A flame was lit and a blue glass cover was placed over it. Another was lit and a green cover was placed over it. The next one received a yellow cover. The next three received red, orange and purple covers. A rainbow of light was cast on the floor of the temple near the altar. Blue smoke rose from the altar to the silver beams of the temple. A wrinkled hand placed a black-handled knife the length of a forearm onto the altar.

Snow fell outside the temple, creating a white haze behind the windows. Seila liked it that way. As sinful as it might have been, she liked it when the weather kept the pilgrims away from the temple. It was her time to meditate, pray, perform rituals and teach the younger nuns. Seila had watched a planet lose its faith in the ancients and it broke her heart. It was better when the pilgrims didn’t come. Half of them were seeking shelter from the wars they had started. They came in battered and bloodied and had to be tended to by the nuns. Some were too gruesome to look at. She would rather perform the rituals of peace than the rituals for the dying and faithless.

Seila dipped two long feathers into a silver bowl of water. She tapped the feathers on the side bowl allowing the excess water drop into the bowl. She came around the altar to the right side of it and shook the feathers in the air. Droplets of water fell off the feathers. Out of her thin lips came a high tone that rolled melodically and filled the empty ritual hall. She continued this note as she moved to the front of the altar and shook the feathers in the air again. To the left of the altar and around to the back again she also shook the feathers in the air, keeping the same note.

She placed the feathers on the opposite side of the knife on the altar. She picked up the knife again. She held it in her left hand and extended her arm above her head, the blade pointing up to the silver beams. She brought the knife downwards, blade still pointed up, and touched her forehead. She touched her lips with it as well. She placed the tip of the knife into a silver bowl of oil and made three circles in the oil with it. She placed the blade back down on the altar. Better that the pilgrims didn’t come. There would be no nuns bursting into the hall, exclaiming that a casualty was in need of assistance. She could perform the ritual all the way through with no rituals for the dead to perform. There would be no prayers for victory to say. This storm gave her the chance to worship the ancients. Better that the pilgrims didn’t come.