“Not to mention, he is sick most of the time, catching almost every cold and sickness he comes into contact with,” Jake added.
“Our tests on Calum concluded that he is a mortal child with both Gnol and human traits,” said Dr. Strong.
“But that doesn’t make sense,” Kylee interjected. “Calum is the offspring of two transfigured beings. Also, if he is the chosen one, wouldn’t he have this . . . this super blood and powers as well?”
Doctor Strong was about to respond when Adrian spoke first. “Not necessarily, Kylee. I believe with every fiber of my being that Calum is the chosen one. But, maybe, he needs to be mortal in order to experience the true mortal experience. After all, our weaknesses, whether they be physical, emotional, mental, or spiritual, and how we overcome them define us. That is the true test and define who we are meant to be.
“Jesus Christ was the perfect example of this. He was the literal offspring of God the Father and a mortal woman. Yet, he suffered more than any other being.”
Kylee nodded her head, acknowledging her father’s wisdom.
For a moment, everyone sat in silence, pondering Adrian’s powerful reasoning for Calum’s frailties. Then Celeste said something that grabbed their attention. “Coen Chast.”
“Coen who?” asked Bantyr.
“He was an ancient ancestor of mine. I heard stories about him when I was a young child. At the time, most of us believed that the stories were folklore or legend. It wasn’t until I stood in the ancient Garden of Taosheaoa myself that I believed the stories to be true. According to the legend, Coen was one of a handful of surviving humans on Gnolom. He led what was left of the human race on Gnolom against a race of giants.
“The giants nearly wiped out the human race. As the story goes, Coen was killed, but his wife, Sierrone, found the garden and the tree of life. She drained the juice of the fruit into Coen’s mouth. Well, you can probably guess what happened. Coen came back to life, and with his newfound abilities, he was able to defeat the giants. The remaining human survivors each consumed the fruit. Consequently, I am . . . The Gnols are the offspring of these ancient survivors.”
“But,” Doctor Strong said, his voice indicating his intrigue for the story, “your blood was red prior to your miraculous rise from the dead, and . . . you were mortal, although with Gnol abilities. With that, there can only be one conclusion drawn as to why Calum is not a transfigured being. Apparently, transfigured beings, such as yourselves, produce mortal beings.”
“Fascinating,” John, who had been sitting quietly the entire time, said. “I’m over two thousand years old. I have communed with the Savior personally, and have been shown knowledge and things that defy description. But it never ceases to amaze me what I am continually learning.”
“So,” Kylee added again, “will Calum change? How can he defeat the Gnols if he doesn’t have that power flowing through his veins?”
“On the contrary, Kylee,” John countered. “I believe with every fiber of my being that Calum is the fulfillment of the prophecy. He is the one that will unite two worlds and two peoples. Therefore, that power is already resonating through him. It is just dormant right now. And perhaps the only way it will come forth is through a baptism by fire experience.”
The power and wisdom with which John spoke his words reverberated through the room. Everyone could feel the authority and knew what he was saying was true.
Finally, after a few more seconds of uninterrupted silence, Adrian spoke. “So what about this new technology that will help us in our battle against the Gnols? Even though Koroan Chast is dead and Dorange is presumed dead, there will be another powerful Gnol that will rise to power, and he’ll be hell-bent on revenge, knowing I escaped to Earth, as well as conquering this planet.”
“He’s right,” Celeste added.
With that, Doctor Strong pulled a tiny object out of his pocket. Holding it between his thumb and index finger, he held it up for everyone to see. It was a small microchip. “Earth’s scientists, at least who was left, developed this microchip after the Gnols left. It functions like the mind inhibitors that each of you have behind your ears, with the exception of John, Jake, and Celeste, of course. Only this chip is inserted internally at the base of your skull. It creates interference in your brain from any prying telepath, with no damaging effects.”
“What about Jake and Celeste?” Kylee asked skeptically. “Don’t their enhanced powers give them the ability to override that chip and still read our minds?”
“No,” Celeste said. “I can’t read your mind with your inhibitors in.” She paused, smiled, and said in a joking manner, “I could, however, pull them out telekinetically and then read your mind.”
Kylee chuckled nervously and reached up to feel behind one of her ears. “Well, that doesn’t make me feel better.”
“Our hope,” John added, “is that the Gnols, if they do attack again, won’t know about this new device. It may give us some time for a counterattack if their more experienced telepaths can’t derive information from us that easily.”
“Then my recommendation is that all of us that don’t have that gold, glowing blood flowing through us have that chip implanted immediately because it’s not a matter of if the Gnols will attack again but when. And I have a strong feeling it may be very soon.”
*****
Garden of Taosheaoa, Gnolom - 2 days later . . .
Dorange stood in amazement before the full-length mirror within the secret lab buried under Mount Resumpsi that Koroan had built for his evil purposes many years ago. He stood in his underwear as he traced his fingers over his abdominal muscles. Yes, at one time in his life, he had been ripped. But now, the person staring back at him through the mirror was a perfect specimen in every sense of the word.
He smiled with pride as his eyes scanned over his perfectly toned body. He looked better than he had as a twenty-year-old in top physical condition. The definition in his muscles was a sculptor’s dream. In addition, his blue eyes were brighter and seemed to glow as they reflected the light from the room. He then rubbed his hands over the stubble on his face and through his thick head of black hair, which was cut now. No longer did he have the traditional long hair of a Gnol elite, which ran to the middle of his back. For a moment, he wondered why his hair was cut, and disappointment began to set in once he realized he looked more like his old alias, Donald Garrett, than the Gnol persona he had adopted so long ago.
“It is cut because you are no longer worthy to adorn the traditional hairstyle of Gnol royalty.”
Dorange whirled around, startled. But no one was there. “Who’s there?”
Hiding within the shadows of the lab, Koroan stepped out slowly, still dressed in his black commander’s uniform, his hand resting on his sword still sheathed on his waist. His leather glove squeaked as he curled his free hand into a fist. “Hello, Dorange. Welcome back from the dead. Or should I say . . . Donald Garrett?”
A lump, bigger than the size of his fist, formed in Dorange’s throat. “My Lord? I-I thought you were dead,” he said, kneeling to one knee and giving Koroan the traditional Gnol salute.
He then felt his body getting lighter as Koroan levitated him from the floor. “You incoherent fool! You dare salute me with that of which you are not worthy?” he spoke harshly, dropping Dorange to the floor.
Dorange backed away from his master as Koroan walked toward him. How did he know? he wondered as he checked to see if his inhibitors were in place. They weren’t.
As Koroan approached, he seethed nothing but fury with pure intent to kill Dorange. “There will be no need for your inhibitors. My abilities are far superior now,” he said, picking Dorange up by the hair. With a shriek, he propelled him through the air. “You lied to me!”
Dorange felt his hair rip out and then he crashed into the wall and slid down through metal shelving before landing on the floor. A sharp pain shot through his hand. Looking down, he was met with an unexpected surprise. He had cut his hand on one of the she
lves. However, blood wasn’t seeping out. Instead, a gold, glowing substance oozed from the wound. Then, to his further astonishment, he watched as his skin miraculously began to come back together, healing the wound.
But before he could look up, he felt a blow to the right side of his face. Koroan had landed a bone-crushing kick.
“You are a human! You represent everything I despise and hate!” Koroan continued as he grabbed Dorange by the throat, lifting him into the air.
Pure fear flooded Dorange as he looked into his master’s eyes. They glowed red, representing an evil so incomprehensible that it caused Dorange to shudder. With another scream, Koroan flung him across the room. He crashed into the opposite wall.
As he tried to gather himself, Koroan charged again. “You even killed my precious daughter, Raqel!”
The mention of his former wife angered him. Jumping to his feet, he flung his arms forward, sending an invisible force wave right into Koroan’s chest. Koroan flew backwards into the wall Dorange had previously dented.
With Koroan stunned, it was Dorange’s turn to charge. But Koroan parried his attack with his own telekinetic powers. With a wave of his left arm, he hurled Dorange headlong into another wall. Dorange tried to stop himself with his own powers, but his face smashed into the metal wall with such ferocity that he felt the bones within his nose crush.
After landing on the floor, he whipped around to defend himself. As Koroan rapidly approached, he pulled out his sword. Dorange knew instantly what his old master planned to do with it. He was about to end Dorange Gar once and for all by separating his head from the rest of his body. Koroan clicked the sword on, sending ripples of blue plasma energy across the shiny blade.
Before Dorange could scamper away, however, Koroan grabbed him by the hair again. With a shriek of pure hatred, Koroan swung the blade through the air, the plasma energy crackling and popping as he did so. Lifting a hand, Dorange managed to invisibly stop the deathblow just as the plasma energy began to melt the skin of his neck away.
“Enough!” roared a voice from the shadows of the room.
Koroan was flung backwards ferociously into the wall and dropped the sword. A ravishing dark-haired woman stepped out from the shadows. Dressed in an all-black leather battle suit, she was the most beautiful woman Dorange had ever laid eyes upon.
“Ciminae,” he uttered softly as he stood up.
The women’s gleaming blue eyes met his. “That name has no meaning to me,” she replied smoothly.
The realization of whom he was speaking to hit Dorange like a sledgehammer. “The goddess,” he muttered, suddenly embarrassed that he was standing before her only covered in briefs.
Perceiving his thoughts, she smiled at him seductively. She then turned her attention to Koroan, who had just stood up as he replaced his sword back to his belt. He returned her look with one of disdain as he wiped shimmering gold blood from his nose. Dorange checked his own wounds. He no longer felt the stabbing pains of a broken nose. Reaching up, he felt that the bones had moved back into place. It was healed. He also checked his neck where Koroan’s sword had burned him. That too had healed.
“I told you to stay away from here!” Macaria fumed.
Koroan, still furious, gave Dorange a merciless glance before turning his attention back to his queen. “This human scum lied to me! He lied to both of us!”
With unnatural speed, Macaria rushed toward Koroan and levitated herself to his height, within inches of his face. “Your incorrigibility is beginning to wear thin! Know your place, Koroan! Have we not lied as well for our own self-preservation? You would do the same if you were in his situation.”
Macaria’s statement caused Koroan to pause. “Y-yes, my Queen,” he said, lowering his head in subjugation.
“Good,” Macaria said as she lowered herself back to the floor. She turned and walked toward Dorange. She walked to within inches of his face. Consequently, he could not resist the lustful desires that were welling within him. The being standing before him was absolute beauty in its purest form. And even though he had interacted with Ciminae Chast prior to her death, the beauty her body now radiated would make any man melt in her presence.
The woman, now known as Macaria, cupped his face into her hands. “Dorange Gar. That is who you are. You are no longer that wretched soul Donald Garrett. I have granted you eternal life with one condition.”
“C-condition?” Dorange stammered.
“Yes. You must pledge your allegiance to me for eternity.”
Although he knew the evil possessing the body of Ciminae Chast, he could not resist her beauty. In addition, he was well aware of his own fall from grace. The reprehensible sins he committed throughout his life were unforgivable. He knelt to one knee slowly and bowed his head and said, “To thee, my Queen, I pledge my undying allegiance. I am yours forever.”
A satisfied grin spread along Macaria’s lips. “Arise, Dorange.”
Dorange stood, and she once again cupped his face into her hands. Leaning in, she kissed him passionately upon his lips. As they wrapped themselves into a lustful kiss, he heard Koroan grunt with jealous hatred. As the kiss continued, Dorange knew all too well that this kiss wasn’t one of love or even passion, for that matter. The kiss was a way to keep the hatred fueled within Koroan. To keep Koroan prisoner to his own rage. Nonetheless, Dorange wasn’t about to resist. He didn’t care one way or the other for Macaria. All that mattered were his own self-interests and the fact that his lustful desires were satisfied. Macaria, perceiving his thoughts, knew that as well.
After pulling away, Macaria turned her attention to Koroan. “You would be wise to follow Dorange’s lead, Koroan.”
Dorange did his best to hide his joy. The statement cut Koroan to the very core as he perceived his thoughts. Lead? I am the savior of the Gnols.
“Not yet!” Macaria bellowed.
She then turned her attention back to Dorange. “Now it is time that we return with glory to Terrest. And to you, Dorange, I give to you the most important mission of all.”
“What is that?” he questioned.
“Return to Earth and retrieve the golden tablet of Earth, so that we may finally inherit our rightful place as kings and queen of the galaxy.”
*****
Scott Air Force Base, Earth - 2 days later . . .
Skip sat alone on the outskirts of Scott Air Force Base. He wanted to be alone. Ever since his arrival on Earth, his relationship with Ariauna had been deteriorating at a rapid rate. Whenever he tried to talk with her, an argument would ensue. What confused him even more was the fact that he was beginning to have feelings for Nichelle.
Sighing, he leaned his back against a tree and looked up into the sky. It was late afternoon and a beautiful day, a perfect 72 degrees Fahrenheit. He closed his eyes, trying to clear his mind. The past week had been exhausting, and he could feel his body craving much needed sleep. As he tried to relax and catch some shut-eye, he heard footsteps from behind.
He whipped his head around and saw Nichelle walking toward him. Suddenly, the fluttering feeling of butterflies rippled in his stomach. She wore a black t-shirt, revealing her exquisite figure, along with standard issue black fatigue bottoms tucked neatly into military issue boots. Nichelle was never one to need the beautifying effects of make-up. Her skin was naturally flawless. Her long dark hair was tied into a ponytail, revealing just how beautifully stunning she was.
Skip caught himself staring at her with a gaping mouth. He quickly closed it as she meandered her way toward him. She didn’t seem to notice he was there and the look on her face told him something troubled her.
He wasn’t sure if he should call out for her. Instead, he tried to hide himself behind a tree, hoping she would walk right past him. As he turned to hide, the sleeve of his shirt caught on a small branch of the tree, causing it to snap off. The crack echoed off of the surrounding trees. He cringed as he closed his eyes and listened intently.
“Who’s there?” Nichelle called out, free
zing in her tracks.
Skip cursed under his breath and walked out from behind the tree. “It’s just me.”
Nichelle’s stone cold gaze suddenly changed, and she smiled nervously at him. “I-I didn’t know anyone was up here.”
Skip returned her awkward smile with one of his own. “I come up here sometimes to think and to just get away from everything and everyone.”
Nichelle seemed to relax a little and her smile became more genuine as if she was happy to see him. She walked toward him. As she did so, he swallowed the lump forming in his throat. “May I join you?” she asked.
He nodded shyly, sitting down with his back next to the tree and leaving enough room for her to sit beside him. She sat down unusually close to him, the skin of her arm brushing against his. The butterflies churned once again but with more intensity within his stomach.
The two sat in awkward silence for a few seconds before Nichelle finally broke the silence. “I can see why you come up here. It’s a beautiful view of the base.”
“Uh-huh,” Skip stammered nervously.
Nichelle turned and smiled at him. She then turned and looked back at the scene before them.
After a few more minutes of silence again, Skip cleared his throat and asked, “So, wh-what brings you up here?”
Nichelle’s expression changed immediately to one of grave concern. She lowered her head and shook her head.
“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Nichelle shook her head again. “No, no, it’s not you. It’s me. I…” She trailed off as a tear zigzagged its way down her cheek.
The nervousness Skip felt being around her was instantly replaced with sympathy. He raised his hand to place it on her back but hesitated just before he touched her. Nichelle then buried her head into her hands and began to cry. Again, compassion for her overcame him, and he lowered his hand and began to rub her back gently. “What’s going on?” he asked, knowing of some of the tension between her and Celeste.
Worlds Without End: The Prophecy (Book 3) Page 17