Everflame: The Complete Series

by Dylan Lee Peters

  Edgar stared into the blackness, toward the man before him, and moved away from the rocking chair, kneeling down so that he could be face to face with Joe. He grabbed Joe’s hands and moved them away from his face. Joe stopped crying and looked at Edgar as the boy said:

  “You should have killed me, Joe.”

  Chapter 13: Ghosts

  Seven years passed since Edgar had lost his sight. He was now a full-grown man. In fact, he had grown quite bigger than Joe. Joe’s problem with alcohol hadn’t helped his dwindling stature. A once-proud man, standing at full height, Joe now limped everywhere that he walked, humpbacked and slouching. No longer able to take care of Edgar, it was Joe who needed help. In fact, Edgar had become quite able to take care of himself. It had taken a few years for Edgar to adjust to his blindness, but his other senses had become far more acute, and he was now able to move along, unassisted, even through areas he had never been to. The blindness had made his hearing more acute and he had somehow developed a kind of sixth sense, able to sense his surroundings through the movement of air or possibly through temperature change. It had become virtually impossible to come within twenty feet of Edgar without his knowledge. Not that Joe was in any shape to be sneaking up on anyone these days. Now it was Joe who spent the majority of his time sitting in the rocking chair, gazing off of the porch.

  With Edgar’s new abilities, he had regained a once-lost freedom. He began to spend his time wandering the forest that bordered Shein Farm. He would go on long hikes through the forest, testing his ability to retrace his path accurately. He was constantly trying to increase his distance each day, as an explorer would blaze new trails through new lands. On occasion, after walking a great distance, Edgar would seat himself under a tree and meditate. Keeping perfectly still and calm, animals would often come right up to him before realizing that he was there. Edgar had begun testing his ability to catch squirrels by staying still until they were close enough to grab. He had been successful on one or two occasions.

  The anger and frustration that had once boiled inside of Edgar had begun to ebb away into a cool serenity. Through his meditation, he had come to terms with what had happened to his eyes, to Blue and to Murray. Edgar had even come to terms with Joe, not with any conversation, but within himself. He now pitied Joe more than anything. Of course, Joe had killed his parents, but the man was obviously insane, believing that the Holy himself had commanded the act. Joe wasn’t causing harm to anyone any longer, with the exception of himself. Edgar felt that the man had received his punishment already. He had lost his wife, his physique and his mind. Joe was a shell of a man.

  Edgar still wondered about his mother from time to time. He felt just in referring to her as thus. He had truly loved her and she had truly loved him. She had raised him as best as she could and he couldn’t blame her for what had happened with Murray. He also couldn’t blame her for fleeing Joe that night. Edgar’s curiosity about his mother rested in the events that took place after that. Where had she gone? Why had she not returned? Was she alive? Edgar had assumed the worst. He assumed that she had died. He could not understand why else she would not have returned. She certainly would not have returned for Joe…but for him? Sometimes Edgar thought about trying to find her, but the prospect always seemed overwhelming. He had become more able and more in tune with his surroundings, but these were small steps in contrast with a quest to find his mother. And although he tried not to think about it often, there may be a good reason that she never came back.

  On this particular day, Edgar walked slowly through the forest, moving just a bit further than he ever had before. In one hand, he carried a staff that he had whittled from the thick branch of a dying tree. The other hand Edgar used to protect his face from low-lying branches. The day was warm and dry and the ground cracked underneath his feet. Edgar was sweating quite a bit now, as the day crept into afternoon. Feeling he had made a good distance, Edgar searched for the shade of a large tree to rest under. Once found, he removed his flask and drank deeply. The day seemed warmer than usual and Edgar found himself growing sleepy in the shade of the tree. His thoughts began to wander and he found them resting, once again, on the issue of his mother’s disappearance. Edgar found frustration begin to worm its way into his thoughts. He should be able to search for his mother; he should not allow his disability to limit him. Not only that, but how could he give up on her? What kind of man was he, to assume that she were dead? That is something Joe would do; something Joe had done. What if she were in trouble? Edgar’s worries would not leave him alone.

  All of these thoughts about Edgar's mother raised another issue in his mind as well. What would he do with his life? What would be his purpose? If Edgar could not even go out into the world to inquire into his mother’s whereabouts, did that mean he would have to spend the rest of his life on the farm? He couldn’t allow that. In fact, he hated being at the farm. It was the reason he had begun to venture into the forest in the first place.

  Edgar leaned back against the tree and took a deep breath, staring out into the blackness of his world. He directed his senses outward, allowing himself to hear and feel the forest. The warmth of the sun poured over him and he could feel, from the direction of the heat, that it was only a few hours past midday. As Edgar allowed his consciousness to converge with all that was around him, he began to feel an absolution. He would not stay at the farm much longer. He would go out into the world, and though he did not know what his ultimate purpose would be, he became very sure of one thing. He would find his mother.

  Edgar felt a light breeze, heard the sound of a lark in the distance and his breathing became light and easy. It was not long before he fell into slumber, beneath the branches of the large oak tree.

  • • •

  Edgar woke and immediately noticed that the heat of the day had changed drastically. How long have I been asleep? he wondered. Edgar stretched his arms and legs and began to get to his feet. As he tried to shake off the sleep, he became increasingly aware that something was very odd. He felt the heat of the sun upon him, but it was a much cooler heat than he had ever experienced. It was making it very difficult for him to discern what time of day it was. Also, though the heat was cooler, it somehow seemed to be more intense, as if the sun were closer to him. Something was wrong. He thought his senses must be confused due to the recent nap, so he decided to sit back down underneath the tree until things had returned to normal.

  Though, as Edgar sat under the tree, he was sensing that things were increasing in their weirdness instead of normalizing. After a moment or two, Edgar came to the conclusion that he had not woken from his sleep after all, and was, in fact, still in a dream. He decided to relax and allow himself to be carried through the dream. Edgar felt the sun of his imagination moving across the sky. It was moving at a much faster rate than the real sun ever did. He started to view his dream as a mystery. This sun was cooler, closer, quite possibly smaller, and moving more quickly than the sun of the real world. He allowed his senses to flow outward, unimpeded, toward the imaginary sun. He used his memories of light and heat to conjure an image of what this sun looked like. He held the image there in his mind’s eye. His imagination painted a picture of a dusky sky with a small sun traveling over the land, a few hundred feet above the ground. His imagination began to release the thought that the heat source was a sun and instead embraced an image of a mystical orb of light, and the orb seemed to be moving in his direction.

  Edgar's arm itched and he reached down to scratch at it. That’s funny, he thought. I’ve never dreamed of an itch before. He stopped his hand from scratching his arm. Why should he scratch an imaginary itch? It was, in fact, only detracting his imagination from the much more interesting orb in the sky. He didn’t want to lose it, as often happened in dreams when one’s mind wanders. The orb was traveling closer still and Edgar wondered if he would wake up if it got too close, much like one might wake up abruptly, when dreaming of a long fall.

  Unfortunately, the itch had ret
urned. Edgar tried, once again, to force it out, but found that he was unable to ignore it this time. Angered by his inability to control his own dream, he reached down and scratched at the itch vigorously, pressing his nails into his flesh hard and thinking, that will show it.

  Pain? He had cut his arm with his nails. Suddenly and shockingly, it became very clear to Edgar that he was not in a dream at all. Edgar quickly got to his feet and refocused on the sky. The orb of heat was getting closer to him and seemed to be picking up speed. Should he run? He was still a long way from being able to run through a forest. He would inevitably knock his head on a tree. There was no escape for him. The heat seemed to be flying at him now. He was sure that whatever it was, it intended to collide with him. Edgar stood his ground and braced himself for whatever might happen.

  Just as Edgar was sure that this thing would collide with him, the heat flew directly over his head and seemed to land a few meters behind him. There was no sound. The forest had been undisturbed. No birds flew, no leaves rustled, no small animal ran along the ground, everything was perfectly still. Edgar turned his body toward the heat and realized that it was not coming from an orb. The heat seemed to be coming from the body of a large person. He marveled at how anyone could give off such a large aura of energy.

  “Hello, Edgar.”

  It spoke to him. Edgar found his mouth dry and out of practice. A response didn’t come easily from his lips.

  If you would rather communicate like this, we can.

  The being had touched his mind and Edgar found that he was able to communicate without speech.

  I… Who are you? asked Edgar

  You know who I am, Edgar. It has been a great many years since I have come to this world. It is for you, that I have chosen to return.

  Are you the same one who revealed himself to the man, Joe Shein?

  I am. However, I have never revealed myself to Joe Shein in the way that I am revealing myself to you, Edgar, but it is true that I communicated with him.

  Why did you ask him to kill? Why did you ask him to kill me?

  It is true that Joe Shein served me as an assassin, and I have my reasons for each task that he was given. However, it is untrue that Joe Shein was asked to kill you. That is a command that he created with his own mind. That is the reason that I ceased communication with him. He had become disloyal. His service was no longer a viable option.

  Why didn’t you stop him? Why did you let him kill my parents? Why did you let him kill Murray?

  Edgar, I know that there are many things that are difficult for you to understand. I would ask that you have faith in me. Can you have faith in me, Edgar? Edgar nodded his head. Good. That makes me happy, Edgar. It is your faith that has brought me to this world. I want you to serve me, Edgar. I want you to be faithful to me. I demand unfaltering faith, Edgar. Can you give that to me?

  Yes.

  Do you believe that I created this world, Edgar?

  Yes.

  Do you believe that I created you?

  Yes.

  And do you believe that my nature is good or evil?

  Good. Of course, good.

  Than what must you assume of those who would go against my wishes?

  That they are evil.

  Very good, Edgar. I can see that I was not wrong in choosing you. It is important that we understand each other. Are you ready to accept your first mission, Edgar?

  Yes.

  Good. You must kill Joe Shein. Edgar’s eyes widened and he swallowed hard. His thoughts betrayed him. Your faith shall always be there to give you strength, Edgar. Do not worry about your condition. I wish to bestow upon you a gift. Open your mouth, Edgar.

  Edgar did as he was asked, even though he shook with fear. He could see nothing but blackness, but he could feel the Holy closing in on him. The being extended an appendage and placed an orb of heat into Edgar’s mouth.

  Swallow, Edgar.

  Edgar did as he was told and immediately felt changes occurring all over his body. It was something foreign, something powerful. It felt like being close to a lightning storm. Edgar felt a surprising surge of strength flow through his body. He clutched the staff in his hand and felt the wood give under the pressure. He squeezed tighter and the staff snapped in half. He bent down and picked up one of the pieces and hurled it into the woods. It flew further than he dreamed possible. His strength was amazing.

  Then, suddenly, the blackness of Edgar’s world began to slowly fade away into a deep blue. Edgar stepped back, startled as the light inside of his head grew in intensity. It became lighter and lighter, beginning to bend and weave patterns in the air around him. It made shapes as it danced in front of him, like ghosts in the air. He looked down toward his feet and saw a plane of blue underneath him, as if he were walking on water, and then slowly, the shapes of little sticks and rocks came up out of the flatness. He looked back up and saw the most radiant light he had ever seen, in the shape of a man, standing in front of him. The light around the man danced and folded until it had created the shapes of trees. Edgar reached his hand out toward it and there in front of him, was the outline of his hand as it reached up toward the sky. Edgar smiled and moisture formed at the corner of his eye. A single droplet made its way down his cheek and fell to the ground.

  I can see…I can see.

  Edgar looked back up to where the Holy stood and saw a man made entirely of light, enclosed in a transparent orb. The surface of the being’s body crackled and glowed.

  Thank you, my Holy.

  You are most welcome, Edgar. Be on your way now and fulfill your mission.

  Yes, my Holy.

  Edgar turned from the being and felt the heat disappear behind him. He could see. The Holy had given him the strength and vision to be his most faithful servant and he would not fail. He looked at the light that swam around him like smoke in the air, outlining everything in the world in tints and shades of blue. He saw the trees, the ground and his own legs. He turned and began to walk back to the place that he would no longer call home, to the man he would never again call father and to a world that would never again give to him its pity.

  Chapter 14: The Messenger

  Edgar walked across the field before Shein farm as his world of blue ghosts swirled around him. The grass was tall and he allowed it to brush against the palms of his hands as he walked through it. It swayed in the evening breeze. Edgar took fistfuls of the grass into his hands, squeezing and feeling the strength in his forearms. He was the chosen one. He had a purpose.

  Edgar inhaled and the scent of lavender came to him from the flowers across the field. He heard the trees sway in the wind. All of his senses were heightened now. He was only just coming to the gate of Shein farm and he could smell the alcohol, undoubtedly reeking, from Joe’s breath. He could see him rocking in his chair upon the porch, scowling and drunk. Edgar didn’t bother to stop and open the gate as he approached it. He merely kicked it in, the wooden slats busting apart.

  Joe stood from his chair and glared down at Edgar as he walked up to him from the gate.

  “What are you doing!?” Joe yelled down at Edgar.

  Edgar didn’t respond, only proceeded walking toward Joe, the smell of alcohol increasing with each step Edgar took. The sweet scent of lavender was no longer present, just the cloying presence of the alcohol. Joe yelled at Edgar again, but he didn’t hear it this time. His blood had begun to pound a rhythm in his head like war drums. He tensed his shoulders and felt the electric crackle of power surge through his muscles. He clenched his jaw and his fists, preparing for his task.

  Joe had killed Edgar’s parents.

  Joe had killed Murray.

  Joe had driven away Rachael.

  Joe had defied the Holy.

  Joe was evil.

  As Edgar reached the porch and began to climb up the steps, he saw for the first time that he could remember, Joe’s eyes. They were afraid and meek. Edgar took no pity on them. He moved forward with astonishing quickness and grabbed Joe by the
head with both hands. Edgar squeezed and tried to crush Joe’s head as the electric energy coursed through his body. Joe was no match for Edgar’s power. Nothing could stop him and the drums beat on.