Excerpt from Sanctuary of Darkness In the Beginning 1 I stared out the window, watching the final moments of day. The sun had vanished behind the rim of trees in the west, and the long, mournful shadows that had once stalked across the estate only minutes before had now faded into the darkness that had become the night. I glanced toward the direction of the tabernacle. The olden wooden structure was too distant for me to see or hear what was going on, but I knew the townspeople were seated and listening to the long sermon Louis had to give. It would probably be another hour or two before he would be done. Releasing a heavy sigh, I took a seat on the patch of straw that served me as a bed. I had just gotten home from my evening ride with Laurence into the pastures, and wanted to write the days events into my journal while they were still fresh on my mind. I would start with the dream I had had the night before, which I had been having for the past week. The Third of April, The Year of 1597 I'm not one for believing in dreams, but the dream I had this night passed does seem to require some attention. I have dreamt it before. I hadn't made record of it, though, for it had not seemed of relevance, but this was the third night I have dreamt it. It starts with me in the pastures that lay just beyond this small town I now call home. I'm riding alone, which is unusual, for I always ride along with Laurence. In the distance I can see someone; a lady with long, raven black hair that travels midway down her back like a dark waterfall. She's painting; her elegant brush strokes traveling lightly across the canvas. I dismount my horse and walk closer, focusing on the painting. It starts to become clearer to me, and when I realize what it is, I stop. It's of me, my arm outstretched over a young maiden who is lying on the ground. I take another step forward, trying to make out more of the details, when she turns to face me. Her eyes are brown and untamed, like a forest; vast and lush, engulfing my soul. I can't help but feel weak in her presence. She seems to possess me in every way, as if I'm under some kind of spell. She reaches out one of her delicate hands to touch my face; I can feel it, soft like velvet upon my skin. I pull her closer to me, leaning down to kiss her inviting lips, then I wake. I told my good friend, Laurence, about the dream and about her captivating beauty. All he could do was ask if I thought she really existed, especially in these pastures. “The only person believed to live within these pastures is the witch leFaye, and that's only gossip,” he had said. His dark brown eyes had glittered like two dark pools above the smile he had on his young, handsome face. “Gossip or not, I do believe someone lives in these pastures and their soul is calling out to mine,” I replied, bringing my pale mare to a stop. He raised a brow, eyeing me in a peculiar manner before stopping along side of me. “This dream is really getting to you, isn't it?” His smile had disappeared, being replaced by a look of concern. “The dream has got to mean something, it keeps reoccurring,” I stated. “To have a dream once, maybe twice, that I could understand just being a dream. But to have it three times within a week,” I paused and stared into the depths of the pastures. There were still a few hours left to the day before nightfall, and I could see the distance ahead clearly, but nothing, and no one, seemed to be anywhere. “There has got to be some meaning to it,” I finished, looking over at Laurence with a hopeful expression, but I could tell by the look on his face he knew not what to tell me. Turning again to stare across the great expanse of field around us, I felt as if I could feel the presence of someone calling to me, and, though I did not mention this to Laurence, I knew she existed and was there somewhere. I only had to figure out the entire riddle to the dream and then I would be able to find her. I had honestly been hoping that Laurence could have helped me decipher its meaning, but he seemed more intent upon proving the dream meant nothing, rather than helping me find the girl from my vision. “Think of it this way,” he said after a moment of silence that seemed to cause me to turn my attention back to him, “it must not be these pastures.” He gestured off toward the distance with a quick flip of his hand. “Only the witch leFaye is believed to live here, and we both know a witch can not appear angelic.” A sardonic laugh escaped my lips before I remarked. “You've been listening to too many stories. Only a fool believes a witch can not be beautiful.” “You've heard the stories the townspeople tell.” His face grew serious, as if he were reciting words God himself had confided in him. “Some of them claim they have met her in these pastures, and barely escaped with their lives,” he emphasized the latter part of the sentence, as if it were important. “The fools probably got frightened of their own shadows and made up the stories so they didn't seem quite so cowardly,” I retorted. “Besides, barely escaping with your life from a witch doesn't prove that she is not beautiful.” He gave me a look of disbelief. “Titus, you've heard those stories. They tell of her grotesque ugliness, her twisted features, and of how she reeks of evil and death.” I laughed a sharp, mocking laugh. “So does Louis, but they would all be willing to follow him blindly into hell.” Laurence sighed in exasperation. “Titus..” “Laurence,” I said, leaning close to him. “Those are just empty words told by a bunch of superstitious fools who are so tied up in their own stupid religious beliefs that they could not even begin to understand that beauty can exist outside the boundaries of their foul religion.” “I wouldn't say that aloud in town. You would surely be tried for blasphemy. I still remember the horrible fate your mother paid for speaking against the church.” His eyes started to tear up from the mention of my mother, Marianna. She had spited Louis to the last, not allowing one scream to escape her lips as the flames consumed her, and my sister, Sarah. Louis had announced to the congregation that Marianna, and her daughter, had been conspiring against the church for quite some time, and that he had tried to sway them from their evil ways, but to no avail. Seeing that time only caused their ideas of treason to get worse, and the fact that he believed they had convinced others to follow in their ways, he decided it was time for a little demonstration to those considering to conspire against the word of God. Using his wife and her daughter for the demonstration, he had them burned at the stake for the entire town to watch, ensuring I was there to see it all so I would never consider rebelling against him or his religion. My eyes grew dark, my face distorted in anger. “Oh, but the church won't stay the law forever. I'll see to that. One day I will have the strength to stand against that bastard, Louis, and when that day comes I will spit on all his beliefs and I will see to it that his church is burnt as my mother was.” Laurence shook his head, sending his long, light brown hair whipping about his face. “I can't believe you at times. You sometimes seem more driven by your anger than anything else.” I turned my eyes towards the town. “I have a lot of reason to be angry.”