“All right, Dad.”
Clearly, the child would have exchanged the diary for a cool action figure, but upon learning that this book was important to his father, he knew it was important for him to keep it with him. He embracing his father tightly and then pulled back.
His father slowly patted his head. “You are special, son. I don’t know how, but you are special. One day you will change the fate of the universe.” He paused. “You see, everything you know and have encountered will end. At that point in time, there will be a decision to make. A decision so vital and so important that it will change everything as you know it. That decision will be to choose whether you’ll be the one who ends things or the one who protects everything.”
***
Caspar’s eyes opened. Ivy and Balthazar stared at him with a look of suspicion that he broke their gaze and looked upon the foggy morning. Ivy had gone to the local sheriff to ask about Hope Moretz or someone with a similar sounding name. The sheriff, who thought that Ivy was Hope’s old friend, searched the register and found a person bearing that name.
The trio made their way to the house that now stood before them which was aligned perfectly opposite to the one standing across from it. The houses were so similar it was as if they were twins. Caspar tentatively knocked on the door. It swung open and a man with a rugged beard on his face stared back at him and Ivy. Balthazar hovered nearby, invisible to the naked eye.
“We are Hope’s friends. Is she there?”
“Uh, yes, sure. Come in.” He welcomed them, albeit a tad apprehensively.
The house was unkempt, as if no woman lived there. The dishes were dirty and piled on to each other. The tap was on and the carpet was stained with signs of numerous kinds of food. The room also smelled of gasoline. Small puffs of dust burst into the air as they sat upon the sofa.
“Hope! Come down,” her father ordered. “No!” she shot back.
“Your friends are here.” “I don’t have any friends.” “Just come down.”
No reply came. Her father tried to remain composed and smiled at them weakly. “I am sorry. She has kept to herself for the past couple of days.”
“If she doesn’t wish to come down, we’ll go up there,” Caspar replied. They made their way up the staircase and opened the door to her bedroom to
find a dull room with posters hanging across the walls, the windows tattered and broken, a ceiling fan swishing about without making much of a difference, and the floor was littered with scores of books.
A girl sat upon her bed, talking to herself or someone that only she could see. When she realized that someone had entered her room, she stood and composed her face. “Who are you?” she asked.
“I am Caspar Socrates and this is Ivy Demetrius.” Caspar brought his hand forward, but she didn’t take it. He withdrew it and said, “We need to talk to you.”
“Who are you people? Why are you here?”
Caspar surveyed their surroundings as she spoke, taking note that she was looking and talking to someone. “You were busy? Who were you talking to?”
“Are you from the psychiatric hospital? I told you, I am not crazy!” Her voice rose to almost shrieking tone. “I am not going to go with you people.”
“We aren’t from the...Wait a minute . . .” Caspar stared at a spot that sparkled beside her bed as if someone invisible was standing there. The sparkles moved slightly. “Who is that?” he asked and prepared his cane. “Identify yourself!”
The small lights wavered.
“How did you see it?” Hope asked with disbelief.
“Because I was looking for it,” Caspar said and keenly observed the slight glow, which didn’t move at all.
“I thought I was the only one who could see him.” Caspar grimaced. “Well, you are clearly wrong on that.”
Ivy with a caring expression on her face, inquired, “Is that the reason you thought we were from a psychiatric hospital?”
“I wanted the people to believe me. No one would. My dad took me to so many doctors in hopes of finding a cure for my hallucinations. I went to doctors, psychiatrists, and psychologists until I got fed up. I could take it no more. I started to believe I was insane, until you confirmed my belief. You saw it as well.” She looked at Caspar, who was still figuring out what the unknown entity was trying to do.
“What is this by the way?” Ivy asked.
“It’s a sort of apparition of a deceased, who is close to the person and that person is the only one who can see it in its full form. To others, it’s just sparkles, something they’ll see briefly from the corner of their eye. That’s the reason Hope can see the person clearly, but I can’t. I am just seeing fairy sparkles and glitters right now. Though, if you aren’t looking at it or emphasizing your mind to find the apparition, you will not be able to see it. The psychiatrists and Hope’s father didn’t
believe her and didn’t think for a second that she was saying the truth. I suspected it was an apparition when I saw talking to herself and so I trained my mind to it and saw it immediately.”
“Oh. I’m now also able to see it!” Ivy exclaimed with bewilderment. “If that’s an apparition of a deceased, Hope used to know, is it your some relative or cousin?”
“No, worse than that. I thought I was wrong, I thought it wasn’t true until he convinced me by telling me about those epic stories of his,” she said.
“Who is he then?”
Realization dawned upon Caspar and his heart drummed slowly. Hope parted her lips and said the words he wanted to hear.
“The wisest man that ever lived on the face of this Earth – King Solomon.”
***
Siphon hadn’t expected Metatron to look like a stylish, Hawaiian surf boarder with gray hair and striking sandy eyes. In his mind, he’d thought him to be a dull, bearded man looking like Leonardo Da Vinci wearing colorful robes and having a quill tucked into the curls of his hair which he used to write his scrolls, but that perception wasn’t right.
Metatron’s eyes grew cold as he stared at Capernaum. It was as if he knew Capernaum very well despite the fact that they’d just met. “A demon? And a werewolf with an angel...This is quite an unusual group you have.”
“We are here on an important matter, sir. We need to speak to you,” Siphon
said.
Although Metatron had a casual lifestyle, he had an air of importance about him. His face was expressionless and his voice was so hard that it almost jerked Siphon back.
“I don’t want a protozoon or even a big ball of fur inside my house. You can come in, though.” He nodded at Siphon.
Siphon entered, giving an assurance to the others as they remained outside and told them not to worry. He found himself in a warm place as he entered Metatron’s home. A laptop sat on a table beside the soft upon which a Word document was opened.
“What are you typing?” Siphon prodded.
“I am Metatron, young lad. I am recording the creation.”
His admission was unexpected. Siphon hadn’t considered the fact that the Scroll of Creation was actually being written on a laptop instead of a long, large scroll. He couldn’t understand that modernization not only reached mankind, but it had also reached angels and demons. He had seen many demons using cell phones, pagers, iPhone’s, iPad’s, etc. It was difficult to imagine and would sometimes cause him to burst into fits of laughter.
Metatron was serious. He had a long face, his nose bent slightly. He stood and said, “I don’t like the company you are keeping, young lad.”
“I am with them because I need them.”
He didn’t ask as to what was that need was, though he looked amused by Siphon’s facial expressions. Somehow, Siphon knew the vigorous emotions amazed Metatron, for they were only seen in a few angels. Angels never revealed what was building within them, even when they wore their skins. They always remained firm and plastic-like.
“What is your name?” Metatron inquired. “Siphon.”
“You are a...?” “A
Dominion.”
“Dominions are such low class angels. What duty are you performing on Earth, young lad?”
“I have been sent on behalf of Archangel Raphael to protect the Prophet.” “Such errand given to such a small –” He didn’t complete the sentence and
gave Siphon a cold smile instead. “You might be talented. Raphael is ruthless and a pioneer. He wouldn’t choose a Dominion to do such work. Interesting. Tell me, why are you here?”
“You might have heard about the rise of Lucifer?” Metatron winced. “Say something new.”
Siphon tried to compose himself. Metatron was too fast, too sharp in replying and with the cold gaze he pinned on him, it was hard for him to bring the right words to his lips. His hands shook, so he dropped them into his jacket pockets and struggled to keep up with the conversation at hand.
“Uh...so...we need the Holy Sword to defeat Lucifer in order to kill him with
it.”
“You know, foolish boy, that Lucifer cannot be killed. Neither can we. He was an archangel. Archangels cannot be killed, not even by Michael’s sword.”
“But he can be injured, which means we can trap him. I have heard, you know, as stories about the Land of Souls have gone by. Michael opened the cage with the help of the sword, so if we have the sword, we could open the cage and throw him down there, this time leaving no loose ends to contend with.”
He folded his arms across his chest. “So you are saying that by getting the sword, you people would open the Purgatory and throw him in there? Who might wield the sword itself? Michael is too weak to even stand and Lucifer is powerful.”
“Solomon’s descendant is the one who can wield it.”
“Why are you here then if you have figured everything out?”
“We need the location of the Holy Sword,” Siphon said. “And only the Scroll of Creation holds that information.”
Metatron sighed. “The sword is hidden in a sacred place. A place which is impossible to get go to, let alone to even think about. Why would I want to give you that sort of information?”
“Because Earth is in danger.”
“So!” he exclaimed as his eyes blazed. “Lucifer is inevitable. He cannot lose, not this time. We don’t have Michael anymore. Michael was order. Lucifer was chaos. Order fights chaos. But now, we don’t have order. We just have chaos. It’s better to lose hope than to prolong the inevitable.”
“Why are you saying that? You are an archangel! You can help us. You can help Earth. Do you think you will not be affected?”
“I will be. I will be okay. What you are trying to accomplish is simply a figment of imagination. You will never complete your fantastic quest, even if I tell you the place.”
“You can never guess the result if you never try. If we are going to lose, so let it be. At least, we have tried, unlike you, who waits for eternal torture. But I am here, standing. I don’t care about anything else right now, because as I’ve known, I have seen Earth. They might be greedy. They might be pretentious, but they are one thing. They are united and that’s what I have learned from them.
“You can wait for your death or you can help us. Do you want to be that person who when in misery looks back and thinks, ‘Gosh, I wish I could have told that angel about the location and perhaps everything would have been all right?’ Do you want to regret this later? Because you may end up doing just that. Everything – the balance of order and chaos is on your shoulders now. If you tell us, people will respect you, but if not, they’ll spit on you.”
Metatron shook his head “Nah. Heaven is unstable now after Lucifer’s rise. Angels have become scared. What happened years ago is happening again. Everyone is choosing sides between Michael and Lucifer,”
“What side have you chosen?” Siphon asked.
Metatron blinked. All the pride and anger had washed away. He was now completely blank, as if trying to figure out how he could get away from the situation at hand and hide in some pit where he would be able to find freedom. Granted, that was just wishful thinking.
Siphon realized that Metatron was confused. He had given a speech and had no idea how it sounded. Metatron was so much older than he was; at least thousands of years old. Yet, he looked so small in front of the Dominion. He looked weak and quite aged. He could see the traces of lines and marks, all signs of his old age. Time does scar a person’s life.
“It is the Ring.” “What do you mean?”
“The Ring of Solomon, from which he controlled all the djinns and fairies. After the Land of Souls, Michael gave Solomon the power to be the second wielder. Solomon made that sword a part of his ring in order to hide it from everyone. The ring is the sword. The sword is the ring.”
“I have never heard of this.”
“Because, kid, it was sacred and confidential.”
Siphon’s smile grew. “Thank you. Thank you for telling me.” Metatron nodded. “Why did you help us?”
“I did it for the billions who are innocent and who have no idea what is going on around them.” Metatron smiled. It was not as warm as Siphon’s, but was equally touching.
The door opened. Capernaum and Harvard fell to the ground. Behind them, a man stood in the doorway. He was of African-American descent, and had coal black eyes and a deadly smile on his face. It was as if the strange man was delighted to see then.
“Oh, a party is going on here, I see. And you thought of not inviting me. That’s too bad. I am hurt,” he replied.
Siphon recognized the voice. Even though he was wearing a different skin than the one he usually wore, he could identify the person via his soul and his heart. His heart thumped within his chest and his nerves grew taut. His hands clenched into tight fists and sweat dripped from his palms. He knew well whom it was that now stood before him.
“Raphael!” Siphon breathed the name so quietly that he could barely hear it.
***
Caspar couldn’t believe it. Standing in front of him with his stature quite blurred was King Solomon. He’d always admired Solomon for his wisdom and his power. He had learned the art of trapping small djinns through the use of a ring made
out of a goblin’s skin inspired by Solomon himself. Yet that ring couldn’t compete with the Ring of Solomon, a signet ring that had the power to control every fairy and every djinn except for Oberon. As of now, it was lost in time and could never be seen by naked eyes.
The apparition didn’t react. It just stood there. Caspar thought that perhaps Solomon was scared or was not showing such favorable attitude toward the newcomer. The spectre shimmered slowly until it disappeared in a puff of smoke.
“Where has he gone?”
“What you saw is part of my subconscious. That was just a projection. I only see him in dreams or when I am afraid or tense.”
“We won’t see him again,” Caspar mused.
“No. Well, that’s the case. Only I can see him.” Hope pushed herself off of her bed, displaying her petite frame dressed in her pajamas which had teddy bears printed on it. “Argh, do you have any idea how frustrating it is? No one believing you. No one supporting you in such a crisis. No one even trying to understand your problem.”
She moved to the window and looked out, a warm gush of wind swept past her. “My studies went downhill until I went crazy. The person I loved left me because he thought I was insane. My mother died. Well, not because of me, but still, that counts as a tragedy. I started having visions of a person who is mentioned in Bible, a book I don’t believe in.”
Caspar was befuddled at the last words she spoke. “You don’t believe in Bible? Aren’t you Christian?”
“I am a Protestant, but non-practicing. I lost faith in God the day all everything piled over me. I knew, at that moment, that there is no God and there
perhaps will never be. He was just a deity of a small tribe whose cult slowly expanded to various places.”
Ivy arched her brows. “You can’t blame God for that.”
“I would have if there was ever one
. If God had been there, looking down at me, he would have helped me. I am sure that God does not exist.”
“That’s preposterous,” Caspar said. “There’s a destiny given to us to fulfill. Everyone has one. You just don’t know what it is.”
“Tell me, have you ever seen Him?” she asked. “Who?”
“God.”
“No, of course not,” Caspar replied. “How do you know He’s there, then?”
“Because...because . . .” Caspar stammered. Yet his resolve strengthened. “Faith. I have faith.”
“Whatever you have done till now, did you ever think that He’s helping you?” Caspar contemplated her words. All the while, he had heard about Michael,
Lucifer, Raphael, and the other angels. He had heard about everyone, even about Metatron, but he had never once heard about God from their mouths. If God had wanted it to be so, Lucifer would not have risen. He could have easily disallowed it, but He didn’t. If God had wanted Lucifer to die, He could have easily done it, but he didn’t. His faith, which had always been there walking along with him, slowly started to fade.
“Eh? Do you have a reply for that?”
Caspar always had a reply for one thing or another. “Who do you trust the most? Your father?”
“No. Solomon,” Hope said. “Why do you trust him?”
“Because, I think whatever he says, he is saying the truth.” “How are you so sure about it?”
“Because I trust him.”
“So basically, it’s just a fifty-fifty percent probability. He could even lie to you,” he pointed out.
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