Amazingly, an hour went by without a single call in Father Obregón's head. The constant queue of souls banging on his door was empty and silent.
At first, he passed it off as a fluke. He decided to continue toward his next stop and make the most of the rare quiet by indulging in some meditation amid the stunning sights of Benares.
When he topped a ridge and gazed out over a sprawling valley he'd never seen before, chills raced up his spine. Giant multicolored rills of fungi fanned out over the valley floor, arching like ranks of rainbows under the cloud sheep and luminous sun-blooms in the shifting, golden sky. It looked nothing like the Heaven he'd been taught to expect, but it made him think of Heaven nonetheless.
As Father Obregón crossed a mountain pass under canopies of towerin
