By the Dim and Flaring Lamps

Julian stared up at the carved grey stone that hung by chains from the ceiling of the main lobby. Reading the text felt like reading something in a dream, where the words kept shifting and changing each time his eyes scanned over a line. As near as he could tell, it said,

Have you see Them in the watchfires of a hundred circling camps?
Have you built to Them an altar in the evening dews and damps?
Have you read the RIGHTEOUS SENTENCE by the dim and flaring lamps?
Their TRUTH is marching on.

The hairs on the back of Julian's neck stood up after he finished reading, and he knew then that he was in too deep to ever go back to the way things had once been.