The Priest – Part 5
The slow wheel of the galaxy spun in its two hundred million year whirl, carrying the sphere of human occupied space, centered on ancient Terra, along for the eternal ride through the vastness of space.
But space was not uniform, and this was more to the pity of mankind.
For three thousand years, give or take a few centuries, humanity had been passing through a pocket of thinness, a region where reality intersected with the Immaterium, the Obscurum, and that place of death known popularly as Hades (although the Church vigorously discouraged this nomenclature, maintaining that this plane of death was an aberration, and souls consigned to it were removed from the salvation of God. But Hades is a complex issue, confounding even the highest prefects in my Order).
We had enjoyed ten thousand years of peace since we last passed from an Intersection, and we discovered our freedom once again as thinking men after the Sin of Logan had consigned mankind as chattel to the will of those that had passed into our world from the Immaterium.
We won our freedom, but we did not forget. As we reclaimed our civilization, relearned our roots and spread amongst the stars, we clutched the memory of our enslavement and passed the centuries warming ourselves with the fires of determination. Never again would this happen to us.
And when the next Intersection came upon us three thousand years ago, we were ready.
Of course, I have not lived through all of this history. My birth occurred twenty three centuries ago, in the early days of this Intersection. My life span is not unusual for a Priest, but my particular assignments had made my survival an item of note to those who tracked such things. For whatever reason, I was good at what I did, and while others like me rose through the ranks and did less of the things that won them acclaim in the first place, I had little desire to follow their example.
I knew my place. I knew in what capacity I could best serve.
Burning heretics was my calling.
My history, as it bears upon the person I am today, is difficult to assess. In such a span, how many experiences can be considered formative? I am undeniably the product of my past, but which past? I no longer could be certain.
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