Unyielding

VII.

Bartholomew sat in his study, the only light coming from the crystal atop his staff, serving as a lantern or miniature, personal streetlamp. He stewed over the ultimatum he had issued just hours previously, to bring any traitors or renegades to Justice, no matter the cost. It seemed harsh and drastic, but the peace and well being of all of Tiesa was at stake. He had no choice. Action was needed immediately. Any wasted second allowed the enemy to regroup and plan future attacks against the Lighthouse, jeopardizing not just the Keepers, but all that lived underneath the light they kept. Destruction of the Lighthouse could equate to destruction of Tiesa, blocking access to the Light that brought them life. What was he supposed to do? His options were limited and time was short, demanding immediate action. Even if he were to try diplomacy, the location and even the name of the group remained a secret. All they had was that glaring insignia, shared by the flag that fell over the rubble and the arrangement of the rock crystals. Is this what he had come to? Enforcing the protection of the Light and the purification of the Keepers by execution? There had to be a better way, yet try as he might, stomping out the opposition seemed the only way to guarantee the safety of the Lighthouse and Tiesa.

“Oh, Fairfax. We could have bridged this divide. Now, I feel hopeless. Once you left, all hope of reconciliation was lost. I must enforce the Rule, which cannot be broken. There is no room for yielding, only justice. That is how the Light spreads. Unyielding devotion to the Rule, to Order. Chaos brings death. If I do not stop the Chaos, the deaths will never cease. Countless lives will be lost in the battle of opposites, Light and Shadow. The only course left to me is the one I must take. The traitors must be found and made examples of, then their power will dwindle and all will unite under the Light. We can have peace. The peace that you and I strove for, Fairfax. It is in my reach, I can taste it. If only you had stayed strong, loyal to the Lighthouse, you could be here with me, together we could close the Schism that so long has plagued us. For the future we could have built, I will do whatever it takes.”

Bartholomew’s mind was firm. For him the choice became simple, boiled down to two possibilities: first, allow The Glare and other fringe groups to continue their activities, eventually leading to the destruction of the Lighthouse, the loss of the Light, and Tiesa being laid to complete and utter waste, or second, the Keepers bring in the opposition and bring justice to pass, executing them, shedding blood, but once and for all healing the Schism and bringing peace to Tiesa.

Suddenly there was knocking at the door. Rapid knocks that illustrated the tension felt by the knocker.

“Enter,” Bartholomew said, looking up from his desk where he sat pouring over notes and bits and pieces of the past.

The door opened and Thaddeus swiftly entered the room, quietly shutting the door behind himself. He turned, facing the hard, sad face of Bartholomew.

“It doesn’t have to be this way. We can find another way to crush the opposition without the stain of their blood on our hands. Please reconsider…”

“Thaddeus, I’ve been left with no choice. We must annihilate the spirit of rebellion or it will continue to grow and infect the people of Tiesa. The only way to insure the safety of Tiesa is to treat the spirit of rebellion like a disease, eradicating it completely and if necessary quarantining those infected until they recover, or die, at whatever hands they need to. For Tiesa and the Lighthouse, Thaddeus. We can once and for all heal the Schism, just as Fairfax wished. This is our chance to bring unity and wholeness to Tiesa, we have to act now, or the destruction will be unstoppable. Chaos will reign.”

“Fairfax wanted peace, not terror. You can’t silence opposition with violence, Bartholomew; that only gives them strength, adding fuel to their fire. You begin to blur the line between them and us, if we kill anyone that disagrees with our Order, our protecting of the Light, we limit the possibilities for healing. That will never heal the Schism. It will only cover it up, throw it into shadow and darkness, hidden from view.”

“Fear brings peace. Who would join with the traitors if they knew it meant certain death?”

“Fear inspires hatred. We need to inspire loyalty, or the rebellion will never cease. They will continue to recruit and fight against us until the Lighthouse burns or no one is left in Tiesa to feel the Light.”

“Our executions have not brought on this hatred, yet. The result has been overwhelming peace. Until now.”

“The appearance of peace. You know I’ve been opposed to the executions, since we began. The executions have fueled the rise of this new rebel group. Given them a purpose to rally around and slowly gain the favor of the people. The people are unstable. Their loyalty has been diminished and made superficial since the Schism, the rise of these renegades is simply a manifestation of the dissatisfaction and desire for change from the people. We can’t count on their support.”

“Thaddeus, where does your loyalty lie? With the Lighthouse or with traitors? I’ve lost one great friend, and don’t want to lose another.” The questions more like pleas for Thaddeus to remain with the Lighthouse, than points of interrogation. Bartholomew was emotional at this point, truly distraught over the perceived betrayal by Thaddeus.

“My loyalty is and always has been with the Light. The Lighthouse is merely a vehicle to spread that Light. As long as the Lighthouse acts in keeping with that, my loyalty lies with the Lighthouse as well. If that ceases to be the case, my loyalty to the Lighthouse will cease as well.”

“Please, Thaddeus, no. Your words of treachery may lead to your death at the hand of Justice.”

“Bartholomew, what I’ve said is true. Nothing I’ve said violates the principles of Light that should govern our keeping. If you kill me, Justice will be against you. You will be valuing the Lighthouse over the Light itself.”

“The Lighthouse is indistinguishable from the Light. All the Lighthouse does is in the name of the Light, to protect and spread it as best fits the interests of Tiesa. Loyalty to the Lighthouse is loyalty to the Light and loyalty to the Light is loyalty to the Lighthouse. It is you, Thaddeus that has lost sight of that. The Light is incomplete without the Lighthouse and so, we must protect her. If the Lighthouse falls, Tiesa will fall into shadow, lost in darkness.”

“’Love extends beyond choice, even to the deepest, darkest crevices where the Light cannot reach.’”

As Thaddeus finished, he lowered his head and turned to leave, walking to the door, opening it and about to step out, he looked back. His saddened, forlorn face bore the weight of years of struggle, seemingly for nothing, collapsing on top of him in the last hours. His one-time ally committed to a course that he could not support. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but only shook his head, turning again and quietly leaving Bartholomew alone.

*

In the darkness, the city was alive. A life that was unknown to the Lighthouse and unimagined, yet lived in their fears. The Glare had targeted individuals with messages in bottles, much as Roxanne had been contacted. Some chose to ignore the invitation, others feared, yet hoped to gather the strength to overcome their fear and join, while yet more eagerly flocked to the coast, hoping to find The Glare. They wandered and some gave up, not committed enough to search the sand and rocky coast in the fog. A small crowd stuck together and followed the coastline, searching for any hint of where The Glare’s headquarters would be. A young, excitable boy saw it first, the mark on the rock. He pointed and jumped, calling everyone to follow him to reach the rock. As they neared, some began to have second thoughts, thinking to turn back, but as they looked behind them they saw several members of the Glare, dressed in black, with the mark emblazoned somewhere on their ‘uniforms’. The guards held their crystal pistols with purpose, not threatening, but sending a clear message that there was no turning back. People swallowed their fear, or at least tried, for some it stuck in their throat, others it gagged, making it impossible to breathe and for some it stuck in their stomachs like a piece of spoiled, raw meat. They marched on, entering the cave, the headquarters of The Glare, the mark watching them as they entered, daring them to turn back or even think about giving the location away.

“Friends- welcome. We are The Glare and the Lighthouse has felt our disdain, our disapproval. It shall continue. We cannot rest until the Lighthouse is rubble and the Light belongs to all, shadow mingling with light in a harmonious, beautifully chaotic dance. No longer need you look to the Lighthouse for your guidance, it shall be given to you. All shall be Keepers of their own Light! You need not live in fear of accusations of treachery. Together, we shall give the Light to the world!”