It was forbidden.

Forbidden.

It was a word Doson knew all too well. A word he repeated to himself in his head over and over and over until the word sounded strange and foreign, its meaning lost in the sound of the syllables. For-bid-den.

Not allowed.

Not tolerated.

Forbidden.

Doson scoffed as he thought this through for yet the thousandth time in the past half-hour, laughing at himself for believing that repeating it again would make the thoughts go away. He tried closing his eyes, but this made little difference. The image stayed pressed to his eyelids, and he could do nothing to stop the sound. The voice. Washing him, caressing him, bathing him.

"He is holy. He is holy." It sang. But Doson paid little attention to the words. Only the voice. His voice. Not the words, those had no meaning to him. They were simply letters strung together by a voice that was far holier than anything in Doson's world, or Doson's life. For Doson Greely was not holy. No. He was a sinner.

And it was Forbidden.