The walk to the temple felt longer than usual, though it was only a few hundred paces from his quiet corner of the village. Each step echoed with a strange finality. The Sun-Blessed Temple dominated Veridia, a monolithic structure of pale, sun-bleached stone and pillars that seemed to absorb and amplify the morning light, radiating an unnatural, almost intimidating glow. Its central spire, impossibly tall, tipped with a massive, polished golden disc, pierced the sky, a beacon of undisputed authority, casting its imposing shadow across the entire settlement. 

As Elos approached, the rhythmic, low drone of devotional chanting emanated from within, a sound designed to soothe the faithful and intimidate the unbowed, a constant, hypnotic pulse that seemed to demand submission. Ornate carvings of radiant sunbursts adorned every pillar, every archway, their intricate patterns emphasizing the deity's omnipresence, each ray seemingly reaching out to bind him. The very air around the temple felt different – charged, heavy with the cloying sweetness of frankincense and the unspoken weight of dogma. 

 Guards, clad in polished bronze armor etched with solar symbols, stood impassively at the great bronze doors, their spears gleaming ominously. They parted for him without a word, their expressions grim, their eyes devoid of recognition for the healer who had saved their children.

Inside, the light was not the natural warmth of the sun, but a dazzling, almost painful glare, reflecting off polished golden surfaces and strategically placed mirrors, designed to overwhelm the senses and disorient the uninitiated. 

The Inner Sanctum was a vast, circular chamber, its lofty ceiling lost in a hazy golden glow. Its walls were adorned with enormous, intricately woven tapestries depicting the Sun-Blessed One's triumphs over ancient darkness, its boundless generosity in times of plenty, and the prosperity it brought to those who submitted without question. Each thread seemed to vibrate with a silent, judging energy. At the chamber's center, a massive, unlit brazier, intricately carved with sun-lizard motifs, dominated the space, its cold, unyielding metal a stark contrast to the brilliant light. Around it, seated on low, severe benches of dark, unpolished wood, almost swallowed by the golden reflection, were the members of the High Council. 

Elder Thevos sat at their head, a figure of imposing, unyielding authority, his face a mask of stern judgment. To his right sat Elder Morwen, her sharp, intelligent eyes missing nothing, glinting like chips of ice in the golden light. To his left, Elder Cain, whose quiet demeanor often hid a steel trap mind, his stillness more unnerving than the others' bluster. Behind them stood a silent phalanx of junior priests and temple acolytes, their numbers swelling the room, their presence serving as a silent, unwavering jury, their faces a mixture of fear and fervent devotion. 

Elos stood before them, alone, bathed in the overwhelming golden light that seemed to press down on him, forcing him to squint, making him feel exposed and vulnerable, as if his very thoughts were being scrutinized.

"Elos," Elder Thevos's voice boomed, resonating with an echo that seemed to come from the very stone of the chamber, bouncing off the golden surfaces, "you stand accused of grave heresy. You, a gifted healer, one whose hands have been touched by the very grace of the Sun-Blessed One itself, have blasphemed its sacred name, questioned its divine wisdom, and spread doubts among the faithful at a time when our community needed unity most. Your actions have caused division, your words sown discord."

Elos took a deep breath, the incense-laden air burning in his lungs, tasting of metallic gold and old wood. He tried to ground himself, to remember the feeling of cool earth, of vibrant green growing things, but the air here was too thick, too stifling. "Elders," he began, trying to keep his voice steady despite the tremor that threatened to betray him, "I have never denied the Sun-Blessed One's light. I merely seek a deeper understanding of the world’s healing properties, a wisdom that I believe predates even our current doctrines. My actions have always been to alleviate suffering, to save lives, to bring comfort where there was pain. Is this not a sacred pursuit in itself?"

Elder Morwen leaned forward, her voice surprisingly soft, yet laced with an icy precision that cut through the echoing chamber. "And in doing so, you have attributed your successes not to divine intervention, but to 'patterns' and 'properties' and a vague, nameless 'creator of love and compassion.' You speak of a forgotten god, Elos, one that whispers of a time when man was less than devout, when chaos reigned! A time when the Sun-Blessed One had not yet brought order and light to Vasal!" Her gaze hardened, unwavering. "Your words undermine the very faith that binds our society, that gives us strength and purpose. When the blight struck, our people prayed, Elos. They prayed for salvation, for divine mercy. And you, their healer, offered them herbs, not faith! You offered them a secular solution, robbing them of the opportunity for spiritual growth through suffering and devotion!"

"The herbs worked," Elos countered, a flicker of defiance, a spark of the unyielding scientist in him, kindling in his eyes. "They brought down fevers, eased coughs, restored strength. They worked even when prayers seemed to fail, or when faith faltered. Is not alleviating suffering, truly and demonstrably, the greatest form of devotion, regardless of the vessel through which the healing flows?" His voice gained a quiet power, challenging the very premise of their accusation. "Is the Sun-Blessed One so petty as to deny healing because of a lack of words rather than a lack of compassion?"

Elder Cain, who had been silent, an unnerving statue of calm, spoke then, his voice a calm, measured tone that was far more unnerving than Thevos’s booming or Morwen’s sharp accusations. It was the voice of cold, calculated reason, designed to dissect. "The Sun-Blessed One works through faith, Elos. Your methods, while perhaps effective in a crude, earthly sense, cultivate a dangerous independence of spirit. You observe, you categorize, you seek to master nature, rather than submit to the divine order. You record your observations in your private journals, hidden from the temple's scrutiny. We know of them, Elos. We know you teach others that the willow bark works 'regardless of conscious faith.' This is not healing, Elos. This is usurping divine power. It is an act of pure, unadulterated hubris, a challenge to the very structure of our world, which is built upon obedience and submission."

The mention of his journals sent a cold dread through Elos, colder than the stone floor beneath his feet. He had guarded them fiercely, his cataloging of plants, his theories on their properties, his quiet notes on the discrepancies between temple teachings and observable reality. They were his secret world, a testament to his true calling, a repository of his deepest thoughts. Now, they were weapons against him, proof of his independent thought, proof of his soul’s wants.

"Elos," Elder Thevos said, his tone shifting, becoming almost paternal, a dangerous veneer of compassion designed to reel him back in. "We recognize your gifts. They are immense. They are a true blessing from the Sun-Blessed One. And we believe you have merely strayed, lost your way in the wilderness of your own intellect, tempted by the shadows of ancient, forgotten heresies. But the path back to light is clear, Elos. It is simple. You must renounce these… deviations. You must publicly declare your unwavering devotion to the Sun-Blessed One. You must pledge to serve the temple in all things, to use your gifts only as a vessel for divine will, never questioning, always obeying."

This was the crux of it. The bargain. The narrow path back to acceptance, albeit at a cost. But then Thevos continued, his words growing more stringent, his gaze piercing Elos’s soul, stripping away any last illusion of easy reprieve. "And more. You must renounce your body's desires and your soul's wants. The endless curiosity that drives you to dissect every leaf, to question every doctrine, to seek a 'deeper, older wisdom' – these are the desires of the ego, the pride of a soul that places its own intellect above divine revelation. You must surrender this thirst for individual knowledge, this passion for cataloging, this self-serving intellectual pursuit. You must let go of the need to understand how things work, and simply accept that they do because the Sun-Blessed One wills it. Your body’s desires – the need for solitary wanderings through untamed forests, for quiet observation of the wild, for the tactile pleasure of roots and rich soil in your hands, the physical exhilaration of climbing a mountain to find a rare specimen – these are distractions from true devotion, attachments to the base, earthly realm. Your soul’s wants – for a different truth, for a personal connection to a nebulous 'creator of love and compassion,' for a sense of individual purpose outside the Sun-Blessed One's grand design – these are temptations to self-worship, to elevate your own spirit above the divine. You will submit your mind, your hands, your spirit to the service of the Sun-Blessed One, and to the temple as its earthly voice. You will find true purity in utter submission. Only then can your gifts be truly blessed, truly pure, truly accepted by the light."