The five sat at the round table. They understood the reason for the gathering, each quiet under the weight of the knowledge of whose presence they gathered. The summons came at night, invitations to a room filled with white smoke and walls of dark clouds. An initiate would not know that though the walls billowed, they stood sturdy. The white smoke wreathed in its progress to reach every part of the room, incense from the throne room itself. God hosted this little gathering.
For the first time, the guests could hear the sound of silence, thick and heavy. Though no words were said, some sweated like goats on the slaughter table; others tasted the bitterness of failure. None of them of the mind to start giving their reports.
“Generals, give account.” His soft words flowed like still waters, heard only in the soul.
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