Solace in the Void

Emiliano Bombieri-Morales

Skal eyed the newcomer absent mindedly, noting the shiver that wracked the young man’s body, his fearful eyes transfixed on the glowing tower, as if his only salvation lay in that warm guiding presence. The man had arrived at seven bells by his time. Skal knew that to most people that meant chirping birds, the rising sun, day, but in the vastness of Abyss it just meant breakfast. Something clicked in the distance and the man looked sharply in the direction of the sound staring at the blackness, clutching his back tightly to his chest. After a moment the man seemed to relax. Jostled from his luminescent hypnosis he looked down the stretch of the path where another beacon was just barely visible.

The young man hadn’t said a single word upon arrival. That wasn’t unusual Skal knew. Most pilgrims who crossed Abyss were often affected by pitch black, by the fear of falling from the path. Their eyes greedily drank in the light of the beacon, knowing that one wrong step, one false footing could lose them their way, leaving them stranded in the fears of their own imagination. Skal had figured that this man had broke somewhere along the way, maybe the sixth stop, perhaps even sooner. Skal could see the overwhelming terror in the man’s eyes as he got to his feet, lantern in hand and shakily began to move to the edge of darkness.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, not if you’ve been trekking for as long as I think you have. You take one step in that stuff without some rest and it’ll eat you alive.”

The man looked over at Skal with wide eyes, as if noting the hermit’s presence for the first time. He said nothing, gripped the lantern tightly, and continued walking.

“Suit yourself.”

Skal could hear the man sobbing as the darkness swallowed him and his little light whole.

At fourteen bells Skal heard the sound of scuffling feet moving double time, and when he looked to the west a large group of people seemed to materialize through the curtain of blackness. Skal judged them to be about two dozen. He frowned. The stew he’d started making was barely enough to feed them all, let alone himself. Between twelve and fourteen bells was when the larger groups of pilgrims arrived, but he’d never seen so many at once before.

Leading the pack was a tall man, well built and with a long brown beard that covered his face. At a glance one might not not even know, but Skal had seen too many like him, strong men that hid their fatigue and plagued mind behind a sturdy body. It’s the eyes that give it away. 

“Are you the tower master here?”

“I am.”

The man dropped his sack and walked over to Skal while the rest of the group shuffled over to the beacon and collapsed on the ground.

“My name is Feytan, we appreciate your hospitality and anything you have to offer.” “There’s a lot of you,” Skal ignored Feytan’s comment, looking at the group sitting around his tower, “It will be small portions of stew. But what I have is yours.” 

“Thank you.”

“Don’t, it’s my duty, nothing more.”

The hermit’s hut was nothing short of plain. On one side was his bed and a small wardrobe. The hut had a pit in the center where the brown and grey dirt was exposed. Over it hung a large pot where Skal did all of his cooking. The members of the party filed in, their feet dragging, bruised and battered. Most people had a hard time adjusting to the light, but some suffered more than others. One boy seemed to stare off past his bowl into nothingness, his pupils nearly covering the entirety of his iris’. The boy thanked Skal, who noted the tears that dripped into his bowl.

After everyone had been served Skal limped over to the circle, stroking the guide book on the inside of his jacket. He sat down next to Feytan whose eyes were fixed on the glowing light, his face drawn.

“What’s the news from the west? I’ve never seen so many pilgrims cross Abyss at once.”

Feytan’s face darkened, “The land has grown sickly. The water runs black, the grass has withered, and the great houses have turned to barbarism and war.”

“I see,” Skal nodded, more with understanding than sympathy, “So I take it more will be coming?”

“I’m not sure,” Feytan shook his head, “The first two towers have already started to fade. When all the lights go out, it will be impossible to cross. I do not mean to overstep my bounds, but you should considering coming with us now.”

Skal nodded, and looked towards the light that shielded them from the darkness, his hand instinctively reaching for the tower master handbook in his jacket pocket.

“I’ve been stationed here for as long as I can remember. My own teacher taught me the importance of the way. The burden we hermits bear in our solitude. But you see, while it is the light that guides us, it is the void that we must accept with open arms , for we were born in the dark, and it is that which sets us free. The knowledge that without the dark we could never find the light. If all there was in the world was the warm glow of the light, we would be blinded to the path.”

“You’d stay here to die alone?”
For the first time in a long time Skal smiled, “We all die alone.”
Feytan shook his head and stood. His people had already begun to ready their things, donning large cloaks around their bodies, and wrapping their feet in fresh cloth to fend off the gravel and dirt.

“I thank you for the food, but we must be going.”
“As you wish.”
Skal watched as one by one the group vanished through the black curtain. His eyes lingered then turned to the handbook. In his mind he opened the first page and read the text that he had memorized years ago.

“In darkness we find the light, in the light we find salvation, and through salvation we find peace. Let it be known that you who bear the burden of solitude exist on the border of the two, between light and dark.”

The tower flickered, enveloping Skal in the pitch black for just a moment. He looked up and stared at the large glowing object. It flickered again. He looked west, towards the seventh tower and saw the light go out completely.

“Find peace in the light,”

The tower flickered again, and then began to dim, “Find solace in the void,”
Skal finished the recitation, closing his eyes as the light behind his lids grew dimmer and dimmer.

Eventually the light went out completely and Skal found that when he opened his eyes he found no change. Before him he saw black. He stroked the book in his coat and turned east, his feet steadily treading down the path.