He seemed not to notice the arrival, or perhaps he simply did not care. The sacred hymns continued to echo within the great hall, but this time, Cohen heard them clearly.
The language was not of the gods, nor was it a simplified version interpreted by humans after listening to the divine tongue. Cohen had never heard such a tone before, beautiful and mystical, yet it did not seem like a sound that could be produced with vocal cords. He felt as though he was undergoing a baptism, his soul becoming transparent and sanctified.
A yearning originating from the depths of his heart faintly emerged. It was unlike any longing for beauty; it was more like a thirst for 'wholeness.'
But as a divine masterpiece, Cohen did not know what he was missing.
"May the gods forgive me."
Kneeling on the ground, Cohen prayed devoutly.
