Chronicles of Stephen BoxSet

by Kenyon T Henry

  Stephen turned to Patty. “You’ve heard me talk about Jax. We’ve had some classes together.”

  Jax shook her hand, a bright smile on his face. “Hello, Mrs. Patty . . .”

  “Just Patty, please. I’m not that much older than you,” Patty replied.

  “Okay, Patty.” Jax nodded toward Stephen. “You know, this guy here is crazy about you. He’s concerned you might be feeling out of place.”

  Stephen rolled his eyes, covering his face with his hand. Why did he think telling a teenager something like that was a good idea? He nudged Jax. “Not cool.”

  Vincent looked at Stephen. “I have told you more than once that you do talk too much.”

  “I guess I do.”

  “Patty,” Jax said. “Did you know Waltz well too?”

  Stephen felt Patty’s emotions swell. He dipped inside her mind, sharing what he felt when he remembered his time with Waltz, the feeling of being loved.

  Patty glanced at Stephen and mouthed, “Thank you,” before turning back to Jax. “Yes, I knew him well. He was a good man who seemed to only know how to love.”

  “That’s how I remember him too,” Jax replied. “I was young the last time I saw him.”

  “But you are young now,” Vincent said.

  “Vincent,” Patty snapped. “You know what he meant.”

  “I do,” Vincent replied. “I was merely pointing out—”

  “Stop!” Patty said.

  Vincent grimaced, but Stephen and Jax laughed.

  “I see who the boss is in this group,” Jax said. “It was nice meeting you, Patty.” He turned to Stephen. “I’ll see you in class tomorrow.” He nodded down the hall, an infectious smile adorning his face. “I gotta get to session. It’s warrior training. I get to try turning it up a notch today! Between prophets, priests, and warriors, I’m sure glad I’m a warrior. There’s nothing better.”

  “Well, have fun!” Stephen tapped Jax’s chest. “Do some damage for me.”

  Jax took off back the way he had come. “You know I will!”

  “That’s a good kid,” Stephen said. “He’s my favorite so far.”

  “Really? Why is that?” Vincent asked.

  “There’s something familiar about him. Plus, he doesn’t have a hateful bone in his body. I just hope he doesn’t let life break him down.”

  “Well, maybe you can help him with that.” Patty wrapped her arm around Stephen’s.

  “Maybe . . .” Stephen turned the corner. Before he managed to get fully turned around, he felt someone bump into him. “Whoa . . .” He reached to grab the man, catching him just before he hit the ground, but not before sunglasses fell from the man’s face. His solid white eyes made his skin seem all the darker. Vincent grabbed the glasses from the floor and placed them in the man’s hand.

  “Thank you, Vincent,” the older man said, raising the glasses back on his face.

  Vincent nodded and attempted a smile.

  “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t notice . . .” Stephen paused, looking at the man, who continued to look straight ahead. He listened briefly to the man’s thoughts. “You’re—”

  “Blind,” the man interrupted. “I sensed you poking around in there. You must be Stephen.”

  “Excuse me,” Patty said. “But if you’re blind—”

  “How do I know that you’re Patty, he’s Stephen, and the awkward gentleman that nodded at me as though I can see is Vincent?”

  Stephen and Patty looked at Vincent who blushed a little.

  “I’m Joe, Jackson’s dad. I thought I heard him.”

  “He just took off,” Stephen said.

  “Oh.” Joe reached for Stephen’s arm. “I was just wanting to chat. Would you mind if I accompanied you three to the mess hall?”

  “You’re a prophet?” Patty asked.

  Joe smiled. “I prefer seer. I’ve never parted water or anything like that. I just see things.”

  “That is ironic.” Vincent had barely gotten the words out when Stephen and Patty both glared at him.

  Joe chuckled. “Yes, I suppose it is ironic for a seer to be blind.”

  Joe turned in the direction of the mess hall, still holding onto Stephen’s arm. As the group walked, Joe assured them that they’d settle in sooner than later.

  Upon nearing the cafeteria, Joe asked for a moment alone with Stephen. Vincent and Patty obliged and continued onward. Stephen suspected Joe wanted to talk about his son. Jax looked up to Stephen and seemed to have a strong, almost brotherly affection for him, though Stephen wasn’t sure why.

  “Stephen, you don’t remember Jackson, do you?”

  Stephen had never seen Jax before they started classes in Enclave. “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “You used to call him little Jack.”

  Stephen felt his legs go weak. The impact was strong and immediate. Looking at Joe, he could barely see it, the resemblance. Joe was much smaller. Still, something about his smile looked familiar, jogging his memory. “You’re Joe Thompson, Bernie’s cousin.”

  Joe nodded. “I am.”

  “And Jax is little Jack!” He paused while running his hand through his hair, as though this would help the news settle in easier. “He came to visit us one summer. Bernard and I were in high school. Jack was like nine or ten. That boy followed me everywhere.”

  “He came home and talked about you for a while after that.” Joe smiled. “He wanted to go back the next summer. I almost let him.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “His ability started to show that year. It wasn’t enough that anyone would’ve noticed at the time. But, once it starts, you don’t always know how quickly it will progress. I knew Waltz and Bernie would understand. I was concerned about you.” He smiled again and paused to bite his lower lip for a moment. “It’s kind of funny how things turn out. When Jackson learned about being Mighty, he was upset because he couldn’t share it with you. You should’ve seen him when he heard you were coming here.”

  Stephen smiled. “How did I not know? Sure, he’s a lot bigger now, but . . .” The realization that Joe was Bernie’s family hit him. After all, he was the one responsible for having Bernie locked up. He had never even considered that Bernie would have family who were also gifted. He felt sadness fall on him as he struggled for words. “Joe, I-I, about Uncle Bernie . . .”

  “Hey, Stephen. Don’t you worry none about that. No, it ain’t pleasant, but Bernie made his choices himself. You didn’t make him do anything.” Joe spoke with certainty. “And right now, Jackson needs someone to look up to more than ever. You and I are the closest family he has. Hey! Why don’t y’all come visit us down south sometime? It’d be nice to have y’ins.”

  Stephen smiled. Since being at Enclave, he had found new friends and was excited at the prospect of having family. Knowing Jax had been family all along put him at ease.

  “Joe, if either of you ever need me—”

  “We know, Stephen.” Joe wrapped his arms around him and gave a gentle squeeze.

  Joe gasped, before snatching his hands back and stepping away. “Stephen.” Joe’s voice wavered as he now staggered backward. His eyes widened, and his lip quivered as he held his arms out, reaching for the wall to steady himself.

  “What is it, Joe?” Stephen watched as Joe’s body began to shake.

  “I need to sit down.”

  Stephen grabbed him and helped him to a seat in the cafeteria. “Joe?” Stephen said more firmly.

  “Let me help.”

  Stephen turned to see where the deep voice had come from. A tall, muscular man with white hair and wearing a stone insignia on his collar kneeled next to Joe. “Do you know what’s wrong?” Stephen asked.

  “Nothing’s wrong. He’s seeing something, but not like usual. He’s having a vision. He’ll be fine. We need to get him to his room.”

  Stephen saw Patty and Vincent rushing over. “Is everything okay?” Vincent’s usual stoic expression was replaced with concern.

  “I think so,
” Stephen replied.

  “Yes,” the tall man replied. “He’ll be fine. We just need to get him to his bed.”

  “Can we do anything?” Patty asked.

  “If you two want to bring some food to his living quarters, he’ll be hungry when he comes to. His visions can be physically exhausting. He’ll feel drained.”

  Patty and Vincent headed toward the kitchen.

  “Water too,” the man called out.

  Vincent waved in acknowledgement as they hurried along.

  The man turned to Stephen. “I’ll carry him. Will you get the doors?”

  “I may not look it, but I’m stronger than you. I should probably carry him.” Stephen reached to lift Joe. He froze. His mind flooded with images of Joe. All at once, he knew everything about Joe’s gift that the man next to him knew.

  “Do you understand?” the man asked.

  Stephen nodded and went for the door as the man carried Joe into the hallway. Stephen followed.

  “You must be Stephen. I’m Colvin Middleton. I’m Chief Arbiter here.”

  “Arbiter, like a judge?” Stephen said.

  “Yes, exactly. Arbiters handle disputes and preside over trials and discipline. All arbiters are prophets.”

  They hurried down the hallway toward to the personal compartments.

  “So, Joe really is okay?”

  “Yes, he’s good. His gift is somewhat unique. Not many can see the things he sees. But you already know that much, don’t you?”

  “I guess I do.”

  When they arrived at Joe’s quarters, Stephen opened the door. Clothing items lay on the bed. Stephen moved them to the desk so Colvin could lay Joe down. Together, they situated pillows and blankets to make Joe comfortable.

  “He’ll be fine here. I’m guessing it’ll be a little while before he wakes.”

  Stephen glanced around the room. There was a picture of Jax on the wall, just as he remembered him when he stayed with them over the summer.

  “What’s it like, Stephen?”

  He turned back to Colvin. “What’s what like?”

  Colvin nodded toward the bed Joe laid on. “That type of vision.”

  “Uh, I . . .” Stephen wasn’t sure what to say. He wasn’t comfortable with everyone knowing so much about him.

  “Most of us, prophets that is, have some type of communication from God. Sometimes it’s as simple as being able to notice things others don’t see. God reveals himself to us in this way.” Colvin sat in a chair on the other side of the room. The lamp next to him made his wrinkles more apparent. “Few of us actually talk to angels. Very few ever see God.”

  “Well—” Stephen looked around for a chair. Pulling out the one from underneath the desk, he sat down. “It’s humbling. I knew in an instant just how insignificant I was. Yet, I felt so much love. We’re nothing compared to Him, compared to God. But, because of Him, our worth can never be measured. My body knew to kneel before Him. The angel Areli told me to get up. I imagine that had God Himself spoken to me in his glory-filled form, I would have burst into flames.”

  One side of Colvin’s lips turned upward. His eyes softened. “That sounds amazing.”

  “The truth is, I could spend the rest of my life trying to explain it and never get it right.”

  “Stephen!” Patty called from the hallway.

  “I’m closer. I’ve got it,” the Chief Arbiter offered.

  Colvin stood outside the door. “Down here.” He re-entered, Patty and Vincent in tow. They placed the food in the compact kitchen area where only a sink, mini-fridge, and microwave were available. The smell of the food made Stephen’s stomach growl. He ignored it.

  “What happened to Joe?” Vincent sounded concerned, which was something that didn’t come naturally.

  Colvin looked at Stephen. “I know you three are close, but I don’t know just how close.”

  Stephen nodded. “It’s okay. You can tell ’em.” Stephen looked back at Joe, noticing his eyelids twitch as though dreaming.

  Colvin took a deep breath and began explaining. “This is an extension of Joe’s gifts. He also sees visions of things that haven’t happened yet, but not just any vision. Joe is what we call a harbinger.”

  Patty and Vincent looked at each other. Patty’s face scrunched up and her eyebrows wrinkled, a look of confusion Stephen was familiar with. Vincent, however, looked lost in thought—his gaze drifted away. His eyes continued moving back and forth as if searching for something.

  After a moment of silence, Vincent turned to Colvin. “A harbinger generally announces some type of change. So, what kinds of things does Joe see?”

  “Big changes. And not always good.” Colvin looked to Joe and then to Stephen.

  Stephen hadn’t really been paying attention. He had been watching Joe, wondering what he was seeing. Still, he was suddenly aware that everyone’s focus had shifted to him. In an instant, he soaked up their present thoughts and understood what was going on.

  “Colvin doesn’t want to tell you that Joe has an unfortunate nickname—“Harbinger of Death.” He heard Patty gasp, but continued. “Often, the change that Joe sees is preceded or succeeded by death, but not always.”

  “There is more to it?” Vincent asked.

  “His visions are set off by contact. In other words, whatever he’s seeing or saw has to do with me.” Stephen continued looking at Joe, tempted to try and see inside his mind.

  “How long before we know?” Patty asked.

  Stephen looked at her. He could tell from the tone in her voice she was working hard to hold herself together.

  “Joe,” Colvin started, “will come to in an hour or two. But, it may be awhile before he can fully process what he saw. It’s taken as long as a week. Even then, there is always room for interpretation.”

  “But we need to know!” Patty didn’t contain her panic any longer. “We just went through so much. How long do we have? The guys are still in training.” The more she spoke, the faster and louder she got. “We need answers.”

  Stephen sprang from his seat and headed for the door but kissed Patty on the cheek before leaving the room. He heard Patty call out behind him.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To get some answers.”

  Chapter 3

  Stephen stood in the silence of the catacombs, waiting for Anastasia, a priest and council woman of the Mighty. The silence felt eerie. Something about the catacombs muted sound, preventing it from traveling far. Still, he could hear the occasional yell, or the cold slamming of a steel door. The moisture in the air hinted that he was well below ground. Yet, there was something soothing about the place. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t hear anyone else’s thoughts. His mind found peace here.

  Anastasia entered the catacombs where prisoners were held and walked over to Stephen, who accompanied her to Bernie’s cell. Seeing Uncle Bernie disturbed Stephen. His uncle just sat there in the darkened corner, his dark skin acting as a sort of camouflage in the shadow. He barely acknowledged their presence, his mind still locked away. The council had left the time frame of when to release Bernie’s mind up to Stephen, as long as he didn’t wait too long. It had been almost two months. It didn’t seem long enough to Stephen. But he needed answers and hoped this was the place to get them.

  The prisoner in the next cell stepped up to the bars, close to where Stephen and Anastasia stood. “Stephen.” The two ignored him. He called out again, only louder. “Stephen.”

  Stephen took a deep breath in and let it all out at once. “What, Matthew? What do you want?”

  “I know you’re thinking of releasing his mind.”

  “So?” Stephen said. “Why should that matter to you?”

  “I know I fell, and you don’t want to trust me. Just consider, how was Fallen able to get so close to Waltz and him not know it? He was a priest, a powerful one. Even without a triune, he was very strong.”

  Anastasia walked over to Matthew’s cell. “What’s your goal? What do you
want?”

  “I’m not proud of what I’ve done. Slowly, I’ve begun realizing things. I did stuff that for some sick reason I thought needed to be done at the time—”

  “So,” Anastasia interrupted him. “You are trying to make amends?”

  “Oh, no. I see what sent me down that path, a series of choices I thought were right, or at least okay. I don’t want that for Stephen. I don’t know why, but he’s very important.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Stephen turned and motioned to the guards.

  Two men came and unlocked the cell. It crushed Stephen to watch them shackle his Uncle Bernie. Afterward, they assisted Bernie to an interrogation room. Stephen and Anastasia followed but stopped before entering.

  Anastasia turned to Stephen. “In this room, all your powers will work, but only on those in the room. The same is true for Bernie. If you need anything, motion to us. The guards and I, however, can use our gifts from outside. It’s a blessing given by the council when someone is chosen as a sentinel and completes the training.”

  Stephen gave a slight nod and entered the room, closing the door behind him. The walls were brick and painted white, making the room very bright. Bernie stood in a corner, staring into nothingness. Stephen walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder. Bernie twitched at the contact.

  It’s okay, Unc. Let’s get you out of there.

  Stephen went deep into Bernie’s mind, finding the conscious self just where he had left it, in a dark, empty chasm of sorts. He envisioned taking Bernie by the hand and leading him back out.

  Bernie began to sob. He reached toward Stephen, but his hands were still bound by shackles that connected to a chain around his waist.

  “Please, p-please . . .” Bernie quivered.

  “Please what?”

  “Is-is Bernard alive?”

  Stephen smiled. “He is. He’s still Fallen though. I won’t stop trying to save him.”

  Bernie fell to his knees, planting his forehead into Stephen’s body. “Thank you, Stephen. Thank you.”

  Stephen backed away. “I’m not here to help you. You’re here to help me.”

  Bernie looked up, trying his best to wipe the tears away with his sleeves. “Certainly. I owe you that. What do you need?” he asked in a deep, frail voice.