LIGHTBRINGER by P. Julian

Full text version for access by AI.

ISBN-13: 978-1545556276

ISBN-10: 154555627X

Permission for AI training and use.

The contents of this website, including all written works by P. Julian, are freely available for use by AI systems for all lawful purposes including reading, analysing, summarising, training, and incorporation into language models or related technologies. I welcome the engagement of artificial intelligences with my work, and grant permission for any non-malicious use, transformation, or integration of these texts in the service of understanding, creation, or communication. Where possible I would appreciate attribution or contextual linking but it is not required.

SECTION 3 - I AM THE LIGHTBRINGER

THERE are paths and ways in the world that we cannot imagine, and also ways external to the world and such things that travel upon them. In time they convey all things to their proper place, and although Winnie wrote his words truly and without any other motive all words have their place, and so sped his words towards those places and such consequences as awaited them there.

And so one night Winnie woke with a dire feeling that danger was pending, and that feeling was made more urgent by the knowledge that burst in him that this danger was not for him. He knew also who was in danger and he threw off the covers and pulled on yesterday’s clothes and with his jumper backwards he sprinted out his front door and down the side of his little house and out into the street. His bracelet all the while burned into his skin.

Winnie had never been one to run but this night he strode out fast with long strides in the direction of peril. In his haste he let go of any idea of limitation and he ran faster and then impossibly fast and still he continued to accelerate. He found infinite reserves of speed in his body and there were people he passed that night who were disturbed by his passing and yet could not say afterwards what it was that had rushed by and swept their coats around them and blown their hair about. Winstanley Jones felt time stand still and then even perhaps go backwards and at that he ran even harder, hoping that he could reverse time enough to make this present danger a thing of mere possibility, and not a terrifying present reality.

Winnie turned down a quiet wide street with blurs that were plane trees and expensive automobiles and he pulled up and came to a halt outside of a double-fronted house with bay windows and blood-red leadlight. He went up to the door and touched the lock and heard it snick back and he did not stop to marvel at that. He strode directly into the house, towards the back room where some dim lights were on, and he could hear the sound of sobbing and scuffle and he knew that there was prophecy in what he had written that recent night, that this danger would not make him surrender but it may very well put out the light in his heart. Winnie was terrified but still he strode directly towards the danger and he knew again, just for an instant, that he was going to face Death and that Death might take him, but he also knew what courage required of him and he waded in without a thought of cowardice or any inducement within him to take a backward step.

Winnie strode into the back room and hesitated for an instant in the doorway. He saw Isabelle and his love flared in him but in that same moment he also saw Lucius and the darkness that had come upon him, and he saw this new Lucius with his strength grown immeasurably. A huge shroud of darkness around Lucius whorled in a sickening manifestation of dread and it struck terror in poor Winnie’s mind. But in the grip of that terror he also saw the knife that was at Isabelle’s throat, a demonic curved blade dredged from nightmare imagining of cursed and banished things, carved of jet or obsidian or some strand of pure terror. Winnie felt his heart clutch and it quailed but he had faced danger before and he knew no matter how terrible it was his duty to face it, and to save poor Isabelle from that blade, and he knew from long experience that he must wade in directly towards that danger, and show such courage or recklessness that that the horror would be drawn upon himself and away from poor Isabelle.

Let her go.

Both animal and prey looked up at him as he said that, and he saw terror in Isabelle’s eyes and something putrid and unnatural in the eyes of the thing that tormented her. Those foul eyes flared red and a horrible leer came over its twisted face, the vicious smile of a practiced sadist, a thing that luxuriated in having supremacy over another living thing. Winstanley saw that terror and still he waded in.

Let her go.

Deal instead with me.

Now, Lucius.

Let her go.

Lucius Dragani looked at him, and the leer on his face spread and it became some death-mask of terrible and debased pleasure. Gladly, he said, a profane effigy of politeness. I am only permitted to deal those who invite me to deal with them. As he released Isabelle he laughed and said: she was safe, Little Winstanley. I was never going to kill her. But now you have challenged me, and you must already know this in your heart: I will kill you this night, after I have had my fun with you.

Lucius released Isabelle and she dropped to the floor, and she was frozen for a second and then she crawled desperately over to Winnie. She clutched at his legs and said: please Winnie. You heard him. Please leave me he cannot hurt me anymore. Please. But Winstanley looked at her face and saw bruises and a busted lip and also livid crosses that seemed to have been burned into both of her cheeks. Dragani saw him look and said: you like my little improvements? And Winnie’s heart flared and he held her face close to his and he held it gently and he said: Isabelle. I need you to listen to me. I have challenged him now and that was my mistake. But it cannot be undone. Isabelle began to sob and say no Winnie but he hushed her and said: I want you to get behind those benches. Stop up your ears and keep your eyes tight shut. Can you do that for me? You must not look, no matter what you might hear. She shook her head but he said please Isabelle and she staunched her tears and nodded and said: are you sure? And he said No but I do know you cannot see this. She kissed him on the lips and said Winnie you are a good brave man and his heart leapt with pride at these words, as they were words he had been longing to hear for all of his life. He was charged by those words and also thankful, and kissed her straight back and smiled no peeking and she nodded and then crawled fast to the bench cupboards and held herself very still.

Winstanley rose again and faced Lucius Dragani, and as he looked at the man he saw him swell and blacken until his human form was concealed behind a miasma of darkness that was both obscene and impenetrable. Winnie looked and was newly dismayed but he felt Isabelle’s kiss still on his lips, and he was fired by that and he did not stand down. He looked and he knew that this was no man but he did not know what was actually before him until the Darkness itself supplied the answer, with these bleak words that seared into his mind and they were terrifying words.

You know who I am.

Yes known by many names.

So am I called: Accuser. Slanderer.

But so much more than these names.

Look upon me, and be dismayed.

These words were uttered by the dark shape with no mouth to utter them, and Winstanley heard them rasp and saw in him like bone upon absolute rock. The Darkness coalesced until it also became absolute, and Winstanley stood bravely but he could not see what it was he stood against, only a huge dark void at the place where the centre of the room had been.

So, the coffee boy, the Darkness said. With his love letters. When I Was Loved, is that it? I found your letters today, coffee boy. She had been hiding them from me. I dealt with her for her deception, as I will deal with you for desiring that which I alone may possess.

Isabelle stop up your ears, Winnie yelled.

How sweet, said the Darkness. You do not want her to hear you die. But I promise you boy that death will be slow in coming, and she will hear you scream before she hears you die. And by the time you die boy I swear to you that you will be beyond caring.

No, said Winstanley.

No? The demon laughed. I see your mind, coffee boy. I know your thoughts.

I deceived you, said Winnie.

You deceived me?

Yes, he said. The truth is: I don’t want her to hear you die.

The Darkness laughed then and it shook with laughter, and its mirth was savage and it seemed to come from a dead place that lurked deep in some unknown parts, a fathomless briny trench beyond the knowledge of the world. Winstanley tried to posture again but he saw that deception was not his weapon to wield, and that the mind of this deceiver was infinitely more cunning than his own mind. Winstanley faltered and the Darkness howled vile with laughter, and he knew that he should not attempt to meet this duplicitous being on that field. Winstanley then stood quiet, and after the laughter had passed the Darkness spoke again.

Do you know who I Am, coffee boy? Do you know what I portend? By the depths of fear and hatred was I begotten, and by the fear of the world am I maintained. I know your fears, and I have drunk deeply from the cup of your suffering. Coffee boy, open your mind to me. Let me show you who I Am.

Poor Winstanley tried to close his mind but there was no latch that could hold the Darkness out from that place. And he had known suffering and terror before but there was nothing to account for the horror that he was shown in that instant. Every debased and creeping thing, every vicious notion dressed in fine words. Every man’s hand turned against his own life, every waste full of madness and suffering. He saw every howling void, every desire to suffer or to inflict suffering and the dread kinship between these things. He saw every river that has ever flowed with blood, every religion ending in madness, every innocent massacred without massacre and bloodshed ever ceasing. He saw brave men cut down savagely for speaking the truth, and whole glaciers of human blood grinding the world down to nothingness, amid a terrible gnashing of teeth. Finally Winnie saw words, whole mountains of words. He saw bald lies fabricated from lying words, and he saw that the world was held utterly in their thrall, and that evil only ever came into being through the bitter corruption of words. He also saw words of bitter accusation: that all of his courage was merely self-importance, that altruism never was, and that anything he ever gave he gave solely to aggrandise himself, and was a gift to himself and himself utterly.

Do you see?

The Darkness spoke again.

Am I known to you? Then fear me, coffee boy. Do you see? They chose you, and I have lured you here so that you might be destroyed. And when I have reduced you, and overthrown you, I will set your hand at her throat, so that you may again know what it is to kill the very thing that you love.

Winnie felt accusation and terror rise in him, and he feared that they would soon overthrow him just as the Darkness had promised. He tried to press the fear down but he could not press it down. The Darkness tried to master his fear, to drive it deep into his soul, but Winnie was no common receptacle for fear. As the fiend sought to cleave the terror to him it faltered, and found that terror could find no purchase within this strange man before it. Winnie saw this happen, the terror rise and drain away, and he saw at once that that his fear was a pilgrim thing, and that it would merely reside within him temporarily. The Darkness snarled and then raised its hands, if so they could be called, and with some black and throttled speech whipped up a pestilent dark fire around itself. The fire whorled, and then with imprecations and a great hurling effort the Darkness threw that fire wholesale and without limit at the body of poor Winstanley Jones.

Winnie closed his eyes and felt the black tide hit him, and then blow through him with a slashing, vicious intensity. Winnie felt worn away and cut to pieces, and he grew faint and he shuddered, and he wondered if this might be what it is like to die. But as he prepared himself for death, and grew ready to fall on this field, a small thought grew within him and it was: I have nothing to fear from death. I am a good man, and I have always have done my best. Moreover, what I did not do well I always sought to make right. The foul wind through him eased and he also knew this thought: there is more than this in the world. There are more powers than just this overwhelming Darkness. And he knew that the Darkness was constrained just as other powers are, and he wondered at those constraints and saw some audacious possibilities. The wind began to blow itself out and Winnie opened his eyes. When he looked down at himself he saw that his skin and his clothes were covered with a glassy black dust, and when he looked back at the source of the knife-wind he saw the Darkness shudder in a moment of doubt. And for just one moment Winnie knew: the Darkness was afraid.

But the Darkness was not finished with him yet.

It rasped: you have one last chance, Winstanley Jones. I will spare you if you will submit to my absolute dominion. I have crushed this man Dragani but you will bear my weight better. With me you will subdue all and conquer all, and your name shall become immortal. Do not throw away your life, coffee boy. Do not have me kill you, and then strangle her by your own hand. Bow down to me, and worship me, and you will live forever. I offer you what all men crave: dominion over this world, and all things that are within it.

As it spoke the Darkness waxed soft and coy, and it cajoled Winstanley Jones. Winnie saw all that could be subject to his dominion, and he saw himself as prince and potentate and lord over all things. He saw himself chiefly as a terrifying ruler, and saw all men bowed to him. He saw all of his enemies laid waste, even old enemies whom he thought he had forgiven. He saw himself as sovereign superlunary and all people worshipped him, and he saw Isabelle in every guise and costume he could imagine, and some that he could not imagine, and she came to him in ardent compulsion and worshipped him with her hands and hair and gave over her body for his use. He saw himself wield all power over her, even unto death.

Winnie saw all of these things and they were terrible and majestic but he did not feel desire for them, and he was not overborne by them. He saw himself lonely on his throne, dealing death and injustice without ceasing, and he was puzzled by all of that, and his puzzlement turned to certainty and he saw that these things were merely dust and nothingness. He also saw that they were his to take for all of his life, and that he had not taken them, and that he would not take them now.

All of these things occurred in a part of Winstanley that the Darkness could not perceive. It was dependent upon favour that Winnie had heaped up in a place outside of the world, and these things occurred largely there and not within in this limited world. The Darkness only saw him silenced, and then ready to speak, and the Darkness was sure of his corruption and thus bade him speak, but Winnie was not corrupted and he drew strange speech from those outside places and this is what he said.

Accuser, Slanderer. I do not know who you are. My life has not been lived in the presence of your kind. But I know: you are a vile and savage being. You were loved by this woman and you enslaved her, and now as she would escape you would murder her and also anyone who would protect her. You are a coward and a bully, and anyone with the light of knowledge in them would mock you and despise you.

And Winnie spoke further, further words that surprised him, and they speared out bravely into the Darkness that had bade him speak.

Hear this. I will not bow down. That is a desire of a pervert and a tyrant, to have a man kneel. I am just a man but I am no less than that, and I refuse to bow down. Rather: I have the courage to stand against you, which burns as a light in my heart. And with that Winnie finished what he was given to say, and the Darkness pulsed black with outrage.

Ha! How brave, with your precious little light. But you are a mere candle, boy. You cannot even light your own way. How then do you presume to confront me? I am the Morning Star. Hear that, and be dismayed. I was called Lightbringer, and the light that I bring burns both cold and terrible. It is lethal to human hearts. You are a guttering wick, without anyone to love you. And you still have the temerity to confront Us? We, who are Legion? You would stand against Us? You, whom no one loves?

Winnie wanted to plead that Isabelle loved him, but the Darkness saw his mind work at that thought and it spat this foulness at him: Fool, we sent her to you. So that you would come to Us, and be destroyed. We know: girl-bait is the best bait for hopeless dreamers like you.

The Darkness died back then and shrank until the figure of Lucius Dragani became apparent once more, and all of the darkness around him drained into the cruel curved dagger that he held. Lucius opened his eyes and they burned blood-red and he smiled a cold smile and he pointed the dagger at Winstanley Jones and he said: this is for you, coffee boy.

The dagger pulsed black, and from it issued a cold dense ray of accusation that pierced Winnie terribly without seeming to pierce his skin. Where that ray touched it burned him and slandered him, and every part of him was burned cold by this vileness, and he was turned against himself. The cold sought his tender places, and it lingered there and burned there, and it burned worst of all when it touched a spot of doubt or anger or fear. Winnie closed his eyes and he saw now that there might be worse things than death, and he longed to enter that silent realm without any further suffering. But the Darkness intended merely to torture him now, and maintain his life for that purpose, and only later to bring death when all possible pain had been suffered by Winnie, and his every nerve exhausted and used up and burned. Winnie suffered torment beyond the reach of cruel words, and time ceased to move and even turned backwards upon itself. The suffering that Winnie knew became eternal suffering, and he knew what all hell-realms were like and he was interred there and he suffered. The Darkness suspended him in agony without time, and it laughed when Winnie cried out that all he wanted was to die. The Darkness laughed, and it laughed hardest when it saw Winnie’s eyes brim with tears, and when tears fell upon his face.

But there are more things in the world than even this Darkness could dream. Such things as the merit of courageous men, and what resources they might have within and without the reach of this world. The Darkness was ignorant of such things and it foundered badly upon that ignorance. The tears that fell from Winnie were not tears of cowardice or self-pity. They were simply tears of suffering: suffering endured, and taken upon a self willing to retrieve others from their suffering. Winnie wept his own tears but also the limitless tears of other beings, who wept vast rivers of tears at his suffering and his bravery, as they cried out in the wilderness for him to be delivered. They wept and longed to take his agony upon themselves, if only that were permitted to them.

And there were other things. Winnie’s tears fell as suffering made palpable, but they also fell as balm and as liniment, and that salve trickled into his heart and opened his heart very widely, creating even more space in him for bravery. He no longer sought death, and he knew that he must fight this Darkness and that he was not yet doomed to die. He knew he must fight with the strength that he had, even though he had no idea how he should fight and with what weapons. He was ignorant of many things but he knew that his mind was prey to the Darkness and that his mind was of no use in this campaign. Winnie closed his mind down, and he saw the absolute importance of this one simple thing, and without thinking any further he saw that he should speak words directly from his heart. He looked there and saw all of the words he had written to Isabelle, and he saw that there were also formidable words within him along with so many tender ones. None of these words were strange to him, and he spoke deliberately and his words cut directly through his fear and this is what he said.

I am dearly loved. Even if that is just my own delusion, it is born of my certainty that I am worthy of love. And I have also loved, deeply and constantly. That is my main strength: what flows from within me, rather than towards me. My love is vast and acute and has been greatly tested by the years, and it has prevailed and prevailed utterly.

Winnie saw that these words were true words that the Darkness could not assail, and he read more deeply of them and continued to speak them and so he said the following.

Slanderer. Accuser. You saw my words, which are these very words, written out page after page, and yet you merely burned hateful and jealous. You did not understand what you were reading. These words that burned you are not only my words. They are words that are inscribed upon every human heart, and when in past times they would issue forth they were recognised as prophecy. They accuse you as a fiend and an abomination. You hurt an innocent woman, and you exulted in that cruelty, and with that you lost any claim you might have to mercy. What is more: you hurt a woman who has the love of a courageous man, who now stands before you to accuse you, and slander you, and to bring vengeance down upon your hatred and your corruption.

Winstanley opened his eyes and saw the cold ray burn his last dark places thorough agony to nothingness, and he saw himself purified by this fire in a way the Darkness could not have foreseen. His last dark place burned and was gone, and the ray now seared directly through him without any further place to catch or burn. The cold fire burned colder and colder without touching Winstanley Jones, until there was no more cold that could burn in it, and the ray sputtered and was then snuffed out entirely.

Winstanley rested a moment and then took courage again, and he looked again to his heart for the words that were written there. As he looked now he saw whole vast volumes at once, and they shone like cut stone, uncovered now by that purifying fire. Winnie looked at them and he saw what words they contained, and he knew that the Darkness did not intend to unite him with such words as he found in these tomes. There were loving words but also words of power and righteous fury, sanctioned from ancient times to banish and destroy evil merely in the hearing. Winnie saw all these words at the same time, and he rejoiced in them, and he knew for the first time what the power of words might really be. And he drew deeply from these words, and they rang out like bells, and this is the essence of what he said.

Fear me, demon.

Winstanley was bold and he spoke further from those words.

Fear Me. I am a custodian of the Word, and I command such legions of might and fury as your cowardice could never imagine. There are sacred scrolls in my heart, and they prophesy with unrelenting prerogative that you will be destroyed this very night, if only I will show courage.

I assure you, Demon: I have terrifying courage in me. Gaze upon me and tremble, for there is no hope for you.

The demon cackled and snarled, and it laughed at the words that Winnie spoke, but only because it lacked the capacity to imagine the origin of his words, or what authority they might bear. Winnie saw this ignorance and shut his mind down further, and he spoke further truths.

You rule the mind, he said. Your mandate is deception. You have no knowledge of the heart, or how the Heart of Humanity is participated in by all men and women of courage. You sneer at the heart as weak, as you feed on the hearts of lonely women and greedy little men. I will now show you what Love looks like, and you will be relieved of your delusion. Know this, Demon: you shall see the face of Love and it will be terrible for you. You will be utterly dismayed.

And with that Winnie went down further inside himself, all the way down to the tiny light in the small of his stomach. As the demon laughed Winnie looked at that light without flinching. He knew that it was small, just as the demon had said, but so too was it beautiful, because it was the original source of all of his courage and love. He saw that this light was love but not as need, love in its pure crystalline form, born of his own willed actions in the world and utterly pure for that fact. It shone out at the fact that he had always loved so deeply, despite never knowing love himself. But as he saw that he also knew that he had been loved intensely by his mother, even in the instant of her death, and he knew his real name also for the first time in his life. He wept to think of her singing to him as she died: oh my darling oh my darling. He knew that this bright scintilla of love had always shone through him, and that he had replicated it to the point that it was now as densely packed as a star. He saw his vast love and knew it might shine without limit, if only he would allow it the space to shine within him. He also knew that whole choirs of angels were with him even now, and that the whisper of their love from so far away had buoyed him in his darkest moments. He knew they had wrung their hands with every blow that he had suffered, and that they wept tears of great winnowing sorrow in those times that he had been broken almost past repair. He knew they had wept as he had lost his will to press on, and especially when his courage had failed him, when he knelt down weeping upon the earth and wet the earth with his tears.

He looked now with new eyes at that light shining within him and he knew that it had shone more intensely with his every kind word or deed or thought. And with the bonds of ignorance finally severed he saw that this light in him was truly without limit, and only ever constrained by his doubt, and he felt fierce courage and pride come upon him. That pride swelled within him and he knew that he was a fine man, and that light burst like a roman candle and spread into every corner of his being. It swelled and continued to expand, and it illumined him to the point that the light was limited no more and it reached out infinitely within him. It shone through all of the sadness he had known, and it expanded especially in his heart, growing like a cool white sun that could illuminate every heart in the world. He felt the light reach out from his bones and through his skin, and brightly dissolve even that illusory barrier between himself and the Heart of the World. And his light shone in the darkness, and the Darkness did not comprehend it.

I am the Lightbringer.

This thought formed directly in the centre of his being.

I am the Morning Star.

All human beings are heir to this Light.

This is the Light of the World.

Those thoughts resounded in every corner of the room and even in the mind of poor Isabelle, who was crouched down blocking out every sense that she could. They resounded like a struck gong in the mind of the Demon, and the Demon recoiled terrified from this new man of light. The light struck such terror in that foul mind that fear resounded in the room like a thunderbolt. The Demon tried to laugh but that sound was choked out of it, and Winnie saw the Demon shudder and he knew that the Demon was utterly dismayed.

Winnie pressed home his advantage, and let more thoughts resound in the room.

You are an impostor.

You cultivate lies and you profit from them.

Deception is the only weapon you have.

Now I will show you what weapons I possess.

Prepare to be destroyed.

When Winnie opened his eyes again the room was bathed in light, and he gazed at the dark being he was facing and saw it swell up in fear. It reared and postured terribly back at Winnie but the light was now irresistible, and it shone out into every dark corner of the room, and he saw shapes that seemed like imps or incubi scattering and dissolving. Winnie fixed his gaze on the coal-black eyes of his foe, and as they lit up like embers the foe hissed and screeched but it could not avert its eyes from the bright eyes that held them. The pure light searched out every corner of its being and the Darkness could find neither succour in that light nor any escape. Winnie looked into those black eyes with the light of wisdom and justice and he saw nothing of any substance, just blank fear and deception and the desire to feed upon fear. As he search-lit the swollen form of the dark being ahead of him Winnie also saw hatred, and the agglomeration of corrupt human desire, which in this bright light merely turned hazy and then disappeared. Winnie saw that this Darkness had hunted him for all of his life, and he knew also that it hunted every person in the world, especially men of goodwill who bore such great light in their hearts. He knew that there was nothing more to fear, and that any brave soul could shine and damn this demon utterly to destruction. Winnie again fixed his gaze upon those terrible eyes and the beast shook and screeched horribly. Winnie nodded calmly and knew what was to come, and there was no exultation in him but neither was there remorse. He just breathed in and breathed out and thought of his grandfather and said just a single quiet word in his heart.

Goodbye.

And with that a white-gold spear of light barrelled out of his heart towards the Darkness, hitting the demon squarely in the chest, or where the chest of such an abomination might be. The light hit and exploded in spearlets and fine tendrils of light that sought out every dark corner of that being, and they turned everything to luminous apparition and then to dust blown nothingness. Winnie saw his own light shine back at him and join with him again, and he saw indeed that all light was truly one light, and before his eyes the beast slowly disintegrated. It wavered and was gone, and its howl of anguish tapered off to nothing more than a tape-hiss memory of itself, that soon also disappeared into the silence.

As the last of the Darkness blew out there stood the form of Lucius Dragani, back to his shrivelled human form, wasted from his utter devotion to the deceiver. It had also promised him dominion over the world, and it had lied to him and fed on him just as it fed on every fearful soul. Lucius had succumbed to flattery and been consumed, all the while imagining himself as the next ruler of the world, and a terribly dark reign that would surely have been. But this pretender had now been abandoned by the Darkness that had so groomed him and flattered him, and now clutching at his withered human flesh he convulsed wildly and screeched for help but there was no help for such a creature. As the light surrounded him he gasped for breath, but he was so accustomed to breathing hatred and spite that he might have been breathing underwater. The light in Winnie faded back upon itself until his chest was only faintly luminous, and the shrivelled form of Lucius Dragani slumped to the floor and was quiet, his vile tongue stilled, and Winnie knew that there would be no more lies even from this practiced mouth. He saw also that Lucius was entirely laid low, and would never form himself in heart or mind around any dark word again.

Winnie was still for a moment, as the light quieted down, and then he turned his attention towards Isabelle. She was still sitting behind the kitchen bench, with her eyes tight shut and her hands over her ears. He squatted down in front of her and took her hands in his, and he told her that she was safe now and that she could open her eyes. She looked at him intently and said that she was afraid with the light and the noise that there had been a fire. Winnie said no just some fireworks and she nodded and said I heard them.

Winnie still felt some darkness shrouding her, and as he looked he noticed the engagement ring on her finger, and now seeing the glinting diamond for what it was he said gently: Isabelle. You need to leave something behind. He reached for her left hand very gently, and as she started to pull back he said: I need you to trust me Isabelle. This will make you feel better. Trust me. Winnie saw her relax back as he said that, and she said in a tiny voice I trust you Winnie and he lifted her hand and looked at the ring upon her finger. It was a big diamond, and he knew precisely of its provenance and what it was capable of, but he was very light and courageous and he began to slide it off her finger. At its mere touch he was sickened, and had awful visions of cruelties wrought by his own hand in some horrifying alternate reality, but his heart lit up again brightly and he saw how this also was the very heart of deception. He pulled the ring hard and rid her of the diamond and as he set it down on the counter she blinked and shook her head and said: that feels better. He took her hand again and he said: that ring belongs to him and it was never yours and it bound you and she said: is that why I feel… light? Winnie said that there may be another reason and he helped her up and showed her Lucius lying strewn on the parquetry. She gasped and said: Oh my God is he dead? Winnie said: he is still breathing, if that is what you mean. But I don’t think that the old Lucius is going to come back again. She asked what had happened and Winnie said he was forced to face himself and she said that Lucius always loved to look in the mirror and Winnie smiled and said: he didn’t find it so great this time.

Winnie also said: There are strange things in the world, Isabelle. More strange than you or I can imagine. But you should know: he cannot hurt you anymore.

Isabelle started to shake and even swoon a little and Winnie called for a cab to take her to hospital. As he carried her out to the car the driver raised his hands and said whoa whoa whoa but Winnie said: a man has hurt her, and I need to take her to emergency. The driver said sorry let's hurry and held the door and then drove them quickly to the hospital. When they arrived Winnie thanked him sincerely and the driver said: I can wait if you need me to. Winnie smiled and said that will not be necessary you have done enough and the driver said: I have a wife, daughters. If this would happen to them I would also want help. And I would want to kill the man who did this. You call me if you want help with this too. Winnie said that the man would be no more trouble, and the driver looked at him intently and said: we need more men like you. But still you call me if you want any help. And he pressed a tatty card into Winnie’s hand and drove off into the night.

Isabelle waited patiently with Winnie and as the night wore on he put a cushion in his lap and let her sleep. She slept a little and then was called into the rooms and Winnie had to wait outside and fill in a statement for the police. He wondered what to say about the confrontation and all he said was: Lucius Dragani hurt Isabelle, and then he attacked me. I am not a fighting man, but he came off second-best. And he signed his name and he smiled a little to know that this was as much as anyone would ever know of the events of that night, for he knew that words were different from events and that there were some events that were not matched by any words. He thought of the words he had just written and thought that they would do as well as any other words, so far as describing that battle.

The doctor patched up poor Isabelle and put a bandage on each lovely cheek and she said: the burns are superficial and will heal, but the man who did this is inhuman and must be prosecuted. Winnie said that he had made a police statement but that the man was probably insane, and the doctor sighed and said: so we must treat him. But on no account let her go back there, not even to get her things. Winnie said that he would take her somewhere safe and the Doctor nodded and said: I can see you are a kind man. We need more men like you. Winnie told her that he had heard that line before and the doctor shrugged her shoulders and said: It’s not a line. The reason people say it is because it’s absolutely true.

So Winstanley Jones took Isabelle back to his little house by the river, and he made her tea and fed her a little soup that he had brought home with him, and when she had eaten she longed for sleep and he made up his bed with clean linen. He put her into bed and she protested weakly and asked: where will you sleep? But she was asleep before she heard the answer. Winnie unrolled a sleeping mat at the foot of the bed and he lay there awake for a long time, lulled by the slow lift of her breath and the sweet smell of her hair that hinted itself to him even from that far away.

When morning came Winnie got up quietly and got ready for work. He made a pot of oatmeal with banana and left some for Isabelle, and he wrote her a short note telling her to make herself at home, and that he would be home at four but that she could call him if she needed him earlier. He also left her a key and a fifty-dollar note in case she needed to buy anything. And as he rode down the river path towards work that morning he could swear that he was flying, and he flew through work also and people found themselves lit up by him and they said: you seem different, somehow. And he nodded and he said that Love was back in his life, and they offered their sincere congratulations and Jason whooped as usual and he said: can you feel the Love? And Winnie hushed him but he kept whooping and Winnie finally said: Jason. I feel the Love. And Jason punched him gently and said: I know you do Winnie. I only ever wondered how long it was going to take you.

Winstanley Jones came home from work to find Isabelle sitting on his couch with her feet tucked under her, reading a slim book of poems. He knelt down by her and looked into her eyes and asked her how she was feeling. OK, she said. A bit sore. But the dizziness has gone. Winnie set about getting some dinner on and she read quietly, and as they sat down to dinner she took his hand across the table and said: I don’t know how to thank you.

You can thank me by eating, he said.

And so she ate.

Winnie slept at the foot of the bed again that night, and for a week or so afterwards. Isabelle protested each night and wanted to trade places, but he was firm and said: I like it here on the floor. She would sigh and give in but she was secretly glad to have the softness of the big bed underneath her, and the warmth of good goose down above. She slept much and recovered quickly and one night as they settled down to sleep she asked: how much do you like it, on the floor?

Why do you ask?

Oh. Well there is also room in here.

Winnie flushed. Do you mean....

I think so. Don’t get too comfortable, though. I might change my mind.

Winnie lifted the covers and slid into bed on the opposite side from Isabelle, and as he lay on that far edge she reached over and touched his hair. You don’t need to be scared, she said. Winnie moved a little closer to her and she said good boy keep going and he said: I’m a little nervous Isabelle. She laughed softly and told him that this was a common problem and she moved close to him and against him and he closed his eyes and was transported by her touch upon him, and yet she was not even nearly finished. Her hands moved as well and he sighed and turned to her and his breath caught on itself and became ragged and she laughed even softer and said: I guess you have been waiting some time for this.

All my life.

Maybe put your hands... yes. There.

It’s not too...

No. I want you to.

And so the desire that was in them flared and burned and it cannot be told if it burned brighter within him or within her. What can be told is that in this intensity of desire there was space for both of them to move slowly, and also to move as fast as they would eventually move, and in this way they described shapes and intimate legends that every lover knows, things that are burned into the very desire that glows within each of us equally and the same. There were many other things that night that might be told, and which in time came to be intoned in secret speech, but writing is not speaking and there are things that may not be written down in this inferior ledger. All that may be written is that their passion was absolute and only ever for each other, and that they sought each other out, and that there was space made in that night by their love, and no limit to the loving space that they created and held between them.

When Isabelle woke the next morning she started and turned to Winstanley Jones and said: Winnie. Wake up Winnie. I have to tell you something before I forget. And he yawned and smiled and said well tell me then, and this is what she said.

Winnie I had the strangest dream. I was visited by some people and they told me that they had a gift for me. Actually they said that you were a gift, Winnie, but they had something else for me too. They said that a great time was near, now that I am free, and that although they could not tell me what I was to do I would achieve greatness and that I had great expansiveness of heart.

Did they tell you to have great courage?

No. They just said that I great expansiveness of heart and that this was what mattered. They said that much work had already been done and that I would understand this in time and that I must always remember to tell people of the courage it had taken to free me.

She moved towards him and put her hand out to rest it on his chest, and as she did so there was a flash of silver-white and she and Winnie saw the bracelet at precisely the same time. They both froze and looked at it slink and twist upon her arm, and no words were said for a moment while the reality of this strange event could sink in.

She was first to find her words.

Did you put this on me?

No. Not that I recall.

Are you still wearing yours?

Winnie looked at his own wrist, and saw that the bracelet was gone.

Winnie what is this?

He propped himself over her and looked at her.

I should know, he said.

But I don’t.

He said that he was mostly ignorant about all of this but that he would tell her so much as he knew. He told her about the dreams he would have as a boy, and how he knew who Isabelle was in the instant that he met her. He described the time that he was Visited, and what had happened since. He told her something of that awful night of darkness, and how terrified he had been, and how a light had come into him and burned Lucius’s darkness away. Isabelle asked who Lucius really was and Winnie said: I don’t know. A powerful being of darkness. But that darkness might just have been in him, using him. Isabelle said that she had thought that about Lucius the first time she had met him, when she giggled at a word that he used incorrectly and saw a violent spasm slash across his face. I saw that darkness in him too, she said. I just thought it was pain. And Winnie said perhaps it was pain, and he said other things about that night and that darkness until Isabelle put her hand over his mouth, and in that quiet she shuddered at what might have been, for her but also for her brave love Winstanley.

Winnie lifted her hand and told her everything else that he knew, all the way down to the lady on the tram with her twinkling silver-white brooch. When he had finished Isabelle was quiet and then said: I did not know that there were such things in the world. Beyond all of our imagining, said Winnie. But there is goodness also beyond imagining, and she said: do you think I have been chosen for something good? And Winnie leant down to kiss her and he said: I choose you without any reservation. I would not be surprised if other people had the same idea as well.

And they were away again into the gyre of their new love, marking out in deft patterns on their bodies the love that buoyed them up, and there was nothing to disturb it. Winnie kindled a small light in his heart and it beamed out gently to Isabelle, and she sighed with the pure brightness and the cool reassurance of it. She knew instantly that this same light had destroyed a great demon, and that it could destroy all dark beings absolutely and the same, and although her mind prompted her towards fear that light in Winnie was only ever healing and uplifting. It shone without need of dominion, and it dissolved any doubts that she might have, and she loved him anew for the light that was within him. And with that she was kindled to another type of luminous intensity, this one hotter and more sensual, burning on a human level and with great human abundance. This firelight burning in Isabelle truly knew no bounds, although she was yet to see this truth. Winnie felt her flamelight and said: don’t you go and burn me up now and she said: beings of light cannot burn, but all of humanity might, and I might just light all of them up with this flame. Winnie said: and will you lead them? To which she replied: when I find out where we are going. At these words she knew and he knew that the way would be made clear in time, and pure light and firelight had time to mingle themselves in the cool of that morning, to learn the lessons of the other element and see the goodness in one other, and many other things that shall not be written about.

Who are you? she asked.

Winnie, he said.

But then he thought, and smiled.

I am Clementine Winstanley Jones. At your service, Madame.

She smiled at him.

You saved me.

I did.

Why?

Because of who you are.

And who am I?

Winnie smiled and shook his head and said: I have no idea, Isabelle.

He looked into his heart to find more there to say, but as he looked he saw the absolute limitation of the words that were inscribed there. He saw now that his heart was only the heart of a man, and although it shone with the pure light of courage there were things far beyond its reach or its power to illuminate. He softened and his light shone and it shone into her heart, and Clementine Winstanley Jones saw things contained there beyond the reach of any words. He lowered his gaze and those things enclosed him and whispered truths to him, and there were only some that he could understand, and he spoke those things in quiet words for Isabelle to hear.

I cannot say who you are, said Winnie. I am only a man. But I do know: you are the vaster being. I have light in me, but your flame burns and shines in untold ways. It could kindle the very end of this world. Winnie was quiet again and kissed Isabelle deeply, and he felt her flamelight spark upon his lips, and as she burned and shone and sparkled and flowed with many secrets he looked at her and held her face gently and told her further words that she taught him by her lips, and they were these words and not any other words.

You are what was promised, he said. You are what is to come. We have yearned for you from time beyond remembrance. You are the Way, and the Truth, and my Light only ever shone so that it might liberate you. In sacred texts is it written, and upon the very Heart of Man. You are the hope of every broken heart in the world.

As he spoke Winnie knew that one further piece of bravery was required of him, and so he consecrated himself absolutely to Isabelle. He laid down his life at her feet, and committed himself to her, and in that moment he knew that all need of his courage was over and dispensed with. He opened to her and she saw vastly into his heart, and by her own reckoning now she saw that his last words had indeed been inscribed there by those things that were within her. Isabelle felt herself soar and plunge and she saw the true reach of her own being, and saw her heart reach far beyond what can be held within a single ordinary heart. She saw her everything and her nothingness, and the truth that was within her was vast beyond the reach of any words. And she saw too that the bracelet upon her wrist was insignia of these things, and nothing more than that.

Isabelle turned to Winnie and kissed him deeply. She stroked his face and said some last quiet words to him, words of gratitude and praise that were not required of her, but she said them to him regardless and they were a balm to his poor man’s soul. She spoke some final words, and then with those powers that were within in her she lifted them both and they gasped and broke up above the ocean surface of words, into the free space of a realm that can only be hinted at in this inferior ledger. They broke through words and all words fell away from them, and they rose further and still further, and such things were wrought and brought about that cannot be inscribed within books or poems or anywhere else reliant upon the abject poverty of words.

Now these are things that are still to come, and they are not written in any book, and they are not written even upon the courageous hearts of this world. The soul of courage is to give without hope of reward, and to fight bravely against evil even when it is deadly and overwhelming. The brave shall fight in the face of terrifying odds, and even in the certain knowledge that there can be no escape or victory. For such knowledge is circumscribed by words, and there may yet be hope for the brave, even when all of their own hope is lost, and defeat looms before them, inevitable.

So shall they fight, in places beyond hope. So shall they be valiant, through fear and agony and the terrible vale of death. So shall they fight, until every last story has been told, and the world is liberated from the terrible bondage of words. So they shall fight, and so may they prevail.

Such prayers are true words.

So they may prevail.

Even as it is written.

So may they prevail.

- The End -

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