by David Beers
And then, they all watched him fall.
Everyone had come to this Ministry, in some part, for David Hollowborne. Each had their own reason, their own wish, but he was the single uniting figure behind everything. Had there been no David Hollowborne, no one would be in that sky.
The lasers’ assault ended, and his fall slowly started. His back faced the Earth below, and his arms and legs stretched upward toward the atmosphere as gravity took hold of him. His long hair rushed upward, the wind running through it, and …
All stared.
The High Priest.
The First.
David’s sister and his closest follower.
The Disciple who had walked on air.
The True Faith devotee who had tracked him this entire time.
The woman whose powers matched his.
They all stared as he fell down, down, down, and then they lost sight of him as he hit white, puffy clouds.
Those still in the sky kept looking down for some time, unable to truly comprehend what had just happened. The weapon … the Prophet … the Black—all had just lost and in a way that none really ever thought possible. They stared, some with smiles, and others with tears, but no one truly believing what they’d just witnessed. Because David Hollowborne wasn’t dead. He couldn’t die. Not until the Unformed arrived, his mission completed.
Perhaps they stared for as long as 10 minutes, unsure of what to do. The fires that raged around them, the death that still reigned beneath the clouds, all of it originated with the man they just watched fall from the sky.
The Prophet had died and neither followers nor enemies had any idea how to react.
Thirty-Six
The two people standing before Raylyn looked as if nothing she could possibly say would matter in the slightest. She could sentence them to eternal torture or forever pleasure, and it would all be the same to them. They each wore a necklace, which kept them bound and still. The necklaces were small things, round tubes that wrapped around the captives’ necks.
They both stared at the floor; neither had bothered to fight, nor even speak.
The Disciple stood in the same room with Raylyn. She knew nothing about this Disciple, only that he looked exactly the same as Rogan had. She didn’t care, didn’t want to speak with nor look at the man. She’d watched the magic he displayed when fighting the weapon, but cared nothing else about him. He was a part of the True Faith Ministry that Raylyn wanted to forget.
Do you want to remember any of the True Faith?
Her eyes narrowed. Raylyn had never thought such a question in her entire life.
Is there anything here that you still want?
Yes. Corinth. Manor. Perhaps the Priesthood wasn’t what she once believed, but that didn’t take away her deity or the man she loved. They were what mattered.
Two other people also occupied the room with Raylyn, the couple who had housed Hollowborne’s sister. They were part of the Black’s forces, but Raylyn wasn’t as concerned with them. They were older and would face their fate sooner than the other two. It was an odd feeling, realizing that within the next few months, the world’s population would be decimated. Those already killed by the Black’s forces, and now the Ministries would begin rounding up those same forces. Perhaps some Ministries would have trials, but they would all meet the same result.
Death.
There wasn’t any other way, and Raylyn felt fine with that.
Raylyn knew the woman standing in front of her but said nothing. This was the weapon’s sister, the one who had allowed them to kill Hollowborne. She saved humanity, but Raylyn wasn’t in a position to help her yet. Though, when the time came, Raylyn would. She’d speak at any tribunal or before the First Council if needed. This woman did not deserve death, and Raylyn understood that now. When Rebecca Hollowborne first contacted the Prevention Division, Raylyn had thought differently. She didn’t care if the informant died, because anyone who forsook Corinth deserved such punishment. Raylyn’s thoughts on that had changed, however. This woman might have been lost for a while—much of her life—but in the end, she found the hardest salvation imaginable. She’d helped kill her own brother.
The man on Raylyn’s left? She didn’t know him and he mattered little. His proximity to what happened a few hours ago would warrant extensive questioning, but other than that … What could he offer the world anymore? His time had passed with his leader’s; he was a dead man walking.
“You’re being detained for treason to the True Faith Ministry as well as mankind.” The words rolled off Raylyn’s tongue with little trouble, though she had thought it might sound strange. No one ever thought such words would be applicable, but …
Well, they were perhaps the truest words ever spoken.
Raylyn detained her subjects and then loaded them into the transport that would deliver them to the True Faith. Fate was waiting.
“What is it?” Raylyn asked. “What’s wrong?”
Manor lay on a cot staring up at the ceiling. They were riding in a much larger transport than the one they’d taken here, leaving behind the First Priest. Raylyn hadn’t asked any questions, only agreed and thanked him for the opportunity. She didn’t know how that would end for her, but like everything else, she’d find out in time.
It was Manor she felt concern for now.
His eyes were red as if he’d been crying. Raylyn sat down on the cot. He didn’t so much as glance at her, his eyes not breaking away from the ceiling above.
“Hey,” she said, putting her hand on his chest. “What’s going on?”
He shook his head, but remained quiet.
“Talk to me,” Raylyn said. She turned and laid down on the bed, draping half of her body over his and putting her head on his chest. She said nothing for a few moments, hoping he might speak. “It’s over. He’s dead. I saw it, Manor. I watched him fall, and now it’s all over.”
Tears came to her eyes. A happiness, a relief that she didn’t think she could put into words. Lynda died at that man’s hand, not to mention countless others. Terror had reigned only briefly, but perhaps Earth had never had a ruler with such an iron grasp. And it was all finished.
Raylyn said nothing for a few minutes, and exhaustion quickly found its rightful place in her mind. Raylyn fell asleep with her head moving up and down on her lover’s chest.
Hate grew in Manor’s heart, a hate he’d never known.
He knew it was over because he’d watched David fall too. He didn’t need someone to tell him. He’d seen it the same as Raylyn, his transport’s walls bringing him right next to David—as if Manor hung in the air with him. He’d watched David’s gray eyes die, and seen his body rush toward a ruthless ground.
Fear had possessed Manor’s heart then, followed by despair. Hours passed as Raylyn did whatever she did and Manor sat alone in the transport, the emotions in him morphing.
Now his fear and despair were as dead as David, only hate lived inside him.
He didn’t know what he would do with it, only that it burned. His chest, his mind, all of it was alight while the woman who killed his Prophet lay on his chest.
In moments, the world had changed and Manor’s life had been destroyed.
Everything he loved, everything he believed, all of it had fallen from the sky never to be seen again.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING? GET HER. GET HER AND BRING HER BACK!”
Yule looked at Daniel Sesam, his transport’s screen relaying the man to him.
“YOU TURN THE FUCK AROUND AND GO GET MY DAUGHTER!”
Daniel’s face was red, tears welling large in his eyes. Yule looked at him, knowing that he could never feel the rage of this father, but also recognizing the pain inside himself.
“Mr. Sesam,” the Pope said, “we have to wait now. I missed my chance. It’s my fault, no one else’s, but your daughter isn’t lost.”
Yule thought his words might be true, but he couldn’t be completely sure. There was no guarantee with the High Priest or the True Fai
th.
“THAT’S NOT GOOD ENOUGH!” the man screamed.
And maybe it wasn’t, but …
“Did you see them?” Yule asked, his voice calm against Daniel’s onslaught. “Did you see how many there were, at least when the lasers started?”
Daniel opened his mouth to say something, but caught himself short. His eyes full of tears and his face red, Yule knew Daniel Sesam was seeing the truth in the Pope’s words.
“We couldn’t do anything, Mr. Sesam. We couldn’t go after her, not against that force. Every one of us would have died.”
Daniel’s mouth closed, the stone bunker in view behind him. Yule saw other people in the camera’s view, but none dared step into the full frame.
“She isn’t lost,” Yule repeated. “But now we have to start with diplomacy. We’ll get her back, but I can’t command our ships to attack the High Priest of another Ministry—not with the war over.”
Daniel shook his head at the camera, opened his mouth again, then shut it. He stared for a second longer, then finally said, “You were willing to attack him when the world was at stake, but now that’s finished and she isn’t as important?”
The Pope said nothing. What could he tell this grieving father? Daniel was right, because now Yule had to protect the Catholic Church’s faithful, and war wouldn’t do that.
“I’m using these machines,” Daniel said. “I’m using them to stay with her until we get her back.”
Yule nodded and then the man walked out of the camera’s view.
Dr. Lane stepped up to take Daniel’s place, but Yule raised a hand. “Not right now. I’ll be back soon.”
He turned from the screen and after a few seconds, it went black then returned to its wall state.
Yule walked across the transport, the generals and military personnel quiet as he passed by. He had taken the conversation in full view of them, but now he wanted to be alone. He didn’t look at the Captain’s chair he’d rode over here on, but walked past it and through a back door. The ship held a few, small rooms, and Yule found one of the cabins. He sat down on the bed and put his head in his hands. The Pope couldn’t keep up with all the emotions running through him. The world was rejoicing, no doubt—from the highest building of the One Path to the lowest tower in the True Faith. The world had been liberated. God had delivered His people once more.
Everyone, save those who lost the war, was feeling happiness they hadn’t known possible.
Everyone, save those who lost the war … and Daniel Sesam.
… And Yule, Pope of the Catholic Church and Leader of the Old World.
Because although the weapon had been defeated, and the Black banished—the woman Yule had come for was gone, kidnapped by another Ministry.
What do I do, Lord? Please. Direct me as to how I can bring this daughter back to her father.
Yule had told Daniel it was time for diplomacy, but doubt lived in his mind. A beehive of it, deadly and chaotic. Because the High Priest …
He doesn’t want Nicki for the Black, Yule thought. He never did. Whatever he wants, it’s for him, and that’s why he still has her.
Yule closed his eyes and prayed for Nicki Sesam’s life, because regardless of what he told Daniel, he knew it was in peril.
It’d been a mistake and the First Priest only hoped he wouldn’t live to regret it. His death could be quick, there was still hope for that.
The First Priest stood in the High’s … home? He didn’t know, but as he looked around the wooden room, he wondered how long the High had been insane. His home appeared to be a single room with a bathroom attached. It floated alone in the sky … of another Ministry.
“She’s below?” the High Priest asked, his back to the First.
“Yes, my High Priest.”
“And the Disciple?”
“He’s with her. They’re both waiting for your direction.”
The First Priest swallowed though his mouth was dry. He should have turned the ships on this small house, ripping it apart and later claiming it had been an accident. There had been a few moments where he could have done it, and he’d known they were passing him by too. It wasn’t like the First was looking back now, thinking he’d missed his opportunity. No, he’d missed nothing. He’d simply acted in the opposite manner.
Two chances, actually.
The first when the Disciple held the weapon distracted. He could have slipped by easily, turning his weapons on this home. Instead, he gave the command to fire on the weapon, giving up his secrecy and wasting his first chance.
The second came when the First Priest watched the false Prophet fall through the sky—and for a few seconds, allowed himself to think his life might continue on as it had before. That perhaps all could be forgiven, his transgressions against the Proclamations and the High Priest’s anger toward him wiped clean. During that time of consideration, he still could have found this house and laid waste to it.
But he had allowed the window to close. And then he’d been called to this small building, where he exited the transport alone and joined the High Priest.
“This is the first time anyone’s ever been here,” the High said. “Do you know why I live in the One Path, Brother?”
“No, my Holy.”
“Does it bother you that I do?”
“No. It’s not my place to question any of your decisions. I know where you live, it’s in Corinth’s service,” the First said, knowing no such thing. The only knowledge that seemed concrete was the High Priest’s insanity, and that the First had made a horrible mistake in coming here.
A horrible mistake by not murdering the man standing before him.
“You broke Corinth’s proclamation,” the High said, changing the subject as if they’d been speaking of nothing else.
“I know,” the First responded, hoping pain rippled through his words. “There isn’t enough sorrow in the world to express my feelings.”
The High nodded, the back of his bald head bobbing up and down slightly.
“Yet, your Proclamation breaking resulted in the weapon’s defeat. It saved the world, did it not?”
“Perhaps some might see it that way,” the First whispered.
“Many might.” The High Priest turned around and the First saw him in the flesh after long, long years. He’d of course seen him while sitting in that black box, the green pixels relaying the crazy man’s image, but they hadn’t told the full truth. His skin was flabbier, his face rounder. His eyes appeared to have actually sunk inside of his face, as if they couldn’t stand looking out at the world anymore and so tried retreating.
The First never wanted to look at this face again, and yet he kept staring, knowing that to look away might mean death.
“I sent you here to die,” the High said as if reading his thoughts.
And maybe he is.
“But you didn’t. You killed the weapon and brought me what I asked for.” The two stared at each other for a minute, or maybe an hour, the First couldn’t tell—he just kept looking forward, refusing to drop his eyes. “If I killed you for your transgressions now, I would be within my right. However, I’m unsure how Corinth would look at it. You love Corinth, correct?”
The First nodded.
“And you ask for His guidance? Outside of this last transgression?”
The First nodded again.
“Then I want you to ask for His guidance here, and I’d like you to tell me what you think should happen.”
The High stopped talking and silence resumed.
“Now?” the First asked. “You want me to tell you now, your Holiness?”
“Yes. If you love Corinth and you know Him, it shouldn’t be hard to understand what He wants from you.”
The First nodded slowly, his words already forming in his mind. He walked a on a wire here and knew it. To lean one direction or the other … and he would end up in the same place as the weapon.
“The world needs to be fixed. It would be both a great honor and a grueling task to s
erve Corinth in such a manner. I think it would please Him to spare my life and allow me to do that.”
The High turned around and looked at the wall again. “Go then. Fix the world.” A hand rose into the air, and he waved the First off as if he was a child asking too many questions.
The First stood for a second longer, his right hand trembling slightly, and then without another word, he left the madman’s house.
Rhett was alone, stored in the undercarriage of a large transport. They had left him on the hard, metal floor, alone and locked away.
He couldn’t move, the necklace strapped on his neck holding him immobile.
Rhett didn’t know where Rebecca was, nor Christine. He didn’t know where anyone he’d spent the last 20 years with was—all were taken from him.
Loss weighed on his chest, as heavy as the very transport he traveled in. He moved through phases of sobbing and then staring up at the ceiling with dry eyes. Images of David falling relentlessly plagued his mind. David’s body going limp, the gray cloud of spiderwebs around him dying, and then him sinking into endless sky.
Except it wasn’t endless, because if it was, he’d still be alive.
Whenever he saw David falling, he broke down again, tears running from his eyes as if they might be able to drown him in this cell.
Maybe if he cried enough, he would die and not have to feel like this anymore.
Rhett felt only loss. A loss of his whole life … all of it had been for nothing, and now he was headed to a painful end—one that would also be a lie. His cause, his life all portrayed as something evil.
A loss of the Unformed—of the God they all worked so hard to bring forth.
And the worst, which Rhett hadn’t understood until now, was the loss of David. He’d always thought he served the Unformed, and David was only a means to that end. He understood the truth now. He had been serving David this entire time …
And he didn’t regret it.