Celestial sat with about two-dozen of her best friends. She was dressed head to toe in the latest gear. Her shoes were black patent boots with a slight heel and glistened silver in the bright artificial light. Her silver pants had a slight flare to them, flowing around her boots and accentuating her thin hips. She wore a jet-black shirt and classy tailored jacket that ended mid-thigh. Her sparkling silver necklet bore an ancient symbol. It was created by a long down-stroke, a cross-stroke at the very top and a loop above this. The exact interpretation was lost to time, but it was still known by a select few that this was the symbol of life to a small past civilization living along a magnificent river in an otherwise very dry desert on a typically green and blue Oxygen-breathing planet.
             Celestial's friends were all dressed similarly, one in a beautiful loose golden dress and emerald anklet. The room was luxuriously furnished, the walls a soft glossy mauve, the color of the season, with a classic lounge suite in black vinylon. When the chairs ran out, they took to footstools, beanbags, and the soft fluffy carpet.
             The women were exhausted. The air in the large room was thick with fatigue, and as they sipped their various caffienated beverages everyone felt it.
             Aah, the luxury and the hard work in being a member of a world-influencing secret society.
             Celestial felt it the most. She knew this because as the High Priestess she could sense the exhaustion emanating from the others. This caused a sensitive reaction, increasing her fatigue, and she struggled to keep it under control.
             They had met to discuss where they went wrong. Lerenae, the hostess and the woman in the flowing knee length gold dress and white silk shawl, repositioned a stray strand of waist-length deep red hair and secretly thought they were wasting their time. Whatever had gone astray had happened centuries ago, in antiquity, and nobody remembered qu...