Daren watches Alicia train in what she calls the Sword Dance and it awakens more memories of his childhood, in particular in his own training field on the other world. He remembers the Dragonblood Code drilled into him, igniting a fire long thought dead and he determines that it may be time to follow in his family's legacy. For Alicia, she can't help the feelings that stir in her as she watches Daren train with her. The passion and excitement is real and it terrifies her.
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This is NOT professionally recorded and is not intended to act like it is. This is a free audio recording of “The Ansville Gatehouse” short story. If you want to help support my projects and perhaps one day be able to make this professional, you can help by going to https://andrewnusz.com and clicking on the “Support Me” button. My hope is that you will enjoy this enough to encourage the writing and future publication of my writings.
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Daren walked down the marble hallway of the Sanctuary, as the old man called his home. Following it to its end, he came to a door opening onto a large meadow overlooking the river that flowed around the property, twenty feet below a rugged cliff.
In the center of the meadow, Alicia stood within a drawn-out circle. In her hand, she held a sword she had procured from an armory discovered a few days after arriving at this strange place. Each morning since, she would awaken at dawn and, with sword in hand, go outside to, in her words, practice. Daren saw it differently. What she did within the practice circle she drew around herself was a finely tuned dance with her sword. The intricate patterns she wove with the blade and her foot placement at each thrust were the master’s craft of the deadliest dance.
This morning was no different as he stepped off the path leading from the Sanctuary into the meadow. Taking a seat in one of the chairs nearby, he watched, transfixed, as her movements flowed with the singsong whistling of the sword blade. He had never seen anything so graceful, so precise, and so deadly. The sword had become an extension of her.
Two weeks had passed since they arrived here. The visions of her past had been burned into his mind forever with brutal clarity. He had seen her childhood and her ascent to become a queen mother of dark creatures. They were half-born of her, half-bred in a laboratory or nursery—if one could call it that. In time, he watched as she rode to war, clad in black metal garb with a blood-red cloak, leading an army of creatures. They were abominations—twisted, half-human, half-ravenous things bent on savage murder and devouring what they killed. Wherever they went, they left a trail of blood. Her ravaging lust for death was matched only by her children’s. Country after country was laid to waste in her brutal campaign. No living thing stood in her way—that is, until warriors of Dragonblood, wielding weapons fused with magic, sliced into her company of blood-craved monsters.
Dragonblood warriors were merciless, driving her back across the devastated countries with vengeance. They wore the crests of Dragonblood’s house, the dominant presence of a strange wheel pattern overshadowed by the outline of a dragon and a burning tree. At times, they were even aided by dragons swooping out of the clouds, decimating large numbers of nightbreed with fire. Anger burned in their eyes as they came to destroy the abominable creatures in their lands. No dragon would tolerate such black creations within Exodus.
The war raged on until, suddenly, all went dark. In the blackness, he heard a whisper: “I was lost in the darkest abyss when light came to me—an offered hand out of the misery I led.” Alicia’s voice was soft, almost that of a child who had discovered wonderment. “My heart and mind were free to leave, the chains binding me from a ritual taken off.” After a moment of silence, she whispered one last time, “I ran… ran like I had never done before, away from the evil, from my family, from my title, from myself. I had to run and never look back at that woman I had become… and I have been running ever since.”
As their minds separated and Daren found himself back in the Sanctuary, the old man placed a hand on Alicia’s shaking hands, tears spilling down her face from the brutal memories. She looked hauntingly ahead as if she could still see the blood of those she had murdered.
“Alicia…” the old man whispered, holding her hand in his. “The past is not who you are. It can never again rule you. You have been set free of that guilt. You are a new creation, set on a new path to fight against the things that once ruled you. You’re a fighter but also a princess of a different country, a different realm. This is your charge now—to fight with honor and loyalty…”
Daren sat in the chair in the meadow, watching Alicia’s strength return faster and faster until her movements became a blur. He felt bad for anyone who would now stand in her way. Before, he had thought she was dangerous. That was before she held that sword of hers. Now, she was death.
Watching her sword spin in blindingly fast thrusts, he felt a chill creep through him. She was equally terrifying to watch but also sent a thrill of excitement through his body. She was… beautiful in her element. There were no other words for what he saw. She was perfection.
Closing his eyes, he let his mind draw inward. He could hear her words to him again as she allowed him to see her darkest memories. There was no fence to sit on. For two weeks, he had sat here watching. He knew, though, what kept him seated: fear and doubt.
As he sat there, birds chirping away, the world dimmed, replaced by another field—this one much larger, with training equipment in the shadow of a towering wall with battlements. Young men and women sparred with each other using wooden swords. Among them stood an older man, a scar running down his left cheek. He watched with keen eyes as his pupils fought.
Daren’s own hand held a flattened wooden sword, feeling it crash against his opponent’s wooden blade, sending a jolt down his arm. His opponent, a guy about two years older than him with some facial hair coming in, swung low, aiming for a stab. Daren immediately blocked it, stepping back only one foot before swinging in a tight arc with lightning-fast speed. His opponent never had the chance to raise his sword in defense fast enough and felt the wooden blade smack him hard against the shoulder. He gave a startled cry as the pain dislodged the sword from his hands. Daren’s blade swept up and touched the edge of his neck.
The sword master waved a hand at Daren’s opponent. “You’re dead! What did you learn from your death?”
Shaking his head, sweat dripping from his forehead, the older boy looked at Daren with a frustrated glare. “He’s too fast. I can’t get my sword up fast enough!”
“Or maybe you weren’t paying attention to his movements, thinking he was shorter and therefore slower than you,” the sword master nodded to himself. “Anticipate movements. Always!” Turning from them, he shouted, “Why do we fight? Why do we train so much more than any other kingdom?”
Silence, except for the clash of wood against wood, echoed before it slowed to an end. Everyone knew this was something the sword master did at the end of each practice.
Someone finally shouted, “For honor!”
Daren turned to see who the young man answering was, and recognition quickly surfaced.
“What honor?” the sword master shouted back. “What do we fight for?”
The same young man, someone who hadn’t participated much in the practice, replied in a shout, “For honor, for loyalty, for faithfulness, for truth… to defend the just, the innocent, and the weak! This is the code of Dragonblood!”
The sword master locked eyes with the young man with brown, scraggly hair. “Remember this always, Collin. For one day, you will rule in your father’s place. The Sherwin family must never forget the code. Eskaver’s Sword burns in the sword hall because we hold to this code and do not deviate. The day we decide to follow our own paths, not set by the code, will be the day this kingdom falls. Never forget we balance on a knife’s edge, gifted with power but bearing great responsibility. Failing this fails all who wish to live within the fae. We are not of this world but born into service for the greater good. Never forget, lest we fall into darkness because of it.”
He turned to the rest of the students and shouted, “We are here because we are the ambassadors, the guardians of peace between humans and ancients, protectors of the realms. We have been charged by the high lords of dragons, the keepers of the magical flame of the fae, and Elyon, creator of life eternal, to uphold what is good and to guard against the dark hearts who would ravage our lands for their own gain and the whispers of the gods of chaos. Remember, my students, we fight for the light, that which is pure! This is the code of Dragonblood!”
With these last words, the memory faded, and Daren watched as Alicia continued her practice. Something in his heart stirred, like embers that had almost died out. The sword master’s words echoed heavily. He realized with a start that everything he had done with Alicia since the day he met her followed this code of honor.
A whisper echoed from memory, the sword master saying, “Everyone dies. Only a few die with honor.”
“Honor…” Daren whispered hoarsely. Tears welled up as flashes of his parents dying—when they could have killed everyone—returned. Their death was to honor his life in protection.
Blinking back tears, he looked up to watch Alicia. Flashes of her childhood—the torture, the abuse of her innocence as a child—ripped into him, and he closed his eyes tight, hands clenching into fists. The world was a brutal place. Few ever stood up for the innocent.
Looking into the heavens, Daren whispered, “I think… I think I understand you… forgive me for holding onto hate.” He slowly sank to the ground and knelt, whispering forgiveness to the memory of parents he had thought were cowards but were so much more.
From the practice circle, Alicia paused in her swinging. She watched him for a time before coming over. “Daren?” she said gently. “Are you okay?”
Slowly, he looked up, focusing on her face. His heart felt lighter, freer. He nodded with a thin smile before letting her help him to his feet. She was still looking at him with a bit of concern when he said, “I’ve decided.”
“Decided what?” She wiped a few drops of sweat from getting into her eyes.
He eyed the sword in her hand and, with effort, said, “For honor, for loyalty, for faithfulness, for truth… to defend the just, the innocent, and the weak… this is what we fight for.” He took in a breath, letting it out slowly. “I remember… the code of Dragonblood.”
Alicia’s lips slowly formed a rare smile, and she placed a hand on his shoulder. “Are you sure you want to do this? I know we didn’t give you much of a choice, but…”
“I won’t let my parents’ deaths be for nothing,” Daren said, eyes half-closed. “They died in honor to the code in a world gone dark.” Lifting his head slightly, he felt determination filling him. In a resolute voice, he said, “I am of the house of Cole… and I will honor my parents, to live by this code.”
Alicia’s smile broadened for a moment, and she let the sword drop from her hands, instead embracing him in a long hug. “To honor and victory, then. We will fight together, you and I.” She disengaged then and looked at him intently. “Now… we practice.”
Daren blinked, looking at the sword she picked back up. “I’m recalling things, but… it’s been a while since I held one of those. And I’m not so sure how effective that is against guns.”
Alicia looked at him with a soft chuckle. “Guns can’t kill Nightbreed, Daren.” She hefted the sword in her hand. “Only fire, beheading, or a special weapon forged in magic.” Her eyes closed briefly. “They are only slightly human—more chaos and spirit. Guns have no effect on them, so put that notion aside.”
“Great,” Daren whispered under his breath. “What do I fight with, then?”
“This, of course.” The old man came strolling through the meadow toward them, carrying a sword in hand. He smiled upon reaching the two of them. Handing Daren the sword, Daren took it and lifted it, testing how the weight felt in his hands.
“I thought you might be needing one soon,” the old man chuckled dryly, “so I dug another sword out of the armory.” He gave it a cursory glance in Daren’s hands and said, “Mind you, it hasn’t been used in quite a while.”
Alicia’s eyes lit up, seeing the sword in Daren’s hands. “Care to see what you remember?”
Daren blinked at her dumbly. “Now?”
“Why not? You have to know how to use that thing before I ever let you be around me with another sword.”
Daren frowned at this. He didn’t know how to take her words just then. “Was that a jab?”
“Just plain facts,” she replied with a shrug. “I need to know you have my back, and the only way to know that is to test you and make you practice every day until it’s part of you.”
Daren nodded, replaying another scene from growing up. The practices he was recalling in brief flashes were not exactly fun but painful.
Alicia seemed eager all of a sudden. “Come,” she motioned to Daren. “Step into the circle and let’s see what you remember about the dance.”
“So it is a dance?” Daren cocked his head to the side. “When I was watching you, it looked like you were literally dancing.”
She smiled, stepping into the circle she had scuffed into the grass. Walking to the middle, she turned to face him. “It’s called ‘The Sword Dance’ because it is. It’s also very deadly if you’re not careful. It’s an elite style of fighting that requires precision and excellent focus.”
With her sword, she pointed at the one in his hand. “Drop it.”
“Huh?” Daren glared. “How will I fight you then?”
The old man’s hand appeared next to him, holding a wooden sword. “With this,” he said with a chuckle. He extended a hand for the sword Daren held. “When she deems you ready,” he took the real sword in hand, “this will be waiting for you.”
Daren groaned, already feeling the sores he was going to get pounded with.
Eyeing him now, Alicia said, “What is the number one rule of fighting?”
Daren racked his brain, remembering his childhood practices. With a certain nod, he said, “There are no rules.”
Alicia nodded. “The only thing to remember is to survive. There is no single perfect dance. In war, there are no rules. You fight dirty and make sure you're hard to kill. Your purpose is to become a weapon of death.”
Before Daren had time to react, Alicia sprinted toward him, jumped, and flipped over him, twisting in midair. When she landed behind him, a wooden sword blade cracked him hard in the back, sprawling him to the ground.
In a tone with little mercy, Alicia said, “The second rule is like the first. There are no perfect defenses. Always be on your guard, at every angle, at all times.” She stepped back to the middle of the circle and waited for him to get back up.
Feeling the sting in his back, Daren fought back the urge to say something and stood to his feet. So this was how things were going to be, huh? Slowly, more and more images flashed in his memory of the training grounds of his youth.
From the side of the circle, the old man smiled crookedly. “I would say good luck, Daren, but at this point in the game, there won’t be any. I’ll simply say to you, Alicia, go easy on him for now. Don’t…”
Alicia narrowed an eyebrow. “Are you going to question my methods before I even begin?”
The old man smiled warmly. “I am only suggesting that Daren does not yet have his memories in full. He is like a child. Treat him as such.”
Daren shot the old man a dirty look. “I am no child.”
“You fall like one, though,” the old man beamed. “A man would have countered the spin. You have much to learn and little time for it. I am hoping one of your gifts is that your learning is as fast as your instinctual reactions.”
Daren gave a heavy sigh. Today was not going to go well. He watched in agony as Alicia ran toward him again, and he braced for another beating and lecture, just like the old sword master—always teaching after a sound beating.
---
The training Daren received at Alicia’s hand brought back more and more memories of his childhood. At times, they were fleeting; at others, they came in waves of dreams at night. It took him three days to master a simple technique she had shown him. But the more he recalled his own memories, the more he began to remember his former training—the feeling and practiced moves that, even at a young age, had been hardened into his mind and body.
Weeks passed as each day began in the training circle with Alicia, determined to make Daren a warrior of her caliber. She was relentless but still retained a softness toward him she wouldn’t have otherwise shown to another.
For Daren, it was becoming increasingly hard to drown out the obvious thing happening. No matter how hard he tried to shove it away, each moment spent with Alicia was a moment he reveled in. Her movements, her graceful stance, and at times even the laughter she found herself uttering—he was becoming mesmerized, drawn to her nature. He hid it as best he could, most easily when in the circle with her beating relentlessly against him. But outside the circle, a softness had come over her. She wasn’t the hardened ice queen he had met on the road. Instead, there was a vulnerability she shared only when they were alone. His heart soared when she allowed herself to speak, to wonder about things. Well-versed in many ancient books, she would tell them to him, and they would talk long into the night about the meanings, daydreaming at times of other places. There wasn’t enough time in the day for him to be around her. When night finally came, his heart ached when he had to say goodnight, only to wake up longing to be in the circle with her again.
He wondered if she knew. If she did, she hid it well in her beating of him. But here, he was gaining ground slowly. His movements with the practice sword increased in speed and accuracy each day. He was a sponge, soaking in everything she showed him.
She was diligent in not neglecting other areas he had to be proficient in. This included teaching him how to control the mindframe and how to tap into it without going overboard—a deadly thing one could do and lose their mind forever.
Each day, when the training in the circle ended, they’d take a short rest and wander into the woods, following a trail to the river’s edge. There, they would sit on the bank as she shared part of her mind with him, showing him the network of building blocks that formed the mindframe. To use the genetically crafted other half that Dragonblood and Garlands shared, it had to be properly set up with walls in place so the rest of the mind wouldn’t break when used.
They began slowly at first, manipulating the water into small balls that hovered. From elements of nature, each was given a task in the mind to activate the framework for specific tasks.
Week after week, Daren honed his skill, fighting not to do anything more strenuous than what was allowed. Soon, the world around him expanded, his mind realizing just how different he was from everyone else. From the building blocks of the tiniest cell, he could craft things—start a fire, sculpt a figure with no hands, fashion balls of fire. As each week passed, his knowledge increased like an insatiable beast wanting more and more information on how to do things.
---
One day, Daren and Alicia took a break from the constant training. Instead, they packed a bag of food items and went exploring. The old man had said at one point that the forest around the Sanctuary was inside the crossroads, and nothing could break the perimeter he had set around it.
So, with two horses provided by the old man, they took off down a trail and simply explored the wonders of this strange in-between place.
For an hour, Daren and Alicia rode down a winding path following the bubbling river, taking in the sounds of the flowing water, the chirping of birds, and the occasional scamper of creatures in the forest. The sun beamed down with its golden rays, as if it had mystical powers that made the forest come alive. Each plant was more vibrant and colorful than anything outside the Sanctuary. The water was crystal clear with a sweet taste. For Alicia, she knew the truth: being here had healed her quickly. She reveled in her old self again, feeling the strength of her former self and the speed she lived for.
They rounded a bend in the trail, leading away from the river’s edge for another fifteen minutes, where the path drifted into a denser area of the forest. There was still enough room to walk under the tall, ancient trees.
She slowed her horse to a trot, frowning slightly. She was unsure what she felt but knew by instinct they were close to something. Holding up a hand, she reined in the horse and dropped to the ground, standing still for a moment.
Daren did the same and came to stand next to her. “You sensing something off?” His hand hovered close to his sword handle.
She shook her head, distracted by his voice. “No, don’t grab your sword. This isn’t evil. It’s… something else.”
He withdrew his hand but stayed close, peering out at the thousands of trees surrounding them.
Slowly, she began walking, leading her horse by the reins to descend a grassy slope. All around them, leaves rustled in the wind. The hillside dropped to where several small bushes blocked their way forward. Letting go of the reins, she pushed through the brush while inside, she felt the increasing pressure of knowing she was nearing the source. Her sapphire necklace began to glow softly in response to the nearness.
Beside her, she felt the ever-present closeness of Daren—something she hadn’t expected to happen, but when it had, the connection seemed to never fully fade. Truthfully, if only to herself, she never wanted it to disappear. She felt… whole in his gentle, loving way. And by the gods, her heart skipped when she thought of watching him spar with her in the circle. Oh, heart! What had she done? She wanted him to herself! She had stepped over a line she swore not to cross! And she couldn’t retrace her steps. Not now. She was addicted—addicted to his love—and it scared her deeply. The last few months had shattered walls she had held since she was a little child, replaced with a bleeding river of aching for what was right in front of her. But fear of the unknown chained her into a corner of her heart, screaming not to step forward.
Breaking through the last foliage of brush, Alicia found herself stepping into a streambed spanning a good fifteen feet across in a shallow flow of water just a few feet deep. It flowed through the trees, made up of sand and stones, bubbling in the morning sunlight, fog lifting slightly off the water like in a mystical dream.
Daren breathed in a soft whisper. “Oh, wow…” He took in the sight before him with a deep sigh of wonder. Alicia felt the connection between them in that instant thought. She realized his passions were hers, and it quickened her heart again.
Focusing on why she was here, she scanned the surrounding trees for any sign of movement, anything out of the ordinary, but as the minutes passed, nothing appeared.
Daren waded into the stream a little, cupping his hands in the water and drinking. He was about to do it a second time when he froze, eyes fixed ahead.
Alicia’s sapphire necklace sparked and pulsated with blue light. She looked up, and in the distance, there was movement. She froze, her eyes fixing on a sight she knew well. In her past life, they had been one of the deadliest creatures to her.
A white unicorn trotted through the water in a bend of the stream, lowering its head to drink. It looked up suddenly, its nose sniffing the air before making eye contact with her. Its ivory horn, fixed on its head, sparkled. For a full minute, it just stared at her, unmoving.
She knew instantly that it recognized her. No matter where she went in life, the Ancient races would know her, as their pure blood was on her hands. She had done the unthinkable—killing the pure races of magic-born who held no evil. She had slaughtered their numbers, dragging their dead remains back with her to her home, where her family experimented with dark alchemy to harness the power that created them. Although the ultimate goal was never attained, knowledge was gained to enhance their own dark creations. Some of these creatures were even taken as prisoners to be tortured alive, their screams echoing in her mind even after years of renouncing her past.
Staring now into this sentient creature—a lord akin to dragons, masters and rulers of the magical realm of the fae—she bowed her head low, tears beginning to fall as the evil she had done weighed heavily on her heart. Taking a step, she knelt to her knees, water flowing around her hips. In the barest of whispers, she cried, “Forgive me…”
The unicorn, still as a statue, eyed her unmoving for what seemed an eternity before, with a shake of its mane, it turned and walked out of the stream and into the wooded glen.
A moment later, a hand fell on her shoulder, and she leaned back into Daren, not ready to rise. Here, in this in-between world, she was being faced with all that came before and the future. Who was she? A monster? Human? But what was human if not a vile and evil creature?
Daren’s voice was soft as he said, “You are not the person you were, Alicia. Don’t hold onto it.”
Shaking her head, her expression fell as guilt filled her. In tears, she whispered, “But it is who I am, no matter how much time passes. It is my legacy.”
Daren knelt beside her and turned her to face him. “You are who you want to be, Alicia. If you hold onto the past, that will be the only thing you are. But if you make another name for yourself…” He took her hand in his, and she felt his gaze pierce her as though he were looking into her soul. “We are not the people we were. I won’t allow myself. I won’t allow you to go back either.” His eyes were fastened to hers, determination in his gaze. “You are… special to me. I won’t allow you to wallow in guilt, in this dark place you want to stay in! I know you are more!”
Tears dribbled down her face as she felt Daren’s mind impress upon her. She could feel he meant every word. And with it, she felt something more—something she didn’t expect. Love?
She looked up to see he had disengaged quickly and was lifting her to her feet. “Let’s get dried off,” he said with that friendly face she had grown to want to see. She followed him out of the water back to their horses and, for a time, dried off on the bank. They said very little, and when dried enough, they remounted, returning to the old man’s Sanctuary.
---
For the next few days, Daren practiced with Alicia in the circle but hesitated at times. He had let his emotions slip. He swore at himself over and over. He was almost certain she knew what he had let her feel, and it made him slip in other areas. He was getting sloppy in their sparring. Her movements were harsh as always, but his defenses and counters kept breaking.
Swinging her sword down lightning-fast, he barely got his own sword up in time. Her blade clanged against his in a rain of sparks as he jumped backward with a curse.
Alicia’s eyes glared. “What was that? Do you need to go back to the training sword?” She marched up to him in anger. “That was the sloppiest I’ve ever seen you! I could have sliced into you!”
Daren hung his head, feeling like a fool, before he growled, “I already know that.”
Alicia gave a huff and backed off. Raising her sword, she marched back to her position, saying, “Again!”
Daren raised his sword, readying for her attack. As it came, her sword flashing in the air, he instantly blocked, sidestepped, spun low with a backflip, his own sword spinning around to clash against her blade in another rain of sparks. This time, he was ready and countered hard with a swing almost as fast as her own. She stepped back, defended, and sidestepped, always within the circle, dancing several different patterns. This was the key to the Sword Dance. Each placement within the wheel involved different moves, always changing so your opponent was always off guard. The more patterns you could switch to, the more your opponent had to adjust and try to recognize the foot movements. This took precious time away, allowing you to get a few more swings in.
Stepping back, he switched to an outer wheel pattern, but before he could engage again, his eyes caught sight of something strange. Distracted for a split second, he didn’t let it stop him from watching Alicia’s feet. She flew at him in a spinning kick, sword flashing in her arms, and he ducked low, sweeping out in a low kick that barely missed her own. They traded places even as swords came up in another clash.
It was then they both saw something off in the distance, and Alicia called out, “Halt!” She stepped back, lowered her sword, and turned to look out at the meadow, her eyes fixed on the trees. “Did you see that?”
“I saw something,” Daren said, bringing his sword down. “I thought it was a trick of the sun, but I’m not sure now. It was like the trees changed for a split second.”
Alicia nodded. “Same. Like they were dying.”
From behind them, the old man came walking toward them, his staff in hand.
“Did you see it too?” Alicia asked as he approached. “I thought I saw…” She shook her head, unsure. “It looked like the trees were dying all around for the briefest second.”
Stretching his hand out, the old man whispered, “Look.” He waved his hand slightly.
The meadow—or what was once a meadow—slowly changed. In its place stood half-rotted black trees. A strange, oozing substance coated every tree limb, the ground covered in dead leaves. The atmosphere was heavy with the smell of decay. An illuminating red hue covered everything around them, with sulfuric steam seeping from beneath the ground.
With another quick wave of his hand, the scene vanished, and the trees were whole again.
Blinking in shock, both Alicia and Daren looked at the old man.
“It is slow in coming but is coming,” he said with a deep sigh. “I cannot hold it off forever. Not anymore.”
“What is it that’s coming?” Daren wondered in shocked puzzlement. “That looked like…”
“Neverworld…” Alicia whispered. “I know that smell. I’ve seen it in my dreams before.” Her eyes had taken on a haunted look.
The old man nodded slowly. “With each passing month now, a growing power to the north is spilling into the in-between world as well as others.” Turning, he motioned. “Come with me. I want to discuss something, and I want to sit.”
They followed the old man into a wooded garden filled with statues, gothic-designed fences, and gates holding sconces for torches. The pathway was lit by large, ornate bowls holding oil, with swirling designs inscribed on domed tops for when it rained. Fountains of fairies and dragons dotted each path and intersection, each depicting a different scene of another world.
In the center of the garden, the old man took a seat on one of the benches lining the pathway while Daren and Alicia took their own seats nearby.
The old man looked out at the garden and gave a deep sigh. “So many years, and so much has been lost.” He turned and focused his eyes on Daren earnestly. “My son, what happened to your parents when you were younger was something they willingly embraced—not because they believed in something foolish, but because of the exact opposite. They embraced Elyon as their Lord. They were loyal to Him and no other. There is a growing increase in many gods’ presence. They are emboldened by unfolding events and whisper their dark thoughts into human ears.
“You will ultimately have this question—and probably have for a long time. If Elyon is so good, why does He allow evil things to happen? Isn’t He supposed to protect those He loves?”
Daren didn’t look up, but his hand found Alicia’s, taking hers in his own.
The old man looked at Alicia. “You, my lady, have experienced trauma in such a horrific fashion. You have seen His love for you, but now I want to show you something more—a truth few ever find. In the ancient text, it says He formed humanity out of His own image. This is what you need to understand about yourselves. The image of God is not physical attributes—how one looks or thinks or any number of qualifying factors pertaining to physical characteristics. The image is an attribute of who God is in the form of a title.”
Daren sighed softly. He had just forgiven himself and his parents for things. He knew from his memories of having lessons in religion—everyone had, as it was part of the world. But his relationship with Elyon was tentative at best.
The old man continued slowly. “I will try to keep this brief, but if you are to venture any further, you must understand what you are facing.” He paused. “When Elyon created the world, there were already beings there to witness this event. It’s easy to know this, as it’s shown in other ancient books. Why is this important? To give context to what happens. The supernatural realm is the home of many different spirits that the ancient text alludes to and shows often. The serpent figure, of course, wasn’t a real snake but a metaphor of the spirit realm—the ‘nachash,’ or a supernatural throne guardian. Now, bear with me here. Part of the attributes humans are given to be like Elyon is free will. Without it, concepts like love and self-sacrifice don’t exist. It is a very important part of this representation. It’s an attribute given only to those Elyon considers ‘family.’ Both humans and spirit beings have this.
“Now, because no created thing is like Elyon, who is perfect, He knew there would be trouble. And it happens from the very start when humans are created. The ‘nachash,’ who is a throne guardian, is angered that Elyon wants humans to occupy the same place as himself. Humans were lower in status. How dare Elyon make something lower and elevate it to his level! So he devises a plan, and while these humans are in the garden—home of Elyon and His entourage—the nachash tells Eve a half-truth and entices her to disobey. When she does, and Adam does the same, every part of the world is cursed. The nachash is cast out of the throne room, out of Eden, the dwelling place of Elyon, and made to live in the underworld. However, if one looks at the actual text, it was a concept of Earth when the curse corrupted it. Earth is the underworld, and Satan is its prince.”
The old man leaned in. “What you saw just a while ago is the true reality of our world. Just like the fae world overlaps our world at points, at times we can glimpse the third realm—that which human eyes don’t see most often but is there regardless. It’s the underworld, the decaying realm that is always here but hidden. And it is seeping through.
“From the beginning, the nachash—or ‘Satan,’ as he is later titled—hates humanity. But there are others who hate humans as well. They see what Elyon did with humans, giving them their own status, and became bitter. They would break their own laws and take women to create children of their own. But they were judged and chained in gloomy darkness, awaiting their judgment. It is a war that has lasted since the beginning. As part of this idea, the status of humans is the biggest part of the history of creation. As there is a council in Heaven, which is shown clearly in many places of this ancient text, the Sons of God will ultimately switch roles as to who the ‘Sons of God’ refer to and what that means. Your ultimate end, if loyal to Elyon and believing what He did, the last ancient book shows you and I replacing the ‘Sons of God’ on the council, who are given rulership status. We replace the spirits who oppose us now. At the time of the resurrection, their legitimate rulership over nations, given at the time of Babel, is voided. Their power over you is ended.”
He turned to look at Alicia. “You know what happened when we confronted the Swordsman.”
Alicia looked down, eyes closed. “But… he has so much power.”
“Only what you give him. Once, long ago, he did have legitimate power that controlled and ruled nations. That is no longer true, but he will never allow this to be known. He and all like him want you trapped in believing they own you as gods. They do not. They live in your fears.”
“The Apostle Paul stated, ‘Don’t you know that one day you will rule over angels?’ That’s what he said! Why then is there evil? Because for Elyon to make humans like Himself, one thing that had to be given over any other was free will. If He didn’t, we wouldn’t be human. It’s what sets us apart from all others. But He knew by doing so, there was the potential for us to disobey. He gave the spiritual family this gift, and He gave humans this gift as well. This is why there is evil. We abused the good gifts given to us. If He were to intervene, He would ultimately have to wipe out all of humanity because the essential identity of man is the ability to choose. Does that make Elyon evil by giving man the ability to freely choose? If we didn’t have that, we would never know what love is. It is intrinsically tied to each other. Ultimately, Elyon wanted a human family and, knowing the risk associated with it, He went and made humans, knowing as well that He would one day have to repair what humans and spiritual beings alike would mess up.”
“Yes, evil exists, and it’s ugly. It’s horrible what people do to other people. But you can’t blame God for it, otherwise you wouldn’t exist to blame Him. He wants you with Him to partner with Him. That is the entire purpose of the human race. Our status is on a cosmic level!”
The old man turned now to Alicia and took her hands in his. “For you, dear, always remember who you are. Your past does not define you. The way Elyon looks at you as His image-bearer, you wear that badge with honor. You are truly, in all reality, a princess. That is your real status. It’s not just some word to make you feel good. It’s who you really are. You are a survivor, a conqueror, and ultimately an heir who will displace the spirits who try to rule this place, who want you to think only that you are a slave. Remember, though, you can walk away. The Swordsman does not own you. He never has. He tricked you as a child so that you would live in a state of terror to do his bidding. He is a vile and dark spirit. Do not believe the lies you were told as a child.”
He took her hand and cupped it in his own. “Though this hand was part of what did evil, you were five years old when you were taught a lie. If Elyon turned His back on you, He would have had to do the same with all humanity. He did not. He knew before He created you that you would break His heart. And yet, despite all of it, He still wanted you. He loved you and made a way to make you fit for sacred space—that is, where He is. This was always the purpose of humanity. Don’t ever allow the spirits or humans to tell you differently. Your title is higher than even the spirits. Honor Elyon’s decisions in this.” He drew her close then and whispered, “Don’t allow memories to dictate your status. You do not belong to the world of the dead any longer. You have found freedom. So walk in it with your head held high. Your guilt is no more. You are a new creation of light.”
Tears dripped from Alicia’s eyes, feeling the old man’s words seep deep into her soul.
Leaning back in his chair, the old man stretched and took a long sip of tea.
Daren blinked, wondering where that had come from. He could have sworn it wasn’t with the old man before.
For a time, they sat listening to the wind play on the trees.
When enough time had passed, he said, “I see you want to ask a question but aren’t forthcoming. What is it?”
Alicia’s eyes drew down, and she gave a frustrated sigh. “I still don’t know what to do now. All my plans are wasted.”
The old man nodded sagely. “This is why providence led you here to me. Your path still leads north to Ansville.”
At Alicia’s questioning look, the old man broadened his smile. “Your life is to take another path now—one that flows in line with prophecy.” He turned to Daren. “This is why you were given dreams—to show you the reality of things, to make known that your life isn’t as hopeless or meaningless as you think. Providence guides the free will of people He chooses to blaze new trails with.”
“I don’t understand,” Daren whispered. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the old man.
“Daren, do you understand what I’ve told you today? Do you understand your parents’ sacrifice? All of humanity is at war with itself, being guided by spirits posing as gods, whispering in the ears of high leaders.
“They did not die without purpose or foolishly,” the old man whispered. “As in the days of old, good men and women stood up against those who hate the truth. And in their dying, they showed the world a conviction for love and order. This world has gone to hell, bringing chaos and destruction. Sinvin is let loose to poison and change the very identity of who we are. It is by design.”
The old man raised a hand in warning. “I know you said you will follow your parents’ legacy. But I want you to realize something, Daren. To follow this legacy is lonely. You will be tested and taunted, beaten down, and humiliated. There is no real happy ending but the beginning of a war for you. While you still reside on this side in mortal flesh, you are subject to the nature of corrupt things. You will struggle and fight, sometimes win and sometimes lose. People often assume that once they swear allegiance to Elyon, life becomes simple. It doesn’t. And for you especially, coming from Dragonblood, your family has sworn to fight the dark creations that were once thought to have ended long ago in the past.
“The truth is, it never ended. Your family has always been a target. You are in the crosshairs of cosmic enemies—spirits who will never stop at taking you down. They have created armies of flesh and spirit again that your family has been tasked to annihilate. And now there are those on the doorstep who wish nothing more than to destroy you. There’s a war brewing, and your family name is on the front line. You must prepare as much as you can.”
The old man looked up and seemed to see something they couldn’t. For a long time, he was silent. Then, with a resigned sigh, he whispered, “Time is short…” he whispered again, this time even softer. “Time is short…”
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