The Lifeless Light: A Tale from Dema

Chapter Ten: A Burdensome Return

The towers smelled exactly the same: sterile with a hint of perfume to cover up any unpleasant smells from the work below. It was yet another reminder of my years of foolish obedience. I loathed it.

Neon chandeliers hung from the towering ceiling of the clinical yet dignified main hall. The darkness of the walls and icy lights added more weight to the room than I remembered.

My feet hustled along the white tile floor, avoiding any direct eye-contact with the workers inside. Unlike the city folk, those who worked in the monastery knew me better than anyone. My quest would only get harder from here.

The mourning scarf couldn't take me farther than the first floor, but my monastery coat could. I walked down a hallway lined with doors to the dwellings of other workers, like me. Fumbling for my keys, I opened the door to my room. As it clicked shut, I unraveled my scarf.

I froze.

I understood this would likely be the last time I saw this room—my quaint bed, desk, small shelf of knickknacks, and the sweet scent of the candle by my nightstand.

As one of the few lucky enough to earn the prestige of working within the monastery, we were conditioned to live a life of minimalism. Yet, looking around at the few joys and memorable items I owned, a heaviness filled my chest.

I looked to my nightstand. There was one thing I wanted to take with me as I left this place for good. Opening the bottom drawer, I picked up an emblem hooked on a cord of dark leather.

Rubbing the dust off its face, I felt the ridges of the five raised lines: two vertical, two slanted, and one in between the pairs. I could never figure out what its meaning was connected to, but I possessed this necklace for as long as I could remember.

In fact, I couldn't even recall the time I received it. My selective memory continued to disturb me more than ever.

I wasn't allowed to wear the trinket, as it was against the code of Vialism for monastery workers to decorate themselves. Nevertheless, I felt an unexplainable connection with it—perhaps a desire to one day uncover its mystery. Years before, I asked one of the bishops, Nills, more about it. He only scoffed and told me to throw it away. I didn't after Keons encouraged me to keep it.

I placed the necklace in my pocket and grabbed the coat I came for. Putting on the grey garment, I covered my head with the silver-lined hood. With a deep breath, I leaned on my courage and walked out the door for the very last time.

...............

I deduced that Tyler was likely taken to the prison underneath the towers, down a separate stairwell than the Quiet Room and Chamber of Ash—unless the Bishops, by a meager chance, released him without reprimand. Those who fell outside of Vialism would usually be held there for a day before facing their judgement, however harsh it might be.

As I headed down the prison stairwell, I abruptly stopped.

I could hear two voices talking from below—bishops.

From what I could discern, it was Andre and Sacarver.

"Relax, it's just his youth," Sacarver's smooth feminine voice said. "He'll learn one day."

Andre's harsh, deep voice contrasted, "We can't keep bending the law and allowing him to wander through Trench. He joined the rebels this time, Scar."

She sighed.

He continued, his tone bolstering with anger, "You know what the sentence is for that behavior—if he chooses to abandon his position then so be it!"