Kerivan

The church was cold.

Kerivan rectified that by sitting where the sunbeams shined through the stained glass, which illuminated him in red, green and blue. He sat with his face in the light, and breathed deeply. Peace. He was here for peace.
And the letter.

He listened to the choirs practice against one another, while the priest rehearsed his sermon.
“God is among us,” the priest called out across the pews. “Right now. He is here.”
Kerivan shrugged his shoulders and closed his eyes. He loved being here. Not so much on Sundays, when he was forced to attend, but during the week, when it was his choice. There was no place, in his mind, where he could find more raw aesthetic than an empty cathedral, filled with the honesty of a stumbling Gregorian chant and the humility of a priest battling his nerves.
He felt human here. He waited for the letter.

Several years before, he and Tennaris had their last big fight outside this church. It was their second break-up. At least, it was when Tennaris told Kerivan they had to stop talking, months after their relationship ended.
“Keri, I would like to end contact with you and make a clean break between us so that I can find my own way to move on,” Tennaris said.
He handed Kerivan a necklace that was gift during their last anniversary; their sixth.
“I know we've had a lot of back and forth over the last year and a half, trying to resolve the relationship we had. And I am sorry for the circumstances. But I am asking you not to contact me anymore unless it's a professional matter, and to let me be the one to get in touch if at some point I feel ready,” he said.
Kerivan stared at the necklace bunched up in his hand, and slowly tried to make eye contact with Tennaris’ brown eyes that reminded him of root beer candy.
“I…” Kerivan stuttered.
“I wish you the best,” Tennaris interrupted.
Kerivan tried to think straight, but was too confused by the moment to form a stronger thought. He just kept staring at the necklace. Tennaris leaned forward and gave Kerivan a quick hug. He slipped something into Kerivan’s back pocket, and then walked away, as if trying to catch a bus in the rain.
“Take care…” Kerivan said and sat down on the steeple steps.
It wasn’t until several weeks later that he pulled the note from his jeans. It read simply:

I am going to find what we were once looking for. I will find it. And I will share it with you. Be at this church in 5 years. I will send a letter. –T

From the sheer madness and confusion of the situation, all Kerivan could do was shove the note in a drawer and forget about it. Every so often, he’d stumble upon it while cleaning and be reminded. This very morning he realized five years had passed. With a shrug he rushed to the church.
And he sat in a pew in the back, and waited for the letter.
When the choir wasn’t singing, and the priest wasn’t talking, the sound of wind echoed across the stone walls. It was an old cathedral, doubtlessly cracked and weathered enough to allow a steady stream of air in. Muted steps along the aisles interrupted the silence more. Kerivan watched as church members slowly swept between pews, and an altar boy watered plants where the choir stood. He could hear the pencil scratches of the priest, and shuffling of papers. There was a lone woman speed-reading a bible in the front pew, and as she turned the pages, it sounded like a dove flapping its wings.
The choir started up again, and Kerivan closed his eyes. He had been sitting there for hours, but didn’t want to leave. Even if there wasn’t a letter, he found peace here. He needed that more than anything. He laid down on the pew and let himself drift into sleep. He had no idea how long he was gone when he felt the body bump against his feet. He started up and shook himself awake.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said. “That’s very rude of me.”
“It’s fine,” a man said. “I’m here to see you.”
Kerivan’s eyes shot open wide.
“Oh, um, ok,” he said.
“You are Kerivan Knowlan, right?”
“Yes.”
“I have your letter,” the black-clad messenger said and handed Kerivan and envelope.

Kerivan ripped it open, amazed that it was actually here.

Dearest,

When you get this letter, five years will have passed. I walked away from you, from the church, from the town, from our life. I left you to your graces, and cannot imagine where you are or what you are doing now. I’ve no doubt it’s all good, though. You are an amazing man, and able to accomplish so much. 

I’ve found what we were looking for. I have it. All those years, that talking, and my mindless chatter on and on about my dreams have come to fruition. 

I have my empire, Kerivan. I have our kingdom. 

Join me. The messenger who came with this letter will guide you back to me. Join me. Even if it takes another five years. Join me.