Betrayal of the Light

Nine

The dusk is now upon me as I go back in the village overtaken by a peculiar wanderlust. Side by side I stand with loneliness on one side and Hunter on the other. We are immersed in the village through the warm light, shining onto the streets from the windows of snow-covered houses with smoking chimneys. The moon shines its symphony of cold, iridescent light over the land assaulted by glimmering leaves. We, both in our black guises, have to stealth among the shadows that the moon failed to clear.

The peculiarity of my state of mind stems from the lack of purpose. We wander the streets without any clear purpose; something unheard of in my case. I came here dead set on a mission; a quest. Unfortunately, it hinged on the one thing impossible to find: the church. In its absence, I admit everything else becomes hazy, as if it was not enough so from the side-effects I suffered.

Our walk down the main road takes us past a large window that grabs my attention. Hunters halts almost simultaneously as I do, before the painted glass that introduces to us “Witch Sanctuary” painted in white. Witches… I think I remember something about such beings. Do they read minds? Feelings? The past… or maybe the future. Sure, why the heck not? Seems an interesting place to warm our bones up.

The moment I step inside the warm air bears the scent of sweet, burned wood. After that first impression, I feel overwhelmed by how cluttered the space looks. Lights are dimmed and cast a shimmer on the shelves; long and thin strips of wood stacked with strange looking amulets, crystals, books and all kinds of herbs. The formers are either hung from the ceiling or tucked safely away into boxes, as if precious treasures. Lingering over them, there is dust and a feeling of all being so strange to me.

“Dare come in,” a gentle voice lures me deeper into this den.

Only a few steps, as much as the small space would permit me, take me facing the source of the voice: an eerie figure sitting behind a round table. She is wrapped in layers of azure veil, their translucency redundant in such a large number, accented with fine, silver jewelry complementing the rosy tones of her skin. Her eyes contoured by kohl sparkle an even brighter shade of emeralds than they would otherwise do.

I take a seat in front of her, sinking deep into the pillows around me. Between us a large crystal ball reflects her image upside down and framed in the silk tablecloth, sown in an intricate pattern. It matches her eyes well.

“What is troubling you, stranger?” She asks, throwing a smile my way. “Your future, perhaps?”

“Rather my past,” I reply unimpressed. “But you were close enough.”

“Speak no more,” she demands, gesturing with her thin fingers through the air before laying her palm open before me. “Give me your hand. It has to be the right one.”

I oblige, eyeing her suspiciously as the tip of her fingernail traces over the lines on my skin.

“You were given a destiny, through a decision that was made for you.”

General prediction; I assume. Who in their lifetime has not had a decision taken for them? Yeah, I will give this one to her: it was not my decision to travel back here, but that of Kain. He was right though. If I barely made it one piece, I am scared to imagine how the old fool would have made it on this other side. His bones deserve to rest in the future, after all he has undertaken with me already.

“I don’t know what it was, but you sure are taking all consequences upon yourself,” she continues after a brief pause, but sinks into a deeper one afterwards.

Then, her whole appearance takes on a look of concern to the point of almost freaking out. Her eyes widen, and instantly her finger withdraws, and she lets my hand fall on the table.

“You need to get out of here,” her voice raised to almost shouting, while her sight darkens and her eyes pierce through me demanding. “Leave and never come back. Your kind isn’t welcome here. Ever.”

“What do you mean, my kind?”

“I said get out and never dare to step foot in this place again, stranger.”

Seeing her getting up and bordering on hysteria, I get up myself and out the door as fast as I can. Hunter follows me onto the streets, from where we watch her locking the door and turning off the lights right after. For a moment, I saw her lips shake as if talking to herself. 

Still searching answers and a place where I belong, we walk back towards the lodge through the forest. From behind, I hear footsteps crunching the snow underneath their weight. They run towards me. On guard, I turn around in a second and watch, as a dark figure approaches me from between the trees. Her long hair swings in the air from the hectic movements of her body. I suppose she poses no threat, so I wait for her to reach me.

“Listen,” she whispers finally facing me, her body shivering and eyes glazing over each direction spreading outwards from us. “I only have moment to tell you this. My sister mentioned something about you that I think you should know.”

“Speak,” I say looking distrustful at her.

“He, who was cursed by light and blessed by dark will bring ruin through the blood spilled over holy ground. Beware him, who is the death of men.”

Before I could ask her anything about her words, she swiftly turns on her heels and runs, vanquishing between the trees whence she came.

Can murderers be considered cursed by light, if they be shunned by religion for their deeds? Can they be blessed by dark, if among themselves they pardon such deeds? Then, the blood they spill over this holy ground under the sky, will surely bring our ruin. No doubt about that, as that is the reason for my being here. Suppose the prophecy was woven about Death, then why was I chased away from the sanctuary? Did the travel alter my lifeline and that scared them both? I unfold the palm of my hand in front of my eyes. Huh, if only I knew which one is which.

“You’ve arrived later than usual,” the voice of Damian grabs my attention.

He stands in front of his door, one hand on the handle and the other unlocking the threshold into his lodgings. It swings ajar, drowning him in warm light, folding over the creases of his welcoming features.

Hunter darts before me, stopping next to Damien, where he gets petted until I reach them.

“I don’t think I belong here, nor anywhere else,” I say, feeling my smile uneasy over the lips.

“My brother, truth be told, we do belong nowhere,” he replies, walking away from the darkening woods and into the flooding light of the fireplace, barely alive. “But, you see, this is the life we chose for ourselves. We are disposable to the world; therefore, we made the world around us disposable. We can have a house, but how could we afford the luxury of calling it home if we must be open to the possibility of having to burn it down and walk away without looking back? We are needed everywhere, but we will feel the need to be nowhere.”

“We should just be content with it?” I ask confused at his ease on the matter.

“We must be content, if it is our choice,” he replies throwing some fresh logs that spark up the flames. “You and I were brought together, from our lonely road where we had no family, nor anyone else to care for us. But at least we carved our own destiny when the heavens gave us none.”

Could the decision that the witch referred to be the one to join paths with Damien, before we ran away? If so, this is also a decision made for me, as I was not in control of the circumstances for my upbringing. Maybe things would have turned out differently, had I not been forgotten; left alone to find meaning where there is none. Still, the feeling of destiny having been laid out for me to walk all over it is unshakable.

“What if we feel broken and lost?” I ask throwing myself on the couch. “Where do we go to heal? To fade the scars and ease the pain?”

“We wouldn’t be here, if we wouldn’t be broken and scarred,” he hands me a glass of wine, interrupting my reverie. “But, look at the latter as reminders of what once broke us down, only to make us stronger. This pain and resentment that we suppress are our most dangerous weapons.”

“You have a point, but sometimes we must sense the need to feel something beyond that; something to make us real and alive, to ourselves and the world.”

He sits next to me, placing one hand on my shoulder as comfort while my eyes search blindly among the entwining flames and sparks of the fire.

“We’re not average people, Dante. In our world, we are as real as they get; what does their world matter?”

It matters. For me, the hunt; that makes me as real as the blades I spun and as alive as the blood I shed. Somehow, he managed to be at peace, with himself and the world, whilst I am at war with both.

“I don’t know what’s real anymore; I guess… I just need a place to rest my mind.”

“You’re welcome here for as long as you wish to stay. Just remember, that you could travel these lands a lifetime, searching, and still find the road itself to be more of a home than any house you’d find along it. Life has been harsh on both of us, but it ensured thus that we could pull through every challenge until the end. We are not the kind to go down without a fight; without bleeding. We are wolves; living by our own law code and moral compass. Regardless of what they tried to beat into us, we have prevailed. Remember my words, brother, and maybe ultimately they will make sense to you as well.”

I see now that this is who I truly am, and I embrace the solitude as I walk up the stairs done with life for this day. Once in the bedroom, I push the shutters open despite the cold and look up at the sky, desperately hoping through the daze of alcohol for a star to drop down and lead me to a place where I belong.

Sigh, Damian is right; I belong nowhere. That same nowhere which offers cure for nightmares and numbness for the pain. I must find that church. My gut is telling me that there will be no rest to settle my agitated soul until I see through to the end, that which I have started. I may lay content, for now, with my destiny; but I will rise above and seize the power of change.