Katcher sighed, “It is working.”
“Good. Be on guard!” Jarron arced his sword to his right, she angled left giving him room. He sidestepped to the left and she to the right. Back to back, yet mirroring each other’s moves in smooth coordination. They were tethered. “Focus on my energy Katcher. We’ll get through this.”
***
She breathed in deeply, feeling the connection to Jarron St. Sebastian. Brother, she thought. It was what she needed. He was a bright angelic light, reminding her of Mahalel. A light she can secure her essence to. Fear was still there, but she was no longer paralyzed by it. With Jarron St. Sebastian fighting behind her, she longer feared her essence being consumed by demons. If she died, she would die fighting and she would ascend to the peace of the heavens.
Her brother’s sword hummed, the vibrations low and long, the sound reverberating and pulling on her courage.
The warmth gathered from Gaia began to flow and swirl around her limbs. It rose, up her calves, up her thighs, and met the heat radiating from her heart. What had started as kindling roared into a blazing fire, and her own sword sprung to life within her hands. The blood red stone glowed, choreographed in the darkness with the blue fire of her soul brother’s blade. Like a faded echo, she could hear Jarron encouraging her, giving her the confidence to keep fighting against the demon beast. For once, she felt whole. Gone, was the gnawing pain of losing Mahalel. Gone, was the confusion of losing her identity. Gone, was the sickness of being surrounded by demons. In the moment, she was a warrior. A soldier with a command, and she would exact it.
Hers and Jarron’s movements slowed, easing with caution as the last vestiges of the demon extinguished. She turned to him, her breath sawing. She bowed deeply, gratitude for the Guardian overwhelming her. She descended to one knee, fist to her heart.
He sheathed his sword behind his back. The movement fluid and automatic. His gaze ablaze as if the fire of the Great Angel Michael danced behind his eyes. Heterochromic eyes were sharp from the fight, but softening as he stared at her. “Katcher get up. What are you doing?”
“I will serve The Order.” She announced, her head bowed.
He placed a gentle hand beneath her elbow, and pulled her up. “Why are you kneeling?”
She stepped into him, her eyes searching his. “How do you not know?” She sheathed her sword next to her hip. The blade feeling like she’d owned it all her life. The stone had stopped glowing.
“Know what?” He looked confused.
“What you are.” She placed both hands on her hips, and squeezed her eyes to stare at him better. “You have no idea.”
Jarron St. Sebastian’s brows pinched. His handsome face twisted in confusion.
“It does not matter. You will understand soon enough.” She backed away.
“I’ll take your word for it. For now, we have to figure out how to get out of here.” Her brother was looking around, jaw muscles twitching as he seemed to ponder how to escape their desolation.
***
Jarron turned, a singular, pulsing white light catching his attention. His breath caught, trapping hope in his chest. “Will.” He walked toward the distant point of light. The white light continued to pulse calling out to him, guiding him through the darkness of the Nether. Giving him a destination in a landscape with no beginning and no end.
Behind him, he could feel Katcher’s steady pace, and her stare drilling into the back of his head. “Should I tell you?” She’d been quiet since they started walking.
“Tell me what?” He looked ahead. The light dimmed momentarily, but had returned to its slow pulsing rhythm. He hoped Will was alright. He twisted to look at his companion. She was looking down, her raven locks swung forward on her face, hiding the pale skin. In the dark of the Nether, she almost seemed ghostly. She looked up slowly, her gaze catching his. “You are evolving.”
“My powers are. It’s from the transmutation.” He confirmed. He felt stronger, better, and since Will’s intervention, he felt in control of his growing powers.
“Yes. Your powers are growing. Changing. But so are you.” Katcher’s voice was soft, thoughtful.
Jarron scoffed, unsure of what Katcher was talking about. But he didn’t care. At the moment, all he wanted to do was get them out of the Nether. Somehow, he managed to lose himself from the possession. He swallowed a hard lump, his jaws clenching. He had no idea how the dark soul had dislodged. He wasn’t sure if it was by his doing. One moment he was ready to hunt down Katcher and kill her. Then the next… the next was… he couldn’t remember. It was like he had a void in his memory, until he saw Katcher again unconscious, and he was waking her.
He wasn’t curious about Katcher’s observations of his growing powers. He already knew they were changing. But he was worried about his lost memory. What happened? What if it happened again and he got to Katcher this time? He thought back to the dark soul that had been inside of him. He cringed, his thoughts going momentarily dark.
You can’t get rid of me that easy. The dark energy had returned, but holding back. Hovering like a clenched fist about to strike. Aren’t you curious?
Jarron clamped his jaws, nostrils flaring at the disgust roiling through his gut. “Get away!” he growled.
The dark energy laughed with menace. Make me, angel boy.
“I got rid of you before.”
Did you? Your little girl friend is right. You are changing, the voice mocked him.
Jarron whipped around, knuckles cracking at he swung against an invisible opponent.
Painful laughter surrounded him, making him feel small and insignificant. You are nothing, Anakim. The dark energy grew around him, suffocating him, deep pressure crushing his lungs. You will not get away from me again, it snarled.
Dark tendrils latched on to his consciousness attempting to penetrate his mind deeper, trying to force control. He fought, remembering the guarding measures Caleb had taught him over the years.
You are strong. I can understand how that idiot of a general lost you. He could feel a strong finger caress his jaw line. He flinched, not wanting the creature touching him.
The air thickened, concentrating to form the shape of a tall man. Steadily, the visage became visible to reveal a male with his height, hair, face, and even his unusual eyes.
But the identical man had a dark aura surrounding him. Even amidst the black landscape of the Nether, the being’s dark aura was deeper and darker, an energy he felt before when he had been imprisoned. The demon king. “Baal.” He hissed as dawning darkened his mind. He pulled his sword, watching his dark twin mimic his movement.
Baal ran towards him, sword held in the same fashion as he did. Michael’s sigil warmed in his hand, burrowing into his palm, clearing his mind, body, and soul of any dark influence. He felt clear as crystal, with the same sharp edges to cut down an enemy. He charged Baal, no longer concerned of any connection the demon king may have had on him.
Images of the Great Angel, Michael glowed within his mind. Flames powered by the sun, and ignited by divine light encompassed his vision as he charged Baal. Raising his sword, ready to strike with a killing blow, he leapt up ready to deliver death to his dark reflection.
He watched his doppelganger’s eyes grow wide, hatred darkening the colors, before turning a glowing white. The demon sneered before disappearing. “Another time.” Baal hissed right before a blinding flash of pure white light burned through the darkness and Will appeared above them; black wings flared, spread wide to the sides, and gleaming white rope readied like a lasso. Will looked huge, powerful, ready to inflict serious harm. He swooped down, wings angled sharply. His flight dissipated the remnant shadow left from Baal’s disappearing form.
Katcher ran to them, sword unsheathed. The glow of the red stone casting an eerie glow against her face.
Will landed on guard, the gleaming white rope looped diagonally across his torso. He looked about, furrowed brows held tight above hardened eyes. “Are the two of you alright?”
<
br /> Katcher and Jarron caught each other eyes, a bond having formed between the two. They nodded, each one seeming to acknowledge each other’s trial.
Will nodded once, and wings burst forth to surround them in a dark wall of black feathers. “I had no idea. Baal. I tried to stop him. He was everywhere. I couldn’t contain him.” Will swallowed, jaw muscle twitching with stress. “Let’s go.” Will’s wings enclosed tightly around them, the jump back to San Francisco starting instantaneously.
Wings unfurled, uncaging them. The bright halls of Level 3 blinding him. Taking a step forward, Jarron shielded his sight from the beam of light shining against one of the walls. He could hear voices from the gym, and practiced shots from the range. He steadied himself, the sudden onslaught of stimulus coming on too strong, making him dizzy.
Katcher was under his arm quickly, steadying him. Katcher, his new friend and sister, the affection igniting White Purity--connecting them as it did in the Nether.
“You need to sit.” It was Will, under his other arm. “The Nether’s energy is still hindering you.”
The mind meld with the angel was re-connecting. If a Dark One can’t contain Baal, what can The Order possibly do? he asked, afraid of the answer.
“There is always a way.” Will’s voice was low, contemplative, a promise riding upon the words.
Lesson 3 was over.
How many more would he have to pass?
Chapter Sixteen
January 25th, Bimini Island
“Toqeph!” Fawna called out. The great angel was flying across the field, his massive wings fanning the grass just beneath his belly. Happiness radiated from him. She could feel it in her heart as she neared, making her smile with pure joy. “Toqeph.” She ran toward him, hoping he would hear her before he took off flying again. “Toqeph. Don’t go.”
Dark wings retracted and disappeared instantly as he turned and acknowledged her with a dip of his head. “Fawna.” He smiled.
She looked up, his height up close was greater than it was from a distance. Smooth skin covered perfectly molded musculature, his leather armor adding an air of danger to an otherwise beautiful being.
“You heard me?”
He bowed. “Yes. Always.”
Fawna was reaching for him, one more step and she would be in front of him. Just then, her stomach churned, roiling with nausea as she felt yanked from the space. She was falling, circling into a vortex. Her body feeling heavier by the second. Gravity and hard ground were coming up fast, its pull yanking her forcefully and slamming her awake.
“What the hell?” She bolted up, fully awake. She must have been dreaming. She released a breath, her mind searching for confirmation she was awake. She looked around. Her coverlet was on the ground. She was on the couch. The clock across the wall read 11:11. She hadn’t been asleep that long. The dreams were coming faster and stronger. She spoke with Toqeph.
He saw her.
She hesitated getting up, wondering if they could have a conversation. Her and Toqeph. Maybe she didn’t need Mariana to help her understand. Maybe she could figure it out herself. Find the answer in her own dreams. Toqeph could help her. She knew he would.
The winds were rustling outside, churning the waters near the beach. The air felt moist with the distinct smell of rain thickening the air. She stretched, letting a satisfying yawn deflate her lungs. She needed to go outside and secure some things before the storm came in.
Warm winds were blowing through the yard, tossing small pots from the garden table and onto the ground. “Ach! Sabine’s herbs!” She ran outside, trying to catch a pot as it fell from the garden table. Bending over to pick up the clay shards, she let out a frustrated sigh. Sabine had spent months trying to cultivate the rare herbs from seeds. The seeds themselves were extremely hard to find. Her mother would have a cow if these were blown away.
Fawna lowered as her hair whipped about. She scrambled around the garden, grabbing smaller, lighter items to bring inside. The winds began howling as she looked toward the shore. “Damn it! The boat!” She growled.
Her small wooden paddle boat lurched on the beach as strong waves pushed and pulled, trying to get it out to sea. The boat was a gift from Dex and one she’s had since she was twelve years of age. She couldn’t let anything happen to it. The boat served as much of a getaway for her as it did for her parents. Barefoot, she ran for the shore’s edge.
The tether on her boat snapped like a whip. She cursed out loud. She’d been putting off changing out the ropes, this was karma biting her ass for being lazy. She dove in the soft sand, reaching for the end of the frayed rope just before a large wave pulled at the small vessel. It was a tug of war with the water. If she lost, she’d be playing Little Mermaid.
Any other time and it might have been okay, but in this storm, no way. The water was dark and rough, and who knew what kind of undertow was forming beneath the surface. With a forceful heave, she yanked on the brittle rope. She was determined not to take a swim tonight. The twines snapped like straw and unraveled in her hands, the force too much for the dried-out fibers.
She fell back, landing squarely on her bottom in the heavy sand. She crawled before she could build up to a run. No way she was losing her boat. She dove again and caught the rope, but most of the boat was already being swept out in the water, and dragging her with it. The strength of the water was too much to overcome. She was pulled in easily, her efforts to counter unnoticed by the strength of Mother Gaia.
Refusing to let go of the rope, the craft was no longer just a possession, but her lifeline. The fast currents swept her out farther and faster than she anticipated. In a matter of what seemed like seconds she was in the middle of a raging ocean. The horizons were dark and the moon was absent making it difficult to place where she drifted.
Praying she hadn’t floated into the Devil’s Triangle, she pulled herself into the boat. She was soaking wet, cold, and frightened. The waters she normally loved were angry and vengeful; not wanting any vessel, human or otherwise to ride upon her waves. Anything caught in her turbulence tonight would be tossed and discarded.
She could feel her small craft lifting as if the waves were rising and carrying her in the air. She peeked over the edge of the rocking boat, “Oh god, no!” she cried as the boat dropped down and flipped over into the churning waters. She was pushed under, the crash of turbulent waves acting like steam rollers on the surface. She fought against the heavy siege of the sea as she was separated from the boat, and she sank deeper into the depths.
Her lungs burned, the reflex to take a breath becoming too great to fight. She had never been a great underwater swimmer. Why didn’t she take those lessons from Dex? Regrets, she thought. There were so many things she hadn’t made time for or got the courage to do. So many things still unsaid, the first love she would never experience, the adventures she’d never have. Thoughts were fading, swept away by her dimming consciousness, just as the brightest white light radiated toward her sinking body.
Strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her against the force of the currents. She was still underwater, deep in the ocean, she could feel the weight of the water crushing around her. It was in her lungs, in her body. The salt swelling every cell in her tissues. Who could be in water this deep? She had been ready to pass out. How was she still alive?
“Fawna, what are you doing here?”
The voice warmed her soul. It was so familiar and full of love. Toqeph? Is that you? She asked in her mind. She was dreaming. This was a dream. She wasn’t drowning. Now things were making sense.
“Yes,” Toqeph answered softly, and she felt a large hand cup the side of head. Her whole skull tingled and warmed. “I’ve healed the cut on your head.”
She knotted her brows; worrisome she thought. Her dreams were getting more vivid, more intense, talking back to her.
“I am sorry, child, but this is no dream.”
Pushing up to sit from the ground, it didn’t quite register what Toqeph was saying.
&nbs
p; “Of course, it is. Otherwise I would be dead.” She was confused. Groggy. The dream weighing heavy on her mind. It felt too real.
“I saved you as you were falling into the ocean’s abyss.” He stood up and took a step back from her. He offered his hand. “You’re on my Island. My home.” His voice lowered, much as his gaze lowered to the ground.
She took his hand, his strength pulling her to a stand with ease. She could see him so clearly. She could feel the energy coming off of his body. See the dark hair falling in waves around a kind face, the sad eyes behind the silvery-grey pupils. She reached for the black leather armor, her hands trembling. It was the same armor--embossed with a sacred compass and omega on the chest plate. She’d seen this so many times in her dreams. The leather was supple, but rigid underneath. The same armor Tal had touched before he died. She pulled her fingers back quickly as if burned by the realization--her situation was real. “I’m not dreaming.” She said it out loud to confirm for herself.
“No, child.” His voice was soft, warm. The same voice she’d heard on her porch, and on the cliff side.
She twisted in her spot, first looking to the right, and then to the left where she caught sight of an all too familiar structure she had seen a hundred times over in her dreams. The tower rose above all the other buildings on the Island. The outside a bright white with perfectly carved steps on all four sides. The tower’s top was a flat, open space where sacred ceremonies were held. In her dreams, a heavy wooden table had been centered on that landing. It served as a stage where the evil queen carried out her plans to kill Toqeph. He had been shackled, pained, pleading for his people. She winced as feelings from the dreams came alive in her now. She grabbed for her necklace, grateful it hadn’t been lost in the sea. She blew out as the crystal’s soothing influence eased her system.
“You know the tower. You have seen it.” Sadness was in his voice.
She nodded, unable to utter her true feelings about the building. She hated it. It was the site of Toqeph’s ruin. She wanted to be angry for him. She twisted, wanting to focus on something else. Toqeph’s Island was intact. Large buildings made of the same white stone surrounded the tower, many with tall columns, and intricately carved walls. The streets were covered in perfectly cut bricks, and brightly colored cloths adorned entrances and windows.
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