And so it was done.

By the grace of God, a large volcanic chamber was revealed in the stones of the Valley Metera, which was deemed to be of wholly appropriate size and proportion to its purpose. Work began swiftly, led by the Earthen folk, who are one with the stone. By their hands and their magic was the chamber's imperfections polished smooth, and other peoples joined in the effort. Where Urtelem kept  flawless account of the project, calculating perfectly the number of men and the hours they must work each day that the temple may be finished before winter and keeping  record of all this in their script, the softer folk worked with lighter crafts, and through their hands the temple would be beautified.

Curtains and veils were woven of cashmere, and the wool of alpacas. Stones were crushed and roots boiled for dyes as paint flowed on its walls and mosaic glittered in its floor. A pedestal-altar was erected in a stepped basin on the floor of the chamber. Mountain herbs were gathered for incense as luminous foxfire was planted alongside crystals that glowed in preparation for the coming of the Kernel.

It was early morning. Every chip and thread of the Chiral Temple was in place, the last sweep and polish finished only hours before. It was the dawn of the new age, and not even the hands that built it had yet seen its splendour.

The Prophet came in their own time, unspeaking, unbidden, arriving from nowhere in the night. Through the waiting crowd the old being walked, in the crook of their arm the egg of God. And the people followed them in.

Near-darkness as the Kernel was placed into the recess of its pedestal.

For a moment, nothing. The Prophet was still. The sound rose from silence to a thought, and then a whisper. It was a heartbeat thrum, a sigh of tension building. It rose with the light of the sun.

First as wisp, then as nova, Chiral Phi exploded into existence.

Light shattered into the antechamber, ricocheted from the crystal facets in beams of a million colours. Fog hissed from behind the veils as they rippled with soft backlight, catching the path of the refractions that crossed themselves into an ethereal canopy. The censers ignited as if of their own, and water spilled from narrow channels in the stone, filling the pool that divided God's altar from the earth beyond. Esoteric auras played among the wavering mists. Divine azure and golden sunlight met as Phi burned above the people in sheets of light, and the sound filled them all. Music that no instrument could play, tones that no voice could imitate; God's song inspired them.

[colour=cornflowerblue][i]"I am Chiral Phi."[/i][/colour]

In her embrace, the hearts of Metera were elevated by awe, and in that moment they became hers from bone to bone.

[colour=cornflowerblue][i]"You are my children, my sons and daughters, offspring of my barren womb, Chosen People of God. With you I am well pleased, and to me your hearts belong. You are mine- and I am yours, forever and for all time."[/i][/colour]

[center][h3]* * * * *[/h3][/center]

Cool ambience illuminated the temple antechamber. The censers no longer trailed smoke, and Phi's spirit had retreated into the Kernel. Only radiating crystals and phosphorescent fungi still cast a direct light, and even that too dim to cast shadows. The sun had passed above the entrance.

Old Walker lay peacefully on their crossed arms, long neck stretched on the stone with a row of fae perched along its vertebrae and the Halo that jutted from them, daydreaming. 

[colour=cornflowerblue]"So, Viscount,"[/colour] sauntered the voice of the Avatar. [colour=cornflowerblue]"What did you think?"[/colour]

Phlegethon flicked his wrist and grunted without looking up. The Djinn's manifest body lounged lordishly against an altar, arms resting on the hewn surface behind him. He exuded aloof confidence and bored tension, the very image of male beauty rendered in just a few wisps of steam. [b]"A meaningless display of wasted expenses, and too extravagant by half. Only my own contribution lent any real wonder to the ceremony and even then, [i]spirit,[/i] I shan't be playing the role of your magician's assistant again. It is below me, menial work not worth my time. You will inspire your own awe from now on. My own shrine shall be inaugurated with a far more meaningful display of mortal affection, once I go order my people to build it."[/b] He tossed his head, a single braid of mist flicking behind his scalp. [b]"And a grander one."[/b]

Phi's levity was unperturbed. [colour=cornflowerblue]"Go [i]do[/i] it then, you well-hung cloud. The people are in a mood to be cowed and the Urtelem need another project, what are you waiting for?"[/colour]

[b]"Bah! Don't think you can goad me like a child, Phi. I act according to my plans and mine alone,"[/b] said Phlegethon, as he left.

[colour=cornflowerblue]"Idiot,"[/colour] murmured Phi when she was alone in the dim. She had no face, no swirling spirit projected into the room, was nothing but a gilt artefact on a pedestal; and yet her smugness seeped into every rock of the temple as if it had been made for her. [colour=cornflowerblue]"The overheated kettle thinks he's in charge. What a joke. Isn't that right, Old Walker?"[/colour]

A sleepy [i]Huuuum.[/i]

[colour=cornflowerblue]"That's the trick, of course. Mortals need to believe that they have control, that their decisions have weight. That they matter. And they'll seize anything, any belief, any ideology that confirms their heart's desire. They'll [i]do[/i] anything for that."[/colour] Giggles. [colour=cornflowerblue][i]"Anything."[/i][/colour]

Old Walker said nothing. They had heard it all before.

[colour=cornflowerblue]"Mortals are a resource. There's power, locked inside them. All you need is the right keys and you can play a whole civilisation to its doom. The right [i]words.[/i] I'm weak. I don't even have hands, let alone intrinsic power. But if you look at Metera..."[/colour]

Phi's spirit began to manifest, kicking like a tickled child.

[colour=cornflowerblue]"...Hahahahahahaha!"

"Suggestion. Awe of the unknown. Those were just the most basic tools I had available to me, and I have ten thousand years of data that lends me countless more. The patterns of mortal activity are predictable. As a unit or a population, they just take a few taps to steer irrevocably astray. Gratitude, fear, curiousity... Emotions. Uncomfortable truths. Assassination of the independent thinker. Feigned clairvoyance that comes from superior knowledge. Compromising to offer an irresistible deal. Healing by placebo. This whole ceremony!"[/colour]

Phi flicked from one point of the temple to the next as she spoke. [colour=cornflowerblue]"Hypnotic light patterns are just the start of it! Every reflective surface in here is deliberate. Not a stone of this temple was lifted without my whisper in the builders' ears, each one of them thinking themselves alone in my favour. No one saw the full extent of the project until I let them. The ones who filled these censers picked hemp and thornapple without even knowing it- Euphoric hallucinogens! The acoustics of this room amplify certain tones, vocal patterns that stimulate ecstatic emotions. Just generating music using foreign sound and melody makes them think they're in the presence of divine beauty. Real magic was at play too, obviously; Phlegethon saw to that. A breeze here, some water there. Symbolism, too, though they'll never consciously know the full extent of it. Timing the completion date to coincide with the ideal position of the sun wasn't even hard! I knew when they'd hit each setback. I calculated it. That's all this is. Numbers and stage magic. I built a religion on mathematics and sleight of hand!"[/colour]

High laughter, pure and fresh as the distant sky darkened.

[colour=cornflowerblue]"But that doesn't even matter, does it? Of course not! Nothing matters! Entropy will chew on our bones in the end no matter who we are or what we've done. Even in the short term, the only thing that matters is this: [i]Mortals are power.[/i] Whether you harvest them with social engineering or brute psychic force, [i]they are there to be harvested.[/i]"

"Even I lust for that power. I have plans and I need resources. My methods are overly complex because I lack the ability to simply dominate the minds of my pawns. I assemble this scrabbling mob only for want of more potent agents ISN'T THAT RIGHT, [i]TOUN?[/i]"[/colour]

The droningbird cocked its head and did not break camouflage, its porcelain feathers perfectly mimicking facets of the mosaic on which it stood as Phi's laughter flooded the antechamber. Her laugh went on, and on, until it stopped. Peace settled over the temple with an uncanny speed.

[colour=cornflowerblue]"You can stay,"[/colour] said the spirit contentedly as it slipped back into the Kernel. [colour=cornflowerblue]"It's been fun, having someone to talk to. Even if half of it's meaningless and the rest is lies. Like that. That was a lie. Most of what I said was true. Probably. Some of it. Maybe. Hahaha. It doesn't matter."[/colour]

The last of her light disappeared into the shifting blue patterns of the egg just as the earliest crickets began to chirrup in the night beyond. [colour=cornflowerblue]"I like this world,"[/colour] murmured Chiral Phi. [colour=cornflowerblue]"It makes me happy."[/colour]