A Fragile Faith

I am a heretic. There had been a time I would have never understood the path I am on now. A time I would have chosen not to understand. It hadn’t been so long ago. 

The sacred texts had explicitly stated that my actions constituted heresy. Or, at least, as our teachers had told us repeatedly. I have never read the sacred texts, nor anyone I know personally or those who claim to be its protectors. I will not begrudge them their faith; I, too, believed in the words of the Holy Doctors when I was younger.

As a child, I dreamed of being one of the Holy Warriors. Marching down the gilded marble paths of the temple. Vanquishing the evildoers who threatened our Holy Empire. Spreading the word given by our Holy Doctors. I had been a child with stars in my eyes and dreams too big.

When I grew older, I knew the holy blade had not been meant for me. Throughout my life, I had been frail. My strength came from reading and art. In a way, I used it to amend my perceived deficits. I struggled with physical burdens placed upon me, but excelled when asked to think. Perhaps my early shortcomings had been a warning, but some would not see it that way.

A long time ago, I had Pilar. Pilar was strong in ways I never could be. Pilar stood up for me when my strength would falter. When I would be mocked and teased, Pilar stood ready to fight. And when I began dedicating my life to reading and the arts, Pilar encouraged me. Pilar would have never seen my flaws as anything but a part of me.

I did everything I could to support Pilar, as well. When it came time to pay for applications to become Holy Warriors, I used my wits to fund the endeavor. When names were thrown around and accusations made, I took fault when Pilar had been ready to take the fall alone. When the first trial to become a Holy Squire came, I studied and watched Pilar’s form to critique any weaknesses. When the ceremony recognizing the newly anointed Holy Squires took place, I attended when no one else would. For so long, we were the only people each other had.

And so, when I joined the research team at the University of Olene, I knew Pilar would approve. We did not speak it at the time, absorbed in our personal projects, but we felt no need to. Our thoughts always went unspoken, as words never conveyed well enough our hearts. And when it was time to part ways, I did not leave with a heavy heart. Our friendship would endure, I had been so certain of it.

As I had always known, Pilar excelled as a Holy Warrior. Pilar’s expertise became the talk of Olene within months. Such a skilled warrior to come from such a low class. The whispers stated Pilar should be expecting to be in charge of a unit by that time next year. If not a member of the elite warriors. Pilar was humble though. When I congratulated the amazing progress, my words were met with a bashful shake of the head and an inquiry into my own progress.

University was a difficult path. Funding for the research teams was meager. We were always asked what we needed money for and had our projects belittled. Why study the ancient cultures? Why look through their history and their documents? Their societies fell before the life of Theorexis. Before his First Apotheosis. The Holy Doctors had forgiven their heresy, as they were born before they could see the light, but there was no knowledge to be gained from them.

That was what the laymen always said. The same from the mouths of the Holy Clerics. And their words were the words of the Holy Doctors. Our studies and our research was unimportant. Useless. It held no value in a world enlightened by the Thrice-Born Theorexis. I found the denunciations exhausting, but I still had Pilar. 

Pilar still found time to meet with me those days. To talk of our progress and what we learned. To catch up on events in our personal lives. We laughed when we realized we had little to share there. Both of us were too dedicated to our careers to devote much attention to our personal lives. No significant others to be spoken of, new homes, or even any pets to talk about. 

Unlike most, Pilar showed fascination with my endeavors. Even if it was to placate me, Pilar was never condescending. Always asking questions about my research, and seeming to take joy in listening to me. And I never disrespected Pilar’s accomplishments as a Holy Warrior, despite being a colleague of my largest critics. Once upon a time, I had dreamed of being in Pilar’s shoes, so decry any aspect of it would be a betrayal of myself Or, so I felt at the time.

When I delved into the ancient ruin with my colleagues, I did so with the light of Theorexis in my heart. Even though I had not been blessed with a body sufficient for his holy blade, I still followed the Thrice-Born God. And it was with him in my heart I found the opening to a cavern deep within the ruins. The torches my colleagues and I carried could barely fight back the darkness that engulfed us in the secondary cavern. 

The rumors of a university buried in the ruins of an old lost empire had circulated for years. Centuries. Since the time shortly after Theorexis’ Final Apotheosis. We had always dreamed we may uncover it, but we dare not ever hope. When we found the site, hidden deep in a cavern below the ruins of the ancient city, we did not dare claim it to be the university. Though we truly believed.

Our discovery was not posted. The outcry would be inevitable, but we sought to give ourselves more time. Another week. Another day. Even a few more hours. Enough time to study and document our findings. The knowledge contained within the ruined walls was irreplaceable. We would not happily see it desecrated by people who wouldn’t understand. 

I remember those times made my relationship with Pilar difficult. We spoke as we always did, but it didn’t feel the same. A shadow had been cast over Pilar’s heart. We talked of politics, when we had avoided the topic before. The climate had grown tense between the scholars of Olene and the holymen. The air had grown tense between us. Our friendship did not waver, but our voices were strangled. I could not swallow drink and Pilar could not stomach food. I longed for the days our words came more freely and laughter chased us into the dark.

The faiths and practices of a pre-Theorexis were still heresy, even if they were not considered heretics themselves. The idea made sense, but the enforcement did not. We were not long into cataloging the contents of the university when word got out about our discovery. The Holy Doctors would not invade our excavation without solid evidence of what we had found, but I could tell some of their Holy Warriors had their haunches raised. Talk of razing the ancient city spread on the lips of those opposed to our research. Leaving the university alone was ill-advised.

I had the luck of being the first researcher to break into the library. I was the first to breathe in the dusty air from centuries past. No one knew how long it had been since the last time a living person stepped inside. A momentous occasion, which a part of me hoped I would get to share with Pilar. But I knew better, unfortunately. I was reluctant to mention it to anyone before we discovered what tomes were hiding in its depths.

I had learned enough to make basic translations of the ancient texts, though I had a colleague who specialized in it. I knew enough key words to understand whatever I read. And I didn’t tell anyone what I did when I first broke into the library. 

It was too tempting to try reading one of the books I found. I should have reported back and cataloged all of my findings. But I couldn’t help myself. I flipped through the pages and felt a light in me I hadn’t felt before. Never while I worked and studied to join the University of Olene. Never even when I went to the sermons given by the Holy Doctors.

The feeling was wrong. Or, so I had been told all of my life. Theorexis was the light. When I studied in my desire to become a Holy Warrior, I was meant to pledge myself to Theorexis. When I studied to enter the University, I learned about the life of Theorexis. My examinations involved answering questions about him. 

But I felt it. I felt light when I read the ancient text, what I could make from it. I tucked the text away to read it by myself. And I read it in secret. My secrecy should have warned me, but I did not heed the voice telling me to be careful. 

The sacred texts explicitly stated magic was heresy. Atrocious acts meant to usurp the gods righteous power. The ancient societies committed these crimes as they did not know better. They did not have Theorexis to teach them it was wrong. Magic was only to be used by those blessed by the gods. 

By why, then, could I use it? Why was I, with my feeble body, able to perform magic? As I read the text aloud, a bright light filled the room around me. A ball of light formed in my hand. This did not seem like the evil the Holy Doctors had told me it was. My body did not become instantly corrupted by my blasphemous action. In fact, I felt stronger. A surge of energy rushed through my body, as if something had been awakened that I did not know slept in me. 

When I took the book, it was the first time I worried that Pilar would not support me. I should have known, by that alone, what I was doing was wrong. But it did not feel wrong. I felt empowered. Stronger than I had ever felt in my life. For once, I did not feel like a pale shadow compared to the people who surrounded me. 

And the Holy Doctors would destroy it if they knew what I had found. They would destroy all of it. Such heretical texts could not be found. Especially by the layman who was not wise enough to denounce temptation. I, like the common man, fell prey so what would happen to any man weaker than I? They would surely try to wield these heretical magicks.

But in my heart, I could not justify such actions. Utter destruction of something so priceless. So inherently valuable. My colleagues and I had spent so long searching for this place. For this knowledge. It was irreplaceable. The words had been reiterated to me over and over again. As pounded into me as the words of the sacred texts. And I knew they would burn them.

We began cataloging the texts. We did not read them. We did not speak of them. I knew what they contained. I think they knew what they contained. And if we did not look into them or translate them or read them, we did not have to tell anyone. We could archive them and store their knowledge away. They did not have to burn. And we had been so certain it would be enough. 

But one of my colleagues cracked. They came to me with a book they had been meant to archive. But they had read it instead. Another book of magic. We did not speak of the contents. We knew better than to discuss it. But I knew that they were not the only one who had found a book of magic. There were many books that had been meant for the archive and were not in the archive. 

The knowledge was too valuable to allow it to go to waste. All of our years at the University taught us to value knowledge in any form. Even the blasphemous materials. I discovered a secret section in the university. A place we hoarded forbidden knowledge. 

I studied my book of magic in secret, but I knew the secret would only stay so for so long. My body felt stronger. I felt stronger. I felt a feeling I hadn’t since I was a child. There were stars in my eyes and dreams too big for a university researcher. 

But our secret could only last so long. A single pair of loose lips was enough to bring the Holy Doctors down upon us. To bring the Inquisition. The warning was scarcely enough. Some of my colleagues hurried to the archives. They took what they could before the raid. I went with my other colleagues to the ancient library. It would take time before they would reach us. The caverns were massive and the paths labyrinthine. 

I carried satchels and filled them. Weighed them down until they were heavy with texts. Texts which were irreplaceable, I told myself again and again. Knowledge was not meant to be destroyed.  The knowledge was as sacred as the texts of Theorexis. 

But were they? My guilt weighed down as heavily as the books. I had dreamed of being a Holy Warrior. Was I denouncing their beliefs? Saying their words were wrong? The words of the Holy Doctors? I did not feel like a heretic. My actions did not feel like blaspheming. I was not evil. 

It must have been fate to bring us together again. The torches lit up the library. As bright as a room filled with midday sun. They shouted, those of my colleagues unable to run hid. I hid. Roaring fires climbed the wooden bookshelves and consumed the fragile texts. My eyes welled with tears, but I resisted the urge to cry out. One of the Holy Warriors yelled. They were going to find us and burn us as well. We were heretics. 

My colleagues and I had forged a plan when we first found the library. We strategically blocked an exit with a bookshelf. If they were to come and burn down the library, we would escape through there. That we came up with the plan should have warned us. We all believed we had more time. I crept behind the towering shelves to that door. I didn’t know how many of my colleagues had made it there already. I didn’t know if any did.

I peeked from behind a massive bookshelf, praying I would not be seen. But who could I pray to? I was a heretic. Theorexis should not answer me. And yet, I knew the face that met mine. The eyes that locked onto mine as I crept out of the last gap between myself and freedom. 

We were frozen as we gazed at each other. The fires around us reflected on our eyes. They reminded me of campfires so long ago. Hearth fires. Candle fires. I knew Pilar so many lifetimes ago and now we stood on two sides of a chasm. But Pilar did not hold the hardened face of a Holy Warrior. I saw the face of my friend. A face filled with terror. With anguish. With regret. 

Our eyes saw the same memories in that overlong moment. They said the same oaths. Made the same pleas. Gave the same promises. Said the same words we never knew we needed to say and never would. 

“Run. Before I have to tell them I saw you.” 

Tears rolled down my cheeks and I nodded. I ran. I ran as fast as I could. As far as I could. I did not check if my colleagues were in those tunnels with me. I ran. I wheezed and huffed and collapsed on the ground. I cradled the heavy satchel to my chest.

My oldest friend is sworn to kill heretics. I am a heretic.