The sanctuary was illuminated by hundreds of candelabras that battled against the dark shadows. When I was a girl, I’d asked a cleric how long it took them to light all of the candles each day. He’d told me that they never extinguished the flames, only replaced the candles that burned out—that way, they’d never be lost to Oda’s gaze. When I’d asked why they didn’t just go outside to worship the Father, he scowled and summoned my tutor. I’d learned two things that day. One: the sanctuary wasn’t a great place to hide from my teachers. Two: the clerics weren’t overly fond of the sun.
