THE SAINTESS AND THE AFFLICTION| ONC 2023

Deliverer

Wemimo’s knee hurt. It was her turn in a moment.

She was certain that she would topple over when she tried to stand up to receive her bible. It reminded her too much of the day of her ordination into the calling of the deliverer.

Now, it was routine to say a prayer for strength. The deliverers in Merit town were not many, as it wasn’t the most pleasant Christian duty. People would rather be shepherds to keep the flock or prophets in the extreme, who on rare occasions partook in the side-lines of confrontational warfare.

The line before her all but disappeared when the person before her arose from the crucifix and departed to join the thinning trudge of Calvary.

Normally, a group of deliverers going for battle were a flock of mighty men, but there was a full out war long brewing, presently escalated at the border.

The Calvary consisted of the entire flock from intercessors to the last two standing prophets found in Merit. It wasn’t as if there weren’t other prophets in the globe, but aside from the calling of being one was scarce, it was the most difficult.

Wemimo shuffled forward, kneeling on the slice of pew constructed specifically for this.

‘Gracious father in heaven,’ she recited, ‘have mercy upon your servant. Thank you for unwavering grace. Thank you for strength. Thank you for provision. I receive deliverance so that I can deliver the captive from the darkness that plagues this chaotic globe. Amen.’ She prayed it with sincerity and focus as her bringing to the fold instructor had taught her.

She was aware that if she activated the realm tranz the fire of her prayer would be seen around where she knelt, exploding to an incense of whitish flames climbing through the atmosphere to the highest seat of heaven.

She dusted her knees as soon as she was done sipping the blood of the lamb in a divine grail. The goblet sat beneath the cross, collecting the blood which dripped mysteriously from the cross to its inner curve.

She bit back a grin, trying to maintain the state of reflection, but it was difficult.

She had the urge to activate the realm tranz, curious to know what type of flame her prayer produced. It could be that there was no fire and thus no smoke and it could be fiery with pure smoke.

It was banned here.

The reason being that members of the flock, especially new or septic converts, spied others prayers. It had grown so terrible that a demon agent from beyond the Merit had posed as a flock and spied through the prayer altar for nearly a year, but was caught in time so that he was not able to leak out their secret to the enemy. The elders had had to investigate the praying ground themselves with realm tranz as soon as they found out that the spy had not only come to mole through their litanies, but was polluting the hearts of the flock, tainting their prayer. Wemimo had no idea what happened to the demon agent, but there had been a revival.

Therefore, only the watchers were allowed to inspect periodically the consistency and the purity of the Merit’s prayers.

Wemimo was the last deliverer to come out. The prayer ground wasn’t commissioned only to deliverers, it belonged to everyone. It was the prayer rites that were different.

There were many types of prayers: prayers from the bible, prayers recited for each office and prayers you prayed from the heart.

‘Deliverer’ Elder Dawn’s Puff greeted, as Wemimo tried to find her spot in the formation.

They were to march at a designated path a distance after the bards with their weapon and realm tranz activated.

‘Elder Dawn’s Puff’ Wemimo answered with a mask of foreboding.