Every night, the same dream.
“Who are you?”
“I am Zefra.”
“And what do you do?”
“I am a shrine keeper in the city of Ehram.”
“And are you virtuous?”
This is how the gods judge the dead. I know it well. The answer is reflexive, written in my heart.
But the next step goes wrong.
“Then why does the shrine go unvisited?”
I can only stammer. “Because-”
But Akkun does not care. “The people of Ehram have rejected their duty. They are not alone. Throughout Ehlil few serve the old ways.”
“Because of their treachery, I say to you:
They will tear each other to pieces
And they will gnaw on bones.”
I shudder. “But surely there are enough who are righteous?”
Akkun does not respond. I wake from his dream. The cold night air bites at my skin as I sit upright, my nerves forcing me to look for a danger that isn’t there.