“Oh divine Third, you who serenely watches us from your perch upon the stars, please hear my prayer. I beg of you, grace us with another holy utterance, that we may continue to revere your speech and find new meaning in the pale light you provide. If we have offended or repulsed you, I sincerely apologize on the behalf of all followers of the Holy Thought. Please, forgive us and offer us guidance so that we do not repeat our mistakes.”
Athatu sighed and opened her eyes, then gazed through the moonlit window in front of her. How could the moon watch her pray so desperately and still refuse to walk among her followers? The Third hadn't descended to Sekharu in a century, and her Holy Diary hadn't been updated for just as long. It wasn't unusual for the Mahyeta to go months or years without making an appearance, but this was concerning. The Holy Diaries weren't meant to be static texts.
The priest clasped her fingers together with just the middle fingers raised, ready to pray again and again until the Third heeded her call. Just as she bowed her head, she felt a gust of wind dust over her, even though the window was closed. She looked up to see a small piece of parchment flutter to the ground ever so gracefully. In neat, purple handwriting that glimmered in the faint light was a brief message: “I'm busy. Will speak later — Alma.”
Athatu nearly cried in relief. The Third had answered her prayers at last! The other priests would be so proud of her for being the one to reach her.