into kotaom : a novel by david faylin | [home]
Prayer of the Dolourish. HoD Awaits You.
Killian slipped inside. His chamber was stifling, as were most. He locked the door and knelt on his linen prayer rug. It’s withering matched the callouses on his own knees. The rays pierced through his slats and dappled the fingernail prayer notches that he had in his ardour gouged in stucco. Admiring the patterns brought a focus. With the sound of The Emperor’s amplified voice storeys above, Killian performed his dry purification with a hard-found patch of pure soil. But The Emperor’s hollow voice began to distract him, its tone made full with false conviction; its rhetoric a stale soporific overlaying a fresh disgrace. Even the harshly scripted novenas that leant on his alter did little to bring steadfastness. But he was resolute. He prayed, though it was not prayer time. And through his devotions came the righteous adamance.
[the above is an excerpt from Into Kotaom]
