This night, like most nights on lake Lillinonah, had been restless for Cadogan. To the others who had joined him along the way, the dark brought a similar stress: the constant and unceasing blight threat, the fear of wandering off too far in the night, and--even in one's downtime--the long labor yet required to erect a wall against the unceasing onslaught. It was hard for all his flock, but though Cadogan was often spared the immediate fear of doom, he felt alone in his agonizing over the future. Much as he knew in his heart that the church was supposed to be their new home, doubts plagued Cadogan's mind about what they should've been doing next. What if he was wrong? What if a sunrise had just been a
sunrise? Were there greener pastures on the other side of the lake?
It wasn't for Cadogan to decide: the de facto pastor didn't patrol the walls, or go on resource runs or explore the outer limits. That wasn't his duty. Instead, he sat cross-legged in the church's sacristy, a smattering of bibles, artifacts, and journals nestled around him. The young man had rolled his white sleeves up to his elbows, and his slacks were scuffed and marked at the knees. With one trembling hand, Cadogan tried to sweep his sweat-stained bangs out of his eyes, but the many long hours kneeling over his journals and holy books had made it a fruitless task: just so soon as he returned to his work did gravity undo his his best efforts. The followers had made a home out of the church's grounds, but Cadogan had turned the sacristy into his own personal office. It was an added blessing that the door locked properly considering the church patriarch often finished such sessions looking less-than-inspiring. This night was one such time.
So long had he been at his work, that Cadogan had barely noticed the dark of the night sky begin to transition to the soft blues of dawn. Though the first, baby-blue hues began to illuminate the windows' exterior, Cadogan remained hellbent on his work. Feverishly, the born-again patriarch began yet another transcription into his journal. His personal book was becoming something akin to a collage of mismatched parts: from both his bible and his bhagavad gita, Cadogan had copied particularly poignant verses, or, at least, what he determined to be poignant. It was but a passing fancy of course. The mystery surrounding his abilities, and what they meant grew by the day, and his books offered little recourse.
Cadogan's eyes drifted over the pages of his journal, too tired to focus on or understand the words he had written therein. As if in a trance, the church patriarch began to transcribe verses in autopilot, mumbling the chosen lines in a belabored breath.
"Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you…" Cadogan paused, his gaze seemingly frozen upon the page. The first rays of the early morning sun began to creep from behind him, slowly illuminating the floorboards as he spoke, until the light began to dance across the page. Only as it did so, did Cadogan break through the fugue state he was in.
In the time since the end, Cadogan had become something of a self-proclaimed expert in interpreting signs, therefore it came as no surprise when, by the light's touch, the words became manifest. Almost as soon as he came to, Cadogan's head snapped back, his eyes fluttering from one place to the next. A deep, and surreal attraction drew Cadogan's gaze northbound, and for a moment he could almost see it: a sprawling text in long lost script, wreathed in the gold of the dawn's rays. Just as soon as he felt the pull did it disappear, but not before Cadogan saw a bay-side city long lost to the cataclysm, and a draw to the far northeast. He'd been there once or twice in better times, and knew it to be Boston as though by premonition. Perhaps it was.
It was a call, but not one he knew how to heed. If he left the church to its devices it would surely fall: without his on-demand healing powers, the nightly blight incursions would surely overrun their small band of intrepid survivors.
Still, a sign was a sign.
Some thirty odd minutes later, Cadogan had changed, combed his hair, and washed himself as best as the church's rudimentary sanitation chambers allowed before setting back out into the public gardens. As Cadogan passed by, he doled out gentle morning greetings to the few awake parishioners, standing tall despite the proverbial weight upon his shoulders. As he approached the wall, his eyes darted from one guard unto the next, settling on a familiar face. The shift was due to change soon, which meant he would need to get what information he could from Verity while she was still on guard. He trusted the others well enough, but there was something about the Longstrom girl that put him to ease.
Without the slightest hint of hesitation in his step, Cadogan climbed up onto the walls, pausing a couple feet from Verity. With a tired, though knowing smile, Cadogan asked, "So? How did we do? Anything go bump in the night while I was gone?"
Verity returned the pastor's cordial smile before answering. "Nope!" She laughed softly, almost quietly, before shaking her head with a sigh. "The more we build, the more they seem to stay away. It's been so long since anyone's felt safe.
"It's only possible because of you."
Verity shrugged and continued on quickly, not entirely sure how to bring up the physical pull she could feel in her chest.
"If you don't mind me saying, Mr. Cadogan, I think clearing a bit of debris from the northeast and northwest might be beneficial."
Cadogan chuckled at the formality in Verity's tone, before looking himself in both of the directions Verity mentioned. The only benefit Cadogan had noticed in trying to construct their fledgling home from scrap and salvage was that it was a fairly easy task to replace and rebuild when necessary. Looking over the areas in question, Cadogan was in agreement with Verity's assessment.
Turning back to Verity, Cadogan couldn't help but feel proud of her keen judgement. "I don't mind you saying at all. You are right. We are going to need more space if we hope to make this place more self sufficient. That's not to mention anything of how we've grown…" Cadogan's voice trailed off as he admired the early morning bustle of his reclaimers. They were a small commune, but they worked like a village. The decreasing blight threat was evidence enough of that.
"But Verity… let one of the boys handle that. There's something else… something I need your help with." It was still all so new to him--the powers, the visions, and the responsibility. Sometimes, even after months of confirmation after confirmation, Cadogan felt embarrassed trying to explain anything of the divine.
"This morning I had a premonition of sorts. There's something drawing me towards… well,
something. I get that isn't terribly much to go on, but I have this feeling pressing against my chest. There's something in Boston. I didn't really see too much, but its a script of sorts. I have not the slightest idea what it is, nor what it does and I understand that a road trip northeast is probably the last thing you'd want considering the relative safety here."
Cadogan paused, feeling slightly guilty in his asking. "But I believe it's a test of our character. I can't leave these people in the dark, and yet I know that we must have this thing. So… would you reclaim it for us? You've experienced your fair share of monsters in the dark, more than many here and your faith in our path is strong."
The young woman held her breath as the pastor spoke, relaying both comfort and unease as he maneuvered his way through his speech. Of course Mr. Cadogan would feel the pull, as powerful as he was... But she? Verity was a young woman and though his comments on her experiences were true, she didn't feel worthy of them. Of the gifts she had. The things she could do...
"Will it help us?" Verity asked softly, turning on her heel slightly so she could face the pull head on. "Even if it'll only help us for a day, there isn't anything I wouldn't reclaim. And thank you," Ver said with a bow of her head in regards to his last remark.
"There's something I've been meaning to tell you, Mr. Cadogan, I just..." She trailed off with a huff, momentarily refusing to take her eyes off the horizon. Reaching into her pocket, Verity removed a rock crystal, small and smooth to the touch. She handed it to the pastor with a smile. "Please keep this with you once I leave."
Cadogan accepted the stone in reverence, his eyes darting between Verity's token, and the girl herself. There were plenty who weren't ready in the way she was, and though Cadogan asked nothing of the few survivors who had made it thus far, Verity's faith in him had a rejuvenating effect. Others might have approached the church for safety's sake, but Cadogan hoped to one day be the man that the young lieutenant thought him to be for all his flock.
"It will do more than help, Verity." Cadogan examined the immaculate token a moment more, before continuing. "It's not about what we want. Whatever pulls at the strings of fate, it has demanded our compliance in this--my compliance."
Cadogan sighed, before once more turning out towards the wilds. "Your faith in our task is admirable. I know you are devoted to my purpose, but the choice is truly yours. I'll not make you go chasing after a dream, but if you do, I'll equip you with anything you might need." Cadogan smirked, his mind drifting back to the darker times before the church. "I can grant you strength, sight, or speed to aid you in your journey should you decide to take it on, but I am serious--I won't have one of my best running after a half-remembered dream over nothing. Are you sure you're up to it? It won't be easy, and there's no doubt in my mind that Boston is at least twice as dangerous as this backwater village." Cadogan turned to the girl, and placed a reassuring hand upon her shoulder.
"So Verity," Cadogan's smile faded, the first signs of exhaustion leaking through his well-crafted visage. "Are you sure you're willing to risk so much for a dream so vague?" The church patriarch smiled as he spoke, his tone humorous despite the seriousness of his request. Cadogan had no doubt she would, of course: what he asked of her would be the ultimate test of her allegiance--the ultimate test of her faith. She was one of the few truly allied to his vision, and though Cadogan knew that it was a serious risk to ask so much of her, he also knew that there would be no future for his cause without followers like Verity.
"I don't think the dream is as vague as you think, Mr. Cadogan," Verity said slowly, lips trembling with guilt and fear before finally spilling her secrets. "There's this--this pull in my chest, calling me towards something. And I think it's what you had a premonition of."
Verity stumbled over her words for a moment, before taking a deep breath and calming her nerves. "I don't talk much about, you know, when everything was Dark, but I-I learned a lot, about myself and the world and the monsters... and things."
Clearing her throat, Verity pointed towards the rock crystal still in Cadogan's hand. "That's one half of a whole. Wherever one is, so is the other. I-- It may help us stay in touch... because I think I was meant to reclaim this for you."
Her brows furrowed as she trailed off in thought. "I'm not sure if it'd be fair, Mr. Cadogan... To grant me anything. I rather you continue to use it to protect our flock. Rations and supplies will suffice, I think."
Cadogan regarded the girl's admissions and half truths with intrigue, before accepting her gift. He glanced at the stone for a moment, and then back to Verity. Was it some token, or was there something more to the pull Verity felt? The church patriarch closed a fist around the stone, before gripping Verity's shoulder with his other hand.
"Nonsense." A suffused flash of light burst beneath Cadogan's palm, warm and golden light trailing upwards from beneath the gaps in his fingers. Beneath his grasp, a deep, strengthening warmth began to spread outward from Verity's shoulder and across the entire surface of her body. If anything, his conversation with the girl, and new curiosity in her convictions, only reinforced his earlier premonition. Cadogan's confidence in their path had been rebuilt, and--if the pull in Verity's chest was indeed like his own--he trusted that the Divine could use her as proxy. For a moment, as he stood staring into the morning mists, Cadogan felt like a fool for having ever thought otherwise.
"This new test is before us now, and now I believe you have a
special part to play. A part I cannot know. Another lesson in faith for me, and bright path for you. All I ask is that you bring back any lost wanderers with you. Otherwise, do not dally: you have permission to take whatever we have in the shed that you feel you may need, but afterwards you must hurry."
Cadogan waited until ten minutes had elapsed before withdrawing his hand, and gesturing for the girl's dismissal. From Verity's form radiated the Piercing Light he had bolstered her endurance with, and though it wouldn't be immediately obvious to her, Cadogan could see that several of the other wall-guard had already noticed her glow, magnified by the dawn sun. It was a sight indeed.