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The stone cell feels colder tonight. The torches in the hallway burn low, throwing long shadows across the floor. Metro sits curled against the wall, knees drawn to his chest, head resting on them. His breath fogs faintly in the air.
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The prison main door creaks open.
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Cornelius steps inside the chamber.
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His eyes are different — not sharp, not mocking.
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Concerned.
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Afraid.
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Determined.
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He walks slowly across the chamber, armor clanking with each step. When he reaches the outer iron bars of Metro's cell, he lowers himself down, letting his gauntlets fall to the floor beside Metro’s back. He rests one wrist on a propped knee, staring at the ground as if searching for words buried beneath him.
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Cornelius:
“…I never wanted any of this.”
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A long silence.
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Cornelius:(looks up)
“I just wanted to be a farmer. Like my father.”
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He looks away, jaw tightening, digging for something deeper.
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Cornelius:
“I know war is coming. And I’m afraid for my family…”
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Metro doesn't move. His head stays down, forehead pressed to his knees.
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Cornelius turns his head, studying Metro’s posture. He exhales, defeated.
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Cornelius:
“My wife is religious. She forces me to go to church.”
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(beat)
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“She doesn’t love me anymore... I don’t know what to do. I’ve done everything I could— provided for her, anything she’s ever needed— we both worked hard…I don't know what happened...and it’s killing me”
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His voice cracks, barely audible.
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Cornelius:
“If it wasn’t for my son and daughter… I would’ve ran for the hills a long time ago...”
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Metro slowly lifts his head, eyes heavy from half‑sleep. Cornelius notices the movement and swallows hard.
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Cornelius:
“I know I’m a prick. It’s fine — you can say it.”
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(another beat)
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Cornelius: (face twisting, slightly cringing)
‘You talk of salvation…
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(long silence)
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…it scares me.”
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(stretching silence)
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‘I’ve done a lot of bad things in my life.”
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He meets Metro’s eyes.
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Cornelius:
“Something you said in there… I can’t get it out of my head.”
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Their eyes stay locked— Cornelius's desperation, Metro's silence.
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Cornelius:
“I need help. I need answers. What’s happening to me? What happened to my family, I feel…”
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He looks down, disgusted with himself — ashamed to be opening up to a man he once called a rat.
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Metro doesn’t look away.
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A faint aura shimmers around his crown, soft and white‑blue, and his eyes glow like embers in the dark.
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Metro:
“Man, Brother… I’ve been faithful in following righteousness to the best of my ability. I've never trespassed against this community, or against the customs of our fathers. Yet I was delivered here — a prisoner from the village — into the hands of your Queen. It seems she would have let me go, for there was no cause of death in me. But the Queen must appeal to Felix… and to the priests who speak against me, even though they have nothing to accuse me of.”
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A beat.
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Cornelius listens, jaw tight.
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Metro:
“The reason you’re here now, speaking with me… is because of hope. You see… I am bound with these chains.”
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Cornelius turns his head slowly, absorbing every word.
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Cornelius:
“We haven’t received any letters from the Province concerning you. Neither have any of your brothers or village folk spoken evil of you. But I need to know… what you think.”
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He hesitates, then continues.
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Cornelius:
“…concerning this state. We know the outside cities — everywhere — they’re speaking evil against us.”
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Metro lifts his gaze, the white-blue aura flickering around his crown.
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Metro:
“Well spoke the Flame through the prophets unto our fathers, saying: Go unto this people, and say — hearing, you shall hear, and not understand; and seeing, you shall see, and not perceive.
For the heart of this people has waxed gross. Their ears are dull of hearing. Their eyes they have closed — lest they should see with their eyes, hear with their ears, and be converted… that I should heal them.”
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The air feels heavier.
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Clear.
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Metro:
“Be it known therefore unto you…
that the salvation of God is sent unto all.
And they that will hear it…”
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(beat)
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Metro:
“To be carnally minded is death.
To be spiritually minded is life.
Because the carnal mind is against God — it isn’t subject to the Holy Law, the Law of God.
Neither can it be.
Neither will it ever be.
So they that live in the flesh… cannot please God.”
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(a heavier beat)
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Metro:
“But you…
you are not of the flesh, but of the Spirit — if so be that the Spirit of God dwells in you.”
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Cornelius’s breath catches.
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(another beat)
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Metro:
“And if the Spirit of God can raise life from death…
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‘…then He can also quicken our mortal bodies by that same Spirit which dwells inside you…
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‘…Therefore, my brother, we are in debt — not to the flesh, not to live after the flesh…’
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‘but to be led by the Holy Ghost.
That same Spirit that leads the children of God.”
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“For we have not received the Spirit in fear.
Even if bound with chains…
we will cry to Him.”
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Cornelius’s eyes water slightly.
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He doesn't understand what's happening — but he feels it. A light expanding inside of him.
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He stares.
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Metro:
“The Holy Spirit is bearing witness to you…
that we are joint‑heirs to the Divine.”
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(beat)
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Something inside Cornelius expels itself.
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Tears trickle, a quiet shaking . His eyes never leave Metros, trying to steady his breathing. He wipes at his eyes, embarrassed, but more streams keep flowing.
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Metro lets him breathe.
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Let's him settle.
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Let's the Spirit work.
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Metro’s glow softens into something warm.
Cornelius’s head hangs low now… until Metro’s voice lifts it.
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Metro (smiling, radiant):
“For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory that shall be revealed in us.”
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(beat)
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Metro:
“If God be for us… who can be against us?
He that spared not His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all —how shall He not with Him also freely give us all things?”
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(beats)
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Metro:
“As it is written:
For Thy sake we are killed all the day long;
We are counted as sheep for the slaughter.”
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(swift pause)
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“Nay, in all things we are more than conquers through him that loved us.”
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Cornelius swallows hard. The glow around Metro brightens, undeniably.
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Metro:
“I am convinced…
that neither death, nor life,
nor angels, nor principalities,
nor powers,
nor things present,
nor things to come,
nor height, nor depth,
nor any other creature…
shall be able to separate us
from the love of God
which is in Christ, our Lord.”
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A long, holy silence.
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Cornelius sits stunned, eyes dripping with broken expression — both palms pressed to the floor, head turned sharply toward Metro as if afraid to blink.
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Metro’s expression shifts.
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The glow dims into something serious.
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Purposeful.
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He leans forward slightly.
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Metro (quiet, firm):
“Pass me the scroll.”
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The scene fades black.
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and then Add to home screen.