them off, your father wrote down a message for you."
"What does it say?" My voice dry, my mind spinning.
"Not much. It's just an address. 4880 Hotkins Lane, Southworth, WA."
My heart sinks. I don't know what I expected. I wanted words of “ We are so sorry, son. We will come back for you. We have a plan.” But an address that means nothing to me?
"What does that mean?" I ask.
"It means this is where they were headed. And if Lucy was hoping to find them for help, then this is where you need to go, too."
"How do ... how did...?" How does Integrity know our plan?
"I know Lucy is more than meets the eye. I know she is our true Noblelady, Lukas. We need you to bring her back to us."
"Why now, Integrity? Why keep this from me for so long?"
"I waited until the time was right, when we could create real change."
Integrity unclasps my hand from the cuffs and hands me the paper with the address. I take it, putting it in my pocket. I know this is incriminating evidence, on many levels. For me. For Integrity. For the Humbleman who saved my family.
"You were born our prophet. That hasn't changed. Choosing the title for yourself doesn't mean you lose your freedom. It means you gain it."
I nod at Integrity as he fastens my hand back in. As he walks out of the room, closing the door behind him, I'm left trying to wrap my mind around all that Integrity shared. My parents didn't choose to leave me. They were forced. This new information changes the way I have looked at everything for so many years.
I've always felt alone in the world, forgotten. But my parents wanted me to find them again. Maybe they didn't leave a heartfelt goodbye letter for me, but that would have been dangerous. They still left something for me.
An address that will lead me to them.
I just hope Lucy can find them, too.
Because if she doesn't, all of this is for nothing.
I close my eyes and focus on my energy the way the Council wanted me to. I think of the good, decent, Humbleman who went against Conviction's command. The man who chose to set my family free. Concentrating on him will allow me to give more Light to the people at the Refuges who need it.
I just wish there was a way to channel the Light to the good people, and away from the bad.
Lucy
The smell hits me before anything else. Burning wood fills the air. Ash floats in the wind from the camp fires littering the hill. Around each one, groups of people are gathered.
I expected some sort of militant building. Barbed wire fences and uniforms. This is a farm.
"Score," Colton says, smiling, as he looks over the scene in front of us. "We made it in time for lunch!"
The property houses the same sort of trailers Reagan had at his camp, but so many more. Dozens of them dot the acreage before me. A giant white farmhouse with a big porch sits on top of the long driveway. From where we stand at the bottom of the drive, a creek runs beside us.
A dog runs up causing Timid to jump back, just as Junie leans down to the grey sheep dog, rubbing behind his ears.
"Don't be scared, sweet pea. This is Alfredo. He's the real owner of this place."
"I've never seen a dog before," Timid says, tentatively holding her hand out to the furry animal. Alfredo licks her hand and she breaks out in giggles. I don't tell them I've never seen a dog either; Timid is enjoying this moment all to herself.
We follow the dog up the driveway where horses are hitched to posts along the way. I see chickens strutting about and a few lazy cats stretched out for a noontime nap. I shake my head in amazement. These are creatures I've only read about in encyclopedias. Timid's taking it all in, wide-eyed, just like me.
Once we make it to the porch a woman comes out the front door. Her hair is in an untidy bun on top of her head, wearing overalls and carrying some sort of radio receiver that's buzzing loudly, in her hand. She's a hot mess, as frazzled as can be.
But I know her.
I know her
"What does it say?" My voice dry, my mind spinning.
"Not much. It's just an address. 4880 Hotkins Lane, Southworth, WA."
My heart sinks. I don't know what I expected. I wanted words of “ We are so sorry, son. We will come back for you. We have a plan.” But an address that means nothing to me?
"What does that mean?" I ask.
"It means this is where they were headed. And if Lucy was hoping to find them for help, then this is where you need to go, too."
"How do ... how did...?" How does Integrity know our plan?
"I know Lucy is more than meets the eye. I know she is our true Noblelady, Lukas. We need you to bring her back to us."
"Why now, Integrity? Why keep this from me for so long?"
"I waited until the time was right, when we could create real change."
Integrity unclasps my hand from the cuffs and hands me the paper with the address. I take it, putting it in my pocket. I know this is incriminating evidence, on many levels. For me. For Integrity. For the Humbleman who saved my family.
"You were born our prophet. That hasn't changed. Choosing the title for yourself doesn't mean you lose your freedom. It means you gain it."
I nod at Integrity as he fastens my hand back in. As he walks out of the room, closing the door behind him, I'm left trying to wrap my mind around all that Integrity shared. My parents didn't choose to leave me. They were forced. This new information changes the way I have looked at everything for so many years.
I've always felt alone in the world, forgotten. But my parents wanted me to find them again. Maybe they didn't leave a heartfelt goodbye letter for me, but that would have been dangerous. They still left something for me.
An address that will lead me to them.
I just hope Lucy can find them, too.
Because if she doesn't, all of this is for nothing.
I close my eyes and focus on my energy the way the Council wanted me to. I think of the good, decent, Humbleman who went against Conviction's command. The man who chose to set my family free. Concentrating on him will allow me to give more Light to the people at the Refuges who need it.
I just wish there was a way to channel the Light to the good people, and away from the bad.
Lucy
The smell hits me before anything else. Burning wood fills the air. Ash floats in the wind from the camp fires littering the hill. Around each one, groups of people are gathered.
I expected some sort of militant building. Barbed wire fences and uniforms. This is a farm.
"Score," Colton says, smiling, as he looks over the scene in front of us. "We made it in time for lunch!"
The property houses the same sort of trailers Reagan had at his camp, but so many more. Dozens of them dot the acreage before me. A giant white farmhouse with a big porch sits on top of the long driveway. From where we stand at the bottom of the drive, a creek runs beside us.
A dog runs up causing Timid to jump back, just as Junie leans down to the grey sheep dog, rubbing behind his ears.
"Don't be scared, sweet pea. This is Alfredo. He's the real owner of this place."
"I've never seen a dog before," Timid says, tentatively holding her hand out to the furry animal. Alfredo licks her hand and she breaks out in giggles. I don't tell them I've never seen a dog either; Timid is enjoying this moment all to herself.
We follow the dog up the driveway where horses are hitched to posts along the way. I see chickens strutting about and a few lazy cats stretched out for a noontime nap. I shake my head in amazement. These are creatures I've only read about in encyclopedias. Timid's taking it all in, wide-eyed, just like me.
Once we make it to the porch a woman comes out the front door. Her hair is in an untidy bun on top of her head, wearing overalls and carrying some sort of radio receiver that's buzzing loudly, in her hand. She's a hot mess, as frazzled as can be.
But I know her.
I know her
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