The sight of our city was a shock. The damage to Harrom and Jacame’s home was much less than most. Some were nearly leveled, and smoke rose from more than a few caved-in roofs.
    Many of the residents of Ashdod stood in the streets, dazed and covered in dust, surveying the damage, but a few mournful wails had gone up as well, making it clear that more than just property had been lost this morning.
    When we came within sight of the temple, it was plain to see that damage had been done, but not nearly as much as I’d expected. One mudbrick wall of the courtyard fence had crumbled, and the two lavers that had once stood near the entrance had toppled, their shattered remains scattered across the ground.
    It would be easy enough to report to my aunt that Harrom had escaped injury, since he and the other priests stood on the porch of the temple, gathered near the place where the Hebrews’ box had been dropped in front of the entrance. I could barely make out the glint of its golden sides through the many bodies surrounding it.
    “What are they doing?” Lukio asked, rolling to the balls of his feet.
    “Prepare!” cried my uncle, and we watched in fascination as the group of them bent together in one unit around something that lay on the ground near the threshold. “Lift!” commanded Harrom, and in one accord they obeyed.
    “It looks like Dagon fell during the earthquake,” I said, incredulous. “They are putting him back in place.”
    Using a complicated system of ropes strung up into the rafters, along with their collective might, the priests heaved together, dragging Dagon back onto his wide pedestal, where he settled with a grinding thud. The priests hovered about, a few of them pushing in tandem against the base of the idol from each angle to ensure that he would not topple again, now that he had returned to his place of honor. Then, brushing their dirty hands on their tunics, they began to head off in different directions, likely returning to gauge the damage on their own homes after having dealt with the most important task.
    Their dispersal meant that I was able to see the golden box more clearly than I had the other day. My eyes were drawn to the winged creatures atop its lid, the ones Azuvah said were the guardians of the throne of her God. Even beneath the shadow of the temple, their outstretched feathers glinted, giving the illusion of mid-flight. In fact, the casket itself seemed to shimmer with life, making it nearly impossible to peel my eyes away. Just as I had yesterday, I felt the strangest urge to run toward it and lay myself on the ground at its base, but at the same time, something deep inside told me to flee in terror from whatever awful power it represented.
    Instead of submitting to either urge, I ushered Lukio back toward my aunt and uncle’s home, knowing Jacame would be angry if we tarried, but I could not help but peer back over my shoulder as we walked away, struck by the strangest realization.
    Although the entire city of Ashdod seemed to have been shaken, the Hebrews’ Ark had not moved.