Hidden Fragments Chapter 41

Songs In the Night

Previously on Hidden Fragments…

Hidden away in a lonely lighthouse by the sea, Calen worked tirelessly copying the sacred Scrolls for Elior. Though he struggled through the laws of Leviticus, the words of Isaiah stirred hope deep within him. There, he met Magdalena, the keeper of the lighthouse fires, who revealed a painful truth: her husband had been martyred after a false believer betrayed their fellowship to the Council of Twelve.

The traitor’s name was Sylvaine Vrax.

Meanwhile, far away beneath the moonlight, Marisa spoke with Vorren, a weary soldier haunted by fear, death, and the emptiness of the Council’s teachings. As he wrestled with the meaning of life, Marisa gently pointed him toward a greater truth, not a system, but a Person.

And at last, she whispered the name:

Jesus.

Chapter 41

Songs In the Night

Sylvaine Vrax…

The very name brought a bitter taste in Calen’s mouth.

He had hoped never to hear it again. He exhaled slowly, as anger stirred alongside unwelcome memories. If he ever saw that man again, he doubted he would remain civil.

Elior had taught him that vengeance belonged to God, and that the wrath of man did not work the righteousness of God. Calen believed it.

But belief was one thing.

Living it… might be another.

Magdalena stared at him with questioning eyes. “You fell for his tricks too?”

“Never mind,” he said. “It’s in the past.”

She frowned, her expression growing more serious.

Calen shifted in his seat. She deserved a better answer than that. He gave a small shrug and said, “He found his way into our little fellowship. Marisa was taken because of him.”

“Who is Marisa?”

Marisa?

The thought of Marisa stirred something warm in him. He longed to see her again.

He looked up. “She’s the one who taught me much about God,” he said quietly.

Magdalena nodded as if she understood his pain. Of course she did. She had lost her husband because of Vrax.

She hesitated but Calen could see, a question was burning on her lips.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Did she…” Magdalena hesitated. “Did she die, like my husband?”

Calen exhaled slowly, relief softening his expression. “No. She didn’t. The hermit, Elior, told me she escaped. I don’t know how, but he said she’s safe.”

“I’m glad,” Magdalena said gently. “My husband wasn’t so fortunate… but he is in heaven.””

An awkward silence followed.

The wind rattled the door with an unpleasant sound that made Calen think of the Council of Twelve. A seagull landed on the windowsill and cried out, hoping for a handout. Calen raised a hand, and it flew off at once.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” he asked, turning his attention back to Magdalena.

She sighed. “It’s always the same. He gained our trust… and then betrayed it.”

She pulled a small stool from the corner and sat down.

“Those were difficult days. Just around that time, my husband came home one evening… different. Almost radiant. He said he had found something.”

“What was it?”

“A Scroll of God,” she said quietly. “A very precious one… about the beginning of all things.”

Calen straightened. “What Scroll?”

“I don’t really know,” Magdalena said. “I never saw it. My husband showed it to Sylvaine Vrax; the one man he should never have trusted.”

It felt as though an icicle slid down Calen’s spine. It made him groan.

“Why would he show something so important to Vrax?”

A foolish question. Hadn’t he done the same?

“It’s obvious,” Magdalena said, her voice trembling. “We believed he was a child of God.” Tears welled in her eyes.

Calen felt the urge to rise, to take the broken woman in his arms and comfort her, but he remained where he was.

“And then?” he asked softly.

Magdalena swallowed her despair. “There was another brother present. He knew of the Scroll as well, but he didn’t trust Vrax. He told my husband to hide it again, just in case. Then later, when things would feel safer, he could show it to us all.” Her voice faltered. “But later never came.”

“Where did they hide the Scroll?”

Magdalena shook her head. “No one knows. We searched for it… but found nothing.”

Calen ground the inside of his cheek. “But that other brother, surely he knows?”

She shook her head again. “The Council took him prisoner, along with my husband. I don’t know what happened to him. They took him together with my husband.”

The small room seemed to close in around them. The walls looked grayer now, more worn. Calen shivered.

“He was blind,” Magdalena continued.

“Your husband was blind?” Calen asked. “I don’t understand.”

Magdalena shook her head. “No… the other man.”

Calen stiffened. “What was his name?”

She looked at him, puzzled and brushed a strand of hair from her face. “What does it matter?” she said quietly. “My husband… Asher… They are both gone.”

“Asher?” Calen repeated. “The blind man’s name was Asher?”

Magdalena looked up. “Yes. Why?”

“Asher is alive,” Calen said, a surge of excitement rising within him. “I talked to him. Blind Asher!”

“What are you saying?” Magdalena asked, her eyes wide and full of disbelief.

Calen did not answer at once. In his mind he saw that miserable cell again, where Drenick had imprisoned him. He could almost smell the musty scent of the rotting straw again and the moldy walls that had never once seen a bar of soap. It had been ages ago. On that night, he had not even believed in the God of the Scrolls yet.

Blind Asher, who came out of the dark and had asked in that warm, confident voice of his if he could touch him. No, there was no doubt about it. It had to be the same Asher.

Go to Ömstead and ask for Magdalena. She knows of the Scroll of Genesis, the Book of the Beginning.

It all made sense now.

He was here, not just for the Scroll of Leviticus and Isaiah, but he needed to find the Scroll of Genesis.

He looked up. “Yes, Magdalena. Asher is alive. I am sure of it.”

“What are you talking about?” Magdalena said, her voice urgent. “Asher is dead. The Council of Twelve said so. They took him away, along with my husband.”

“The Council of Twelve is stitched together by lies and deceit,” Calen said, his voice almost light. “I met Asher in a prison cell. They had thrown me in for a night… and he was there. A blind man. He encouraged me. Told me to go to Ömstead.” Warmth rose in him, sudden and steady. “He told me to ask Magdalena about the Scroll of Genesis. Now I understand even more why I am here with you.”

“Oh my…” Magdalena whispered. She stood, only to sink back onto her stool. Her face became a strange mixture of pain and deep sorrow, as though all color had drained from it. When Calen’s words finally sank in, a tear traced its way down her cheek. She turned her gaze to the stone floor.

“If Asher lives…” she murmured, barely able to finish the thought, “…then my husband may be still alive as well.”

She looked up, fragile hope lighting her eyes. “Did you meet my husband too? His name was Jonathan.”

Calen shook his head. “No,” he said gently. “Captain Drenick, the prison’s commander, released me the next morning.”

Magdalena’s tears flowed freely now as she looked upward. “Imagine… that he might still be alive,” she said, her voice breaking. “And I… I never prayed for him after they told me he was dead…”

Calen rose, then kneeled before her on the cold stone floor, taking her hand.

“God is still the God of even His smallest child, Magdalena. He never abandons us. Whatever has happened to Jonathan, God is with him. He is our rock in a dark land, a rock we can trust and upon which we can build.”

She nodded, gratitude in her eyes. With her free hand, she wiped away her tears.

“You’re right, Calen… but that Scroll, the Scroll of Genesis Asher told you about, I have no idea where it could be. We really searched. But it was all in vain.”

Calen closed his eyes, thinking.

Where would he hide a Scroll? Not somewhere the Council’s soldiers could easily find it. He must have left a clue. Something only Magdalena would understand…

He opened his eyes.

“Magdalena,” he said firmly, “think carefully. Just before the soldiers arrested your husband and Asher… Did Jonathan say anything unusual to you?”

She looked at him blankly. “No,” she said slowly. “Only that he wouldn’t tell me plainly where he had hidden the Scroll.” She shrugged faintly. “He wanted to protect me. What I don’t know, I can’t reveal.”

“What do you mean ‘plainly’?”

“I don’t know. That’s what he said.”

Calen’s pulse quickened.

“Magdalena,” he said, struggling to keep his voice steady, “he must have left you some clue about where he hid the Scroll.”

She shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Was there truly nothing he did or said… anything out of the ordinary?”

She sighed. “It’s been two years. I can’t remember everything so clearly anymore.” She fell silent for a moment. Then her eyes lit up. “Well… there was something.”

“What?” Calen tightened his grip on Magdalena’s hand without realizing it. She let out a soft groan.

“He made up a song. A song he kept singing.”

“A song?”

A smile spread across Magdalena’s face. “He wasn’t very musical. He could not keep a tune.” She smiled as she remembered. “He sounded more like a crow. Terrible, really. But he kept singing it… right up until the day they arrested him and took him away…”

“And…” Calen asked, hope rising, “do you still remember it?”

“Of course,” Magdalena said with a faint grin. She swallowed, then began to sing, her voice pure and clear.

Calen listened, captivated.

I have decided to follow the Light,
The First and Last, the End in sight,
When waters rest and storms are gone,
His hidden work will then be shown.

What once began lies veiled below,
What comes to pass, no man can know.
Where beacon-fire meets the sea,
The deep withdraws to set it free.

Beneath the wood long claimed by rot,
The First awaits, though men may see it not.
Seagulls point the way to heaven’s light,
The door to eternal might.

When she finished, she looked at Calen, a quiet joy on her face. Singing the song had done her good, as if for a moment it had brought her close to her husband again.

“Sing it again,” Calen said.

She frowned, not understanding, but obeyed.

As her voice once more filled the lighthouse, Calen closed his eyes and prayed that God would show him whether the song held a clue.

Images began to form.

An island, small and alone in an endless sea.

Waves. Rocks. Rising tides.

A Scroll.

A sense of awe gripped him alongside something darker. Danger.

His eyes flew open.

Magdalena was watching him.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I’m not sure,” he said. “But I saw an island. Very small. Is there anything like that nearby?”

Magdalena shook her head. “The nearest island is far out at sea, and it’s large. People live there.”

“Small,” Calen insisted. “Low in the water. Surrounded by mist. Almost swallowed by the sea.”

Magdalena drew in a sharp breath. “Could it be… Lumenreach?”

Calen tilted his head. “What’s that?”

“My husband once told me about it,” she said, her voice hushed. “A small island, not far from here. He called it Lumenreach, as it can only be seen when the conditions are just right.”

“What kind of conditions?”

She hesitated, her eyes widening as she remembered. “You can’t see it by day. It lies too low and is hidden by mist and treacherous currents.”

Calen leaned forward. “Go on.”

“Sometimes,” she said slowly, “after a storm, when the wind has died and the sea grows still… the water becomes like glass.”

She paused.

“The lighthouse fire reflects across it… and then…”

“Then what?”

She shook her head faintly. “It sounds mad. But the reflection stretches over the sea and reveals the outline of the island. At least… that’s what my husband told me.”

Calen stared at her.

“That’s it,” he whispered.

“I’ve never seen it myself,” she added.

A smile broke across Calen’s face.

“Just like I saw,” he said. “Magdalena… that’s where he hid the Scroll of Genesis.”

***

Marisa awoke the next morning to the sound of bleating goats. The shed had been opened, and they were on their way to the green fields high upon the hills. Winston was barking and growling, clearly taking pride in being the one responsible for keeping the goats in line.

Marisa smiled.

Home.

These were the familiar sounds and memories she loved so much. Honest work out in the pastures beneath the open sky, with fresh grass underfoot and rolling hills stretching far into the distance. Days of heaven on earth, filled with blooming flowers, the scent of goat hide and storms that felt refreshing, rather than cruel.

She heard Bram heave a frustrated sigh. Clearly that boy had a different idea about his days out in the fields. He didn’t realize how good he had it. His bitter voice barked a few impatient commands at a few obstinate goats. It was a disturbing sound that made her realize life had changed since she last took care of the goats. It would never be the same again.

She had to go to the hermit on the other side of the infamous Bridge of Echoes. She had the Scroll of Jude, and she needed to help Calen in fulfilling his mission. With a sigh, she pushed herself upright and stretched.

Glancing around, she was surprised to see that both Vorren and Ronan were already gone. Ronan’s blankets, which had served as both a mattress and a covering, lay crumpled upon the floor. Vorren had neatly folded his and placed them upon a chair.

Vorren…

Her thoughts drifted back to the long conversation they had shared the night before. She had even asked him whether he wished to give his heart to God, but he had refused.

“I need to think all this through,” he had answered. “I admit… what you say sounds beautiful, but still…”

“Still what?”

“The Council has done many good things for our land. Perhaps I ought to study the Book of Order again.” He had sighed deeply. “Maybe I simply misunderstood it.”

Marisa had nodded. “You are free to believe whatever you wish, Vorren. But don’t be mistaken. After what happened at the swamp and with Dreaven, I do not think you can simply go back to your former life. The Council will treat you as a traitor.”

After these words, stillness had lingered for a long while. Just when Marisa had begun to think Vorren had fallen asleep, he had spoken again in a weary, broken voice.

“I truly do not know what to believe, Marisa. I just need time to put everything in order inside my head. Do you think I might stay here for a while?”

“I think so,” Marisa had replied. “But this is Grandfather’s house. You must ask him.”

“I will,” Vorren had said, his voice clipped. Nothing more came. At last, a yawn cut through the dark. When she heard Vorren’s deep breathing, she knew he had fallen asleep.

Filled with questions as to what to do next, Marisa herself had eventually drifted to sleep as well.

As she rubbed more sleep from her eyes, she listened for a moment to the receding sound of the goats and Winston’s distant bark.

Far away now. Soon the calm of the farm would return. She stretched once more, rubbed her aching back and rose to her feet. First things first. She needed to wash up.

As she opened the front door, bright sunlight greeted her together with the cheerful singing of birds in the large tree beside Grandfather’s house.

It was so peaceful here. So safe.

Somewhere near the forest edge someone was cutting wood. A dull thud followed by the sharp split of wood echoed through the trees.

Marisa strained to see who was at work. Couldn’t be Grandfather. He wasn’t strong enough.

Vorren?

There he was cutting logs in an effort to make himself useful. He probably had not even had breakfast yet. The sun sparkled on his sweaty, bare back and while his muscles bulged, he lowered the ax with great force on the blocks before him.

Marisa could not suppress a smile.

The soldier might not yet be convinced of the need to abandon the Council entirely, but at least he was a hard worker.

She turned and walked to the pump behind the house for a quick wash-up. She worked the pump handle, and cold water splashed into the basin below. A proper bath would have to wait.

Just when she had finished, Grandfather appeared.

“Sleep well?” he asked with a broad grin.

“Very well,” Marisa answered. It was not entirely true. She had slept, but the responsibility of the mission, Calen and the Scroll of Jude rested heavily on her mind. Her talk with Vorren had been encouraging, but sleep had not come easily.

“Good,” Grandfather said. “I was a bit worried about you there on the floor. We’ll need to make better arrangements for tonight. A shame that my little house is so small.”

“It is fine for now,” Marisa replied. “This was only temporary, anyway.”

“Temporary?” Grandfather’s expression darkened. “You are not staying?”

Marisa shrugged lightly. “I do not know, Grandfather.” She hesitated briefly before adding, “Actually… I do.”

“Oh?”

She swallowed. “I have thought about it long and hard. I cannot leave Calen on his own. As you know, we found the Scroll of Jude. It needs to go to the hermit. Calen should be there too.”

Grandfather’s brows went up. It was clear that he struggled to understand. Staying here with him and taking care of the goats again would be his desire. But her path now led in a different direction.

“Isola and Tobin need a safe place, Grandfather,” she said at last. “It’s truly the reason we came here. I cannot simply withdraw from Calen’s mission.”

“Right,” Grandfather said. “It is Calen’s mission. But is it yours too?”

“You know the answer to that,” Marisa said softly, pushing her guilt away and hoping her warm smile would convince him.

Grandfather nodded slowly. “Isola and Tobin may stay here as long as needed. They will be safe here. No soldiers of the Council ever come here. The only one ever setting foot here was that fellow with the strange name… What was it again? Slink? Or Stink?”

Marisa burst into laughter. “Slink, Grandfather. And as you said, this place is hidden. That is why I thought of your farm.” She hesitated. “And… of course, I wanted to see you again as well.” She bit her lower lip. “I have thought about you almost every day.”

Grandfather stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her.

“I love you too, Marisa. But tell me… since you intend to leave, when will that be?”

“Soon, Grandfather.” She paused. “In fact, right away. There’s no time to lose.”

Grandfather swallowed hard while he processed the news. He remained silent for a good while, but then asked, “And … those two soldiers. Are you taking them along?”

Marisa turned and pointed toward Vorren, who was still hard at work splitting logs. “Vorren seems to like it here.”

Grandfather stared toward the forest and exclaimed in surprise, “Merciful heavens. The lad’s up early.”

“You did not ask him to chop wood?” Marisa asked.

Grandfather shook his head. “Of course not. I barely know the man.”

“He’s better than Bram,” Marisa said quietly. “You see, Grandfather, Vorren is a searching soul. I spoke with him for a long while last night. He needs God… and perhaps the farm could make use of a man willing to work.”

“But I’ve already got Bram,” Grandfather said slowly. “And… he’s a soldier.”

“As far as Bram,” Marisa began, “He’s not quite the true light in the darkness you need. I heard his impatient yell this morning. Maybe Vorren can help out where Bram is failing.”

“Fire Bram?”

Marisa shrugged. “Not necessarily fire him, but he may behave better when there’s another man around.”

Grandfather looked at her thoughtfully. “And you trust Vorren? Not long ago he was among those who were hunting you.”

Marisa bit her lower lip. “He doesn’t know God and is deeply confused. He no longer understands the Book of Order, but after serving the Council of Twelve for so many years, it is hardly surprising he does not believe in God overnight. Perhaps he needs you even more than you need him. You understand the Scrolls better than anyone I know. Perhaps he needs someone patient. Someone who can help him with his doubts.”

Grandfather rubbed his chin while he looked again at Vorren who was just splitting another log clean in two with a heavy crack of the ax. Then he nodded slowly. “I don’t know. Most men only work when they are being watched. In that respect, he seems different.” Then he added, “Perhaps he is not yet a child of God… but he clearly is not another Bram.”

“That much is obvious,” Marisa said.

“Let me think about it,” Grandfather said. “I want to help, but I just need more peace about it. And… um… the other soldier. What about him? You want him to stay here too?”

Marisa shook her head. “I would like to take him with me,” Marisa answered. “I have not asked him yet. This world has become a dangerous place and it is not a bad idea to have him along. God will protect me, of course… but still. He has more than proven himself. I trust him.”

Grandfather sighed deeply, but at last he nodded, tenderness softening his weathered face.

“I will not stop you,” he said. “So long as you come back.”

“Always, Grandfather. Always.”

She had just opened her mouth to ask whether there was anything to eat when furious barking shattered the morning calm.

Pax.

Tobin’s dog came charging from the nearby woods, barking wildly.

But Tobin himself was nowhere to be seen.

Vorren stopped chopping wood and looked up sharply as Pax raced toward them. At the same moment Isola appeared in the doorway, her face pale and her eyes fixed fearfully upon the frantic dog.

“Where is Tobin?” she cried.

“That rascal promised he would come straight back,” Grandfather muttered uneasily. “He asked if he and Pax could go and explore the forest. I saw no harm in it.”

Pax barked wildly, circling them in panic.

Marisa’s stomach tightened.

Clearly, something was wrong.

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