The Pilgrimage Chapter 10
As the three men made their way back from the plateau, the sage turned and walked toward his dwelling, a modest, worn structure built into the rocky hillside. The exterior was simple, blending into the desert landscape, but inside, the walls told a different story.
Files and documents were stacked high, reaching almost to the ceiling, their manila folders spilling over in some places. Dusty maps and scraps of paper littered the floor, the remnants of a life lived with a mind full of facts, figures, and secrets. In the center of the room was a rough-hewn wooden table, and on it, four files lay spread open.
Each file had a picture clipped to the front, each face worn and familiar. Brad, Julio, Shen, and Greg stared back from the photos, their expressions frozen in another time, before the war had changed them. The sage, whose name had once been on agency rosters and operational reports, took a long breath, letting the memories of those days settle.
He had once been a part of the system, a man in a targeting cell tasked with developing profiles, turning names and addresses into coordinates and missions. But something had fractured inside him over time. He’d seen too many profiles twisted into targets, lives reduced to data points, and he had come to a breaking point. One day, he walked away, carrying with him files he’d refused to destroy and a conscience he could no longer ignore.
The door creaked, and Brad, Julio, and Shen stepped inside, glancing around at the mountain of files with a mixture of curiosity and dread.
“You…you knew who we were before we got here,” Julio said, his voice low, piecing it together as he looked from the files to the sage’s face.
The sage nodded, folding his hands. “Yes. I knew. I was once someone who decided who lived and who died, on orders. My job was to know you, understand you—and sometimes, to make you a target. When I quit, I kept some of these files. Not to act on them, but to remind myself of what I’d done. And to warn others who might come after me.”
Brad looked at the files, his brow furrowing. “So…that’s how you knew. Not because you’re some kind of seer. But because you’ve been watching this play out for years.”
The sage nodded. “What you experienced—the names, the targets—it’s all happened before. I knew Greg, long before he came to you. He had his own file, his own reasons for fighting. When I learned he’d leaked those names, I knew he was accepting the consequences for himself. But he also knew, just as I did, that someone else would pick up those names and act on them.”
Shen stepped closer, his expression conflicted. “Greg…he was a target?”
“Yes,” the sage replied, his voice quiet. “But not because he fought back. It was because he knew things that made him a threat to those in power, and when he leaked those names, he sealed his fate. He walked a fine line, not unlike myself. He was willing to become a villain in your eyes if it meant waking others up to what was happening.”
Brad ran a hand over his face, absorbing the weight of what the sage had said. “So…we were just more files, more names in a stack?”
“No,” the sage replied firmly. “You were people, people who had choices, who could’ve walked away. Greg saw his choice as a sacrifice, but he also knew what it would set in motion. And you—you’re here because you accepted that choice. You chose what to do with the information he gave you.”
The sage gestured to the files, a tired, knowing look in his eyes. “These files, these targets—they’re not just tools of war. They’re the means by which we justify our actions, but they can never erase the consequences. That’s why you’re here. You wanted to know that what you did had meaning, that it wasn’t just destruction for destruction’s sake.”
Julio took a step forward, his gaze hard but searching. “And what are we supposed to do with that now? Knowing who we are, what we did?”
The sage’s gaze softened as he looked at each of them in turn. “That’s your choice. I walked away because I couldn’t stomach what I’d become. But it wasn’t enough just to leave. I had to live with the weight of knowing what I’d set in motion, and that’s what I’m telling you now. You can’t change the past. But you can decide how you carry it.”
Shen’s face was pale, his voice barely a whisper. “And if we can’t?”
The sage’s eyes held theirs with a fierce intensity. “Then you’ll find yourself haunted by the ghosts of what you were. You’ll be shackled by the weight of who you became. But if you’re willing to face it, to make something different—something better—then maybe, in time, you’ll find peace.”
Brad’s gaze fell on the files, his jaw set. “So that’s it. We live with it, and maybe we find a way to make it mean something.”
The sage nodded. “That’s all anyone can do. Greg chose to carry the cost, but he hoped that you would find a way to build something in its place. Something that doesn’t add to the destruction.”
The silence stretched, each man absorbing the gravity of the sage’s words. He was right. Greg had acted knowing what it would lead to, hoping it would awaken something in them that went beyond revenge, beyond mere survival.
The sage finally stood, placing a hand on the stack of files. “These documents, these names—they’re the past. They represent what’s been taken from us, what we’ve given up. But they don’t have to be the future.”
He stepped back, nodding to the doorway. “Go. Find something worth building. Carry the weight, but don’t let it be the only thing that defines you.”
With one last look at the files and at the sage, they turned to leave, each man bound by what he’d done, and by the quiet hope that maybe, just maybe, they could become something more.