I woke up refreshed the next morning, forgetting for a moment where I was. I reached to the nightstand for my phone, then remembered that there was no phone. Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I yawned and pulled myself up into a seated position. That holy symbol, which was somehow always at least softly illuminated by the light coming from the small window on my right, was glowing in front of me. It was disorienting. It was almost exactly where my old TV had been. The world outside was quiet: no sheep, no children playing, no pretty elven priestesses speaking in melodic accents. There were birds, though. They chirped cheerfully as the sunlight filtered through the window, illuminating the dust in the air.

I sighed, then took the chance to stretch and wiggle around in the bed. Everything still felt stiff, but it felt a hell of a lot better than the days before. I pushed myself to the edge of the bed, swung my legs off, and gently set my feet on the ground. I nearly fell the second I stood. My legs wobbled like a newborn deer's.

"Ughhh," I grunted, falling back onto the bed. "I thought magical healing was supposed to be instant? What is this shit?" I tried to stand again, but failed again. Pulling myself upright, I looked down at my uncooperative legs... and realized that they didn't look like they were mine. They were much thinner than I remembered. In fact, all of me was thinner. Yet again, for what had to have been the tenth time in a few days, my heart began to race. Inspecting my body, I quickly realized that I had lost weight. A lot of weight. I was fairly in shape before, what with all the labor and gym and martial arts and stuff, and I had added some padding the last few months it got cold, but this body was not that body.

I wasn't emaciated, but I had lost quite a bit of muscle mass, and nearly all of my padding was gone. My arms were thin, which I hadn't noticed before. I could see my ribs in my chest and torso, and my abs were clearly visible, but not in the good way. I looked kind of like how I did after I hiked for a few months after my sister... after I moved away from home.

How long had I been out?

Gathering up courage for another attempt at standing, I teetered up, using the bed posts for support. I hobbled step by step to the desk in the far corner, then plopped down on the wooden desk chair. My knee was a lot better. Not perfect, but better. My foot felt tight. My head felt okay. The only part of me that still felt awful was my left arm. I could only feel half as well as I should, and my movements took more effort and concentration than I'd like. The bandages had come off, revealing large, thick scars and several burns running up my forearm. The red lines were still there, but they were fading. I tried touching my thumb to my fingers, but I could only make it to the middle finger, which was half-numb.

I noticed that some clothes had been laid out on the desk, and an incense stick was already burning in the holder. The clothes were unfamiliar. The shirt was a tan long-sleeved tunic of some kind that would have been right at home at a renaissance fair, and the pants were brown and shapeless. The fabric was well made, but rougher than I was used to.

"Probably wool, then." I sighed. Of course the clothes in heaven were made of wool. Wool was hot, and wherever I was now, the weather was more temperate than back home. Some wool socks and a leather belt were under the pants, There were some brown leather boots in the opposite corner, near the door.

I took my time getting dressed. I didn't want to get vertigo again, and a lot of me didn't want to move. Luckily, the clothes were baggy, so it made it easier to maneuver than it would have been. After taking an embarrassingly long time getting dressed, I finally stood there, looking out my little stone window, dressed like a medieval villager. I couldn't say that this was a life goal of mine, but I'd be lying if I said it wasn't kind of fun.

A sharp knock at the door pulled me away from the pastoral bliss of the morning and back into the present. The door swung open, and a stout man, nearly as wide as the doorway and a head shorter than me, marched into my little sanctuary. He had long brown hair that he kept pulled back in a ponytail and a neatly trimmed beard. He was obviously well muscled, like a laborer, and a rod dangled from the belt of his red and white robes. He had a walking stick in his hands.

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"Bonan matenon," he said, his words hard and clipped. He seemed all business, scanning the room in an instant and eying me up and down. He reached down, grabbed my boots, and marched to my desk. Before I could even protest, the boots were on my feet, and he thrust the walking stick into my hands.

"Staru." He reached out and grabbed me, hoisting me onto my feet like a child. He was strong, stronger than the older woman that healed me the day I woke up, and she was strong. He was like a bear. "Venu." He marched out of my room and stood in the doorway.

I understood well enough, and I really didn't want to argue with the scary short guy. I looked at the stick he handed me. It was stout and thick, made of some dense, dark wood. The grains were tight, and it felt like it could punch through the stone floor before breaking. The ends were bound in some sort of yellowish metal. Taking a deep breath, I took a step, but it was too big. I barely planted the walking stick in the stone before I fell over. The man reentered the room and wrapped his arm around me.

"Malrapide," he said more softly and gently than before, slowing me down and helping me with the first few steps before letting go. He walked backwards, watching each of my faltering steps as I left my little room and entered a long stone hallway. "Bone," he said as he stopped and adjusted my grip on the staff. He nodded his head toward the hall. The man had a stern look, but not a bad one. He wasn't smiling, but his eyes shone with empathy.

"Alex." I said, pointing at myself.

"Renard," he replied, his eyes focusing on my movements.

It turned out that my room was one of many. I was housed in the furthest room on the right, but there were at least twenty on each side of the narrow hallway. I could hear sounds in some of the rooms: groaning, the shuffling of feet, a stray cough. Halfway up the hallway was an archway, from which emitted the soft, flickering light of candles and the heavy smell of incense. Step by faltering step, I made my way down the hallway, then followed Renard into what was a large room. My breath was taken away.

A massive stone statue stood on the far side of the large room. It was a woman, but the sheer size and quality of the thing took my breath away. She was in a sheer, flowing gown, and her long hair cascaded down her shoulders and along her collarbones, reached well below her breasts. Her right hand was held up, and in it was the same eight-pointed star, similar to the symbol in my room. In her left hand, which she held down and out toward the room, were some sort of grapelike fruit. Her expression was soft, warm, and loving. Coming in through the windows high above her, from the same side of the building as my room, the light shone on her beautiful face, filling the room with soft, golden light.

It was beautiful.

I had to pause, leaning on my staff and looking up at the statue. I didn't consider myself religious, but there was something about this place, about the statue, that made me stop and think. What if? What if there was more to the story than we knew? I mean, here I was, standing under the statue of some unknown goddess, being guided around by a guy who I suddenly realized might be a dwarf, after being healed by magic light hands and a pretty elf priestess. Would believing be so weird after all of that?

The sounds of soft prayers pulled me out of my thoughts, and I tore my eyes away from the statue. A woman, little more than a girl really, kneeled in front of the statue, her hands clasped in front of her and eyes lifted in prayer. Behind her, a group of people, maybe a dozen or so, sat on stone benches facing the statue. Each had an incense burner in their hands, and they had their heads bowed in prayer. The kneeling girl stayed in that position for several moments, then she stood and returned to one of the pews. A man, older and stooped, rose and walked toward the statue. One after another, they took turns while Renard and I watched.

Turning to the stout man beside me, I noticed his face was as impassive as it had been, but his eyes shone with the same light they had when he saw me struggling to walk minutes before. Maybe he wasn't such a hard ass as he seemed? After fifteen or so minutes, the last congregant stood up, and a woman, the same one who healed me the day I woke up, emerged from behind the statue. She said a few parting words that I didn't understand, and then everyone said a prayer as a group and stood up. Within minutes, the temple began to clear out, and she turned to look at me.

"Sankte." She said as she walked toward me. "Venu, filo. Mi volas, ke vi renktonu iun."

She reached out, grabbed my hand, and guided me behind the statue and into a dark room beyond.