by Troy Hooker
For a few moments, he only found the courage to lay in the dragon’s basket, listening to the sounds of deathly silence and the soft exhale of the dragon’s breathing, waiting for something to make a noise … for something to happen.
The dragon did not move, but seemed restless in the dark scene before them. The air had a thick quality to it, much like a humid summer night when nothing seemed to cool you down, not even a steady breeze. Sam felt the sweat beading quickly on his forehead and slipped his robe and heavy sweater off, folding them neatly next to him in the basket, partly to procrastinate getting out.
He wiped the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief given to him by Emma, then cinched up his pack on his back carefully, slowly. He didn’t want to leave the comfort of the dragon and the basket, but he knew it was the only way to find the answers he needed.
Now there was to be no going back, no ignoring it, no erasing what he would find out. He was going to face whatever it was that kept him from knowing the truth about himself.
He slipped down Orono’s wing and hopped onto the hard surface below the dragon’s feet. As his eyes adjusted, he noticed he was standing not only on a cobblestone road, but in the center of a very old village. An eerie glow from the moon above began to illuminate the stone houses and storefronts with wooden shingles and shutters through the thick mist, but the light had no seeming source, nor did it contain any warmth or feeling to it.
Then, out of the mist a figure emerged, hobbling down the street in front of the shops. It looked to be an old man wearing nothing but rags and no shoes, and as he drew closer, Sam saw his hollow face appear in the faint light. He didn’t acknowledge Sam until he was very close, then stopped suddenly as if stunned by the stranger’s presence, turning quickly into one of the store entrances.
Then more figures emerged out of the stores and stone houses, looking the same way the man did. There were young and old alike, all showing the same hollow faces, but not the same fear as the old man. Instead of disappearing back from where they came, they began amassing toward Sam and the dragon.
They weren’t people anymore, but shadows of themselves, moving erratically as if they were fighting for control of their bodies, an unknown spirit warring within them. Their eyes were glossy and black like giant marbles, their hands scarred and bubbling with open boils. As he watched them lumber closer, past the crumbling shops and alleyways, he saw their faces momentarily distort into horrific demonic apparitions, then slowly re-form into their shadowed hollow selves with much effort.
An unholy fear welled up inside Sam suddenly as they approached, and Sam thought for a moment that he would run back to the dragon’s wing and hide in the basket, but a flash of movement in the corner of his eye stopped him. Another figure was standing in the middle of the cobblestone street, bathed in a soft white glow. The light grew brighter slowly, until it overpowered the cold unknown light source and poured its warmth into the street.
The shadowed people suddenly dropped to their knees and wailed, clawing at their eyes as if poisoned by the Light. As the figure moved closer, the light began to blur his outline, bathing every corner of the cobblestone village in pure Light.
Sam stood frozen to the stone below him, completely unable to move even the slightest to turn from the inescapable brightness. Whoever was walking toward him was now in control of him.
Panic inched up through him as the figure drew closer, but all he could do was watch in horror as the Light enveloped him.
He expected to be disintegrated the moment the Light touched his body, but as it drew upon him, instantly his senses were calmed. The fear melted from him, replaced by the beautiful sensation of Lazuli light rushing over him.
The figure in the Light finally came into view—a middle-aged man with long dark hair and a soft tan face that glowed slightly as he approached. He wore a dark silver robe that illuminated him even more, and at his side he carried a large staff carved into a flame. The interior of the staff’s handle held a soft blue flame that brought the carved wood to life.
Stopping directly in front of Sam, the man lifted his hand and smiled softly.
“Be free of your chains, Samuel.”
Suddenly Sam was free of his invisible captor. He wrestled with the idea of still running while he could, but something about the man made him feel at ease. He felt familiar. Burying his fear, Sam faced the man, his hands at his sides, but one wrong move and Sam would attempt to use the Light on the stranger like he did in the forest with Arazel.
“It is your fear that binds you, Samuel. Do not fear me,” the man said softly, his voice carrying deeply, much like the Dark Watcher’s.
“Who—are you?” Sam stuttered dumbly, attempting to regain his composure to appear confident. “If you are here for the Watcher Stone, I don’t have it.”
The man smiled again.
“I am only here for you,” he said. “My name is Nuriel. I am from beyond the Sadak Mountains.”
Sam was stunned. A true Watcher, here, in front of him. Gus had said there hadn’t been an encounter with the Watchers since the Old City was destroyed. Now one was here, and for some reason, for him.
“What do you want?” Sam sputtered nervously.
“Not much confidence, I see,” Nuriel said with a smile. “You are much like your father—stubborn, fearless, and untrusting. Qualities that can save you … or eventually make you lonely.”
“Why are you here? What do you know about my father?”
Nuriel’s expression changed to one of compassion.
“I am your true father, Samuel, and I have been waiting for this moment your entire life.”
***********************
No words came to Sam. He searched Nuriel’s face for deception, or some sign that he could be trying to manipulate him, but found none. His mind raced, and he turned suddenly away from the man in front of him.
This man was claiming to be his dead father. But it was a lie, because he had the newspaper article to prove it. It can’t be. My father is dead. He and my mother …
Again Nuriel smiled compassionately.
“What you have been told was only to protect you.”
Sam nearly choked from the man’s words, unable to find his own words.
“No—I don’t—believe it.”
“I would certainly feel the same. I suppose I will have to prove it to you, my son. May I?” he said, reaching out his hand carefully toward Sam’s head.
At Sam’s reluctant nod, Nuriel placed his hand on top of his head, his eyes closed. Instinctively, Sam closed his own eyes, his heart pumping wildly in his chest.
Suddenly, there were visions blurring through his mind—a woman running through a field. She was carrying something in her arms. A baby. A cabin was lit up across the field, and lightning flashed dangerously near her. She stumbled—collapsing in the field, rain beginning to pour over her body as she shielded the baby from the elements. Then, a man held up a lantern from the porch of the cabin and hurried out into the storm toward the woman. He scooped her up and brought her back to the cabin. It was his grandfather …
“This is how you entered into the world,” Nuriel said, the visions in his mind ceasing immediately.
Sam fought back the tears.
“Was that woman—my mother?”
“Yes. A Descendant from Lior.”
The tears began to flow. All of the stories about his parents were false. Lies, all of them. He knew that now, from a simple touch. Something he could never put his finger on had always been wrong about his past, yet he had fought the urge to question it. He had accepted that his parents died in the crash only to quiet his emotions, but there had always been that something—the silent voice that told him there was more. Now, there was nothing that could replace the feeling and the visions Nuriel had given him, because somehow he knew they were right.
Nuriel instant
ly held his son, his own tears staining the top of Sam’s head. For several moments, they cried in silence, holding each other as tightly as they could. Neither the hollow, shadow people, the mist-covered buildings surrounding them, nor the dragon entered their thoughts. The only thing that mattered was that father and son had reunited, and that the deepest and darkest of evil could not separate them.
***********************
“Why didn’t you come to me earlier?” Sam sobbed, his emotions pouring from his body as he stood in front of his father.
Nuriel wiped his eyes with his gleaming silver robe.
“I was bound by the laws of Creation,” he said. “Laws from the beginning of time that have been put in place—until now.”
“I don’t understand.”
“At one time the Watchers walked the earth as humans did. They were sent to protect and guide them, even after the Darkness entered the land. The Creator’s sole passion is, and has always been, to ensure mankind’s survival,” he paused, holding his hand open in front of him, a small but brilliant pulsing orb of Light dancing suddenly from his palm. “The Watchers are protectors of the Light, the shield for mankind from the Darkness.”
“When the Dark One betrayed the Light, there were many who followed him, including many of the Watchers who followed the Creator. The Dark One’s whole mission was to deceive as many as he could.”
“Those that followed the Dark One married humans and created the Descendants,” Sam nodded.
“The Dark Lords deceived the humans, showing them false forms of spiritual gifts that would give the appearance of the Light,” he paused. “But the Light always finds goodness, even in acts of Darkness. While they were born out of the Darkness, some Descendants chose to follow the Light, forsaking the Dark One. Those who chose the Light were welcomed back by the Creator.”
“He created Lior for them to live in,” Sam understood.
“Yes, He did. The Descendants are in great contrast with the rest of Creation because of the abnormal physical qualities they inherited from celestial beings.”
“Why won’t the Descendants listen to the Watchers who still follow the Creator anymore?”
“Some of the Descendants believed that the Watchers were dangerous to their existence. They felt that since the Watchers had so much power, they were prone to being deceived once again by the Dark One, should he choose to awaken. In the best interests of the Descendants who feared them, the Watchers thought it best to withdraw from Lior, keeping only to the mountains beyond.”
“Is that where we are now?”
Nuriel laughed.
“Not quite. I wouldn’t want to step a foot in this place if I didn’t absolutely have to.”
“I can see why,” Sam said quietly.
“Ayet Sal is a place where the Darkness has completely taken over the power of the Light. It is, in essence, where the ones who choose the Darkness will inevitably go, because of the constant lure of Darkness in their lives,” he said sadly. “The souls that enter the Valley of Death have allowed the Darkness to rule completely, and there is no room for Light.”
“How are we able to be here?” Sam wondered, seeing the choking black clouds just outside the little village, as though they were being held back by some powerful force.
“For another time, I’m afraid.”
His unwillingness to answer frustrated Sam, but he wasn’t really interested in what Ayet Sal was, but why they were there.
“Why have you called me here to this place?”
“Other than being one of the only places that is completely void of all gifts, including that of the Seers, it is the only place that would allow the people of Lior to truly let go of their suspicions of you. Ayet Sal is a place that, without a truly pure heart, one could not resist the call of the Darkness within.”
“Then if I return, I must be of the Light, and not the Darkness.”
Nuriel smiled.
“It is my hope that the Light is where you remain.”
Sam was anxious to hear about his mother, whose image still flooded his mind from when Nuriel touched him.
“What about my mother?”
Sadness washed over Nuriel’s face.
“Following the attack on the Old City, a few Watchers were sent to track the movements of the remaining ones who chose the path of Darkness—to follow the events of the land but not interfere. I chose to live among the Descendants in the new City of Lior, as one of them. It was there that I knew your mother, Sarias.”
Sarias. The name of my mother.
Thoughts and questions flooded Sam’s mind. He had believed a lie for so long that now it was difficult to understand the truth. But what he saw and what Nuriel showed him was real. Even more, he felt it was true. He was a Descendant, and his father was a Watcher. What did this mean for him?
“What happened to my mother?” he said suddenly, his voice choking with emotion.
Nuriel gazed beyond Sam, his eyes welling with tears that shimmered in the faint light.
“Your mother was abducted by the Metim just after your birth …” he stopped, turning his eyes from his son to hide the tears. “She escaped and made it to the Northern Gate at Jester’s Pass, but was wounded by a pursuing Dark Lord before she passed through. She was trying to get you to her father, Ramis … who I believe is known better to you as your grandfather Amos.”
“I can’t believe he is the former Chancellor of Lior.”
“Yes. And you are his grandson.”
Sam scowled, trying to put the pieces together.
“Why didn’t Amos—my grandfather, ever tell me about my mother?”
“I cannot tell you why he kept this from you, my son, but you must know that for quite some time, he was unaware of the truth.”
“I don’t understand.”
“His wife, your grandmother Shoshana, was taken when she was pregnant by the Metim during the invasion of the Old City. During her imprisonment, she escaped and found refuge in a small Outsider village until the Descendants rebuilt the City quite some time later. She had your mother while in their care,” he paused. “She died not long after your mother was born in another Metim attack on the Outsider village. They continued to care for your mother Sarias, but constant fear of attack led the Outsiders to abandon her in the mountains when she was three. Strangely, a Son of Light named Reuven Calpher found her and raised her as his own. The entire time, your grandfather never even knew his daughter existed.”
He thought for a moment, remembering the name Calpher. Could he mean Talister Calpher?
“Yes, what you think is true. Talister was raised as a sibling to your mother.”
… making Sayvon my cousin—of sorts, he thought. Maybe in some strange way, by kissing her, nature was telling me that.
Sam fought the tears back with everything he had. As fantastical as it sounded, the whole of the crazy story felt more like the truth than what he had known.
“Why haven’t you told my grandfather this? Don’t you think he would want to hear about his own daughter?”
Nuriel held his gaze, a deep sense of compassion in his eyes.
“You must remember that Watchers were bound by the request made of the Descendants to not interfere,” he spoke soothingly. “I can assure you, however, that Amos has known for some time.”
“But you left Lior City again, didn’t you? Why?”
“Sarias had the wonderful ability to see things, and she knew me for who I truly was—a Watcher, but Talister at that time was beginning his training as a Son of Light, and also began to grow suspicious of me. I left soon after to ensure there would be no confrontation.”
Sam realized that was the point at which Sam was sent to live with Amos, or Ramis, who must have passed him off to his foster parents. It was another abandonment, but at least the truth was starting to come out.
&n
bsp; “Why did the Metim abduct my mother?”
Nuriel sighed and looked above, where a large Lazuli light image of a Watcher wing appeared over them both.
“You are very special, Sam.” His eyes twinkled even from the dim light of the moon above. “You are part of the Creator’s Promise to both worlds, spoken long ago before the formation of Lior.”
“The Dark Forces believe I am supposed to lead their army to unite the Darkness.”
Even though the glowing wing disappeared, the Watcher continued to look above them, seemingly gazing into the sky above, which was invisible to Sam because of the murky mist circling their heads.
“There is more to the true Prophecy, more you do not understand … and neither do the inhabitants of the City or the Council,” he said. “The true Prophecy is spoken, and has been misunderstood through the ages. It is ancient, before any Descendant who walk these lands was born.”
He held out his palm to instantly reveal a glowing orb that grew into a series of letters that formed phrases, and eventually Sam recognized it as ancient Hebrew. Then he began to read, his voice sounding as soft whispers on a still morning. Even still, Sam could understand every word.
In that day all of Lior will moan as the shadow is cast upon the lands. From the mortal world will come the last prophet, third to be called, who will seek the hidden gate to release the Dark One from his bonds. He will call unto himself the Darkness, and the shadow will be revealed. It is then the time is near and the Creator will return, destroying the Dark One and his servants forever! All praise to the one of the Light!
Sam’s heart was suddenly in his throat. So it was true. The third prophet was in the Prophecy. Could it really be him?
“The translation we have doesn’t have the part about the Creator destroying the Dark One.”
“One thing that will never change about evil,” Nuriel closed his palm and the words of Light slowly dissipated, “and that is that it can only ever imitate the Light. It has no ability to create, or even to grow. It can only take what is present and alter it to deceive those who have been weakened by it. In its truest form, the Darkness is only the absence of pure Light.”