
it pushing at your eyes like it wanted in. The
preacher stood on the dais. At least I think
it was a preacher. He didn't have a face anymore.
It was like smooth glass, with light running
underneath it, like trapped lightning. When he
raised his hands, everyone knelt. I didn't even
think to disobey. That's how it gets you, not
with miracles, with manners. He started speaking
in tones, not words. Every time his pitch shifted.
Someone in the crowd joined in, humming, matching
him, then more, then all. The sound got thick,
like syrup, like something crawling into your
ears and whispering. See how easy it is to belong.
I saw a woman next to me convulsing, but she
was smiling so hard her teeth cracked. Her skin...
blistered first. Then it started to glow. And
when the blisters popped, there was light underneath.
I wanted to help her. But my hands wouldn't move.
They were clasped. Like in prayer. The preacher,
or whatever he was, walked among us. Every step
he took left the floor glistening like fresh
oil. When he passed by, the hum in my skull lined
up with the hum in the walls. And for one perfect
moment, I couldn't tell which one was me. Then
someone started laughing. Loud, joyous, holy
laughter. That's when the crowd began to fall
forward. Not collapse. Kneel harder. The front
rows pressed into the light until they sank.
Like wax melting into a candle they never knew
they were part of. It didn't even smell like
burning. It smelled like... completion. I think
I ran. I must have. Because when I woke up, I
was outside the chapel. The door was closed,
and my reflection in the door was smiling. Only,
I wasn't. There's lights in my teeth now. It
flickers when I think about the chapel. And I
can still hear them singing under the ferrocrete
All in one voice. It's not words anymore.
It's not anything. It's just... Home. Host Servitor
241 was played by Richard Roberts. Erenor Valek
was played by Eva-Marie Becker. Vox Sanctum Gloriana
is an Evil Lighthouse production.