In the beginning, darkness was upon the face of the deep. Then God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. Angels cheered. The devil frowned. The blind man cried out, “What in the hell?” Then God said, “It is beautiful,” and, his children committed him to the old folks home: refusing to visit, refusing to pay their bills and concurring that they had created all. There is a story about God escaping to visit his children, but they cried, “We don’t serve your kind here,” and he was forced to go home, where it is said that the city turned off his power and he now sits by candlelight that he presses himself—and that’s okay, because He still loves everyone. For that, his children are grateful, so long as it doesn’t interfere with their own agendas. Thus their stubbornness has played a vital role in helping them become adept at navigating the dark.
Thalia prayed. She hadn’t before, never had a reason to, but now she did because she couldn’t see. She prayed to get her way, to find her way, to make her own way, and deep down she knew that she would stop praying the moment she was out of these tunnels. After all, why pray when one can already see or thinks one can see? As the story goes, God healed the blind to see, and the blind said, “Work your own corner, or I’ll gut you like a fish.”