Paradox Love: Paradox Love Book 1

by Dorothy Gravelle

  He’d made his decision. To give Grace what she needed, he was prepared to accept a regression equal to the denial of free will to one million souls, of every soul on his world. Yet even with the prospect of that colossal debt, the sickening feeling of conflict was gone. He walked to the front of the house and stepped out the door. He left with not a frown upon his face, but an actual smile. Yes, he’d pay the price. Of course he would pay. And perhaps it would be worth it in exchange for their greatest adventure yet.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Abigail was a city girl. She liked the hustle and bustle. She liked the noise. She enjoyed the smells wafting out of restaurants. She drank her coffee each morning on the balcony of her high-rise apartment, to the sound of honking cabs and purring traffic. She’d always been a go-getter and she could not conjure an environment more conducive than the fast pace of a living city.

  She had been born as a single flame, her combustion so powerful that it had propelled her well beyond the birth journey of any soul on Castellans. She knew it was a blessing and a curse. She was an overachiever. She expected a lot from herself. She knew that her life experiences of late had been exercises to work on her weakness. And that weakness was an expectation that everyone else should work as hard as she did.

  During her last time on Earth, she had become a mother with just that conviction. She was driven and she wanted her children to be equally driven. She’d been too critical, too persistent in her wishes that her daughter push herself to the breaking point for the sake of this or that achievement.

  In the end, it had cost her dearly. Unable to sustain the constant stream of her mother’s criticism, Abigail’s daughter eventually withdrew from her, until by the time of Abigail’s death, the two were not even speaking.

  She knew that she would continue to be presented with situations that would help her to let go of her consuming need to drive others to achieve. It was clear that her friendship with Gabriel was also in part designed to address this weakness.

  He was easily as accomplished as herself. And yet, he had no difficulty whatsoever in forfeiting the benefits of his achievements. In fact, he seemed to delight in thwarting advancement in exchange for the simple pleasure of seeing to Grace’s happiness. For ages, it had irked and befuddled Abigail. His indifference to his own growth was the epitome of foolishness.

  There were times when her frustration had her feeling that she needed to save Gabe from himself. There were times that she simply felt that she knew better than he what was good for him. And this latest situation was a prime example. Once again, she was playing that role, protecting him from his own foolhardy decisions.

  Yet, over lifetimes of experiences, she was learning, ever so slowly, to loosen her vice grip, to lighten the heavy loads she bore herself and had placed on others. It was still difficult, so very difficult.

  Sitting in her favorite spot high above the city sipping her coffee, she knew that he would be arriving soon. Before her, the key to the transference room sat on the table. She took a slow deep breath and held it before letting it out again. She was about to face a difficult test.

  The doorbell rang. She walked through her apartment, its ultra modern décor a reflection of her love of refinement, yet simplicity. Clean lines and sleek surfaces were seen in all directions.

  She opened the door and Gabe entered. Without a word, he followed her to her kitchen, where she poured him a coffee before they both headed for the balcony. Gabe made his way around the table, past several potted blue hydrangeas. They were Abigail’s favorite.

  It was clear by the placement of the key that she’d made her decision. He took his seat and smiled at her.

  “I wondered at times if it would ever come to this,” he said as he placed his coffee on the table.

  “I think I worried over it more than you, Gabriel.”

  He smiled.

  “I’m sorry I’ve caused you such grief.”

  She took a drink and rested her cup in her hand.

  “You know, Gabriel, there have been times I envied you. I used to think you were crazy,” she smiled back at him, “reckless with your supreme right. Not using it for any noble purpose. I couldn’t understand why you would not join me on the Council. Why instead you chose to take your lumps, unnecessary lumps. Your sideways trips and backward steps. I never understood it. And yet I could see your enjoyment in every moment. You made no apologies for your choices.

  You lived for the sake of living. For the joy of it. For her joy. I have to say I’ve had a hard time doing that. Purpose of living is my obsession. And I have pursued it to such a degree that I’ve often experienced not the slightest joy in living. In seeking my greatest potential, I’ve overlooked all the good parts.”

  He could have guessed every word she’d just said before she said it. They were eternal friends. He knew her struggles. She knew his. And true friends loved you through your struggles, loved you more because of your struggles.

  “You’re too hard on yourself, Abigail. And besides, you’ve got plenty of time. We both do.”

  “That we have eternity is one thing, Gabriel. But how we choose to spend it, that is entirely another. I don’t know if you can understand just how much I’m going to miss you.”

  Well now, she did know him, didn’t she? Another smile and this time the slightest pink in his cheeks.

  “I have to go with her this time.”

  “I know. You’ll be vulnerable.”

  Abigail looked to the key. She thought about snatching it from the table and jumping off the balcony to fly away with it to another end of their world. He could see her mind working.

  “Been a while since you exercised your wings, Abby.”

  He half expected her to do just what she had in mind. And Abigail was fast. Faster than him. If she wanted to do it, he’d never catch her. She reached for the key, her hand on it before he had time to react. She kept her eyes upon it and then, she moved it closer to him before slowly retrieving her hand.

  “Too often I’ve feared the end. Too often I’ve set myself up to meet deadlines, created self imposed punishments for my failures. I need to learn to relax.” She lifted her hand from the key. “Now, pick it up, Gabriel. Pick it up before I change my mind.”

  He decided it was best to do as she suggested.

  “Thank you, Abby.”

  “My pleasure.”

  “It’s not your burden, you know. It’s mine.”

  “Yes, and I have released it to you,” she replied.

  And although her heart was suffering from the pain of both the letting go and the realization of the sorrow to come, Abigail was blessed with the release of the burden.

  Gabe had never asked her to carry the load. She’d taken it up, because she could not stand to see him fail. And now, finally, she was surrendering her need to have him take a path of her choosing. They sat together a little longer, drinking their coffee before he rose to say goodbye.

  * * * * *

  Abigail stood at her balcony and watched Gabe exit the building and walk down the street. She didn’t understand why he chose to walk so much when there were far superior modes of transportation.

  She looked out over the city, pondering the wonder of their magnificent world. Castellans, as all words, was home to imperfect beings. Most were striving toward ultimate perfection. All were on the journey. Yet with each new advancement came a slew of new challenges.

  They had begun as a fledgling world of newborn souls. As such, they began at Earth school as very primitive forms of life. Millions of experiences and what might be termed lowly existences were necessary. It was all education. It was all progress.

  The million souls on Castellans might be experiencing life on Earth as colonies of ants, for example. And for a millennia, that would be the reality for every one of them. In due time, they would have learned enough, progressed enough to earn their next ascension.

  One such ascension produced a celebration as had never been seen on their world, for all ci
tizens of Castellans had ascended from countless lifetimes on Earth spent as ants. For the next level of education, they would experience life as caterpillars, each aspiring to achieve the noble goal of transformation to a butterfly. Their world had exploded with renewed excitement at the news.

  Some ascensions were modest and some were extraordinary. All were celebrated. And the time for celebration had returned. Having spent countless lifetimes experiencing Earth life as human beings, Castellans had advanced to the point of an ascension which would change the nature of their educations for all time. For Abigail, it was of particular significance.

  It was as Pietra had described to Grace. Earth was vastly populated by zombies, human beings spending lifetimes very much haphazardly and without direction. They were immersed in only the material, never questioning nor pondering the nature of their existence.

  For the souls of Castellans, the coming ascension meant that going forward, their world would not produce a single zombie born into life on Earth. Each soul of Castellans would travel to Earth to discover his or her purpose and spend their lives pursuing it. The advancement was their most pivotal yet. Their world had the potential to change the Earth, to help all souls living on Earth and all those to come.

  Anticipation of the pending ascension had begun to grow as fewer and fewer souls were being sent to Earth of late. Careful observers knew from past history that such a pattern indicated an impending ascension.

  Not all were privy to the fact that Grace was the final soul. But those who knew awaited her return with great anticipation. When she did not appear for her retreat, more rumors began. Some were concerned, however, many were not the least bit troubled. These ones were of the mind that time allows for all possibilities, that there are no deadlines.

  But even if there were only a few at this time who declared themselves offended, it was enough to cost Gabe. The laws of regression were precise, yet mysterious. Penalties were not carried out by the citizens of Castellans, but by the force of universal law. A penalty was equal in measure to the offense. The price was always regression, for a soul to be subject to more experience on Earth.

  Unfortunately, Gabe's pending regression was not Abigail’s most immediate concern. The most pressing matter at hand was the fact that his regressive state would leave him vulnerable when he went through transference to be reborn on Earth.

  A vulnerable soul was a target – a target of beings from other worlds, darker worlds. The people of Castellans commonly referred to these beings as roaches. Roaches were viscous, their modes of attack merciless.

  Swarms of roaches prowled space for souls making their way to Earth. Less advanced worlds were easy targets. It was only after eons of trial and error that the souls of Castellans had learned to combat and defeat roaches in battle. Brigades of Castellans fighters had for ages guarded souls as they made their journey of transference.

  However, no longer finding easy victims on Castellans, the roaches mostly abandoned Castellans for easier pickings on other worlds.

  Abigail was a practical soul, not one for taking chances. Realizing that Gabe would be susceptible to attack when he accompanied Grace back to Earth, she knew he was going to need protection. She scanned the city again from her high vantage point. Then she looked to her right and her left to be certain she had enough space before summoning her wings.

  The manifestation of desires on Castellans was also a learned skill. The power of intention was key. Most had become quite proficient. Abigail was a master. She watched her wings stretch forth on either side, as each glorious layer of feathers fell out upon next. Then she arched them toward the sky, as they lifted her from the balcony and over the city.

  Her destination was Castle Recchia, in a territory of Castellans inhabited by the members of the Obsidian Order. They were the guardians of Castellans, the warriors who had for ages protected its citizens from roach attacks.

  Abigail surveyed her world below her as she flew east. Viewing Castellans from the sky was a treat for the senses. The vast array of living environments was a testament to the diversity of their world and its people, as they manifested their desires to create their surroundings.

  Some territories were blanketed with thick green fields and moss colored trees, the homes of its residents camouflaged by like colored thatched roofs. Other communities boasted striking palaces dotted between frozen lakes. Still others were tropical in setting. Residents enjoyed a balmy warmth and crystal blue seas. And in some of these places, daytime never fell to the darkness of night. Every day, all day, was summertime.

  Finally, the terrain changed and Abigail took in the scents of a forest beneath her. This majestic land was home to the Obsidian Order and to its mammoth Castle Recchia, which to the casual eye might be very easily mistaken for a mountain itself. The mortar used to forge each brick was a brown to match the color of earth. And nearly every square inch of the castle was wrapped in tendrils and vines.

  Indeed, it rivaled the size of the mountains around it, rising up beyond the tallest of trees. And even where the castle itself ended, multitudes of towers rose up still further, peaking to pierce the lowest sitting clouds.

  Abigail took care to avoid obstacles as she slowly descended. There were many entrances, but all were nondescript. If you didn’t know where to look, you’d never find a door.

  She knew the castle well. Her feet touched down, simultaneous with the intended retraction and disappearance of her wings. The area surrounding the castle was thickly wooded, so that its base existed mostly in darkness, with only tiny pinpoints of light breaking through here and there. She skirted its base where a portion of the castle extended deeply into the forest.

  Traveling to its furthest end, she circled around to the other side. And there, tucked in unnoticed, was the entrance she sought. A curtain of leaves seemed to cling tightly against the dark mortar of the structure. But one who knew better might pull them back as a curtain from a window to reveal the door beneath. There were no locks. None but the citizens of Castellans would ever know this place, and all were welcome.

  Abigail stepped inside the first cavernous room, the bright illumination a stark contrast to the dark forest. Along the inner walls of the castle, massive iron forged sconces lined the walls. Bright flames bounced like sunlight throughout the space.

  The castle was so massive that one might wander from room to room to room never encountering another soul. Again, you had to know where to look.

  Abigail moved to the opposite end of the room where a massive, intricately crafted tapestry graced the stone wall. It was magnificent in design, a depiction of the castle itself. She admired it momentarily before stepping to the side and pulling up a corner of the hanging work of art. She made enough room to wiggle in behind it, against the wall. She ran her hands lightly against the wall until she found the handle to the hidden door.

  She stepped inside the next room, the same manner of lighting gracing its walls. The floor was a shining white marble. This was the gallery room, its walls lined with massive works of art.

  So mesmerizing was the collection of paintings that citizens had been known to enter the room and never get any further into the castle. Members of the Order were known to delight in the power of these masterpieces, as anyone spending more than the briefest flash admiring them would be held hostage by their magnificence.

  Abigail had learned the lesson well. She knew that it was best not to indulge even for a moment. She averted her eyes and made her way to one of four staircases in the massive space. Each occupied a corner of the room. They were identical in appearance, but would lead the climber to vastly different experiences in the castle. She had been a mouse in this maze many times.

  She stepped up the staircase, which continued to the next floor. After passing through the ceiling above, it opened up into a single massive tower. There the steps ended. If you could not conjure your way up, you’d just found one of the castle’s many dead-ends.

  Abigail brought forth her wings and lif
ted off. Here the walls were rounded and painted a shiny white, giving the appearance of a vast, vertical tunnel. Those unfamiliar with this tower might abandon the prospect of using it to find a way into the castle, for it seemed to stretch on indefinitely. Finally, when even the most determined soul might begin to contemplate turning back, a wide arched opening appeared in the wall.

  Abigail flitted through it and touched down. This time, she did not retract her wings. Flynn liked them on.

  The arched hallway connected the tower to Flynn’s quarters in the main castle. The room was dim, with the soft light of a fire in the hearth and lit candles glowing throughout. She did not immediately see him when she entered.

  “Hello Senior Chancellor,” he spoke softly as he rose from a chair in a shadowed corner of the room.

  He loved the silhouette of her with her wings as they hugged her from behind and softly swept against the floor as she walked.

  Abigail was tall, but Flynn towered over her. He scooped her up and spun her as though it were effortless to do so. The air moved quickly through the feathers of her wings, producing a rustling sound that he also loved.

  And he knew that if he kept going, something even more wonderful would happen. Abigail, his Abigail would begin to giggle. She had to. She couldn’t help it. And it worked every time. Around and around he spun her, until she could no longer hold it in. And her sweet laughter was an accompaniment to the music of her beautiful wings.

  When she’d had enough, she would wrap her arms tightly around his neck and bury her face against his skin. And then he would stop as their heads continued their frenzied rush, the room spinning around them. As the dizzy ride began to slow, he would find her lips and kiss her deeply, as her wings opened and spread to include him in their embrace.

  Like Abigail, Flynn was a single flame soul. Although he enjoyed the company of others, he was fiercely independent. The same was true of Abigail. Over the course of their relationship, they’d made several attempts to cohabitate. None had been successful. Yet when it came to love, no other soul would do for either. She was his angel, him her warrior. And each time he kissed her like this, Abigail scolded herself for being unable to tolerate living in the castle with him.