The Temple

Sunlight streamed in through the tall, thin windows, set off from the deep shadows by smoking incense. The altar was carved from white marble, and the benches that filled the temple were polished slabs of the same. The floor lacked the glossy polish, but was cut from similar black stone. A choir sang nearby, men and women of the faith raising their voices in tribute. Steven sat, legs-crossed, before the altar. His long duster was tossed across a bench, his hat nearby. His weapons were left at the entrance. He was no longer young, but the Rift would still obey.