MNat

They gave her a medipack and a bag of water vapor, then told her to climb the spire of rose-colored stones to the throne from whence the Goddess stretched her toes to gently bridge the gap between the past and the future. The sky is our past, this vein-red rock our future. That was how the hymn went. Vall sang it now, softly, under her breath, the notes starting and stopping as she labored from the climb. The red rock bit into the dura-wraps on her hands and feet. The Goddess’s throne was made of hard stuff, but it glittered in the sunlight, and in places where it was thin the warm light shined through, showing veins within the quartz