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Previously on Hidden Fragments:

Calen joined his first secret gathering of believers and read from the sacred scrolls, strengthening their faith. But when he admitted he already carried twelve scrolls, fear rose among the believers. How could they properly protect such treasures?

A stranger named Sylvaine Vrax suggested hiding them in the cursed Shade-Crown Ridge. Even better, he offered to lead them since he claimed to know the way. Although his advice sounded helpful, something about him left several in the group uneasy. Tobin, for one, really did not like Uncle Sylvaine, but who would listen to a mere child?

Chapter 16

A Bridge of Doubt

Marisa had slept fitfully. When she opened her eyes and stared at the wooden ceiling, the remnants of her dreams clung to her stubbornly, like dust motes caught in a spiderweb. Her head throbbed, her back ached. It was not caused by the mattress, but it felt as if she had been running all night. Despite the warm quilt Isola had given her, she shivered.

The first rays of sunlight slipped through the window, catching the dust in midair. Tiny specks spun like dancers in a joyful flutter. For a moment, the beauty almost lifted her spirits. Even here, even now, all of creation was still singing God’s praises.

But the dreams … why had they come?

It had begun last night. The meeting had been wonderful, peaceful and inspiring. She had met more of God’s precious children and they had prayed together and sung songs that seemed to open the very portals of heaven. Calen had overcome his fears and shared his story with a gentle conviction that brought tears to her eyes. He had read portions of the Scroll of John as if he were a seasoned pastor, and Samwell’s baked delicacies had been a delight. Everything had felt right.

Then the evening had shifted.

Right after the meeting Calen, Fluff ‘n’ Stuff Cake in hand, had gone straight to Sylvaine Vrax. The two had talked like old friends that were reunited after years apart. That alone had unsettled her. Who was Vrax and was he to be trusted? Like Tobin, who had voiced his dislike for the man, she too had her reservations.

Later, after the visitors had left, Calen had turned to her, eyes shining with enthusiasm.

“How wonderful to have a faithful brother like Sylvaine to help us,” he had said. “He’s even willing to lead us to Shade-Crown Ridge and the Bridge of Echoes, sharing in the dangers that await us. That is the genuine spirit of faith, standing together against evil; fearless and united.”

A flicker of mistrust made her hesitate.

“Can he be trusted, Calen?” she asked. “What do we actually know about him?”

“What kind of question is that, Marisa?” Calen replied sharply, as if she had doused the fire of his zeal with cold water. “He is one of God’s children. Aren’t we supposed to believe that?”

She pressed her lips together. That was the problem with Calen; he had only come to believe in the God of the Scrolls a few weeks ago. What did he know about deception and evil?

“Being at our meeting doesn’t automatically make him one of God’s children,” she told him. Calen’s frustrated expression startled her. It was a look she had never seen before.

“You see a devil hiding under every stone, Marisa,” he said sharply. “I know you have walked the road of faith longer than I have, but I wasn’t born yesterday. Sylvaine will lay down his life for us, just like a true shepherd. I am certain of it.”

“Well, that remains to be seen,” she muttered, instantly wishing she hadn’t said it.

“Just trust God, Marisa,” Calen muttered. He ran a hand through his hair and let out a tight breath. “It will turn out right.”

The evening ended on that uneasy note. His voice had been cool and distant, as he slouched off to his own room. She genuinely liked Calen, but his immaturity frustrated her. The mission carried so much more weight than he realized. Perhaps God had placed her here to guide him, to curb and steer him somewhat. Or … maybe joining him had been entirely her own idea. Suddenly, she wasn’t so sure anymore if she was actually where God wanted her to be.

No wonder her dreams had been so vivid and haunting.

She rarely had nightmares, but last night’s visions had chased her relentlessly. Wolves with human heads, faces twisted to resemble Slink and Captain Droskar, had cornered her deep in the mountains. Calen had been nowhere in sight. Then, as she drifted back to sleep, a second dream plunged her into a forest so dark, she could not even see her fingers. Yellow eyes blazed through the darkness, animals rushing at her with growls rumbling in their chests, their teeth snapping just out of reach.

She woke terrified. Sleep never fully returned, only a restless drift between slumber, worry and confusion until morning.

Oh, Jesus, please deliver me from these fears. Enlighten my darkness.

Duty called. She was already running late and dreams or no dreams, she had to get up. She swung her legs out of bed and as was her custom, knelt to pray, though today, she kept it brief.

Shaking off the last fragments of her dreams, she dressed and stepped into the morning, hoping daylight might calm the fear still clinging to her.

At the breakfast table, she expected Isola, Calen and Tobin, but someone else sat there as well. Her heart skipped a beat.

Sylvaine Vrax.

With a glorious plate of eggs and bacon in front of him, he was deep in conversation with Calen, his high-pitched voice clear and rambling. He spotted her immediately and gave a warm smile.

“Hello, Marisa,” he said between bites. “Did you sleep well?”

He seemed genuinely interested. Was he, really? Something about him put her on edge. But perhaps Calen was right; perhaps she did see a devil under every stone. Maybe Sylvaine was simply the help God had sent them at the right time. Who else knew the way to the hermit? Sylvaine claimed he had even spoken with the man.

Tobin smiled warmly at her, motioning to the bench beside him. She nodded and sat down.

“Good morning, Marisa,” Calen said, taking a piece of bacon. “Did you sleep well?”

“Excellent,” she lied.

“Me too,” he said, while taking another bite. “Sylvaine and I have been discussing the journey. We should leave right after breakfast. That is, if you agree.”

“I thought we were going to pray about it?”

Calen’s face fell. “Sure,” he muttered. “But it’s a good plan. If we leave soon, we might reach the Bridge of Echoes while the sun is still high. We can’t wait too long.”

“That’s true,” Sylvaine said, nodding. “‘The King’s business requires haste.’”

Calen arched an eyebrow. “Is that in the scrolls too?”

Sylvaine smiled confidently. “It is. I know my scrolls.” 

But Marisa’s unease didn’t fade. She recognized the quote from somewhere in the scrolls, though she couldn’t place it. Yet, hearing it from Vrax made her skin prickle. Something about the way he said it, just didn’t sound right.

 ***

Calen studied Marisa’s face as they stood together in the stable. Her smile was in place, but she looked tired. Why? She had said she slept well, and last night’s meeting had gone smoothly. Perhaps the weight of carrying all those scrolls was catching up with her. Still, even like this, she looked as beautiful as ever.

Last night he had been daydreaming about her; they were walking hand in hand, after their mission. In his mind, they strolled through sun-streaked fields, rabbits darting through the tall grass and flowers nodding in the breeze, while their scent lingered in the air. From somewhere distant, soft, romantic music drifted to his ears. She had playfully asked him for a kiss and, of course, he had not objected. Wonderful, wonderful visions.

But the reality was different. He could tell something was bothering her, and he knew what it was. Just before bedtime he had made that blunt statement, that he wasn’t born yesterday and that it was obvious how God was leading them. Even though he still believed the same, he understood it could not have been easy for Marisa to realize she wasn’t the only guide God could use.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

“Sorry for what?”

“I was rash last night with my words. I should have been more considerate.”

Marisa nodded. “It’s God’s work, Calen. Not our own.”

“You’re right,” he admitted. “But don’t worry. You’re still the most important guide, not Brother Vrax.”

“Excuse me?” She stared at him, disbelief written across her face, her eyes flashing with a kind of anger Calen had never seen before.

He bit his lip, feeling at a loss for words. “I—I,” he stammered. “I mean, I understand that you feel a little bypassed. We’ve been through so much together. We’ve walked through heaven and hell side by side, and then suddenly another person shows up … I get it. Really, I do. But it’s so good, Marisa. Sylvaine will help us bring the scrolls to safety. He told me a lot about the hermit living there, and it means we’ll finally be free from this burden.”

“We still need to pray,” Marisa said, but her usual enthusiasm was absent.

“Sure,” Calen replied, avoiding her eyes, so she wouldn’t see his frustration. Why couldn’t she see God’s hand in all this? The path ahead was as open as it had been in that story about God’s children crossing the Red Sea, she had told him about. No, he wasn’t nearly as experienced in the ways of God as she was, but sometimes she made things unnecessarily difficult.

“Calen?” Marisa asked.

“Yes, sure,” he muttered while avoiding her gaze again. “Let’s pray.” 

He closed his eyes, and while gently patting the neck of Hosanna, he prayed. “Lord… we want to go to the Bridge of Echoes with Brother Sylvaine. It seems like the best path. I don’t see a better one. So, uh, if this is not what You want, You’ll have to stop us in an obvious way. We can’t wait too long, Lord, so unless You shut the way, we’re going. Amen.”

He opened his eyes and looked at Marisa. “So, did God show you something else?”

Joy had faded from her face as she stared back. “You really want to do this, don’t you?”

“Well, I truly understand your concerns and I can’t express how grateful I am for your help. In fact, you are wonderful, Marisa.” As he said these last words something stirred in his heart, but he pushed it away and added softly, “After praying about it, I still feel good about letting Sylvaine guide us.”

Marisa exhaled sharply. “Calen, that wasn’t really praying, was it?”

“What do you mean?” he shot back. “What else did you think I was doing? I wasn’t out here polishing the barn floor.”

“That’s true,” she said, folding her arms. “Your eyes were closed like a proper, obedient child of God. But I doubt whether God heard a thing you said.”

Calen bit down frustration. Why did she have to be this way? Such a wonderful woman, and yet at times, she could be so stubborn. And why were they having this argument now, with Sylvaine waiting? Wasn’t it in the scrolls that the King’s business required haste?

“In your work as a Scribe,” Marisa said, “if the Master of the Guild entrusted you with a delicate text, wouldn’t you make sure you fully understood it before beginning?”

“Of course.” He shrugged and scuffed his boot against the barn floor. The rough scrape skittered through the stillness. Hopefully it was loud enough to signal they should hurry.

But Marisa wasn’t done.

“Then why would prayer be different?” she pressed. “Praying isn’t just telling God what you want Him to do, Calen. It’s listening. It’s receiving. You have to learn that.”

“Right. Understood. Can we please go now?” He took a step toward the door, then stopped as a thought tugged at him. “But remember…” He faltered, his shoulders tightening.

“What?” she asked, softer now.

“You said it yourself, back there in the woods…”

She frowned. “What did I say in the woods?” 

“Well… uh…” He hesitated. The words felt awkward on his tongue, as if he were stepping onto uncertain ground. But Marisa had said so herself, so it was right to remind her of her words. He cleared his throat and said, “You said Angus believed God gave me the responsibility to gather the Scrolls.” He held her gaze, steady but gentle. “You’re here to help. But the decision… it has to be mine. And I think we need to include Sylvaine.”

For a moment, she stared at him. Her expression shifted from dumbfounded to anger and back again. “Yes, Calen,” she said finally. “I said that.”

Relief washed over Calen. It had been difficult to remind Marisa of her role, but necessary. He was glad Marisa seemed to agree. He sighed. Leading such an important mission was no easy task.

“Then let’s get ready. We’ve already lost too much time. You get the scrolls, and I’ll get Hosanna and Whisperwind ready.”

“Yes, Calen,” Marisa said, and left.

“You sure gave us a difficult mission, God,” Calen murmured, lifting his eyes in a quiet prayer.

There was no answer. 

The heavens seemed utterly silent.

____

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