The Crossing Point

by August Arrea

  And then—

  ~~~

  Oct. 27

  Eden—

  I’m here.

  It’s real.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  The Blackstone

  T

  he early hours of the next morning came with the energized drumming of footsteps hurrying their way downstairs. Delicious smells filled the air and led the Nephilim by the nose—and grumbling stomachs—through the halls of Havenhid like a pack of bloodhounds in search of the mouth-watering source. The mix of aromas led them through the doors of the Hall of Light. There they found an immense breakfast buffet spread out across both halves of the long table stretching the center of the great room. Numerous dishes held piles of breads, fruit and nuts, along with eggs cooked in every variety imaginable (scrambled, poached, omelets). There were also several mystery dishes no one could quite make out, but all it took was one curious nibble to not care.

  Like the other boys seated around him, Jacob was quick to dive in and pile his plate high with food before sitting down and stuffing himself with vigor. As he did, his eyes wandered upward to where he had watched with great astonishment the night before the many tree branches come together to shape the architecture of the Hall’s vaulted ceiling. Now, in the light of day, the branches had once again loosened and unraveled their woven construct they had with one another, allowing the ceiling to part like the top of a convertible car and letting the sunlight slip inside and fill the Hall with its radiance. The many birds painted inside the elaborate canvas framed within the vaulted carved beams continued to stir as they had during the greeting ceremony, sweeping down from the Hall’s rafters as flesh and blood creatures to accept the pieces of fruit and bread offered them by the amused Nephilim.

  “Is it my imagination or does it look like we’ve been invited to breakfast at the United Nations?” Max leaned in to whisper to Jacob with a nudge to the ribs.

  Jacob followed Max’s gaze to the other Nephilim seated at the other half of the table across from them. And while it was a comment made in jest, Jacob found it nonetheless an astute observation. A simple glance at the feeding faces and it was clear no corner of the world outside Eden was not present in the Hall of Light, like Koji Sawa, a hip-looking Asian kid who, at first glance, looked to have a penchant for American rockabilly with loose-fitting trousers, leather slip- on shoes and stringy, jet-black hair styled into an early Elvis-like coif. Or Nils Christoffer, of Switzerland, who looked as if he had been birthed from the snow of the Swiss Alps with his paler than blond hair and seemingly pigment-free skin. He looked strangely like an artist’s sketch on a white canvas void of any color except the eyes, and even they, in their bright blue hue, looked to have been touched by winter. Then there was the gangly, copper-headed Daelin McGinty, who hailed from Adare, Ireland and was the one boy Jacob found whose tongue carried a thicker accent from his homeland than Max’s.

  “So, how many are there?” Jacob asked his roommates who were seated around him concentrating on working their way through the food piled on their plates. “I don’t mean here, but outside of Eden?”

  “You mean other Nephilim?” Max asked before pausing to ponder the question which seemed to stump him. “Not sure. Can’t say I ever really thought about it before. Never knew another Nephilim before coming here. I think they like to keep us somewhat separated from one another when we’re growing up. It helps us to blend in and makes it more difficult for those bloody Furies from picking us out from regular boys, y’know?”

  “My father told me once there’s quite a few,” said Ethan, his cheeks ballooned with scrambled eggs and apple muffin.

  “What’s considered ‘quite a few’?” asked Leos.

  “Enough to form a massive army,” answered Ethan in an off-handed fashion before inhaling another mouthful of food into his already crammed face. “At least that’s what my father told me.”

  “Wow, that’s quite a bit,” said Kairo.

  “Which are you referring to? The number of Nephilim, or the amount food ‘ol Ethan ’ere can manage to stuff into that pie hole of ’is?” said Max who watched with growing disgust at the feeding spectacle taking place next to him.

  “Ha, ha, very funny!” came Ethan’s reply which was muffled by his gluttonous enthusiasm. “What do you want from me? I’m a growing boy.”

  “Ain’t that the truth. And we’re watching that growth happen literally right before our eyes,” said Leos.

  ~~~

  As stomachs finally grew full, Anahel entered the Hall and made his way down the aisle between the two tables before coming to a halt in the center. Again he welcomed the boys warmly and extended his hope that all had a restful night’s sleep. He then turned his gaze upon Jacob and in a clear voice formally introduced him as a Fledgling to the other Nephilim and, with a sudden turn of heads, Jacob found the same curious stares he himself had gazed out across the table and studied the other boys with were now fixed in his direction, only multiplied. And with his mouth slightly stained from the various fruit with which he had gorged himself, he attempted to swallow down the food bloating his cheeks in order to extend a diffident smile and wave of his hand.

  “And now if you please,” said Anahel, “you have a few more minutes to finish up with breakfast. Once you’re through, please come down in an orderly fashion and meet me outside in the Garden where I will advise you of the day’s itinerary.”

  He turned to leave, and before disappearing through the Hall’s massive wooden doors he turned once more to the boys. “Please don’t dawdle. There is much work for you to begin, and as I’ve noted before the Guides aren’t patient with being kept waiting.”

  A short while later, a drumming of feet clamoring down wooden steps drew louder and louder from inside the hollow of the tree trunk serving as the entrance to Havenhid until one by one the boys came spilling out from inside. When Jacob finally emerged, it was impossible for him to not be immediately struck by the perfection of the morning that greeted him. The sun was shining warm and bright, and the air was perfumed with the scent of trees, flowers and other living things that had never before teased his nostrils. Just a stone’s throw away, the River bended its way between the tree cluster, bubbling with the refreshing cool water it carried to the furthest ends of Eden from the thundering falls in the distance. Nearby, a frolicking pair of brown and white long-eared rabbits incited Mist to give playful chase after them. Quickly, they sped off across the Garden tearing past Anahel who stood waiting for the boys beneath the canopy of shade from the trees.

  “Come, Fledglings, and gather about me,” he called out to the boys, motioning them forward to form a semi-circle in front of him. “I sense you are all teeming with excitement this morning. As it should be, for today marks an important turn in your young lives of which there will be many as you approach the threshold into manhood. Yet unlike adulthood, becoming a Nephilim doesn’t just happen as nature dictates. Sure, you have Nephilim blood coursing through your veins, and your bodies are capable of performing feats beyond mortal ability. Being a Nephilim, however, takes more than blood and strength; it takes hard work paid in sweat, pain, frustration and, yes, even tears—all of which you will get your fair dose of with each passing day. More importantly it takes perseverance and belief—belief in what you are as well as what you stand for.”

  As Anahel continued to speak, Jacob’s eyes rolled upward with a focusing squint to the nearby tree tops stretching out over the River. There, even with the sun beaming down brightly, he could only barely make out Havenhid except in the faintest hint of a dwelling outlined in the camouflage of branches from which it was constructed deep inside the foliage of the trees. And while it was nowhere near the size needed to house all the spacious rooms and winding corridors, not to mention the library, the chapel and Hall of Light, he could see it existed. However inexplicable, Havenhid existed.

  “And now, before I send you off to begin your training, you will be divided into three groups of sixteen to be known from t
his point forth as the Opreys, Harriers and Shrikes,” Anahel continuing in his orientation. “For today, one group will be directed to the Library for educational instruction with Thaniel. A second group will head to Lions Bite where Damiel will guide you in body strengthening and combat training. And a third and final group will gather at the Crescent Scar where, with Zuriel’s guidance, you will come to identify which Grace you each possess through the help of the Blackstone. Then, come tomorrow, the three groups will rotate and so on and so forth. Does everyone understand?”

  Anahel was about to begin counting out the first group when the question hanging on the tip of every one of the boys’ tongue was blurted.

  “Haven’t you forgotten something?”

  Anahel turned his head and his eyes narrowed to the direction from which the question came.

  “And what might that be Mr. Maggert?”

  Maggert...

  The name caught Jacob’s attention like a pull of the hair.

  Creed Maggert.

  Jacob craned his neck while rising up on the tips of toes to peer over the heads of the other boys in order to get a look at this Creed Maggert whose name he quickly remembered being mentioned the night before by his roommates in glowing terms befitting a spoiled, entitled brat; or “wanker” as Max was prone to calling him. It didn’t take long for Jacob to pick Creed Maggert out from the other boys. It wasn’t that he was particularly taller or stronger looking than the other boys. Just the way he stood made it seem like he lorded over anyone within arm’s reach—as if he was perched upon some invisible pedestal beneath his feet.

  “Flying,” answered Creed, in a voice weighted with testosterone while flexing his back in an anticipation. “So shouldn’t there actually be four groups?”

  Anahel’s left brow arched itself sharply upward. “If I were you Mr. Maggert, I wouldn’t be too quick to assume the skies would permit your presence with the ease in which it embraces birds,” he said with a doubtful nod of his head. “Before a Nephilim is able to tread upon the wind, he must first have firm footing on the earth. No, you have much to learn first before making the journey to Broken Earth, and even then many of you will be quick to discover the wings you so eagerly covet to be elusive despite your physical appearance.”

  Creed’s jaw tightened visibly but he refrained from saying anything further, and when Anahel saw there would be no further discussion on the matter, he quickly continued with the task at hand of counting off the number of boys needed for each group. As the angel busily tapped his way past head after head, Jacob, Leos, Kairo, Ethan and Max maneuvered themselves to the end of the line as inconspicuously as they could to ensure they be in the same group. Never one to have anything put over on him, however, Anahel flashed the boys a knowing look when he reached the cut-off for the third and final group, though he allowed them to stay put much to their relief.

  When the first group—the Ospreys—was then instructed to report back inside Havenhid to the Library, there came an audible sigh of relief from the other two groups. If there was one thing no one wished, it was to be sent back indoors and forced to sit in a room full of musty smelling books after having been given a taste of the full bloom of Eden’s sun-filled morning. And for a moment, Jacob felt almost sorry looking at the long, dour faces of the unfortunate Ospreys as they disappeared one by one back inside the hollow of the tree; but only for a moment.

  “And now, to decide which of the remaining two groups to send where,” mumbled Anahel with a ponderous tone before settling his gaze on Leos who stood with the fingers of both hands crossed behind his back. Jacob peered out of the corner of his eye and tried to suppress the grin he felt creeping across his face at Max who stood next to him quietly muttering under his breath “Crescent Scar, Crescent Scar, Crescent Scar…” in a prayer-like mantra while biting down on his bottom lip in growing anticipation as he watched Anahel move slowly back to where the other group of boys shared in the anxious wait. The anticipation soon became like a slow suffering and in a way Anahel seemed to get a tickle at looking down into all the wide, unblinking eyes firmly fixed on him. Finally, with a point of his finger he rendered his decision leaving Max to mouth a grateful thank you to the fates who had answered his plea that he and the rest of his group of Shrikes be granted the gift to go to Crescent Scar. However, not everyone was accepting at first of Anahel’s decision.

  “Is there yet something else I’ve forgotten, Mr. Maggert?” asked Anahel when he saw Creed was not going the way of the other Harriers.

  “My father thought it extremely important that I go to the Crescent Scar first thing and not wait any longer than necessary to learn my Grace,” answered Creed.

  Anahel seemed more intrigued by the entitled if not impertinent young man than perturbed. “I assure you, Mr. Maggert, you will find every lesson you undertake in the weeks and months to come carry equal weight in importance.”

  “I’m sure,” Creed replied snidely. “But I know you know well my father, and I assure you he was quite insistent. I’d hate to think how angry he’d become if he knew his wishes were purposefully being ignored, especially after being brought to your attention.”

  Anahel slowly walked over to where Creed was standing. And for a moment Jacob and the other boys wondered if maybe they were about to witness the wringing of a neck so rightly deserved.

  “You’re correct, Mr. Maggert, I know well your father, and the anger he is quick to express,” said Anahel calmly with his hands fast at his sides without even the slightest hint they posed a threat to the choke-worthy neck within their reach. “And while I thank you for your…how should I put it…notice, I’ll risk seeing you off to Lions Bite this very morn and spend the rest of what I am sure will be a rather uncomfortable day quaking in my boots for fear of the retribution my decision is sure to bring upon myself.”

  It took all the strength Jacob had not to laugh out loud at the drollness with which Anahel smacked down the petulant threat lobbed his way. Creed, on the other hand, was anything but amused. In fact, he looked rather beside himself. Not only had his demands not been kowtowed to in a way he found satisfactory—something he rarely, if ever, experienced—but it had been done so in front of other Nephilim, and by a Guide no less. Still, he knew well enough not to further butt heads with Anahel and backed down, though in a tight-jawed and scowling manner. As he eventually began in the direction of the other Harriers making their way across the Garden’s green open spaces toward Lions Bite, a snickering from some of the boys in the remaining group, particularly Ethan and Leos, caught Creed’s ear. He peered back over his shoulder, but it was Jacob his fuming eyes locked themselves on and held for several contemptuous moments.

  “What’d I tell ya?” Max whispered into Jacob’s ear. “A real charmer, that one.”

  Once Creed and the other Harriers were far enough along on their way, Anahel turned back to the remaining boys.

  “That means for you Shrikes, your destination lies halfway up the mountain behind me,” he said. “I would advise you make haste. You have a bit of a climb before you.”

  It didn’t take much more to prod the group into action, and in their excitement they bolted for the cluster of mountains shouldering the western edge of the Garden..

  “Oh, and Ethan,” Anahel called out as the boy rushed past him bringing him to a fast halt. “To you especially, I extend a wish of luck. Or rather, shall it be said, may the force be with you…Casanova.”

  Ethan caught the faint sparkle of hilarity in the angel’s face and a slow burn of embarrassment came over him. He then noticed Max and Jacob nearby sharing a giggle between them.

  “Ha, ha, very funny…,” mumbled Ethan under his breath as he balled his fist and gave chase after them.

  ~~~

  The growing excitement bubbling inside the boys carried them swiftly along the lengthy, often steep path leading to the Crescent Scar. Snaking their way around huge boulders and between towering pillars of jagged granite spotted with course lichen, they soon cam
e upon a large ragged semi-circle shaped outcrop of rock protruding from the side of the mountain face pocked with towering trees and colored in various greenery. At first glance, it looked to the group as if they had stumbled upon the ruins of an ancient amphitheater, though much smaller and intimate in size. Several large oblong rocks looking almost like stone-age benches were arranged in a wide semi-circle, and in the center there was a large crescent-shaped image appearing like some prehistoric cave drawing permanently scorched into the earth. It was dissected into six sections and each section contained a strange, stick-figure symbol similar to hieroglyphics found in the sealed tombs of long-ago Egyptian pharaohs. The boys eyed with a shared curiosity the strange image while mindfully stepping their way around it, careful not to tread within its borders as they muttered to one another.

  “This is it— the Crescent Scar.”

  “It looks like it’s carved into the ground.”

  “I don’t think so. It looks like it’s the actual ground itself.”

  “What are the symbols?”

  No one seemed to have an answer, at first.

  After a long silence had fallen upon the group, Max, who had been studying the strange etchings along with everyone else, answered, “It’s Caelestian,”