Everything Is Eternal (Book Two)

The Light brought visions and feelings. It contained everything good and bad—all at once.

The Dark brought nothing.

Nothing.

There was no friend who pushed him to oppose the Light and then betrayed him.

There was no wife who showed him the truth and now tried to conceal it.

There was no William Lawrence Morris. He might as well have died in that lonely sanctuary, deep in a scarcely illuminated community.

Many disappeared into the Dark, never to return. He could just be another one of them. Swept away with history and truth.

A sharp pain tore apart the seductive oblivion. Will let out a shaky gasp. Darkness draped around him, but light glowed around him.

Light in his hands.

He jerked, only to brush his hands into the bright, painful light. He winced and took a moment to calm down.

He wasn't sure how it happened. Sister Celine tried so hard and only now that he let go of everything did it happen.

Everything he hated in his hands.

"Why?" Will whispered to the Light, as if expecting a spark of sentience.

It was ridiculous. He didn't believe the Light was divine. Especially if it came from his wretched existence. He was the farthest things from divine.

He lived while more deserving died. He did nothing while traitors brought down his cause. He finally had his wife back.

But he didn't want her anymore.

The Light flickered, and Will believed he would be lost to the Dark.

It was for the best.

Except...

"Except you'll never have the answers that you want."

He wasn't sure who whispered those words. Maybe it was his own weak mind.

The void of darkness beckoned him. The answers were waiting. A world that was left behind. A world that could still be illuminated.

But his little spark of light wasn't enough on its own. All he could see was himself and nothing else.

The greater light was held by the priests. But they didn't want answers or the truth. If Will had rejected Sister Celine and chosen the Dark, he never would have found anything on his own.

There were only two paths. Stumble in the Dark on his own, never seeing more than what was directly in front of him or join something greater and only see what they would illuminate.

They were so afraid of the past. That's why they burned history. Destroyed relics of the past. But why would sanctuaries collect these things if it didn't mean something? If it wasn't important?

He hated the Sacred State. He hated the Eternal. But they were still needed for the world to survive, at least until the truth could be found.

And, as he looked at the faint flicker of light within his hands, he might have found the first key to the truth.

The Light faded, and darkness returned. He frowned as awareness became sharper. His body was on the ground. Had he ever ventured out into the Dark? It felt like his body was asleep.

He pulled himself up into a sitting position and looked around. He had completely lost all sense of direction and didn't know which way to go.

Did it really matter? Did anything matter?