So that the Truth is not lost

So that the Truth is not lost

The wind smelled of salt and something else.

Something old.

She was never silent.

But that night, the silence carried weight.

Philip walked quickly.

The light from the torches refracted

against the walls of his sanctuary,

creating shadows that slower than the wind.

As if they were slowing down.

As if they were thinking.

— “Master.”

His voice broke in the night.

Inside, calm.

Exces

sive.

He stood by the body.