Secrets of Light and Shadow: Chapter 3

Ignatus sat on the cold stone floor, his back pressed against the damp wall of the cell. Moonlight streamed through the narrow slit of a window high above, casting a fractured beam of pale light across the floor. The air smelled of mildew and old iron. Somewhere down the corridor, the rhythmic sound of dripping water echoed off the stone walls.

Benedetto sat across from him, his head bowed, his thin hands resting limply on his knees. His once-vivid eyes — the eyes that had burned with so much quiet brilliance — now seemed hollowed out. The bruises along his jawline were deepening to a dark purple. Ignatus's gaze lingered on the iron cuffs that dug into Benedetto's thin wrists.

"They'll come for us tomorrow," Benedetto said quietly, his voice barely more than a breath.

Ignatus's chest tightened. "We still have time—"

"No." Benedetto lifted his head. His mouth curved faintly — a smile or a grimace, Ignatus couldn't tell. "We have run out of time."

Ignatus forced himself to sit straighter. His hands curled into fists on his knees. "Then why did you tell me to keep working? Why give me the manuscript if you knew this was how it would end? Y—you've damned me for Christs sake!"

Benedetto's gaze sharpened. "Because the work matters more than us." His voice steadied. "And the work will survive us."

Ignatus's breath hitched. "It will burn with us."

Benedetto's mouth twitched in amusement. "You think I would let it end that easily?"

Ignatus's brow furrowed. Benedetto leaned forward, his chains scraping softly against the stone.

"I left it in the schoolroom," Benedetto whispered. "Inside the cover of Principia Divina — that awful theology text the novices use."

Ignatus's breath caught. "The monastery school?"

Benedetto nodded. "The headmaster's library. I slid the pages between the bindings. The text will survive — and so will the truth." His smile widened. "No one reads that book anyway."

Ignatus stared at him, disbelieving. "But how will anyone know to look for it?"

"They won't." Benedetto's gaze darkened. "Not now. Not for years. But eventually, someone will find it. That's the nature of truth — it waits."

Footsteps echoed down the corridor. The heavy sound of iron keys rattling against a belt.

Benedetto straightened. His cuffs scraped against the wall as he adjusted himself. His smile was calm. Peaceful. "You must survive, Ignatus."

Ignatus's heart pounded. He shook his head. "How? They're going to kill us."

"They might kill me," Benedetto said. "But not you."

The door groaned open. Two guards stepped in, their torchlight cutting into the darkness of the cell. The lead guard pointed to Benedetto.

"On your feet," the guard growled.

Benedetto stood slowly. He swayed for a moment before steadying himself. Ignatus's hands shot toward him.

"No," Ignatus whispered.

Benedetto's smile lingered as he leaned down and whispered into Ignatus's ear:

"Thaumazien."

Ignatus's eyes widened. Benedetto's hands briefly squeezed his shoulder before he pulled away.

He turned toward the guards.

"I am ready," Benedetto said.

The guards seized him by the arms and began to drag him toward the door. "You're next runt."

Benedetto didn't look back.

"I'll see you in the light, Ignatus."

The door slammed shut.

Ignatus sat frozen, his breath shuddering. The cell seemed suddenly too large, too hollow. His chest heaved painfully. The sound of Benedetto's footsteps faded down the corridor — steady, unwavering — until all he could hear was the sound of his own ragged breathing.

After a moment, Ignatus slid back against the wall. His hands pressed over his face. His shoulders shook.

A single word echoed in his mind.

"Thaumazien."

Wonder.

And suddenly, beneath the weight of grief and terror, he felt it. A quiet spark beneath the ruin.

Hope.