Patar knelt by the entrance of the Temple of the Eternal Flame, now renamed the Temple of Devouring Truth after their new deity, on that day when Light returned. Although the God had gone, their faith had remained.

It would be an event celebrated through the eons on that planet, a legend told throughout the generations, but for the people who lived it, it had been a religious experience that would cement them as saints. These very few individuals had overcome all the trials and tribulations and had survived to see the dawn of a new generation. One devoted to the worship of the Devouring Truth.

The sun rose and Patar and his flock had never seen such radiance in their life. As the first rays of that beautiful dawn light caressed Patar’s healing skin, he wept tears of joy for the first time. The rest of the faithful did the same and cries of exaltation rang throughout the crowd. It was a spiritual moment for the gathered.

And they would have knelt there, on that blessed day - for it had been day then, and not the never-ending gloom of eternal night - had the Holy Messenger not announced herself.

A soft sound the likes of which the people of that planet had never heard rang out from the interior of the Temple. It was like a high-pitched echo mixed with a sharp tonality not produced in nature. It sounded artificial in a way that the planets people had never encountered.

It sounded nice, soothing, calm.

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The Temple gates, long since closed to the world, had opened on their own, and a soft, feminine voice beckoned the faithful forward.

They followed into the Temple, its interior now bathed in the holy glow of the God. No darkness would ever again encroach into such hallowed ground.

A path of illumination led the gathered faithful toward the center of the structure, their quiet steps echoing down the empty corridors and hollow chambers. All around them, a strange background hum was everpresent, enveloping the group with a distant, forgotten melody.

Deeper into the confines of the Temple they went until the supernatural light of the Temple threatened to blind the gathered people, and at the climax of that supernova was the Braizer. It was lit once more, its flames as tall and glorious as its descriptions in the tales of old. And in that room most Holy, shaped from the holy Flame, stood the projection of the Messenger.

She was beautiful.

Her face was an ever-changing display of features, figures, people, and things. Her form never stayed the same for more than a fraction of a second; a mass of stunning chaos. The mind could scarcely comprehend the Messenger’s form, yet one thing was certain in the minds of every single person present: she was beautiful.

She was perfect.

And she spoke.

And she commanded.

And she elevated them.

Each member of the congregation stood tall. Now they were more than the weak humans who cowered in the dark.

They were more now, so much more.

The Messenger showed them the way to spread the glory of the God throughout the cosmos, throughout the universe, and beyond that still.

The Holy Order of the Devouring Truth had a purpose, they had a means, and they would stop at nothing to spread the Light of their God.

Soon Dawn’s light would seep into their world as Dusk descends onto a multitude of others.

All for the Glory of the God.

END OF VOLUME 1