Clarion bells rang from the high peaks of the sanctuary, sounding sharp and cold in the morning breeze. The approach to the Magisterial gates was daunting to say the least, it was an expanseless stretch of paved stone and prayer carpets. It was broken only by the suspended candle altars and strolling Humbled Ones.

Beneath wax drip rain these clerics, scribes, and prophets paced outside the Temple gates debating and discussing fundamental truths. Their reverent theological murmurs like passing flies as I walked. Their garments a sea of color against the unstained white walls surrounding the Gate of Obeisance.

I followed suit with hundreds of similarly garbed monks as we passed beneath it, bowing in humility before entering the Temple. The cobblestone roads dominated the earth, not a single tree nor blade of grass existed here. Only burning shrines and prayer remained.

I parsed through the multitudinous altars and prayer books set atop weathered lecterns to approach the second and final gate. This was the Crowned Arch, the most holy and revered keeper of the Ageless Throne. It sat beneath a promenade that would make the Royal Saints weep at its perfection. The walls lined with 10,000 tomes of ancient scripture, its ceiling vaulted to highest heaven.

Towering tapestries sat beside monolithic stained glass windows depicting the divine. A single snow white carpet lined its length passing the depthless rows of pews. There atop a marble dais sat the Throne of Thrones, the seat of formless omniscience. It was the spark of godhood enthroned on the mortal plane.

Its velvet shone like a stab wound upon a stage of prismatic light. I tore my eyes from it to head down a darkened chiseled hallway. I followed the candlelight trail through the reverent gloom tracing the steps in my mind. I stole a glance behind me before turning into a refectory. There I saw my kinsmen standing in their shadowed circle. I joined as the last link and we began chanting. Our words were holy, but the cadence and intonements spoke of heresy.

Our mouths threaded poisonous intent through our sacrilegious council, our hoods obscured the eyes of faithless men. The congregation was concluded and we bowed before parting ways. The seeds had been sown in the depths of holy soil. The bloom would reveal the thorny truth hidden behind the white rose.

I headed back the the rarified colonnades to glimpse the altar of altars once more before the final baptism. 

"May the sinner sit upon the Throne once more. Amen"