A thin thread of white steam rose upward, tracing a slender line. Gravel gazed at the vapor ascending from the teacup clasped in his hand.
"If you require more, pray speak."
Igor said softly, holding the long-spouted teapot. His manifested hand encircled the handle.
"My thanks."
Gravel replied with a nod, lifting the cup to his lips. The scent of herbs brushed his nose—a clear, refreshing brew infused with the essence of verdant fields.
It had been four days prior.
That day, Benarr had invited Gravel and his companions, who were sojourning in Damu, to an evening meal. And there, he made his proposal.
"Would you not accompany me to the temple of Na-Woul?"
He set down his goblet of wine upon the table as he spoke.
"It is a place I visit once each season. Worth seeing at least once during your stay in Damu."
Gravel nodded in acceptance.
"We shall join you."
The following day, vast wagons lined the courtyard before Benarr's manor. Mooloomook stood with heads bowed low.
These great beasts, cloaked in black fur, were harnessed in pairs to wagons laden with burdens.
Benarr's own wagon was the grandest among them.
"This one was crafted some fifteen years past."
Benarr remarked, stroking the side with his hand.
"The finest woodworker and smith in Damu labored together upon it. The interior is spacious and comfortable—fear not."
Gravel boarded the wagon. Within, long benches flanked either side, accompanied by a small table and cupboard. Beyond the windows, the outer landscape unfolded.
The other wagons bore provisions: sacks of grain, barrels of wine, crates of dried fruits, vessels wrapped in cloth. Offerings for the temple.
"We depart!"
Benarr's voice resounded. The Mooloomook stepped forth in unison. The wagons began to roll slowly.
The path northward from Damu was broad and even. Wagon wheels glided smoothly over the graveled way.
"This road has existed since times long forgotten..."
Benarr said, gazing out the window.
"Yet only in recent years have we begun its true upkeep—laying stones, filling hollows, uprooting stubborn roots. For great wagons to pass, the path must endure."
"How long until we reach the temple?" Gravel inquired.
"Two days suffice. One we press onward with haste, the next we take at leisure. No need for undue hurry."
The wagon surmounted hills and threaded through wooded trails. Far off, a mountain range loomed, its flanks veiled in clouds beneath the azure sky.
As night fell, the party pitched tents beside the road. The Mooloomook grazed upon the grasses, while Muwa servants kindled fires and prepared the evening repast.
At dawn the next morn, the wagons resumed their journey. By midday, a vast lake came into view ahead, its surface shimmering under the sun's rays.
"Yonder lies the temple of Na-Woul. In our tongue, we call it Melharam."
Benarr said, pointing with his hand.
Gravel recalled that memory as he once more brought the teacup to his lips.
Now he sat in a shaded spot on the outskirts of Na-Woul's temple, Melharam.
A broad canopy stretched overhead, upheld at its corners by four wooden pillars. Beneath the shade stood a long rectangular table, around which sat Gravel, Iris, Nia, and Benarr.
Igor stood beside the table, teapot in hand. He tilted its spout toward Nia's cup. Golden liquid flowed in a slender stream into the vessel.
Steam arose anew.
"My thanks!"
Nia exclaimed, cupping the vessel with both hands and beaming brightly.
Gravel lifted his gaze toward the temple's heart in the distance.
The lake was immense. Its waters extended without end, rippling gently. Sunlight shattered upon the surface, birthing myriad tiny gleams. White stones paved the lakeshore, over which Dawi and Muwa walked to and fro.
At the lake's center stood a colossal structure.
A pedestal wrought of pure white stone. Fashioned from blocks far exceeding a Dawi's stature, it rose in tiered steps, atop which rested an enormous spherical gem suffused with azure light.
From the lake's edge to the pedestal extended a broad stone bridge, allowing Dawi and Muwa to approach the gem with reverent strides.
The deep, translucent blue gleamed under the sun. Its surface was flawlessly smooth, and from within emanated a subtle radiance.
"That is the Eye of Na-Woul." Benarr declared.
"In our speech, we name it Rah."
Gravel could not avert his eyes from the vast blue stone known as the Eye of Na-Woul. Around it gathered throngs of Dawi and Muwa. Some knelt, others clasped hands in prayer. Muwa folded wings before their breasts.
"Rah... of what substance is it formed?" Iris inquired on behalf of her lord, as was her wont—to draw forth explanations that sated Gravel's unspoken curiosity.
"That, none can say."
Benarr replied, setting down his cup.
"Rah has dwelt there since ages untold. Ere Dawi and Muwa settled these lands—far longer, in truth."
Nia's eyes widened as Nia beheld Rah.
"So vast it is!"
"And Rah possesses a singular power." Benarr continued.
"It accepts what you term 'mana.' A Dawi clasps hands toward Rah, a Muwa folds wings toward it, and a faint measure of mana departs. In the end, Rah claims it."
"Does it seize the mana?" Gravel asked.
"Not seize... rather, receive." Benarr said with a smile.
"Dawi and Muwa willingly offer their mana to Na-Woul, imbued with devout hearts. And Rah accepts those hearts."
He paused, then added.
"Yet the converse holds true. Should one afflicted with illness or wound touch Rah, it bestows mana in return—healing grace."
Gravel surveyed the lakeshore anew. His eyes fell upon an aged Dawi, supported as he shuffled forward. A younger kin held his arm with care. Upon reaching Rah, the elder knelt and extended clasped hands.
Elsewhere, a Muwa unfurled wings wide before folding them slowly toward Rah.
"Are they all sending mana to Rah?" Iris queried.
"Most, aye." Benarr affirmed with a nod.
"The hale offer mana laced with gratitude. The ailing touch Rah in hope of succor."
Benarr sipped from his cup, then rose from his seat.
"That I yet possess vitality to offer Na-Woul... it gladdens this old heart."
He smiled, clasping hands before his breast. Palms met. Closing his eyes, he extended them slowly toward Rah.
In that instant, faint light gathered about his hands. A dim, pale blue-white filament streamed from his fingertips toward Rah. Slender and translucent, yet unmistakable, it traversed the air and met Rah.
Benarr lowered his hands and resumed his seat.
"Try it yourself." he said, regarding Gravel.
"It matters not if one be neither Dawi nor Muwa. Rah receives the hearts of all."
Gravel rose slowly and faced Rah.
He clasped hands before his breast. Palms touched. Then he extended them gradually toward Rah.
In that moment, the air about his hands shifted. A sensation arose—as if a slender thread slipped from his palms. It stretched outward through the void.
Gravel opened his eyes.
The thread was visible: a faint silvery line extending from his fingertips to Rah. It quivered in the air, then transformed. The slender filament coiled into a small orb, akin to a droplet. The silvery bead floated midair, drifting languidly toward Rah.
As the droplet touched Rah, the blue light rippled briefly. When the glow subsided, so too did the subtle sensation in Gravel's hands.
He lowered them and sat once more.
"How fared you?" Benarr inquired.
"Hard to describe. Yet... the feeling of it departing my hands... lingers still."
Gravel answered truthfully.
"Such an experience is new to me."
"Na-Woul embraces all."
Benarr nodded with contentment.
"Regardless of kin. Thus, this place draws not only Dawi and Muwa, but others besides. Though most visitors are of our kinds. Heh heh heh."
Gravel gazed upon the lakeshore again. Multitudes of Dawi and Muwa dispatched mana toward Rah. Dozens, hundreds of luminous strands cleaved the air.
Small edifices dotted the lake's periphery: low, broad structures of white stone, amid which Dawi and Muwa came and went.
"What purpose serve those buildings?" Iris asked.
"Lodgings and halls for repast." Benarr replied.
"Places for far-travelers to abide. Melharam is no mere solemn site for offerings to Na-Woul. It is where Dawi and Muwa gather to share tales, partake of sustenance, and pass time in fellowship."
Gravel nodded. The air accorded with Benarr's words. Dawi and Muwa clustered throughout the temple, conversing with bright smiles. Gentle laughter and cheerful voices layered one upon another, filling the precincts with tranquil vitality.
"That building yonder houses the priests."
Benarr indicated a grand structure north of the lake.
"The priests tend Rah and aid the faithful: caring for the infirm, guiding the lost, mediating disputes."
"How does one become a priest?" Gravel queried.
"One must earn Na-Woul's acknowledgment."
Benarr set down his cup and elaborated.
"Aspirants dwell in Melharam for a span, refining their spirits. When their devotion is deemed worthy, they stand before Rah at last."
Benarr smiled.
"There they pray long, and if Rah emits light in response, priesthood is granted. Yet it is no easy path. Without true heart, Rah remains unmoved."
Igor refilled Benarr's cup with the teapot. Benarr sipped once more.
From across the lake came strains of song. Dawi sat in a circle, voices low and resonant carrying over the waters. Muwa fluttered wings in rhythm.
Nia gazed upon the lake, Nia's tail swaying gently.
"The waters are truly pure."
"The lake is fed by streams from the northern peaks." Benarr said.
"Melted snows, chill and untainted."
Gravel beheld the lake's undulations. Sunlight danced upon them. Rah's blue radiance reflected in the waters, dyeing the expanse in turquoise hues.
"How ancient is Melharam?" Gravel asked.
"Precisely? None can tell."
Benarr shook his head.
"Yet surely millennia have passed. Dawi and Muwa's settlement here fades into dim antiquity, and records attest that even then, Rah abode in this place."
"And none knows who fashioned Rah?"
"None." Benarr gazed at Rah as he spoke.
"Perhaps Na-Woul wrought it Himself. Or perchance a kindred from far elder times upon these lands. What matters is Rah's presence now—and its watchful guard over us."
Gravel regarded Rah anew. The immense blue jewel shone serenely. Countless mana strands flowed toward it.
Iris scanned the lakeshore slowly. Her gaze halted at one spot.
"What do those folk there undertake?"
Where she pointed, several Dawi unfurled a great cloth. Atop it lay abundant fare: loaves, fruits, cheeses, cured meats. They sat in a ring, sharing the bounty.
"They partake of sustenance." Benarr answered.
"In Melharam, all may eat freely. Some victuals the temple provides, others the faithful bring. To share is Na-Woul's teaching."
Nia nodded at his words.
"A fine teaching it is."
Benarr smiled, setting down his cup. He beheld Rah once more. For a long while, he gazed in silence, his countenance serene.
Gravel observed him and pondered. Benarr was a Dawi of profound devotion to his deity. He believed in Na-Woul with utmost sincerity and revered this Melharam.
Time flowed onward. The sun inclined westward. Its rays slanted upon the lake, casting elongated shadows on the waves. Rah's blue light deepened.
Gravel lifted his cup and drained the last of the tea. Though cooled to tepidness, its fragrance endured.
"Behold yonder."
Benarr raised his hand toward the lake's eastern shore.
"Those clad in white are the priests."
Gravel turned his sight. Three Dawi in long white robes approached Rah. They ascended the steps deliberately and knelt before it, pressing clasped hands to the gem.
Shortly, Rah blazed brightly. Intense pale blue-white light radiated outward. The entire lake bathed in its glow. Dawi and Muwa alike raised heads to behold Rah.
The light faded gradually. The priests rose and descended the steps with measured pace.
"What... was that?" Gravel inquired.
"The evening prayer." Benarr replied.
"Thrice daily do the priests offer supplication before Rah: at dawn, midday, and eventide. Rah answers their devotion with light."
Nia's eyes sparkled as she gazed at Rah.
"How wondrous!"
Igor set the teapot upon the table and approached Benarr.
"It would be wise to return to our lodgings ere the sun sets."
Benarr nodded.
"Aye."
He rose, smiling.
"Was this old Dawi's guidance to your liking? To encounter those eager to learn of Melharam... it has brought me joy this day."
His voice held the quiet pride of a guide, mingled with simple gladness at sharing Na-Woul's temple with Gravel's party.
The group left the canopy behind and walked along the lake. White stones yielded softly underfoot with each step. The lake's waves lapped quietly.