I was glad to have found another path. I stood up and vomited.
I slipped beneath the water. I was carried for a long time on steady currents, through narrow, sandy channels and ringing metal pipes and slick stone chutes rubbed smooth by centuries. All in darkness. I felt the chains cut deeper into my wrists and ankles. I felt a prophecy pull itself across my face like a shining mask. A traitor to the temple spoke from an alcove fitted with pungent tallow candles as I rushed past: “Most things don’t need to exist. But some things do.”