by Leo Ndelle
“’Bout time you took that vacation,” Joe said. “Why not take a whole month, boss? Been your manager for six years and I ain’t never seen you take no vacation. God knows you deserve more than just a few days of vacay.”
“I know I made you manager for a reason, hun,” Sara replied, not wanting to indulge Joe much longer. “Thanks. Let you know when I’m back.”
“Aight, boss,” the manager said confidently. “Bye now.”
Sara ended the call and turned off her cell phone. She took in a deep breath and slowly let it out. Zodica… Home… She did not know what to expect. Would they welcome her, and how would they welcome her? What tale had that bastard called Keerim spin concerning her disappearance? Screw this! She thought. Why sit here and think all these thoughts when I can just go home and find out for myself.
There was a major difference between falling to a lower realm and returning home. With falling, there was loss of memory and identity. Falling felt ‘longer’ and unpleasant, sometimes. However, returning home was just teleportation.
A paradin was being tried for something in the main council hall when Sara appeared in the hall. There were multiple gasps of shock and surprise from those present in the hall.
“We will resume your trial later,” Nakim, the lead councilwoman said and the Paradin on trial was escorted away from the hall.
“Step forward, Fazim!” Nakim ordered and Fazim obliged. “You have been gone for a while, my child. What is your story?”
Nakim was not one for ceremonies and neither did Fazim. Fazim tele-beamed a detailed, but edited, version of her story. Tele-beaming was a projection of her memory unto Zodica’s public database. She started from Keerim tricking her into falling, to her trials, tribulations and triumphs while living among the creatures of Earth Realm. She left out minor, inconsequential details like her relationship with Patrick, but she did mention Patrick, the O. R., Lithilia, the hounds, how she finally met Ashram again and how she regained her full memory. Fazim then said prior to being tricked into falling by the man she thought she loved and whom she thought loved her back, she had had something like a vision in which Mother had asked her to be guardian and she had accepted.
By now, word had spread that Fazim had returned and the number of paradins in the council hall had increased significantly.
“Order! Order!” Nakim called out via telepathy. “Need I remind you that silence is imperative in this hall, including telepathic silence!”
Silence followed. Nakim then turned her attention towards Fazim.
“So, you claim you are the guardian of Zodica, child?” she asked firmly.
“Yes, Council Mother,” Fazim replied confidently.
“Then there is only one way to find out,” Nakim gestured towards a pedestal to her right that had a clear, transparent globe on top of it.
Fazim nodded and glided towards the pedestal. The entire realm watched and waited in utter silence. If Fazim’s claim was right, the globe would glow brightly when she placed her hand on it. Otherwise, the globe would not glow and Fazim would be charged with the highest form of treason, punishable by imprisonment for perpetuity. However, the globe began to glow brighter as Fazim glided closer to it. It was the first time the globe had ever reacted as such. And when Fazim placed her hand on the globe, it glowed so brightly that entire council hall was submerged in its brightness. Fazim then removed her hand from the globe.
“Behold our confirmation!” Nakim announced with joy and Zodica cheered.
“On behalf of the Realm of Zodica, I say congratulations for this greatest honor,” Nakim said. “We are so very proud of you, child. We have been eagerly awaiting your return and here you are now!”
“Thank you, Council Mother,” Fazim said and bowed towards Nakim.
There was more cheering and applause until Nakim called for silence once more.
“We have heard your story, Guardian Fazim,” Nakim said and there was a note of reverence in her voice when she said ‘Guardian Fazim’. “We dare not question the word of our guardian. But, to be fair and just, we must hear what Keerim has to say.”
“It is only fair and just, Council Mother,” Fazim concurred.
Nakim beckoned towards the back and two guards escorted Keerim to stand in front of the council. For the first time, in a very long time, Keerim faced the seraph he once loved and betrayed. He met Fazim’s eyes. There was not a single trace of forgiveness or mercy in them. And now that Fazim was guardian, he doubted if even the Zarark The Scribe had given him could protect him from Fazim’s wrath!
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
MARLO’S MERIT
“YOU KNOW, MARLO, that’s no way to treat a friend,” The Scribe said as he walked faster to catch up to Marlo.
“We are certainly not friends!” Marlo spat.
“But I paid for your drink,” The Scribe whined. “AND the glass you shattered, Mr. Muscly Hands!”
Marlo stopped walking, whipped around and growled at The Scribe. They were two grown men having a little spat in public and no one cared, just the way The Scribe designed it to be.
“So, no ‘thank you’?,” The Scribe teased.
“Who stole my soul?!” Marlo demanded.
“You entitled, multi-centennial brat,” The Scribe continued teasing, much to Marlo’s discontent. “Where are your manners? Where I come from… Never mind! It’s a waste of time. But, for the fun of it…”
The Scribe cocked an eyebrow and waited. He was unsure why he was acting like this. Maybe because Marlo’s was the only story that had not yet been rewritten by the entity who was rewriting everything he had written in The Soulless Ones; the name he had given to the manuscript he had written for this section of Creation. The Scribe also had several manuscripts for the rest of Creation, all of which had been tampered with by this entity he already absolutely disliked with every aspect of his existence. Only Akasha could fully access the Dimensions of Space, Time, Energy and Ether. At least, that was his assumption until this ‘entity’ had started messing with his manuscripts. This ‘entity’ was an anomaly, THE anomaly, and therefore The Anomaly was his archenemy.
“Thank you for the drink,” Marlo said with obvious vexation, slicing into The Scribe’s thoughts. “And the glass.”
“See?” The Scribe cooed. “That was not so bad, was it?”
“Where can I find the one who stole my soul?” Marlo asked firmly.
“His name is Yehuda, but you may know him as Judas Iscariot,” The Scribe replied and waited for a reaction.
“Enough with the childishness already!” Marlo fumed.
“What you call childishness is what I call fact, my good friend,” The Scribe replied, grinning at Marlo’s look of confusion. “That is correct. Yehuda, the one who stole your soul and partook in the slaying of your children, he actually killed Danka, he is the one you call Judas Iscariot. The other one, Shi’mon, also known as Peter, yes THAT Peter, killed Dreyko.”
Marlo studied The Scribe as The Scribe spoke. He does not seem to use false tongue, Marlo thought. He took a step closer towards The Scribe. Who is this man and how come he knows so much? Marlo asked himself. He looks so familiar.
“I will take you to them,” The Scribe continued. “But, in full disclosure, you do not stand a chance against them.”
Marlo’s eyes bulged in surprise before narrowing in anger.
“Why do you say that?” Marlo felt insulted by The Scribe’s words.
The Scribe found a street bench and sat down. Marlo reluctantly sat next to The Scribe. The Scribe was silent.
“I asked you a question!”
“The Yehuda you knew back then is different from the Yehuda you will meet soon,” The Scribe replied dismissively. “He has undergone a transmutation of the essence; something you need not concern yourself with.”
“A what?” Marlo was confused.
“Like I said,” The Scribe replied with unhidden boredom. “Do not concern yourself with what has happened to Yehuda.”
; Marlo wanted to say something but changed his mind. The Scribe nodded.
“When you meet him, do not start a fight,” The Scribe warned him. “He will end you swiftly and without remorse. But you can have a conversation with him, until such a time that you are ready to exact your revenge. I assume this is what you still want, is it not?”
“Indeed,” Marlo replied.
“Then you will do exactly as I say and nothing more, until you are ready to face him. Is that understood?”
There was something about the way The Scribe spoke now that made Marlo cringe a little in fear.
“I understand,” Marlo replied calmly.
“Somewhere during your conversation with him, you MAY experience guilt like you have never experienced before,” The Scribe added. “When that happens, he will offer you a way out, a way to get your soul back.”
Marlo was stunned at The Scribe’s insinuation for a moment.
“Is this because since he stole my soul he can give it back?” Marlo asked.
He has such faith! The Scribe thought. I tell him he can get his soul back and he doesn’t even question what I say.
“Perhaps,” The Scribe replied nonchalantly.
“How do you know all this?” Marlo asked.
“Do not concern yourself with things that do not concern you,” The Scribe warned Marlo as he stood up from the park bench.
“I can get my soul back,” Marlo murmured to himself.
He still could not believe getting his soul back was actually a possibility. But The Scribe’s words had given him a sense of renewed… hope?
“Yes and Yehuda can give it back to you,” The Scribe agreed. “When he does, you’ll feel differently because everything about you will be different.”
“And… What happens after that?” Marlo asked as if he were in a daze.
“Up to you,” The Scribe replied. “Kill him, hug him, break bread with him. I don’t give an ether what you do with him.”
The Scribe read Marlo’s aura from the corner of his eye. Purpose! A powerful tool in Creation. Humans were too easy to influence. A little toying with their emotions and you can scar them for the rest of their brief existence. Marlo wanted to prove stubborn. Marlo thought he was tough; but look at him now. He was a motivated buffoon with no idea he was merely a tiny cog in the well-oiled machine in The Scribe’s grand plan; a tool to be used and discarded, just like the rest of Creation. Purpose… a much better motivator than fear. With fear, there was so much management needed by the subject. However, with purpose, the subject did most of the management themselves. ‘Efficiency’ was the word. The Scribe then stood up from the bench.
“I’ll summon you when the moment is right,” The Scribe said as he morphed into a young, Nubian lady wearing an outfit for jogging. “Be prepared.”
Marlo watched The Scribe as he, now a ‘she’, jogged away. He was baffled for a second before he shrugged off the situation. He returned to his conversation with The Scribe. The Scribe looked familiar. But where had he seen this man? After several moments of intense digging into his memory, Marlo finally remembered. The memory led to a realization of The Scribe’s hand in his demise and, consequently, the death of his twins. This realization filled Marlo with so much rage that when he screamed, news channels later reported a terrorist attack in Buenos Aires, despite surveillance cameras recording no evidence of terrorist suspects or bombs of any kind being used. Good thing The Scribe had cloaked Marlo in invisibility before Marlo let out a scream supercharged with chi energy.
***
Yehuda and the rest of the team returned to Shi’mon’s home while Shi’mon headed back to Rome to assess the situation at the O.R. headquarters. Their mission had been successful. Patrick was yet to join them, though. At least, they could still feel his esoteric signature. However he pulled that stunt, he was still alive. There was a knock on the main door and Sasha went to get it. When she opened the door, a nice gentleman stood in front of it and greeted her with a polite smile. He was tall, with dark hair and very piercing green eyes. His gait was solid; a confession of someone who was more than just fit.
“May I speak with Yehuda, please?” he asked.
Sasha regarded him quizzically.
“How do you know him?” she asked. “And how did you get this address?”
“You must be his lover,” the stranger replied with an expressionless face. “I know him through a mutual friend of ours and that mutual friend told me to find him here.”
Sasha slowly reached for the doorknob in preparation to use the door against this stranger if it came to that.
“Please tell Yehuda Marlo is here to see him,” Marlo said and his eyes flashed brightly before returning to normal.
“BRIGHT EYE!” Sasha screamed telepathically and immediately speared Marlo through the iron railing and crashed his body into the ground.
Sasha straddled Marlo and rained punches at his face before Marlo deflected the last punch and thrust his hips upwards so powerfully that Sasha went flying over him. She immediately bounced back on her feet and was ready to attack. But she saw Marlo calmly dusting his blazer and rearranging his hair. Yehuda was standing between him and her. The rest of Team Shi’mon had surrounded Marlo as well. Sasha lowered her guard.
“Do you remember me?” Marlo asked.
“You look familiar, but I don’t remember you,” Yehuda replied.
“I am Marlo,” Marlo said. “You stole my soul many centuries ago and you and your friends killed my children.”
Yehuda narrowed his eyes in confusion.
“Danka and Dreyko Pakola,” Marlo explained. “Also known as The Twins!”
“I remember you now,” Yehuda said, clasping his hands behind his back. “If you are here for an apology, then your trip has been for naught. My only regret is that I did not kill them sooner.”
“I am not here for an apology,” Marlo said, using everything he had to keep calm despite his fury.
“Then what brings you here?” Yehuda asked.
“I came to look into the face of a thief and to ask the thief to return that which he stole,” Marlo replied through gritted teeth.
“Are you luper or chuper?” Yehuda asked, knowing that was the least he could do, given he was a thief after all and was partially responsible for the Creation of the Bright Eyes
“Neither,” Marlo replied. “I am soulless, thanks to you. And thanks to you, I spawned the first chuper and luper. What they became and everything they and their spawn did are thanks to YOU!”
“You wish I was responsible for what the abominations you call children did,” Yehuda rebutted and savored in Marlo’s reaction to the sting of his words.
“Anyway,” Marlo said. “How about you do one thing right for once in your life and hand me back my soul?”
Yehuda took a step towards Marlo.
“How did you know where to find me?” he asked.
“The Scribe told me,” Marlo replied bluntly.
There were murmurs of surprise from Team Shi’mon.
“Don’t do it, brother,” Yaakov pleaded. “It could be a trap.”
“Unfortunately, Yehuda must,” Miryam countered. “This may be his ongoing journey towards redemption. Besides, if that man gets his soul back, he may not be able to spawn other Bright Eyes.”
“But he could spawn something worse,” Yochanan rebutted.
“What could be worse than Beelzebub?” Sarael asked.
“And after you get your soul back?” Yehuda asked, ignoring his team’s input.
“Then I will return later for retribution,” Marlo replied. “I will never forget what you did, Judas.”
“Fair enough,” Yehuda was unfazed by Marlo’s words. “Hold still.”
Marlo felt the Breath of Life flow from Yehuda’s mouth into his. The Scribe was right. Marlo did feel different as Yehuda breathed this breath into his being. He felt more alive and felt like a completely new creation as this breath coursed through his being and reanimated him at the ether
ic level. Marlo could not see his eyes, but he could tell they glowed a lot brighter than when he was a Bright Eye. Keyword: was! What a feeling! When Yehuda was done, Marlo nodded at Yehuda and teleported away before he changed his mind and attacked Yehuda after all. So far, The Scribe had been right and so far Marlo had kept his end of the deal. He just had to be patient until the perfect moment came when he would have his pound of flesh and closure in Yehuda’s death by his hand. The Scribe had warned him to wait until the moment was perfect to attack Yehuda. But that warning said nothing about going after someone dear to Yehuda. Marlo grinned evilly. He already had someone in mind.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
KEERIM’S VERDICT
“DO YOU KNOW why you are here, Keerim?” Council Mother asked.
“Because I was summoned, Council Mother,” Keerim replied.
“Do you know why the Council summoned you?” Nakim was calm.
She’s really putting the ‘fair’ in ‘fairness’ isn’t she? Fazim thought.
‘If the Council could kindly explain that to me, please,” Keerim replied.
Keerim stared straight ahead, preferring to avoid looking in Fazim’s direction.
“Very well,” Nakim heaved her shoulders. “Do you recognize the seraph standing to your right?”
If Keerim was going to play this game, she might as well give him a taste of his own behavior.
“I do,” Keerim replied, without turning towards Fazim.
“Could you indicate who you are referring to so that we know we are talking about the same seraph?” the Council Mother asked.
Keerim thought about merely pointing a finger towards Fazim in response but that would solidify his status as a coward. His ego was shattered already by the fact that he was brought before the council accompanied by armed guards. He had been unofficially relieved of his duty until further notice, pending his trial and sentencing. From the looks of it, that was going to be a permanent relief off his post. This was not the kind of legacy desired by any paradin.
He was supposed to be guardian before eventually becoming Overlord of the Realm. As overlord, he would take Zodica to higher heights and change the status quo of paradins. Creation was much larger than cosmic clusters. So why limit the paradins to just cosmic clusters. Yes, he was going to lead the Paradins to become the most ascended beings in Creation. Every creature in Creation would bow and worship them and he, Keerim would be the Overlord of Creation. This was his path! This was his destiny! This was the purpose he was spawned for. The Scribe was supposed to help him execute this perfect plan but everything changed when he fell in love with Fazim. The love was genuine, but Keerim knew Fazim was never going to partake in his dream, in his vision. His love for Fazim was deep and strong, but it was nothing compared to his dedication and conviction to his vision for the Paradins. As such, Fazim had become an obstacle and, therefore, Fazim had to go.
