Always The Fall
It was my turn next. As soon as the door had closed on the previous candidate, we had all shifted one seat forward, taking care not to make any noise. I hadn’t felt too concerned before: the silent camaraderie of my cohort, sharing this experience as so many before, had been enough to keep any fears at bay. But as the moment approached, I recognised a dull trepidation, felt disconcerted by its presence. You could do without that, I thought.
To distract myself, I worked through the Seven Stages in my mind. To begin, the First Stair: seven steps, upon each of which I should pause and say the Second Heavenly Missive, thus protecting against my past. We all knew the words by heart, of course, having recited them in unison before every meal, for as long as I could remember. “But do not stumble,” the Mentors had said. “Do not fudge, nor allow yourself to become tongue tied. Any mistake could cost you dearly.” We, the latest cohort of acolytes to be called, could only accept what they said, not knowing any different. Besides, I had no intention of fudging anything, whether or not it would make a difference.
On the uppermost step, I knew, would be the first of the Signposts. I did not know what would be written on them, and nor did anyone else: “Each, according to their destiny,” as the Book said. I did know I would have to choose, without pause. We had been warned by the Mentors about how hard this would be: “You will feel you are standing over the void, on a precipice with no bannister to support you. You must decide immediately, or the precipice will crumble, and you will fall.” Again, what choice did I have but accept this, the One True Way, at face value?
“But what if I choose nothing?” another of my cohort had asked. “Then you will fall,” a Mentor had replied. I glanced up: directly opposite sat the person who had asked the question, eyes cast down, hands on knees. I wondered if they were turning that very question over in their minds, even now. I stared at them, but they did not look up.
My thoughts returned to the journey beyond the door. The Second Stair involved another seven steps, another seven repetitions: this time the Twelfth Heavenly Missive, to affirm my present. At the top, a second Signpost. “You will need to keep your strength, and your wits about you. Do not stumble, or you will fall.” Always the fall. We had been taught to breathe according to the Golden Pattern, such that each breath could fit within the rhythm of the mantra, each step upwards allowing for an intake of air so it could repeat. “Stay silent as you reach the Signpost, or you will fall.” Always, always the fall.
I did not know, I realised, how much time had passed since the door had last closed. Across the room, another of my cohort suppressed a cough. I knew them, better than many of the others: I wondered whether I would ever see them again. We… suddenly I jolted myself back to the present. “Beware your own thoughts, for they will overwhelm you,” the Mentors had said, but I had not believed I would show such a loss of control. I fought the rising panic, repeating to myself the last line of the Fourth Heavenly Missive: “I will not waver, though I am weak. I will not waver….”
I looked around. Nothing had changed; all was as it should be; the door remained firmly shut. I reminded myself of the final advice the mentors had given us: “Do not be daunted by the Third Stair.” For, while it would be like all the others – seven steps, carved into the stone – we would sense the full weight of our apprenticeships on our shoulders. On each step we would recite the First Heavenly Missive: that which we could only learn, which was not to be spoken outside of this, holiest of places. “Only thus,” said the Mentors, “can we break from what was and what is, and can we truly understand what will be.”
All such things we had learned across seven times seven Passings, each Passing bringing us closer to this moment. Beyond the final marker, at the top of the Third Stair, would be a future that only now would we be prepared to enter, and only now would be decided. “At the third Signpost, you need to decide who you truly are,” we had been told. “Do not hesitate: if you do, you will fall.” I knew this, truly, in my soul I now embraced and accepted it, all doubts set aside. “For, while the choices are yours, the path is not.”
I will not waver, though I am weak, I told myself, channelling my breath into the Golden Pattern. The chime of a distant bell was followed by the smallest of clicks. The door swung open before me. I stood, feeling the coolness of the air as I stepped into the darkness beyond.