by Josh Raymer
I squat back down and run my hand over the message carved into the wood. My hand is bathed in the brilliant sapphire glow from the apple-sized orbs on the branches above.
The orbs…that can transport me to any point in the past or future.
My God. That’s it. The tree root might not hold the answer—but those orbs certainly do. All I have to do is grab one, focus on the end of this conflict, and see what the tree has to show me. Do we activate Lightfall, or is the battle ended some other way? No trust involved—just cold, hard facts.
“You’ve got a look in your eye,” Lilith says. “It’s a wild-eyed kind of look that says you’re about to do something crazy. What kind of scheme have I kicked up in your mind, Silas Ford?”
I look at her, a small grin raising the corners of my mouth. I do have an idea. A week ago, I would’ve told you it was beyond crazy that I was about to pluck an orb from a magical tree that can show me the future. But this is only about the seventh craziest thing I’ve done since I got here.
I bring myself to full height and reach out for an orb. The nearest branch senses my interest and sways toward me, happy to oblige my desire. The seductive voices stir up in my mind once again, but instead of falling into them this time, I block them out and stay focused on the mission.
My fingers curl around an orb, which is perfectly warm to the touch. I pluck it from the branch, which results in a satisfying pop. I spare one final glance at Lilith to tell her my plan.
“Let’s see if you’re right,” I say. “Let’s see how this war ends.”
Seeing her there, smiling back at me, I’m struck with a momentary panic over leaving her alone while I journey to the future. There’s a very good chance she won’t be here when I get back.
“You’re going to run, aren’t you?” I ask her as the blue light glows brighter in my hand.
Her smile grows bigger. She doesn’t answer, but she doesn’t need to say anything. I’ve seen that look before on Peter’s face a million times at Tully’s Tavern.
Peter, are you about to go buy drinks for your eighth-grade math teacher who is newly divorced?
No response was necessary when he gave me that smile.
I laugh, shake my head, and turn my attention to the orb in my hand, whose light has reached a crescendo. It’s go time. Where are we going, exactly?
Show me the end of the angels’ war.
The orb grows warmer, the light glows brilliant white, and my feet lift off the ground.
As my surroundings disappear, I’m reminded of the quote from Doc Brown.
“Where we’re going, we don’t need roads.”
***
There’s no wormhole this time. Instead, I’m treated to a squeezing sensation on every side of my body. It’s only slightly worse than the time I was forced to ride in the backseat of Mom’s Camry with Peter and our two cousins on the way to South Carolina for vacation. I don’t think my shoulders ever recovered from being squeezed together during that ten-hour car ride.
I breathe deep, keep my mind focused on what I need to see, and wait for the compression to end. After a few uncomfortable moments, there’s a small pop like I’m descending in an airplane, and my feet return to solid ground. I open my eyes and find myself in an area of Heaven I haven’t visited before. Everywhere I look, it’s like I’m seeing the world through bright, late-day sunlight, the kind that makes you put your visor down while you’re driving.
Once my eyes adjust to the overexposed world, I begin to take in my surroundings. Gone are the wind-swept canyon walls around Bron’s home and the dark, jagged rocks where we confronted the archangels. I’m standing on what appears to be a floating platform. The floor, which looks like swirled marble, is about five hundred feet wide and fifteen hundred feet long. I’m standing at one end of this platform, with the left edge only about fifty feet to my left. I jog over to the edge, stop about a foot short, and crane my neck to look down.
What I see makes me gasp.
There are planets floating just below where I’m standing. I recognize several of them from our solar system: Jupiter is off to my right, next to a smaller planet that is deep purple and surrounded by golden rings. A little further down is Saturn, and way off in the distance, I think I see Neptune. It looks like there are about twenty or so planets lined up along the perimeter of this platform.
When I lift my gaze back to the platform, what was once empty space has now been filled with dozens of figures, some on the ground and some flying through the air. They move at about 60 percent speed compared to real life, giving me time to read the reactions on each individual’s face.
The figures in the air are clearly angels. Some hold swords while others have bows with arrows pulled back, ready to fire. The one closest to me, about fifteen feet over my head, is diving in a Superman pose, silver pointed blade in hand. His expression is one of pure concentration: eyes narrowed, brow furrowed, mouth opened in a primordial scream.
I follow the angel’s path to see who his target is, and my heart skips a beat when I see that it’s…me. Good Lord, I look like hell. Unshaven, deep circles under my eyes, the color of my skin resembling a Saltine cracker—this angel can’t kill me when I look like that. I’m already dead.
I have a brown leather sling in my hand that I’m twirling in circles. My eyes are pointed up, locked on the angel as he dive-bombs me. A sling seems such an odd weapon compared to the angel’s blade that I’m taken aback for a second. What the hell is future me thinking? Unless…could this be an armory weapon?
That’s when it hits me like a smack to the face: I’m using David’s sling, the same one he took onto the battlefield when he stared down Goliath. That has to be it. Why else would I be using the equivalent of a child’s slingshot in a battle against the universe’s most dangerous warriors?
I stare, my mouth agape, as the slow-motion moves play out before me. The angel dives lower and lower as I spin the sling faster and faster. Right as he cocks back his arm to cut me down with his blade, I flick my wrist and release not a rock, but a golden ball of light from my sling. It arcs through the air, leaving a streak of white light behind it. The angel’s expression switches from one of fury to fear as the golden sphere races toward his head, plunges into his forehead, and explodes out the back.
The momentum of his upper body ceases as his lower half continues to move forward. His legs swing up past his head, causing the angel to flip as he crashes headfirst into the ground. Even with no sound coming from this vision, I can hear the crunch of his bones on the ground, and it makes me sick. Future me looks at the crumpled angel for a moment, then whips his head toward the side of the platform opposite where I’m standing. He tilts his head down, listening intently.
After a moment, he raises his head, and his face makes my stomach tighten. His eyes are the size of half-dollars, and his mouth is slightly open. If I could’ve seen myself at various points during my pursuit of Malphas, I’m sure I would’ve looked exactly like that. Future me peers toward the middle of the battlefield, so I follow his gaze and find Augustus about fifty feet away, wielding a spear as he duels a couple of ferocious-looking angels. Augustus looks over his shoulder at this version of me—clearly, I yelled something at him—and shouts something in reply.
As I run toward him, I see his lips slowly form the words: “You have to go!”
Future me hesitates, but only for a moment. I can see his face now, standing on the other side of this projection of myself. He’s running the scenario through his mind and considering every angle before reaching a decision. When he looks back up, he catches Augustus’s attention, nods once, and then sprints to his right, toward the edge of the platform furthest from us.
Where in the world am I going?
Even though this vision is moving at about half speed, it’s hard to keep up with myself as future me rushes toward the edge. Standing between him and the vast emptiness
beyond is a single angel, who has his sword raised in his right hand, ready to strike. Future me begins to swing David’s sling as he approaches, still running at full speed. What happens next makes me stop running, my jaw slack with amazement: future me jumps a few feet from the angel, arches backward in a graceful midair backflip, flings the golden stone downward through the angel’s face as he soars over him, and disappears headfirst below the lip of the platform.
“What the fu…”
My exclamation is cut short as I’m yanked backward, the angel-strewn battlefield shrinking away from me on the horizon. Soon, it’s gone, and the compression I felt on my journey here returns. It lasts only a moment, however.
My feet land in a place that makes my heart swell with excitement and a deep sense of longing: Earth. Specifically, I’m in a forest with tall evergreen trees. It’s nighttime. The stars, visible above the thick canopy, twinkle brightly in an inky black sky. It’s a full moon tonight, its light casting eerie shadows along the ground.
Looking to my right, my heart skips a beat at whom I see standing there.
It’s Peter, with Colin beside him. Their faces are upturned, illuminated slightly by the moonlight. Both of them grip a blade and a gun, but their arms are slack at their sides.
I turn and look up to see what has them so enraptured. The stars and the moon are no longer the only objects glowing in the night sky. Streaking through the darkness are what appear to be shooting stars, only smaller—and there are hundreds of them. They’re also not moving across the sky away from us.
They’re coming right toward Colin and Peter.
In the middle of a tight cluster angling straight for us, an angry red streak burns brighter than the stars around it. Only these aren’t stars, I realize now; they’re angels. That’s why I’m here. The time tree is showing me the final outcome of this war: we activated Lightfall.
My heart pounds as the falling angels draw closer to our group, bathing the whole forest clearing with a brilliant golden light. I have so many questions swirling in my mind now that I’ve seen the full picture, most notably: what is that red streak?
I don’t get a chance to find out. I’m pulled backward once more, right as the clearing becomes too bright to see anything. I reach for my brother, but he’s already gone. Peter is a world away and nothing more than a vision.
I know what I have to do, Peter. Hang tight. I’ll be home soon.
***
Lilith is gone. I know it before my feet touch the ground in Heaven. She left the second the time trees whisked me away, and I can’t say I blame her.
My hope is that she was serious about wanting to clear her name. We were able to reach into the pool and open the trap door inside her pocket dimension, so I have some evidence that she wasn’t lying to me. Still, if I were in her shoes, I’d want revenge after being trapped in a wasteland since the dawn of time.
I look at the spot where she stood before I left. As I do, something catches my eye on the same root where Lilith carved her original message. In that same looping handwriting, Lilith has carved something else into the root. I walk over and squat down to get a better look. I can’t help but smile as I read her latest message:
Thanks for believing in me. I’ll be seeing you, Silas.
I hope you’re right, Lilith, and when we do cross paths again, I hope it’s not my intention to kill you. The ball’s in your court, though.
Rising back to full height, I run my hand over my face and try to process everything I just saw. Augustus and I were battling angels on some kind of floating platform—that thought alone gives me serious anxiety. I can barely conjure a cleansing flame right now, but sure, let’s go toe-to-toe with the fiercest warriors in the universe.
I managed to kill two of them, but only because I had David’s sling, which I presume is an armory weapon. That begs the question of how we end up coming into possession of weapons currently being used by the angels.
Another question for down the road, once I reunite with Augustus and Bron.
Then there’s the vision I saw on Earth. Peter and Colin looked to be in the middle of a battle, judging by the weapons they held. If there was fighting, it ceased when the angels began to fall, which tells me we activated Lightfall.
Or someone else did. I have to assume it was either Bron or Augustus, but since I didn’t see the metaphorical switch get flipped, I can’t say for certain.
Finally, we have that mysterious red streak. My stomach tightens as I replay the image in my mind. Whatever was falling alongside the angels, I’ve got a very bad feeling about it. Humanity will have enough problems dealing with the fallen angels. Now we’re throwing parties unknown into the mix; who knows what kind of hell that could unleash upon the world?
Again, that’s another problem for another day. I can’t get bogged down in the details right now. I’ve got to find the others and put together a game plan now that I know what’s destined to happen. I also can’t push back against what I saw. At this point, it’s not worth exerting all my effort trying to raise this ship when it’s already sinking. We tried diplomacy—at my request—and it got us nowhere. In fact, all it did was take up precious time that Heaven and I don’t have.
I told myself if negotiating with the archangels didn’t work, we’d activate Lightfall. Lilith’s tree supported that idea, and then I got to see it play out for myself. The time for optimism is over. It’s time to get real about what has to happen.
I turn from the trees and start walking toward the vanishing point that I know will teleport me to Bron’s home, where he and Augustus are waiting. I don’t get more than a few steps when a thought stops me dead in my tracks.
These trees don’t just show the future. They also show the past.
Which means they could show me what happened to my dad.
There’s been a debate raging within ever since Malphas told me my dad gave himself up to protect my brother and me. This contradicted what Colin told me, which is that my dad died fighting Malphas, and Colin buried him. I want to believe Colin, but Malphas was right: a lot has been kept from me during my life. This could be another instance of Colin lying to protect me.
In a way, it doesn’t matter what happened. Alive or dead, my dad has been gone since I was twelve years old. The important distinction between these two stories is the sliver of hope that one offers: if Malphas told the truth, then my dad might still be alive.
I can find out, right here and right now, what happened to him. Put to bed any speculation and end this guilt I feel about not believing my grandfather.
I look at the trees, then back at the vanishing point. I might never be back in this place and have this opportunity again. Then again, time is wasting on Earth faster than I could afford to spend it. I should go and find the others, but I’m rooted to the spot, unable to walk in that direction.
I rub my hands through my hair, breathing deeply, trying to think.
What should I do? What should I do? What should I do?
My mind is spinning like tires stuck in mud. Try as I might, the right answer isn’t coming to me.
Find out what happened to your father. You deserve to know the truth.
I snap to attention and scan the path in both directions, trying to find the source of that voice. It didn’t sound like Augustus or Bron, and they don’t know I’m back online yet. Who else would know that I’m weighing this decision?
A sense of recognition washes over me right after I ask myself this question. The voice I just heard was the same one that spoke to me when we escaped the pocket dimension. While Lilith and I were free-falling, it told me I mattered to this fight more than I realized. It told me to let go and trust.
Things turned out alright when I took the voice’s suggestion. It brought me here for reasons I now understand: to see how the angels’ war will end. Perhaps I should trust it once again and use the trees to travel to t
he past?
“Screw it,” I say aloud. “With everything that’s happened, I deserve this much.”
I walk back over to the same tree that sent me to the future and pluck another orb from a branch, all too happy to offer up its fruit. I hold it tight, staring into its brilliant depths. My heart is hammering now. For all the confidence I felt a moment ago, I’m nervous now that it’s go time. Not nervous about the process, but about what I’ll find. What if Malphas was telling the truth? What if Colin lied to me, and there’s a chance my dad is still alive out there somewhere? In Hell, perhaps? Am I ready to face that reality with everything else I have going on?
Nope…but that’s not going to stop me. Show me the night Malcolm Ford faced Malphas.
There’s warmth, a flash of light, and the feeling of liftoff. I know the place where I’ll be deposited: an abandoned carnival where rust and rot have replaced joy, the laughter of children, and the smell of funnel cakes. I’ve been there before in real life. Although it was just days ago, it feels like another lifetime. Malphas brought me there to undermine my confidence, so I’d be easier to take out. His plan didn’t work, but I did learn how to teleport while I was there, so it wasn’t a total loss.
Although, if I’m being honest, teleportation feels like old hat at this point.
Wow…if the version of me from one day before my twenty-fifth birthday could hear me now, saying I’m bored with teleportation, he’d be ashamed of the person I’ve become.
I’m still engrossed in that inner monologue between my younger and current selves when solid ground arrives under my feet. I’m standing beside the Ferris wheel, which is casting a long, slanted shadow as the same bright, washed-out light I saw in Heaven gives the carnival grounds a dreamlike feeling. Unlike my previous visit, however, the carnival grounds from thirteen years ago aren’t crumbling. In fact, everything looks brand new, from the rides to the booths. The grass is well-trodden but maintained; if I remember correctly, the carnival had finished a couple of days before my dad confronted Malphas, which explains why nobody is here in this vision. Perhaps my dad chose this place because he knew there wouldn’t be collateral damage if things got out of control with Malphas.
