The cult of the gods

 
Above you, there’s an infinite number of gods that you stare at every night. Above you, a black-coated sky is lamenting the loss of its stars. Beneath you, a pile of corpses endeavour to see light once more. Beneath you, a hell whose heat is hotter than of the sun. Beneath you, a cracked, thirsty soil. Don’t you dare question all these! The gods will turn mad. We shall soon have their wrath sent upon us. But there’s always redemption, and it is to follow their path. For that to happen, obedience is a must. We shall teach you the ways of the gods. The guidelines are simple to follow; the gods are already in your favour. One more thing, reason is not likely to be used around here for it is less favourable to think, if not abhorred. We ask you to surrender your mind to us; don’t you worry, dear, for it is in safe hands. We shan’t put it in chains, my dear. We’re just making sure the pillars of our sacred institution are invulnerable to the voice of reason, and no earthly word shall pierce through our intact wall of beliefs. Now, if you’ll allow us, follow us to the chamber of the gods; it is there where we sculpt our own godly statues. And let me tell you a secret, the gods endorse our statues more than we expected. At the entrance of the room, our motto is carved on the wall. It reads, “Blind you live. Blind you believe. Blind you die.” Do not mistake the motto for being uncultured; the gods have mercy on us, and thus, our reason is theirs, and so shall be yours, soon. The gods know that if we think too much, the bliss of life fades away. They reproached our ancestors for being philosophers — and these are surely heathens for they renounced the gods and called them myths — and sent a devastating wrath upon them. There they lie with their unlived life and unspread knowledge — a devilish knowledge. We cannot stand seeing our sons deviating from the path of the lords, the words in the scrolls of the elderly. They’re blindingly walking to a cliff and shall soon meet their ends. No, that, we shan’t forgive. We will grab them by the hand — even if it costs us to kill them — and guide them to light.

 
By now you should know what is truth and what is falsehood. To please the gods is the ultimate truth, and nothing beyond that extends. To infuriate the gods is the ultimate falsehood; that is, to question their authority, sanctity, and authenticity. You have made a wise choice by joining our cult. The gods shall reward you in both your earthly life and post-earthly life. After your death, we shall, with the help of the gods, make of you a saint. You are brave enough; I can see it in your eyes. You, being an oblation to the gods, is the bravest act we have yet seen.

 
Off to the chamber of the gods, prepare yourself to meet those whom words are not enough to describe. Your holiness is unquestionable now. Though pain is inevitable, I want you to think of the holy meeting with the gods. The sharp blade will slice your throat, but that is no gore view; it is the purest sight an eye craves to see. Your blood will spill, but not in vain. You will save the walls of our sacred institution, the walls where the gods dwell. For that, the gods will be pleased due to your manly act, and by then, they should send their mercy, rain our thirsty fields, and save the rich! And when that is due, you shall see them in the eyes, kneel, and enter their realm.

 
Now, as the gods are in our presence, observing our deeds, I request you to lie down by the centre of the chamber.
Behold, my fellow servants of the gods, our son here has agreed to be the oblation of the gods. He will bridge us with the gods to seek refuge in their mercy. Should they accept it, we shall enjoy their eternal bless.

 
My dear, prepare to meet your brethren, live an eternal, luxurious life beside the gods, and you shall not be forgotten for your bravery shall be your voice on earth, and every living being will hear of your remarkable deeds.

 
Blind you live. Blind you believe. Blind you die. Adieu, my dear!

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