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Night reigned over the world. Gloomy shadows hid the moon, depriving the living souls of the last grain of light, a violent wind blew, and the waves roaringly crashed against the shore. Only a madman would have thought to leave the house on such a night, but Angelique, stubbornly going against the fierce wind, always lacked common sense.
She lived according to the canons she knew alone and saw the road where others would have rushed from despair into the abyss. She knew how to survive. She forgot about what it means to live a long time ago. Seeking out a barely visible grain of light among the shadows, Angelique carefully warmed it in her palms and kindled the flame when, it would seem, all hope had already been lost. Here and now. What was some kind of wind to her, when the brave Goldsboro was fighting the waves ahead, and had faith in a happy outcome shining like a beacon?
After a thousand lonely years and the abyss that separated her from her former life, believing in fairy tales was simply a sin, but Angelique did not know how to give up. After all, staying in the middle of the road open to all winds was so simple, it was much more difficult to be able to find her way out of the darkness.
The gloomy shadows were already circling overhead, inviting her to their crazy dance. The shadows threatened her that dawn would never come, that all attempts to warm the fallen star in the palms of her hands were in vain, that it was in vain that she left home on this damned night and that the king's dragoons were already following the trail. Angelique only pulled her hood deeper and stepped onto the slippery rocky path.
How many times did she climb up, breaking every moment and risking flying into the abyss, but each time the light of hope led her out of the darkness and did not let her fall? Life taught her not to give up, but sometimes she really wanted someone to reach out when she was about to break loose. However, on the road open to all winds, Angelique continued to stand alone.
She has been on her own for too long to just believe. And now the adventure, in which she herself got involved, seemed to be another insane decision that would lead her nowhere in the end. But the Captain of the Goldsboro was made of steel and stubbornness, and this was encouraging. Despite the storm and the wild cold, Angelique could not help smiling. An hour ago, frozen and distraught with her own insolence, she boldly negotiated with Reskator, when everything seemed doomed to failure in advance. However, luck smiled at her, the pirate offered her a cup of coffee and agreed to help. Why? One day Angelique will have the courage to voice the question that tormented her, but now she was much more interested in the fate of her friends - the Huguenots. So she waved her hand to the shadows that were gathering overhead, and bravely took another step.
****
The Captain of the Goldsboro, gloomy and sullen, with his whole appearance reminiscent of the current bad weather, stood on the bridge and peered into the night. Torn and disturbing clouds rushed somewhere overhead, in the west the lightning flashed, ripping the sky with silvery flashes, the ship swayed on the waves, but he still stood determinedly and looked into the darkness. For so many years, having lost the habit of relying on anyone and resigned to the idea that trusting people were stupid and fraught with consequences, the ship's captain now desperately needed a good friend who would listen and who could promise that everything would work out at the end.
The woman who a few hours ago turned his usual settled world upside down, at least, had those whom she considered friends. The man chuckled and crossed his arms over his chest: what did she owe so much to a bunch of narrow-minded psalmists? What could she, even in a shabby brown cloak, be able to find in their parchment-like faces and blank eyes jealously guarding their faith?
The answer came by itself, making him shiver from the terrifying simplicity: faith. Despair, loneliness, the eternal struggle for, and more often than not, against the whole world, killed a long time ago, burned out and scattered into the wind that feeling that was commonly called faith. Neither the owner of Goldsboro, nor Angelique simply believed that a miracle could happen, difficulties would be resolved with a good outcome, and good, as in the fairy tales that his little son loved to listen to, would surely triumph over evil. They were too used to relying only on their own strength to believe. Once he already called to God, and God heard him, but soon life set the nets so that it was impossible to walk along the edge without being caught. The Huguenots believed. They believed even in those times when any hope of a happy outcome was doomed to failure.
He missed it. And that was precisely why, over and over again, he started everything from the beginning, in the depths of his soul, not even admitting to himself that he believed. Likewise, Angelique saw in them what had long been burned to ashes in herself. Her faith.
The storm raged, waves hissing crashing against the side of the ship, and the man, merging with the night, peered into the darkness, trying to see the figure in the brown cloak. He did not dare to voice his only one request, considering such a gesture sentimental, but he did not take his eyes off the shadows. The assistant walked over and stood beside him.
"You have to take a bit of rest, monsignor, the morning promises to be rich in incidents."
"I can’t, Jason, I just can’t."
"Have a cup of coffee, at least, I remember your passion for this witchcraft, and I will replace you on the bridge."
“Thank you, my friend,” the captain said in response, realizing that the friend he had been looking for for so many years was always there.
"Go on. And yet, Monsignor, although she brought all the troubles of the world onto our heads, I know that she is something dear to you, therefore, you should know: she will return."
She will be back.
The captain cast a quick glance into the night and walked off the bridge.
The End.