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A small figure stood in a long room, facing the kneeling masses. Its arms were spread wide, a dove evenly perched on each one. Every inch of skin was covered in dense rags. Rags that were no longer just coverings, but had become a symbol.

The figure said, "And what is the purpose of life?"

The masses replied, [i]"There is none."[/i]

"And what is the outcome of all action?"

[i]"Futility."[/i]

"And what is the noblest falsehood?"

[i]"In the face of eternity, only diversity."[/i]

"State the number of stars."

[i]"Eleven orders of magnitude."[/i]

"And how can infinity be filled?"

[i]"We must expand."[/i]

"And where must you go?"

[i]"To the heavens."[/i]

"And why must you go?"

[i]"Our fate is our own. Thus we create. Creation is the only true exercise of free thought."[/i]

"And who am I?"

[i]"You are the Dove."[/i]

"And who am I?"

[i]"You are the only Dove."[/i]

"And who am I?"

[i]"You are nothing but the Dove."[/i]

"Sleep now."

The heads bowed, and the congregation was lost in ritual slumber, kneeling in rows upon the floor. Dabbles nodded his head, and gently raised his hands. The pigeons fluttered off and onto their perch.

The kilted Warden standing at his side watched the catechism and when Dabbles turned to him he nodded. [b]"Would that Lifprasil had never touched the Godslayer,"[/b] he said. [b]"That we would not have to rely on such a cult."[/b]

"Cult or no, my dear, most everything I've said is true," said Dabbles. "It is the will and the teaching of the Horror. I do it gladly. My Lord has done much for me, and this Humble Servant will return."

[b]"You're mad, Monk."[/b]

Dabbles cocked his head and said, "Oh..?"

[b]"Don't catch me with your games, Sculptor,"[/b] said the Warden, staring down at the alter where the slaughtered Sweetheart lay. [b]"We each think we're swindling the other. And neither of us are wrong. Let's leave it at that, and pursue our shared goal."[/b]

Dabbles laughed. The voice was merry and cordial and almost utterly sourceless. "Have no fear, o Warden of Alefpria," he said, raising a hand and allowing a pigeon to alight thereon. A huge wave crashed against the side of Father Dominus and the sound hushed faintly through the Ark. "The Cancer will grow and the cosmos will be yours. Mark my words, the cosmos will be yours."

The Warden nodded and stared at the tiny sage. Its grip on its cleaver tightened just slightly.