The light was caught, too-still; it gave the impression of a space filled with glass, rather than air.

Leading the small procession, the Paladin faltered at the lintel. The Diocesan Divine urged it forward. In the small line of postulant figures went, with a reverence that encompassed millennia of lungs, myriads of breaths.

The hall itself soared, as it must to contain that solid profundity of light. The walls, faced in a hard, white stone, dazzled the eye; one learned not to look where they joined the floor or each other. The combined effect of all-white illumination acted to remove all color from the scene. The Paladin wore the Armor of Righteousness, brought out of the Holy of Holies as it was every year. The burnished red of its metal plates was lost in the vastness.

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