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Circle.
    Ronin glared at each of them. “What’s happening here? We’re already forgetting why we came together? Why our skin is different? We’re forgetting the Great Romance between Elyon and his people? That we are his bride?”
    â€œHis bride? That’s merely a metaphor,” William said. “And even so, we are his bride; the Horde is not. So I say we take the bride deep into the desert and hide her from the enemy.”
    â€œWe are his bride, and whoever follows us out of the Horde will be his bride as well,” Ronin said. “How will the Horde ever hear Elyon’s call to love unless it’s from our own throats?”
    â€œElyon doesn’t need our throats!” William countered. “You think the Creator is so dependent on you?”
    â€œKeep it down. You’ll wake the camp,” Thomas said, standing. He glanced at Jeremiah and Suzan, who hadn’t spoken yet. “We’re on a dangerous course here.”
    No one disagreed.
    â€œRonin, read this passage for us again. The one about them hating us.”
    Ronin reached into his satchel and withdrew the Book of History that Justin had given them before his departure. They all knew it quite well, but the teachings it held were at times difficult to understand.
    Ronin carefully peeled the cloth off and opened the cover. The Histories Recorded by His Beloved . He flipped through dog-eared pages and found the passage. “Here it is. Listen.” His voice lowered and he read with an accustomed somber respect. “When the world hates you, remember that it hated me first. If you belonged to the world, it would love you. But you do not belong to the world. I have brought you out of the world, and that is why it hates you.”
    â€œThings change with time,” Johan said.
    â€œNothing has changed!” Ronin said, closing the Book. “Following Justin may be easy, but making the decision never is. Are you second-guessing his way?”
    â€œSlow down,” Thomas said. “Please! This kind of division will destroy us. We must remember what we know as certain.”
    He looked at Jeremiah again. “Remind us.”
    â€œAs certain?”
    â€œAbsolute certainty.”
    The older man reminded Thomas of Elijah. He stroked his long white beard and cleared his throat.
    â€œThat Justin is Elyon. That according to the Book of History, Elyon is father, son, and spirit. That Justin left us with a way back to the colored forest through the red pools. That Elyon is wooing his bride. That Justin will soon come back for his bride.”
    Now Suzan spoke. “And that most of what we know about who Justin really is, we know from the Book through metaphor. He’s the light, the vine, the water that gives life.” She gestured to the Book of History in Ronin’s hand. “His spirit is the wind; he is the bread of life, the shepherd who would leave all for the sake of one.”
    â€œTrue enough,” Thomas said. “And when the Book tells us to drink his blood, it means that we should embrace his death. So how can we hide by running deep into the desert, or by putting ash and sulfur on our skin?”
    â€œHe also told us to flee to the Southern Forest,” William said. “If what you’re saying is true, then why didn’t he tell us to run back to the Horde? Perhaps because the bride has a responsibility to stay alive.”
    William did have a point. The dichotomy was reminiscent of the religion Thomas vaguely remembered from his dreams.
    â€œI intend to leave today and lead a hundred into the deep desert,” William said. “Johan’s right. It’ll only be a matter of time before Woref flushes us out. If you expect any mercy from him, you’re mistaken. He’d kill us all to save himself the trouble of dragging us back to the city. This is a matter of prudence for me.”
    Thomas looked down the canyon, toward the entrance to a small