The Prophet Box-Set: Books 1-4

by David Beers

  “What do we do?”

  The psychopath leaned against the wall, his gun at his side. “Follow them. They’re heading toward her.”

  “You’re sure?”

  He reached up and tapped his temple with the barrel of his gun.

  Daniel believed him. “What are they going to do? Can you see that?”

  The psychopath looked at him, his eyes flat and calm. “You can’t see anything anymore, can you? Not an inkling?”

  Daniel shook his head. “It was never strong. I had it, but not like … you or her.”

  “I don’t think anyone has ever had it like her,” the psychopath said. He stared forward as he said it and Daniel saw a combination of longing and intensity cross his face.

  He can’t help it. No more than he can help the sight. It’s inside him, just the same.

  “Hey,” Daniel whispered. “What are they going to do?”

  The psychopath’s face cleared and he looked down at the floor. “Something is happening here. I can’t see it, all I can see is her. Something is happening with her, too.”

  “What? What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know. She’s always been large in my mind. She takes up a lot of space and makes it harder to see anything else. Now, though … there is nothing else. I can tell that this place is ….” He paused for a few moments, nodding his head as if trying to figure out the right phrase. “It’s like kindling, and only needs a match. I can’t see anything else, though. Not why, or what’s actually happening, because she is blocking it out.”

  “What’s happening with her? Focus, damn it. What’s happening with my daughter?”

  “I don’t know,” the psychopath said, looking at him. “I think her sight is growing more powerful, if that’s possible.”

  Daniel looked to the psychopath’s side, and almost thinking aloud, said, “They’re going to her?”

  “I think so, yes.”

  “Then we are too. Let’s go.”

  The psychopath nodded once and then stepped into the other hallway. For all his faults, Daniel understood that this man would die in here the same as Daniel. Not for the same reason. Daniel would die to keep his daughter alive. The man walking in front of him would die for the chance to see her.

  The First Priest was starting to wonder if these hallways actually ended anywhere, or if they simply looped in on themselves again and again. The building had been massive from the outside, but even so, the hallways felt like they should have ended somewhere. They couldn’t go on forever.

  “Are we nearly there, Most Holy?”

  “We’re getting close,” the High said.

  “May I be permitted a question?”

  “Certainly.”

  “How long did it take you to construct this?”

  The High Priest was quiet for a second, throwing the First off. The man hadn’t stopped talking since the First Priest stepped off his ship—more garrulous than the First had ever seen him.

  Finally, he said, “I think a few years.”

  The First nodded, knowing that the High might not know the answer. That was the reason for the pause. He couldn’t remember building it. He only knew it was here.

  How far gone is he? the First asked himself. What is his reality like?

  You’re seeing it. Endless hallways that circle on and on, forever and ever.

  “Take a right.”

  The First did, immediately seeing a small door at the end of the hallway.

  “It’s in there, what we’ve been building.”

  The High hadn’t moved, but remained at the beginning of the hall. The First turned around and looked at him.

  “Are you coming?” He didn’t want to go any further, suddenly felt a need to not move his feet another step.

  “Oh, yes. I am. I just want to see your face when you first glimpse it. We’ve been working very hard, Corinth and I. It would give me great pleasure to witness your reaction.”

  The First nodded slowly, then turned around to look at the black door. Corinth and I. What did that even mean? The First didn’t know, but with each word the High said, he thought his own death that much more certain. The man had lost his mind, perhaps long, long ago, and how was the First going to make it out of this? Whatever he saw beyond that doorway would determine his fate, and the First didn’t want to see it. Not at all.

  Yet, his feet started moving all the same. Every action he’d taken his whole life had put him here, and he couldn’t simply turn around and go back. To where? The High Priest? The Priestess? The First Council? No, none of them would accept him stopping here. There was only forward, and the First Priest finally realized he wasn’t in control of his life.

  Finally, as an old man he understood that perhaps after a certain point, no one controlled their life. Only their past decisions did.

  He walked down the hallway, the tiled floors almost blindingly white. He heard the High Priest moving softly behind him, keeping his distance. The First wanted to say something to the Priestess, to tell her not to fire, and to keep that bitch Trinant One from firing too. He wanted to tell her that no matter what was on the other side of the door, to keep calm, because he would handle it all.

  He couldn’t, though—because 200 Disciples sat down below him and something would trigger them. Then the High Priest would know what was afoot. And …

  It’s not like it would matter. The Priestess isn’t going to listen to you.

  The door opened in front of him, sliding into the wall, and he paused for a moment.

  Corinth, the First Priest prayed, terrified and having no where else to turn. Please, please, save your loyal servant.

  He stepped through the door and looked first to his left. There, he saw only a hallway with a door at the end. He turned to his right.

  Relief flooded him.

  That’s it? he thought as his mind took in what was before him.

  A skeleton of a box stood around a young woman. The First Priest could see from where he stood that it was the same woman from the dossier. Her hands were at her sides and her feet not touching the ground. The box only had edges to it, metal things that emanated blue light. A small, black panel sat on the right side in one of the box’s metal posts.

  It’s okay, he thought. Everything is okay. What can he possibly do with this?

  The First Priest wanted to laugh, wanted to dance around in a circle throwing his hands in the air and shouting to high Corinth that everything was just perfect.

  The Black, the weapon—all of those fears—were so vast that this little box, with a woman barely older than a teenager inside it … what could it do?

  Nothing.

  The High Priest was insane.

  The messages received had been from dull workers, so enthused by working for the High Priest that they would believe anything he told them.

  Nothing. To. Worry. About.

  “It doesn’t look like much, does it?” the High said as he approached from the side. He walked through the doorway. “It’s honestly quite simple, but I would have never thought of it without the Old World. They were genius in their original attempt.”

  The High Priest walked past the First, slowly making his way to the box. The First didn’t move, caught in the High’s words.

  “They arranged their brains, a whole bunch of Catholic adherents, in a way that mimicked Veritros. Their genius ended there, though. They couldn’t make the brains work. The gifts came and went and none of them were anything like the weapon. What I figured out, with Corinth’s help of course, is that with some nanotechnology, we can push her brain.”

  “You put nanotechnology into her?” the First asked, still not moving.

  “No, no, of course not. That would be too dangerous. The box around her, though, is full of it. There are more nanoparticles per square Corinch in that box than has ever been created before.”

  “She can’t control it, though,” the First Priest said, forgetting about any titles or form. The High Priest sounded mad, his contrapti
on looked feeble, but yet the First couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing something.

  “No, she can’t, my Priest. Those Disciples downstairs, though? Some of them are focusing on these nanoparticles. Quite a lot actually. And they have control.”

  It made no sense. Nanotechnology was a tool to be used, to make life easier. It wasn’t a spaceship that would bring the girl to outer space.

  “I’m not sending her to outer space,” the High said.

  The First’s thoughts froze.

  “Some of the Disciples are focusing on you, your Holiness. Have been focusing on you since the moment you arrived, and with so many, it’s not taking them long to understand the intricacies of your nanotech. Your thoughts aren’t perfectly clear to me, but my Disciples are giving me the gist.” The High Priest stopped in front of the box, but didn’t turn around. “You’re right, though. There is no spaceship. What I’m going to do is complex, a combination that only Corinth could have revealed to me. The space in between the box is transmitting as much as technologically possible from the girl to the nanoparticles. It’s not quite as complete as what’s happening inside True Faith members, but it’s close. I’m combining that with the Disciples downstairs, and when I turn it on, we’ll know what she’s thinking. Where she goes when she disappears for hours on end. And, if the Black is anywhere near her, contacting her at all, we’ll be right there with her.”

  The First Priest swallowed though he had no saliva. He was hearing madness.

  “Most Holy,” he said. “The message we received said this will amplify her.”

  “Yes. We hope so. We’re hoping she can draw from it as we’re drawing from her, both her and the Disciples using the nanotech in a symbiotic relationship. We’ll know where she goes, and then we’ll be able to thrust her in whatever direction we want.”

  The First felt his heart thumping in his chest, knowing these words were being transferred back to —

  “The Priestess. Yes, my First Priest. I know you’ve brought others. I know their weapons are focusing on us right now. I know they’re listening.” The High Priest turned around. His face was calm again, the look of a man who didn’t live in the same reality as everyone else and so had nothing to fear. “You don’t have to worry about dying, though … I think you’re terrified of it. You’re worried about the True Faith firing on us. They can’t, though, not with so many Disciples downstairs. With a word from me, that much focused concentration can crush every ship you brought. Every single one.”

  The First kept his mind absolutely blank, knowing to think anything would be the same as speaking aloud to this mad tyrant.

  The High turned back around.

  “I’m not angry with you, my First Priest. You did not break any additional Proclamations, and you honestly think you’re serving Corinth’s Will. It’s just … you’re mistaken. Divine revelation only comes to the few, those who have lived their lives for Him. I have, and this is what He’s told me. Those outside won’t leave here alive, but you and I … We’re going to amplify her, and hopefully, we’ll contact the Black.”

  The High stepped inside the box’s skeleton and moved close to the blonde haired woman. Her eyes stared straight forward, not moving at all. The First didn’t know if she heard a single word they said, nor if she was in control of herself at all.

  “We’re ready,” the High called, his voice louder and stretching down hallways.

  Two workers scurried through the First Priest’s view. His death upon him, he couldn’t even speak.

  Fifty-Four

  A platform ringed the top of Corinth’s Shrine, just as one did on every level all the way down. This wouldn’t suffice for an execution, however, as to toss someone off the platform’s side might mean they would collide with lower level platforms. Sure, they would die, but they could also injure others—not to mention the mess of a body smacking against metal as it neared gravity’s terminal speed.

  Since the execution’s announcement, a makeshift plank had been constructed. It stretched out another quarter Corinthmeter from the platform. It was wide—enough for three men to lay head-to-toe comfortably—and enclosed in glass, so that no accidents would happen on the way to the end.

  This top level platform had been restricted for the past few days, with only the workers present.

  Now, though, it was open to the public—and they had come.

  Raylyn moved through the crowd, perhaps as many as 1,000 people all pushing toward the platform’s edge. They weren’t trying to get right next to the plank, as that wouldn’t be a great view to watch the body fall. However, along the platform’s railing would allow them to see it.

  Raylyn didn’t care about any of that. She was heading directly to the plank.

  A stretcher floated on either side of her, a prisoner on each. The stretchers and the necklaces they wore glowed green, just as Raylyn’s eyes did. Her face was set, and though she couldn’t have known it, some a long time ago might have whispered “Veritros” at the sight of her. For a few moments, Raylyn’s determination could be felt.

  She wore her Prevention Division uniform, and the crowd gave her great breadth as she walked toward the plank. They gazed curiously at the prisoners with her, wondering if they were here to watch the proceedings, or to die as well. Most hoped they would die, as seeing three people drop would certainly be better than one.

  Raylyn made it to the plank. She didn’t look at the guards on either side as she spoke.

  “Raylyn Brinson. Prevention Division Director. First Recipient of Corinth’s Will in 1,000 years. I’m taking these prisoners to watch their comrade die.”

  There wasn’t even discussion between the two guards. Whatever was happening elsewhere in the world had created a vacuum of power in the True Faith. Raylyn knew without doubt this execution hadn’t been important to the First Priest outside of its effect on her. He thought nothing could go wrong, and thus no real precautions were taken.

  There weren’t even any Priests here. This was all being handled by an operations division, the Priesthood not deeming it worth their time.

  The two guards stepped aside and Raylyn continued forward. The stretchers moved a bit closer to her, but there was enough room for all three.

  It took a couple of minutes to walk the plank’s entirety, but Raylyn saw Manor as soon as she stepped on. She focused on him for as long as she could. A necklace lay draped on his neck, and his back was to her, staring out the glass enclosure.

  Finally, as she grew closer, Raylyn looked at the four guards surrounding him. The earlier ones had messaged. She was expected. All four nodded as she arrived, Corinth’s Will gaining her at least as much respect as the uniform she wore.

  The two stretchers next to her righted themselves, the prisoners able to stare out the glass windows as well.

  Raylyn stepped a few feet closer, moving past the guards and to the very edge of the plank. A hole sat in the end, the same width of the plank and a little taller than a man. She went past Manor, certain that he would see. Putting one hand on the glass, she leaned slightly forward and looked down.

  The distance was forever.

  She knew no other way to classify it. One would simply fall forever, without end. Down—far, far down—she thought she might be able to see something, but it could also only be an illusion. The fall would last forever.

  “Careful, Director,” a guard said, sounding uncomfortable. To lose a recipient of Corinth’s Will at a public execution would be inexcusable.

  “We give thanks,” Raylyn whispered and then stepped back from the edge. She didn’t look at Manor.

  “It’s time,” another guard said.

  His eyes lit green and so did Manor’s necklace. Manor stepped forward a few feet. Raylyn knew everything inside the end of this tunnel was being broadcast throughout the True Faith—wherever power existed, people were watching this. They saw her right now … as well as the prisoners next to her.

  “Manor Reinheld,” a guard said, his voice hitt
ing Raylyn’s ears immediately.

  A second later, it boomed across the platform. Raylyn didn’t understand the mechanisms making it happen, but she knew that it was carrying the same throughout the entire Shrine. Throughout the entire True Faith.

  “You have been convicted of crimes against the True Faith loyal, treachery against the First Council, a traitor to mankind, and most importantly, a traitor to Corinth. You have been sentenced to death and we are here to execute that sentence.” The four guards circled him, giving their backs to Raylyn and her prisoners. Raylyn didn’t overt her eyes, knowing the moment was nearly upon her.

  One chance.

  That’s all.

  Nothing else inside of her spoke. For once, there was stillness—if not peace.

  This is right, she thought.

  “May Corinth have mercy on your soul,” the guard said, his voice echoing across the platform. People outside pressed forward, the group as a whole nearly crushing those at the very edge.

  The guards didn’t move, but Manor did, taking a step further.

  And then another.

  Raylyn’s eyes were still alight, so it would have been impossible to see a change in her. If anyone was paying attention, however, they could have seen changes in those next to her. The green inside the prisoners’ necklaces died and both dropped to the ground. No one said a word.

  The three simply stepped in between the four guards. Raylyn took Manor’s hand as she passed him, and then all four fell from the plank.

  Fifty-Five

  Yule watched the screen in front of him. He was leaning over his desk, his hands clasped together, his teeth grinding down. He didn’t feel the tension in his shoulders or back, didn’t even know he was leaning forward.

  He watched everything through the vision Trinant gave him, hearing the words that passed to her. All Yule understood was that another of their Priesthood was somehow relaying information to Trinant, though they weren’t themselves inside the floating house.

  “He’s trying to hide from me,” the Priestess said.