“What do you want, creature?” Lunok asked curtly.
“Did your lady friend not tell you already?” The Scribe asked.
“She did, but you see,” Lunok shifted his posture. “Among many things, she and I agree on a very pertinent issue.”
“What’s that?” The Scribe asked.
“We do not trust you,” Lunok replied flatly.
“Well, that’s too bad because I was actually hoping we could have some kind of partnership, you and I?” The Scribe teased and grinned.
The Scribe wanted a Shemsu, but it was unfortunate Lunok was not going to be that Shemsu, even after he, The Scribe, had accessed the Dimension of Time and done a little bit of tweaking. Lunok thought he was acting out of his own accord. If only Lunok knew… The Scribe had to admit that Lunok was a tough one. That much, he could respect and appreciate.
“What do you want, creature?” Lunok asked.
“I am a purveyor of purpose, Shemsu,” The Scribe replied. “I want to bring my purpose to fruition. To have my will in all of Creation!”
“The disruption of order….” Lunok spoke softly.
“And you’re an even smarter Shemsu than you look,” The Scribe spat with enough sarcasm to fuel an ark.
“You did not even hear the smart part yet, creature,” Lunok rebutted with equal sarcasm of his own.
The Scribe raised an eyebrow.
“Do tell, Shemsu,” The Scribe said.
“Just shut up and listen!” Lunok barked.
The Scribe did not appreciate Lunok’s tone of voice but he knew better than to let his sentiments get the better of him. His esoteric cloak might crack in the face of emotional instability and he was certainly not ready to get reunited with Akasha, yet. Also, given the right ‘motivation’, the esoteric signature of the Shemsu standing in front of him could act as a beacon for Akasha to locate him, The Scribe. The Scribe had the advantage of the Shemsu’s ignorance of this fact, but there was no need to risk ‘motivating’ the Shemsu to summon Akasha involuntarily. And so, while he could snuff this Shemsu out with just a thought, he had an even bigger and more important concern; survival, until he fulfilled his mission, at least.
“Good,” Lunok began. “Here is what will happen. Your secret is known to me alone and you’re a celebrity already. So, your sudden disappearance would raise many questions. But tomorrow, or within the next week, you’ll announce your retirement. I’m sure you can come up with a cover story.”
“You’re really kicking me out!” The Scribe exclaimed in amused surprise.
“You will leave and disappear.,” Lunok replied. “No one will know where you went to, but you will report to me whenever I summon you. Is that clear?”
Lunok spoke so firmly that The Scribe lost his sense of humor.
“Yes, it is,” The Scribe seethed through clenched teeth.
“And that is not even the fun part,” Lunok said with a grin.
Lunok outlined the rest of his instructions to The Scribe. The Scribe paid close attention and when Lunok was done talking, The Scribe had to admit that it was a simple but brilliant set of orders.
I’ll let you think you are in charge, for now! The Scribe thought. He walked into the darkness and disappeared into the night. No one saw him leave and no one knew where Tanki disappeared to.
Lunok then returned to the party. He joined his wife and mingled with the rest of the attendees. It was a good night. No, it was a great night! Uriel watched every move of his. She greatly admired the strength, compassion and wisdom of her creator. He truly was a creature of remarkable qualities. He blended with the Necheru folk like he was one of them, and at the same time, he was fully aware of his origins. Uriel was very proud to be his apprentice. At least, that was how she felt; that she was an apprentice to the greatest Shemsu she had ever known.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
VOLVER
DENI PUT SPACE explorations on hold for a century to focus on family. The average lifespan of a Necheru was 2,400 years and Deni was 1,300 years of age. After his experience with time dilation, Deni preferred not to risk missing out on the joys of being a father. Telecasting and physical presence were not the same. His family was beyond supportive, but he had to play his part, a part that would hold more meaning with him being present. Besides, he and Kari wanted another child, which they did eventually. They named their daughter Sunki, after Kari’s grandmother. Keni made Sunki his responsibility. He loved his baby sister too much. The family was officially complete.
Deni extended his time off space exploration by a century, but he accepted the role of project manager and overseer of all space explorations. Necheru and its creatures still faced the possibility of obliteration and the situation only grew worse by the decade. Deni along with many other scientists worked tirelessly on possible solutions, while space explorations hoped to find a solution within the dimension. Simply put, the Realm of Necheru was dying. The Necherus wanted to save their realm, for now. Relocation was going to be a last resort.
Keni and Sunki followed in their father’s footsteps in school and in career. They did not have their father’s level of intelligence and potential, even though their father’s Shemsu essence was mixed with their Necheru essence. Their Shemsu essence remained in dormant form. Keni was accepted in the academy and Sunki joined him two decades later. Pursuant of Sunki’s achievement, Deni thought it was time to summon The Scribe.
“I’m still not sure why you’re going through all this trouble for something so simple,” The Scribe said as he appeared in Deni’s study.
“Why are you trying to understand, creature?” Lunok asked.
“There are many other options, given your potential,” The Scribe replied.
“You are correct, creature,” Lunok said.
Lunok switched off the hologram he was watching and turned around to face The Scribe. He chuckled.
“So, is this your real face?” Lunok asked.
“Do you prefer Tanki’s face?” The Scribe retorted. “I understand Tanki has much better-looking features, but I like toying with you.”
The Scribe morphed into Tanki and grinned at Lunok.
“Besides, it is best for the realm to know who assassinated their greatest legend,” The Scribe added. “Do you know you are a god to many of them?”
Lunok stared blankly at The Scribe.
“Your family is still unaware of your real identity, aren’t they?” The Scribe asked. “Will you tell them in person, leave a message for them somewhere, say nothing at all? What will you do, Shemsu?”
Lunok still stared blankly at The Scribe. A few seconds passed and no one said anything, still. Finally, The Scribe shrugged and leaned back in his seat.
“You know,” Lunok said. “Initially, I was so angry that my most trusted and best friend was an evil creature on a quest for creating chaos in Creation.”
“I feel so offended,” The Scribe fake-gasped. “How dare you judge me? All I’m doing is living according to my nature, according to the way I was spawned. And for that, you judge me?”
“I wanted to make Tanki pay,” Lunok continued, ignoring The Scribe. “I so wanted Tanki to be disgraced and vilified for as long as the Necheru live. But in my moment of anger, I had a moment of clarity. Having you, Tanki, assassinate me, a hero of the realm, would only drag Tanki into the filth of history and you would still be out there, doing what you do best.”
The Scribe smiled dryly.
“I will depart from Necheru and return to Atlantia,” Lunok said. “But that day has not yet come and it will certainly not be by your hands.”
“Very confident and presumptuous of you, Shemsu,” The Scribe said flatly.
“I am a Shemsu,” Lunok said. “The concept of death is alien to me, at least on this realm. I can leave Deni’s form whenever I please. Your ‘assistance’ is not required for that.”
“That addresses the ‘confidence’ part,” The Scribe interjected. “You are yet to address the ‘presumptuous’ part of my
statement.”
“Patience, creature,” Lunok said. “Why the hurry? Don’t you have a realm or dimension somewhere to destroy?”
“The undoing of Creation is already a-given,” The Scribe replied.
“Then why the hurry?” Lunok asked rhetorically.
Lunok then leaned forward in his seat and stared at The Scribe.
“I summoned you for another reason,” Lunok said.
The Scribe summoned a watch on his left wrist and glanced at it. He sighed and rolled his eyes in exasperation.
“Why haven’t YOU killed me?” Lunok asked.
The Scribe stared coldly at Lunok. Lunok’s question caught him off guard.
“I mean, you’re a very powerful entity,” Lunok said with a dramatic flair. “A purveyor of purpose, Chaos himself, the one who wants to bend Creation to his will. And yet, you can’t answer a simple question.”
Lunok paused and waited. The Scribe remained silent.
“I’ve had plenty of time to think about our last meeting,” Lunok said. “Time I’ve used very wisely, I believe. I asked myself this question and realized it’s not a matter of why you can’t kill me as opposed to why you WON’T! So, I ask, why won’t you kill me?”
The Scribe remained silent.
“You are afraid of something,” Lunok continued. “And I will find out soon enough. You may not be afraid of death, but you have the fear of non-existence and you killing me may be tied to your fear of non-existence. Anyway, I may be chasing food crumbs, but like I said, I’ll find out soon enough. Does that sound presumptuous enough for you?”
“Perhaps,” The Scribe replied bitterly.
“And he speaks!” Lunok said sarcastically.
“If you no longer want Tanki to assassinate you, then our accord is severed,” The Scribe said. “May I return to more important things now?”
“Yes you may, creature,” Lunok replied.
The Scribe rose to his feet and meant to teleport away but Lunok’s voice stopped him dead in his teleport.
“And I hope our paths never cross again,” Lunok said, “because if they do, I may not be as civil as I have been with you right now.”
The Scribe smiled derisively out of the corner of his mouth and then teleported away.
A few decades later, Kari passed away. She was one of the six dozen people who were in a tele-transporter when the device malfunctioned. It was a terrible tragedy. Not every piece of everyone could be recovered from the temporal de-atomization phase and Kari was one of them. It was a horrendous, freak accident. About seventy percent of her body was recovered but almost none of her vital organs could be recovered. Deni and the children were wrought with grief. For the first time in his Necheru life, Deni experienced pain. He had seen and witnessed others in pain before. He had shared in the loss of close friends and their loved ones sometimes. But this was the first time that the word ‘pain’ seemed to take upon a life of its own. It was even a lot harder for the children. Being essentially Shemsu may have helped him cope but his Necheru side was a creature torn asunder.
As time went by, one century after another, Deni learned to deal with the pain. Together as a family, they dealt with it. Life was never the same, but they had to move on. Deni never remarried. He told his friends he saw no use of remarrying. His children had grown to maturity and were out of the nest. They were happy and hopefully they may start families of their own. Most of all, when Kari died, she died with his love for her and no other woman could ever replace that feeling. He had lost all interest in flings and romance, in casual encounters and committed relationships, as well as for life itself. Eventually, he would return to being innovative and creative, but that time was not now.
On his fifth millennium, Keni and Sunki threw him a lavish birthday party. It was the best birthday present he had ever received. The guest list was long and people from all works of life and of all ages were invited. It was on that same year that Necheru Realm’s explorations, under Deni’s leadership, began its first project of creating species and populating a few realms. The first three missions spanned a period of three centuries and were tremendous successes. Keni and Sunki were a part of the pioneer missions. They named their ark The Atlantis, after the fictional stories their father had told them about a realm called Atlantia, which was home to a race of beings called The Shemsus. They loved these stories and loved how passionate their father would narrate these stories to them even more, as if he used to live in Atlantia himself.
A century-and-a-half later, Necheru’s geological problems took a turn for the worse. The terraforming devices stationed at strategic locations on the realm could no longer mimic both geological and geographical harmony. As such, the realm was falling apart. As such, it was imperative that all explorations within the dimension be focused on finding a solution for the realm. It was just around that time that Deni happened to fall into the hands of a strange terminal illness that was beyond the technological and medical savvy of the Necheru. Deni would have loved to stay a little longer but he had to let go of his attachment to his grown-up children, who had decided not to have any children of their own. He guessed their love for their career as explorers trumped their love for having a family of theirs. It was a decision he respected anyway.
So one day, Deni summoned his children to his bedside. He was seriously ill, but Lunok was as healthy as ever. He wanted to bid them farewell and give them his final blessings before they went away on their next mission.
“You speak as if you are leaving us by choice, father,” Sunki said.
“Death is only an illusion, my love,” Deni replied. “I’ll always be there, even when you don’t know it.”
Deni managed a weak smile. Sunki snuggled against her father. Her sobs were quiet and her tears stained his garment. Keni stroked his sister’s hair with one hand and took his father’s hand in his other hand. Deni gave it a weak squeeze and when a tear rolled down Keni’s face, Deni’s heart shattered to a million pieces. Tears traced the corners of his eyes but he had to remind himself that it was time for him to go; if not now, then later. As a Shemsu, the concept of death was alien to him and that was why he had to ‘die’ as a Necheru.
“I am very proud of you two,” Deni managed to say. “Your mother and I are so proud of you two. You two are our greatest achievements and you made our lives complete!”
He squeezed Keni’s hand again slightly before he continued speaking.
“Take care of your sister, my son,” Deni said.
“Yes, father,” Keni replied, almost choking from the lump in his throat.
“Look out for your brother, my love,” Deni said to Sunki.
Sunki nodded against her father’s chest and sobbed even more.
Deni kissed the crown of his daughter’s head. Then he beckoned for his son to come closer. Keni obliged and Deni kissed his son’s forehead. He blessed them and rested his head again on his pillow.
“Goodbye now, my children,” Deni said, closed his eyes and expired.
As Lunok stepped out of Deni’s body, he took a moment to appreciate the situation. Sunki was wailing in her father’s arms and Keni was weeping like a child. Lunok stayed behind for a few more minutes until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He whipped his head around, feeling a little startled, but pleased to see it was a familiar face.
“You did the right thing, Lunok,” Uriel said encouragingly. “At some point, you had to leave, or live forever. Imagine getting to bury your own children. That would have even been a far worse situation than this.”
“I know, Uriel,” Lunok concurred. “I know.”
He heaved his shoulders and took one final glance at them.
“Let’s go,” Lunok said.
The two of them teleported to Uriel’s domain in Celestia and sat quietly for a few moments. Uriel thought it was best to let Lunok have a moment. It had been a while since he existed in his pure Shemsu state anyway. She wondered what could be going on in his mind at that moment. Was he in shock from leavin
g his Necheru children behind? Or maybe he was in shock from returning to his original essence? Perhaps it was a blend of both. She could not even see his colors and was not sure whether or not he was blocking her out deliberately or inadvertently. She had been with him all along and had actually had a good sense of the life on the lower realm. Her encounters with The Scribe had created some kind of shift in her and maybe that could be considered her own falling? She was not sure, but at least, she was positive that she had had more ‘experience’ of the other side than both Michael and Luciel combined.
“Thanks again for being there,” Lunok suddenly said, breaking into Uriel’s train of thought. “I will never forget what you have done.”
“The honor is mine, Lunok,” Uriel replied. “If I may, do you know where your children have decided to go on their next mission?”
“They will go to the realm that is third nearest to the central realm of their dimension,” Lunok replied. “The blue one.”
“The realm in which Emok is incarcerated,” Uriel interjected.
Lunok nodded.
“Are you not concerned they may stumble across him?” Uriel asked.
“Emok is incarcerated using Shemsu vibrations, which are too high even for Celestia to detect,” Lunok explained. “So they will not even be able to detect the slightest tinge of his vibrations.”
“Alright then,” Uriel said. “I feel better now.”
Lunok smiled at her.
“What was the smile for?” Uriel asked.
“You talk like the Necheru,” Lunok replied.
Uriel realized that she did speak like the Necheru. They both laughed a little.
“It is a good thing though,” Lunok added. “It just indicates you bow have a better appreciation of a lifestyle in a realm of much lower vibrational frequency than Celestia’s.”
“I will take the compliment then,” Uriel replied and smiled back at him.
“So, did you give some thought as to how we will get to make Michael and Luciel fall yet?” Lunok asked.
Celestial Crisis Page 18
