Meeting of the Council

VI.

Silence met Roxanne’s simple utterance. The Council turned, eyes focused on Roxanne, stunned. Disbelief was apparent on the faces of the entire Council, they seemed to be waiting for something, perhaps for an explanation or elaboration, giving some insight into her almost traitorous remark.

Roxanne sat, absorbing the stares of the Council, thinking about what she could say next. She couldn’t turn over Patrick, even if he was gone and heartless, yet she didn’t know how to qualify her remark without a concrete example essential to her avoidance of future scrutiny. She thought, while the Council remained expectant, Roxanne biding her time.

Bartholomew eventually interjected, “What do you mean, within the Lighthouse’s own walls?”

“Only former Keepers could know how to use the crystals like that. There has to be a connection to the Lighthouse. The fiercest critics and opponents of the Keepers have always been those that once worked to keep the Light themselves. The Schism deepened that divide and added new force to the opposition.”

“Roxanne, life has improved since we have worked to end the Schism. The Lighthouse is not responsible for the increase in antagonistic, treacherous behavior. That is due to the existence of darkness and abuse of the Light. ‘Light brings life, but an overabundance of Light brings blindness.’” Bartholomew responded, slightly frustrated with the chain of events.

Roxanne was filled to bursting with confusion about her future, unsure whether she belonged with the Lighthouse or elsewhere. She searched deep within herself to find her loyalty, Patrick’s words striking deep, and leaving her more lost than before. His actions repulsed her, but his words struck a chord, linking to something inside that she couldn’t fully explain.

“Like Patrick?” She spat, emotion filling her voice, as her frustration spilled over, finding a target. “What about him? What about the deepest, darkest places where the Light cannot reach? Is there no life? Is all lost? The blindness that the Light caused forced him to darkness. Is there nothing we can do?” Roxanne had stood up now, looking directly at Bartholomew, baring holes into his soul with her glare.

“What? Patrick’s been dead for almost ten years, he has nothing to do with this.”

Murmuring about Patrick’s death rippled throughout the Council, with some of the older members giving their take on Patrick’s story for the benefit of the younger members of the Council, each adding her own spin that best fit into her view of Tiesa and the role of the Lighthouse.

In the midst of the murmurs and the confusion from Roxanne’s seeming implication that Patrick is alive, Thaddeus stood to address the question at the heart of Roxanne’s searching, coming behind her, reaching out a comforting hand and calmly stating the truth he knew.

“Love. Only Love can touch the deepest, darkest crevices where even the Light cannot reach.”

Roxanne whipped around, casting off his touch of comfort, “Where does it lead? Love tears me in two directions, calls me to conflicting action. How can it touch the darkness if it forbids me to enter?”

“Only you can know where your loyalty lies. Find your true loyalty and the conflicts will resolve themselves.”

“Thaddeus, it’s not that simple. I wish it were, but I can’t accept that anymore. The world is more complicated than I knew. How can I reconcile what I know with what I thought I knew?”

“Oh, Roxanne. H-“ Before Thaddeus could finish his thought, Bartholomew jumped in.

“Roxanne, you must stop this pre-occupation with shadow and blindness before it draws you out like your father. He was great, but his curiosity and delving into long-buried secrets stirred something that could not be tamed. He fed the unquenchable fire of questioning. He meant well, simply trying to learn how to better protect and serve the Light and people of Tiesa. Yet, he fell far from that purpose, searching to find solely for the sake of agitation, becoming more and more antagonistic.”

“Bartholomew, that’s not true. Fairfax was always just in his appraisals. He always wanted us closer to the other side of the Schism, that’s true, but antagonistic, he was not.”

“Any opposition to the current actions of the Lighthouse is inherently antagonistic and walks a thin line before plunging into treachery. If we’re not one, we cannot possibly Keep the Light or shine the Light over Tiesa. We must crack down on discord and bring a more unified focus to the Lighthouse, only then can we be whole and heal the Schism once and for all, silencing the violent voice of blindness.”

Roxanne looked up in shock that Bartholomew was so determined to stop any contention completely, by executing those in disagreement.

“But Bartholomew…”

“Roxanne, you and I will talk later. You’re upset, you may leave now.” The invitation was a thinly veiled command, showing that he was not going to accept any arguments against his proposal before the Council.

“No, Bartholomew. I can’t just stand here in silence, while…”

“Roxanne, it’d be best if you left now, “ Thaddeus calmly interjected before Bartholomew could lash out again.

“But Thaddeus, he…”

“I know. I know, but your energies would be best spent elsewhere.”

Roxanne stared at Thaddeus, their eyes locked; Roxanne’s grim and filled with frustration and anguish, while Thaddeus’ were calm, yet saddened. Roxanne turned to face Bartholomew, shaking her head in disappointment, “How can you do this? ‘Light brings life?’ Then let them live.”

Bartholomew seemed to question his directive, suddenly unsure that the extremes he posited were necessary for the continued success and peace of Tiesa. He struggled, remembering the pain of seeing Fairfax dying, cut off from the Light. He thought back to days gone by, when he worked side-by-side with Fairfax for the progression of Tiesa, unifying their diametrically opposed visions, somehow finding middle-ground. Almost, he reversed his plea. Almost, he called out to the Council to meet with the League and bring peace, to talk it over. As he walked the line, about to temper his position, a flash lit up the Council room- the light coming from outside. The Council rushed to the window, looking out over the square, the scene of that day’s earlier terror.

Gasps filled the room as they saw what had taken place. The monument to Light, an old-fashioned lighthouse carved from stone, that had remarkably withstood the blasts earlier, was shattered, while glaring furiously the light crystals in the shape of The Glare’s insignia mocked the Keepers.

The attack cemented Bartholomew’s wavering resolve.

“We cannot rest until these traitors and renegades are brought to Justice.”

Roxanne was transfixed by the glare of The Glare, realizing that the explosives must have been set around the same time she was present. Guilt gnaws at her for Patrick’s actions, thinking that if she had only been there, perhaps she could have stopped it. Maybe, just maybe she could make him see the light, bring him back from the darkness of the blind that he submerged himself in. As she watched the smoke trailing, she was relieved that it had only been a statue that was hurt. As the relief barely began to flow throughout her, it was quickly overcome by a resurgence of guilt for Erin, heightened by the fact that Roxanne had forgotten about her until that very moment. Afraid that if she remained with the Council and Bartholomew that she would bring incredible contention and discord that could jeopardize her position within the Lighthouse, and faced with the guilt of Erin’s precarious position, Roxanne departed, heading to the infirmary to check on the condition of Erin.

As Roxanne wound her way throughout the Lighthouse, stewing over her involvement and where her loyalties lay, she reached the infirmary, immediately bombarded with questions concerning the explosion and flashes of light. Reluctantly, Roxanne informed those present that the very symbol of the Lighthouse had been destroyed, brought to rubble, the work of the same organization that had attacked earlier that day, leaving their mark in glaring light crystals.

All present were appalled and began to gossip about the course of action that the Keepers would ultimately take, which Roxanne tuned out as much as possible, not wanting her blood to rise in the presence of Erin and the other doctors.

Roxanne made her way to Erin’s bedside, closed off with curtains for some limited privacy. Grabbing a stool, Roxanne entered and sat down next to Erin, who lay in a semi-conscious state, drifting between reality and dreams.

“Erin, are you alright? This is all my fault, if only I had listened to you earlier, none of this would have happened. It’s just, I feel like I need to help him, he was like my brother, my dad took him in, when he had no one else, doesn’t that mean something?”

“Don’t go. Darkness everywhere. They want the light, but bring darkness. Patrick’s dead, but here.”

“Erin, what are you saying? Patrick’s here?”

“Dead, but here. Lightning strikes and light flashes glaring, it hurts my head. What are those?” The last question was asked as she pointed to some boots thrown in the corner.

“Boots,” Roxanne answered offhandedly. “Is Patrick here, in the Lighthouse?” Insistent, hoping to find what was dream and what was reality.

“Hates the Lighthouse.”

“Oh, Erin. I hope you’ll be back to normal soon. I don’t know what to do and need your help, but right now, you’re kinda out of it. Maybe you should rest. Goodnight.”

“G’night. Lighthouse…mist…dead…”

Roxanne left Erin to sleep and recover, approaching one of the doctors to find out if she was going to make it. The doctor was encouraging, hoping that she would have largely recovered within a week or two. Roxanne was relieved and left to return to her chambers, hoping to sleep, but not counting on it.