Twenty-one days of preparation compressed into a blur of theological study, strategic positioning, and managed anxiety.
Now it was the eve of the Autumn Equinox, and I sat in Temple meditation chambers trying to achieve the spiritual clarity the ceremony supposedly required. Instead, my mind raced through everything that could go wrong.
"You're thinking too loudly," Miraya said from across the chamber. "I can practically hear your thoughts echoing off the walls."
"Sorry," I said. "Spiritual calm isn't my strong suit."
"No one's is the night before Divine Judgment," she replied. "I've presided over three of these ceremonies. Every subject spent the night before exactly like you—anxious, second-guessing, wondering if they'd made catastrophic mistakes."
"That's not reassuring."
