XIII. The Bridge Across the Sea

The last thought Soren had was of Cybele’s dream before he was momentarily overwhelmed by the light, shielding his eyes. The air smelled no longer like vague dampness and, on occasion, fading incense, and instead like… nothing in particular, not grass, forestry, rain, earth...

The light became notably dimmer as he adjusted to it, and he saw before him a long path ahead which looked several feet in width, made of gray, smooth stone; further down the path, there was a concentration of light past which he could not see. There were ramparts on each side, tall and thick enough that he could not see between the gaps at the ground below without climbing up, yet what he could see, as he approached such a gap, was the world before him—the black sky pierced by scattered patches of white light drifting like clouds, the ruined remnants of civilization scattered across the grassy plains as if they stood as their own disparate monuments (perhaps they did, thought Soren), and the sprawling complex of cathedral-structures amassed together that extended outward for miles on end from where he stood. From what he could see the structures cascaded downward toward the edge where they reached a terminus at the plain.

“This may seem like a long walk, but you’ll see that it really isn’t,” said Maria. Soren turned away from the ramparts toward the group.

“These look like ramparts of a castle,” said Cybele.

“And we are… quite high up,” said Soren. “I can’t clearly see the bottom from here, either.”

“This path is seldom used, but it does make for a relaxing stroll outside the Cathedral,” said Sophia.

“The ‘Cathedral’? This—I don’t know what this place is, but it is the size of a damned city to me,” replied Soren, seeing past the opposing side of ramparts from where he stood. The mountain he recalled from when that strange, tall woman was carrying him through the darkness was in clearer sight now: massive, singular, and isolated, with a golden halo circling the peak. The light from the halo seemed to illuminate the entirety of the mountain itself which was made of black stone, and there were no patches of light across the sky this way, the mountain suspended as if an island in a sea of darkness.

“And that is Mount Krag,” said Sophia from behind him.

“A holy place,” added Maria.

“And I would imagine you can’t tell me more than that,” said Soren, gazing at the mountain.

“Precisely,” said Sophia brightly.

“Not yet, at least,” said Maria.

“You two find it much too amusing that Soren and I must be kept ignorant at your leisure,” replied Cybele.

“I do not find it amusing,” said Maria, dourly.

“Well…” began Sophia, before Maria sighed.

And what of our progress, he thought. How are they judging us?

Soren shook the questions away.

“The sky is quite a sight from here too,” said Maria.

Both Soren and Cybele looked up toward the light. Soren expected to be repulsed by its brightness, yet he found it strangely tolerable, even pleasant. Rays of golden light sparkled randomly throughout the white sky above, and he saw what looked like beings with sprawling wings, shaped like people, flying in a circular throng.

“Do not look for too long. That light is not meant for mortals,” said Maria.

“But… what are they?” asked Cybele, quickly turning away from the light.

Soren continued to stare. He felt a burning sensation around his eyes. The angels combusted into black speckles before they vanished in a blink, leaving nothing but the light.

“Soren!” Sophia yelled as she pulled his arm harshly toward her. “Do you want to go blind?”

“No,” he said quietly despite the dull pain from her grip.

“We must pass Tennieson on our way to the other side. There is no time to waste.”

“Of course, ‘Tennieson.’ How could we forget,” said Soren, without the faintest hint of enthusiasm.

“But in all seriousness, she’s correct. Let us go,” said Maria.

Soren steeled himself. He knew he may yet falter, but he knew, also, that he must remain standing to his last breath, and while he may struggle to remember all these strange happenings, the Sisters’ schemes, the Cathedral gazing upon him at all times—

He would not forget what he did for Cybele, the incantations he rescued out of the shadows of his mind, the invocation of his magic which had filled him with such singular purpose.

And above all, he would not forget his wife, no matter what this blasted place does to him.

And he knew, immediately, that he could guarantee none of this to himself. Of everything he had yet unearthed about himself, doubt towered above them all, casting the deepest shadow upon his mind.

So be it, he thought.

As they walked forth, Cybele continued dragging her leg, as well as denying Soren’s offers of help. He told her that he would have to inspect her bruises eventually, apologizing for such an intrusion. Cybele looked askance, rubbing her hands together furiously, and replied that she understood, in a low voice. The poor girl doesn’t deserve this, but it is necessary, he thought.

“Here we are.” Sophia spoke as she turned toward the group, standing before the wall of opaque white light he saw when they first exited onto the bridge.

“Now, please do not be alarmed by his appearance. He is a night troll, we made a space for him some time ago.”

Soren and Cybele looked utterly incredulous.

“A ‘what’—”

“Come! We mustn’t waste time,” said Sophia, as she walked across the light, disappearing.

“After you,” said Maria, gesturing toward Cybele, who looked at Soren with nervous eyes before shutting them and walking in.

“Soren.” Maria spoke while Soren remained distracted by the wall of light. He recalled the wall of darkness in the Nave.

Nay, he thought. He must push onward. He must.

“Let’s go,” said Soren, as he crossed the light, blinded again—

And he was in darkness now.

There were countless stars far above him now, somewhat clouded by streaks of colorful light where even more stars, yet dimmer, shone—contained within a small circle carved out of pitch-black darkness, which dimly lit his environs so that he could make out the others, the stone, and what looked like a man, with a rather large head for his body, sitting on top one of the ramparts, his legs hanging over the edge. He had long, black hair, unkempt and knotted, run through with dirt, and he wore a crimson red doublet over beige linen shirt, reaching his waist. The doublet shone faintly in the dim light, flecks of gold sparkling throughout it. At the waist—a tail, like of a horse, stood proudly over the rim of the rampart from his backside.

And all around Soren was further darkness, and nothing more. He felt a light breeze, and there was a faint scent of rain in the air.

“Ah, a stella nebulosa. Those are your favorite, aren’t they, Tennieson?” asked Sophia, speaking to the man that was, apparently, supposed to be a troll.

“Tennieson. How wonderful it is to see you,” said Maria, who smiled brightly.

“Tennieson is dressed… quite nicely,” added Cybele.

Both of the Sisters’ eyes faintly glowed white in the shade.

And the troll turned his head to look at them, revealing a pair of large, blue eyes set within drooping eyelids, under which there were dark, sunken bags. The eyes were as large as they could be without cutting into cheekbone. His nose was similarly large, protruding with wide nostrils and a small wart at the tip. His lips were thin, his mouth frowning ever so slightly, and his skin looked weathered, old, yet warm and clearly of living flesh, with a faint peach-colored complexion. Thankfully, Soren thought.

And he was thin, but did not move with frailty. He looked directly at Soren, who felt his heart at complete ease, beyond his astonishment.

“I know it has been too long,” said Sophia, who approached Tennieson with her hand out toward him. Tennieson turned to her, and reached out in kind, gently holding her hand with aged, delicate fingers.

“But, given the state of things—”

She paused, as they looked into each other’s eyes. Tennieson released her hand as he looked next at Maria, who stood alongside her. The Sisters’ eyes had turned black.

“Yes, unfortunately,” said Maria. “And if you would try the dominion of man again, I’m afraid it might be quite worse than merely disappointing.”

“Soren,” Cybele whispered. Soren blinked a few times, turning toward Cybele.

“What is this? Are they… reading each other’s thoughts? Or, I don’t know…”

“I hope to God not,” replied Soren in a whisper, trying to subdue his nervousness as he watched them talk to Tennieson.

“Soren, Cybele. Tennieson would like to speak to you both.” Sophia spoke with a warm smile as she stepped away with Maria toward the edge of the darkness opposite of where they had entered.

“And do not be alarmed by his mind-speech. Your own thoughts must be communicated voluntarily,” said Maria.

Soren and Cybele both approached Tennieson, slowly, adjacent to where he sat, for he seemed quite committed to not moving his legs. His tail flittered in another breeze.

He extended his hand to Cybele first, and, hesitating, she took it in her own.

Perhaps a minute or so passed before Cybele, now downcast, released his hand.

“I—I understand. Thank you,” she said. Soren saw her wiping away quiet tears as he turned back to Tennieson, his deep, blue eyes piercing through Soren as they glistened in the shade from above.

He extended his hand. Soren’s thoughts began to race as he took it in a smooth motion—

Your shadow is long, and deep, but I am not repulsed by it, for such a man as you are. There is blood in the shadow, and you must step through it. You must. Mortals come and go in flickers of starlight, but you have not flickered. Not yet. You will never part from your shadow. Never. Until you flicker, and the flicker passes, and it is upon the flicker that one must remain truthful. One must. Do not be repulsed by your own shadow, for you cannot afford this, not without desolating what little of existence makes it bearable. You cannot—we cannot. None of us.

He gripped Soren’s hand more tightly—

And drink more Alluvian tea, for it nourishes the soul, and will make my ramblings at request of the Sisters more bearable, too.

Tennieson smiled gently, faintly.

Soren stepped back, looked downcast with a furrowed brow, before turning back to Tennieson. Soren nodded, altogether serious, yet tranquil within his mind, and Tennieson turned away, looking up at the stars.

“We must visit more often,” said Maria, whose eyes had turned white again, as did Sophia’s.

“Indeed,” added Sophia, smiling widely. “But though I regret this unceremonious departure, we must be off now. Farewell, Tennieson.”

Sophia turned toward Soren and Cybele, gesturing toward the wall of darkness.

As Soren approached the wall, he looked back at Tennieson, who continued gazing at the stars. And he thought of Cybele’s tears, and wondered what else they might share.

***

The rest of the walk was uneventful, and the path continued as it did before they crossed the wall of light to meet Tennieson. A heavy-set wooden door to a cylindrical tower greeted them at the end, capped by a spire.

Sophia sighed at they approached the door.

“Would if I could bring Tennieson his churchwarden and a pot of tea. I’ve had enough of this place,” she said, opening the door. She brought forth the burnt hand and the beating light once more, leading Cybele inside, who carried a dispassionate expression.

“And yes, we are descending this time,” said Sophia, before vanishing down the wooden spiral stairwell within. Cybele followed her.

Soren did not yet move, sinking into his thoughts—

“Soren?” He quickly turned toward Maria, who stood by the last rampart before the tower.

“Apologies, this is just—”

“Yes, it is strange. The Cathedral is a strange place for lambs such as yourself, and Cybele. We are well aware of that. But…”

With white eyes she cast a gaze across the ramparts facing the scattered patches of light across the black sky.

“Well, I suppose the whole of this place is strange.”

“That is an extenuation for the ages,” replied Soren, matching her gaze. Maria giggled.

A slight breeze brushed against them, and Soren caught Maria’s silvery hair blowing just slightly in the wind. The reddish hue beneath her otherwise pale skin looked particularly beautiful in the light which drenched the entire bridge.

“We must be going now before Sophia catches us gallivanting, as she would see it,” said Maria.

Soren smiled. That was a good joke.

“Just… the both of you are more resilient than you might think. I have… faith that the two of you will endure, no matter what.”

Feeling dazed by such a sudden proclamation, he yet thought to thank her before she turned on her heels toward the doorway, facing away from him.

“Come.” She stepped into the stairwell with her own beating light.

Soren stood a few moments longer, watching the light patches drift across, and imagined what the land might look like under a true night sky, before following her in.