The Sanctuary
[Twenty two murals. And one, final, laid on the floor: four serpents, shining of metals and black as night.
Beyond opens the cavern.
More murals line the walls, but before, where there were countries . . . here are the faces of the gods themselves. Dinache in her hunger, children spread about her while she dines upon the very orbs of the sky. Kolotha at her loom, weaving the fates for mortal and divine, Corpus with his scalpel and scales. Face after familiar face, and others . . .
Four brothers, clothed in the colours of seasons. A woman with clothing of iron, and metal in her hair. A pair of twins, colours of dawn and twilight in their clothes as they chase each other through the sky. A woman surrounded with breads, a man tilling the earth . . .
And in the centre of the room, a single statue. And old man with a face echoing every grandfather who has ever lived, eyes closed and hands open in welcome.]