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Stepping carefully, the acolyte approached the altar. Kneeling, she raised a vessel of wine to her lips before lifting it for inspection. Seconds that felt like years passed as her straining arms burned.
"You are new."
She carefully dipped her head. Not one drop was to spill until Father Inarius willed it.
"You will do."
A blast of light preceded the rush of air that knocked her back. Wine sloshed onto her head as she cradled the bottle. Surely it was sacrilegious, but it felt like she had been anointed. Prava licked the bitter wine from her lips and smiled.