V. Dark Light

Soren awoke to a small, clammy hand petting his hair. Maria had returned, smiling under the weight of deep tiredness like a man whose life had gone on for too long, strands of hair coming apart, eyes heavy and dark with restlessness. He recalled the dream vividly.

At the least, he knew some things about himself. He knew that the execution was real, that the cold blade had indeed touched his neck before separating his head from his body—

He had died. He was certain of this now.

Then that woman’s voice near the end of the dream—it was not the voice of whoever it was that carried him through the darkness from where he had first awoken. And what of the woman in red and gold metal armor? Her sword looked nondescript, but it couldn’t have been, not with the colors she was wearing. Or so he thought.

And what of that man on the platform with him? What did he say?

You had your part to play; you need only have abided.

Soren’s head began to ache. He began to sweat again, heart beating against his chest, before he remembered the hand that held his own. All at once, he sighed with relief, focusing upon her touch. His heart was at rest again.

“I’ve come back for you. Did you rest well?” asked Maria.

Soren grimaced, wanted to swipe her hand away, but still felt unable to move. He sighed deeply, and said nothing. Maria tucked her hands into her lap. Her eyes were black this time as she looked over Soren.

“You had a dream, didn’t you?” Soren turned stiff.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’ It’s quite common among first arrivals, but in time you will forgo sleeping, eating, drinking—even breathing. They are all vestiges of your old life above the Firmament, and with their abandonment, you will find greater and lasting peace.”

“Are you reciting a script?” Soren’s piercing glare turned her away for a moment. She huffed, took a deep breath, and continued stroking his hair.

“I know there’s so much you don’t understand, but trust me when I say—”

“You think I’ve forgotten, too? About everything I said earlier?” Soren tried rising from his bedding again, and felt it coil around him.

“God-damn it all, let me out of this bed!” The girl’s face flushed bright red, and she withdrew her hands. Soren was incredulous. What, he thought, is wrong with these people?

“Soren,” she said, with quiet breath, “I would advise you not to use such vulgar language during your time here. You would be confined here for almost an eternity if our Mother ever heard you.” Then she met Soren’s glare with the warmest smile he could ever remember.

“I was told to release you, anyway. So please, no more fretting. You’ll be coming with me to the Hall of Life, where you will meet my Sister, Sophia. She is also tending to someone from above the Firmament, and it would be best if you became acquainted with each other while on your journey.”

The girl pulled away the covers; Soren slowly rose, stretched, swung his feet onto the floor. He filled his lungs to the brim and gently exhaled. He looked up and saw the girl standing with her arms held close to her body, with a stern, sharp countenance.

She is unarmed, he thought. So am I.

“What utter madness,” he said. “You, this place, everything. And that woman,” he said. She did not flinch.

“Soon enough, Soren. Please—you will not get anywhere useful with such impudence.”

“Impu—” Soren decided he was tired, and that he would indeed be patient—that he would learn quietly, quickly, all that he needed to know. He sighed before standing in a slow, deliberate motion.

“Can you walk?”

“Yes… I think so.” He took a step and felt his legs give way, nearly falling on his face. Whether or not the bedding had somehow enervated him, he did not know.

“Oh, dear. Come with me, please.”

Maria was shorter than Soren by half a foot or so. She took his arm and gently guided his steps out of the room. When Soren began to fall, Maria stood stalwart, much to Soren’s surprise. She had clearly done this many times before.

They exited the room into a corridor, with an arched ceiling a few feet above them, doorways lining both the wall of Soren’s room and the wall across from them. The doorways were equally spaced apart, and in both directions, light beamed through every doorway that was open, sharply cutting out the total darkness in the rest of the corridor. The walls and ceiling were made of the same, dull stone of his room. To their left, Soren saw the intermittent light and darkness stretching endlessly; on their right, he saw total darkness not far beyond the last beam of light in front of them. They turned right and began walking down the corridor.

“These rooms all hold men and women like yourself,” she said. “Many of them never manage to leave.”

Soren remained quiet. He could see Maria at this moment, but she would totally disappear from sight just by standing out of the light. He looked behind him. The light of his room began to fade.

Maria continued. “The mind is a very sensitive organ. Unlike broken bones and diseases of the body, a mind cannot just be left to rest until it is well again, should the damage be sufficient.”

“And?” Soren sharply asked. “What of it? Is my mind ‘broken’? What does this have to do with my questions you won’t answer?” He tried to move his legs further forward without Maria’s help, but quickly found them still weak. Maria said nothing as she looked downcast. They continued walking down the hall.

“That woman, but not that woman…,” Soren said, holding his head as it began to ache. “Her head was torn apart in front of me. She begged for my help, but then she seemed to be trying to… possess me. I kicked her away, kicked her face, and… it must have been painful. I couldn’t—couldn’t help her.”

Maria looked up at Soren, tilting her head slightly as she spoke with a mild tone. “Her mind was broken, Soren. She rejected our help, so we let her leave—and now you’ve seen what becomes of the lambs who flee their shepherds.”

Maria’s eyes glowed white in the darkness between the doorways. She stared ahead of them again.

“Among other things,” she said. “Worse things than even that. And…” Her grip on Soren’s arm, which hung over her shoulder for leverage, tightened. Soren felt a mild, dull pain, yet resisted pulling away from her. He remembered pain from an inscrutable time ago, a time he could not place in the context of anything, even before the execution. Maria flinched; Soren’s eyes widened as he looked at her.

“Your own mind, Soren—it leaks. Everywhere. Your name was the first thing to come out of your mind’s mouth. You were repeating it, over and over and over again.

“Now I’d like to ask you something,” she said. “What happened in your dream?” Soren’s body stiffened. How can she keep asking questions when she has not finished answering his, he thought. And all this after telling him she can, apparently, read his thoughts?

“You… you can read my mind?” he asked.

Maria held a finger to her chin, furrowing her brow. “Not quite. It’s more that I feel… emotion. And raw, unbounded emotion can carry fragments of memory with it. But not always; sometimes it’s just emotion, nothing else.”

Then there was Halliferd, he thought. How could he forget that ordeal?

Soren began to feel dizzy. He stumbled as he held his aching head. “Oh, God, what is this place… where am I? Why?”

Maria gently squeezed Soren’s hand.

“It’s only natural that you feel this way, Soren, which is why the process of teaching you must be slow and deliberate. Too much at once can shatter the minds of the strongest men. I’ve seen it happen with my own eyes. We will protect you.”

Soren turned with shock toward Maria. “‘Protect’ me? Protect me from what?” Maria bit her lip, turning away with flushed cheeks.

“She has a habit of speaking out of turn, never mind her.” A young woman stepped out of the dark and into the light of the last room ahead of them. Soren recognized the voice—it belonged to Sophia.

“Sophia? What are you doing here? I thought you were with Cybele.” Maria blushed, with a rising pitch in her flustered voice.

“You were taking too long, so said Mother when she interrupted me. Goodness me, Maria, do you even know how to get out of this place?”

“Of course I do!” she said, eyes wide and brow furrowed. “I was simply trying to ease Soren into his new home. You would have taken him straight for the Sacrament, wouldn’t you?”

Sophia laughed. “Oh, come now, even Mother isn’t that impatient.”

Soren found something transfixing about Sophia’s appearance. The creases in her face betrayed her otherwise youthful appearance, turning in the shadows cast by the light; she could be over a hundred years old. Further still, with the slightest turn of her face, the creases would disappear. Sophia met Soren’s gaze; a few moments passed, and Soren looked away sternly. She smiled, eyes turning black from white in a blink.

“Do you find me pleasant-looking, Soren?”

“Well—you’re certainly not unpleasant to look at.” Sophia giggled.

“Soren is fine, Sophie. He’s not so base.”

“Unlike many other men we’ve met here? Forgive me, Maria, but I have a tad bit of trouble trusting your word.” Maria closed her eyes and sighed deeply.

“Shouldn’t we be moving along, now? What did you come here for if you’re the one who’s going to stand around talking up a storm?” Sophia covered her mouth, as if embarrassed. It was obviously a sarcastic motion; Soren knew it well enough from the women he spoke to at his local church. A church where?

“Yes, yes, of course! We must be moving along. Follow quickly and quietly behind my steps, dears.” Maria rolled her eyes before exchanging a glance with Soren. They continued walking together.

Past the final light-stricken room down the corridor, Sophia illuminated the darkness with a beating light floating just above the palm of her hand. She turned toward a stone spiral staircase, each stair carved finely, that was large enough to fit but two of them side by side, beginning her ascent. Soren had not noticed how she summoned this light, for it appeared suddenly in front of him.

“Is … is that magic?” asked Soren. He could scarcely hide his astonishment. Sophia turned her head with an inquisitive gaze.

“Hmm? Oh, this. I suppose you could call it that.”

“It’s mere manipulation of the elements. Is this not common practice above the Firmament?” asked Maria.

“I’m not entirely sure what you mean by ‘above the Firmament’, but I’ll guess you mean my homeland. No, not really. The use of magic has been restricted in recent years, reserved for our warriors and healers only. Any other use is heretical, with few exceptions.” Soren’s sudden lucidity left him momentarily shocked at himself, though as hard as he tried, in that moment, he failed to lead the thought anywhere else.

“Heretical? You can’t be serious,” said Maria.

“Indeed, that would be the first time I’ve ever heard such a thing,” said Sophia, continuing to lead up the stairwell.

“How times change,” said Maria, shaking her head. “It’s no wonder we haven’t been receiving as many people nowadays.”

“The grip is tightening, it would seem. Soon there won’t be an inch of darkness left up there.”

Sophia sighed. “One must wonder what will happen when we have no more people to take care of.”

“A conversation for another day,” said Maria. Sophia smirked.

“Maturing so fast, Maria! Now you’ve caught my tongue.” Maria laughed.

Soren brooded. In the shadows he could see Sophia’s wrinkled face again, and for a moment he thought he saw faint stars trailing through the darkness behind her as they reached the end of the spiral stairwell.