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?
The truth mattered. More than friendship. More than love. He suffered in the Sanctuary because he wouldn't throw away his truth.
To his dying breath, he had to make sure the truth was known. They couldn't fix the world if they never knew what happened to it.
And, as that thought resounded in his head, he refused to give up. He had to get away from the Dark—for now. Part of him wished the Light would reappear in his hands, but nothing happened. Maybe that was just a fantasy while he was in the grip of the Dark.
He groped blindly until his hands grabbed onto the nearest object—it felt like a pole holding a street sign—and pulled himself up. A bit of gratitude flowed through him that he was still too numb to feel the pain in his leg. He looked around his surroundings, seeing and hearing nothing that would help.
The hopelessness was threatening to carry him away. But he forced himself to remain calm. There had to be a way of finding the right direction. But he couldn't cower in one spot. That wouldn't help anything.
Using his cane, Will took a few hesitant steps. When he took a step to the left, faint pain bit into his knee. He felt nothing a moment ago.
The Dark took away all feelings.
Using the pain as his compass, he took a few lurching steps in that direction. He wasn't entirely sure he was feeling any greater pain. But he kept going. Until he saw the muted light of the orb—and knew he was in the right place.
He took a deep breath, almost in disbelief that he had come so close to getting lost. He felt like everyone had taken his truth from him. The authorities, his family, Shin, and even Kate. But all of his truth would have disappeared and it would have been his fault.
After leaving the Edges, it became clear he had lost all sense of time. It was already late. He hurried home and saw that Kate was there. She was already asleep, curled up on the futon. Like a child.
She looked so fragile in her sleep. When she was awake, she was such a fierce force of energy.
Guilt struck him. He knew it had been bad for Kate. But she had seemed like herself when she got him back.
He wanted things to return to their past happiness. He almost lay down next to Kate—then went to a chair. But he rose before her and brewed her favorite tea that he couldn't stand.
Surprise crossed her face when she awoke to warm tea. "You did that for me?" she asked sweetly.
She shouldn't have been so surprised. Will used to do things for Kate all the time. He didn't even think about it. Her reaction just made him feel terrible.
He wanted those feelings back so much. He wanted it as desperately as most wanted to believe the lie of the Eternal.
She was ready to leave so much faster now that she didn't bother with her hair or corsets. Part of Will missed the old days when she would ask him for help with her stays. The closeness had been so precious.
"Kate?" Will approached her before she left. "Would you ever want to leave the city?"
He regretted the words as soon as he said them. If Kate agreed, his chance for finding the truth would never exist. He would have to compromise himself to survive.
But he missed her so much.
"What?" Kate was looking through some papers. "After all the trouble we did just to get back here?"
"I wanted to get away from my father," Will corrected. "I meant... just you and me."
She didn't react as he expected. She looked troubled. "Oh Will... I don't think that would work. We have connections here. My family is here. I can't just leave them."
"I understand," Will said.
It was stupid. He needed the truth. Running away with Kate would have been a fantasy. Will should know, better than anyone, that it was impossible to run from reality. He ran away from home at sixteen and it only brought him misery.
Time slowly passed, almost as slow as in the Edges. Will worked on his plans and worked for Ginny McIntyre. His struggle for the truth helped him struggle through the week. One early evening, he was putting together some notes for Ginny when Kate came home. The door slammed shut behind her.
"Will!"
"I'm here," Will said mildly.
It looked like Kate had run straight from the office. She marched over to him and shoved a piece of paper in his face. "What the fuck is this?"
Will adjusted his glasses and scanned the paper. "It looks like an advertisement."
"Don't be smart," Kate retorted—sounding far too much like Matilda. "Why are you advertising for former priests and acolytes? What do you think you're doing?"
"I think the advertisement says enough."
"This sounds like you want to find people who are willing to explore the Dark." Kate took a deep breath, as if attempting to gather her patience. "Why would you want to do that? Did the Eternal Light rot your mind?"
"I want to find the truth," Will said quietly. "I also want to learn from the former priests. I want to understand why they can still summon the Eternal Light."
"Since when did you become a metaphysical researcher?" Kate asked rudely. "You are a twenty-one-year-old average reporter."
"I know." Will folded his arms. "There is nothing special about me."
She rubbed her head. "I didn't mean it that way—"
"You did, and that's fine." Will pushed himself up, grimacing in pain. "I am nothing. The former priests are nothing. The Eternal priests are nothing. We're all nothing because we know nothing. But it doesn't have to stay that way. It's time to find the truth."
"Do you know what they'll do to you if they find out you are gathering former priests?" Kate hissed. "They'll think you're making your own Umbra. This time when they arrest you, they'll be no saving you."
"I didn't exactly advertise for us to all meet at Mist Tavern," Will said. "I've worked this out with Elijah—"
"Elijah!" Kate clenched her hand. "Will, his stupid plan ended up with you caught the last time."
"And other Umbra members," Will continued, ignoring her ire. "Umbra is weak right now and people don't have the energy to rebel. Finding out the truth, finding out how to keep this world illuminated is what matters now."
"So what? You are going to gather a group of former priests and orbs and march off into the Dark tomorrow?"
"Of course not tomorrow," Will said roughly. "This could take some time. It could be a project of a lifetime. But it needs to be done."
Kate ran her hand through her short curls. "But must it be done by you?"
"It's what I have to do," he said simply. "Don't you want the truth?"
Kate looked stricken. Then her face hardened. "The truth will destroy you. They will go after you if you do this, Will. I'm not publishing it."
"Once again—you're not my boss."
Kate folded her arms. "But I do get a say over what is printed—what might endanger the paper. No."
Will removed his glasses. "Pardon me? I didn't realize you were a Sacred State Censor."
"I want you to stop being so short-sighted! I want you to think about what could happen!"
"I'm not changing my mind."
"I'm not printing it."
It was a stalemate. And the ugly silence reinforced the distance growing between them. Will was afraid of what he would do. He was halfway to sending the advertisement to the paper in the capital—where it would be really noticed.
Kate seemed to read his thoughts. "You're not going to do something stupid, are you?"
"I don't know what you mean," Will muttered.
"What if... what if we compromise?" she asked, a little desperately. "What if the advertisement is published... just not yet?"
"What do you mean?" Will asked dubiously.
"Wait just a little bit," Kate urged. "Until you've been out of prison for at least a year. Just long enough so that suspicion doesn't immediately fall on you. Is that too much to ask?"
"Haven't we waited long enough?"
"What about me?" Kate cried. "Matthew? Everyone in your life. Are you willing to put them in danger to find your truth?"
She was looking at him like she was afraid that was true. And Will understood something had fundamentally changed in Kate. And he couldn't fault her. But he also felt like he couldn't tell the truth to her anymore.
"I can wait..."
She threw her arms around him, and he stiffened. She faltered and pulled away with an uneasy look on her face. "Will...?"
"My knee," he said gruffly.
She covered her mouth. "I'm so sorry," she said. "Let me help you sit down."
"I can manage on my own," he said quietly.