by Ted Dekker
I felt Karen’s hand at my back and started forward, but she stopped me to take off my hat and sunglasses.
“Be brave,” she whispered in my ear.
The coordinator was eyeing me with curiosity, seeing me without my glasses on. Maybe he recognized me. That as much as Karen’s words pushed me forward, past the man, through a curtain, and onto a huge stage covered in gray carpet.
The first thing I saw was the president, descending some steps to take his seat at the left of the stage. He wasn’t looking my way. I guessed he’d already introduced me. As who, I didn’t know, only that he wouldn’t use my name.
The second thing I saw was the podium at the front of the stage and the three cameras aimed at it, winking red. On.
The third thing I saw was the audience. Three thousand of them seated in curved rows that rose all the way to the back. A hush had fallen over the room. It was just me at the back of the stage, staring out at three thousand faces who were patiently waiting for someone the president of the United States thought they should hear.
I walked toward the podium, feet numb, eyes fixed on nothing, wondering if any of them would recognize me. My heart was pounding and my palms were clammy. I’d confronted Vlad in another auditorium once, a smaller one with fewer people. And no cameras broadcasting to the world.
Somewhere someone gasped. Then a murmur ran through the gathering. They were starting to recognize me.
Then I was there, at the podium, staring at the microphones aimed at my mouth.
I still didn’t know what to say. Inside I was begging to hear, but I could only hear the growing sound of surprised voices.
So I leaned forward and spoke the first thing that came to mind.
“Hi. My name’s Rachelle Matthews and I’m being framed for the bombings that have killed all those people.”
A hush fell over the crowd. The cameras were winking at me but no one had rushed out to arrest me, so I continued, only barely aware that hundreds of millions of people across the globe were watching me.
“It wasn’t me. Steve took me from the white room at DARPA because they’d wiped my brain again and I didn’t know who I was. I was at the church because I always go to church on Sundays. I had nothing to do with that bomb.”
For the first time the world was seeing the real me, just an innocent girl brave enough to step forward for all to hear. And the fact that they were letting me speak was good. Really good.
Tell them who you are, daughter. Tell them what you know.
Filled with surging confidence, I spoke louder now.
“My name is Rachelle Matthews, but that’s only the label put on my earthen vessel. Really, I’m the light of the world, daughter of my Father, and I’ve been sent to share what I’ve learned about who we all are. As Rachelle, I was born blind in a town called Eden . . .”
A loud, slow clapping stopped me and I turned my head. A man stepped out of the side-stage shadows. A man dressed in black pants, cowboy boots, and a white jacket, hair slicked back.
My heart bolted. Vlad was here. Vlad! Walking toward me, clapping, eyes daring and bright.
I spun to the president, but his face was turned away from both of us, and I knew immediately that he’d betrayed me.
Doors suddenly banged, slamming shut all around the auditorium in rapid succession. His Leedhan were sealing off the room! How many, I didn’t know, but even one or two would be enough, moving quicker than the eye could see.
A security officer by the door to my right collapsed, unconscious. Startled cries erupted as a few in the audience realized something terrifying was happening.
Something was locking them all in and neutralizing security. I saw it all from the podium, and my hands began to shake.
Vlad stopped ten paces from me, grinning wickedly. He spread his hands wide.
“Welcome to the end, my darling.”
36
I SAT upon my horse at the gateway into the Realm of Mystics, smothered by dread. The rumble behind me built slowly as the armies approached, then grew as a hundred thousand horses surged forward, moving at a full gallop.
The ground shook as the leading edge thundered by me, fifty horses abreast. I was on the sand in the center with Ba’al and Qurong and Aaron protected by their guards. Jacob, behind us. I prayed Samuel was safe with his people now.
The armies spilled into the valley like a herd of stampeding buffalo bent on crushing the earth. They all knew the prophecy. They all feared the Realm more than death itself. Their priests had made the case plain, and now their orders were as plain.
Crush the Realm. Raze it. Burn it to the ground.
Ba’al fixed his eyes forward, gloating. But he no longer concerned me. My eyes were on the sky above. On the Shataiki.
I watched, breath gone, as the swirling cloud of winged beasts began to spiral down in a vortex, descending on the exposed Realm. I couldn’t hear their shrieks over the thundering hooves, but I could see their jaws widen as they streaked for the valley floor and spread out like a swarm of massive locusts, tearing into the foliage, consuming all that stood in their way.
The Shataiki weren’t acting alone, I realized. Though Ba’al and the armies could not see the beasts, they were somehow giving them the permission they needed.
And I had given Ba’al permission in surrendering myself.
The Elyonite army surged to the left, circling around to destroy the southern side.
The Horde army veered to the right, trampling, slashing, headed for the waterfall. There, where the village hid behind falling trees. There, where Talya had come to join the other forty-seven Mystics. He would stop the enemy. Surely he had a plan to avert this destruction!
But no defense had come yet. It was as if the valley was accepting its annihilation without concern for itself. Strip me, kill me, burn me, trample me underfoot.
Still the armies flowed into the Realm, nearly halfway through it now.
Still the Shataiki descended, blanketing the trees like a swarm of black locusts.
Still I watched, horrified, eyes directed to where I assumed the village lay. The death of the Realm was a death I felt inside, hollowing me out. I had failed.
What do you see, daughter?
It was a tender whisper, but I could hear it clearly above the crushing roar echoing off the cliffs, and I blinked, momentarily distracted.
“A valley of death,” I answered in my mind.
And what is death?
I hesitated, remembering.
“A shadow.”
A shadow. Then tell me again, what do you see?
Such a gentle voice. So unconcerned. I thought of Talya, showing me how Elyon’s wrath was like a tender mother gently nudging her infant back into safety. This was that voice. Talya wasn’t with me, but I wasn’t alone.
“Shadow,” I said. “I see the valley of the shadow of death.”
Yes. Yes, that’s what you see. Shadow. And in this valley of the shadow of death, you need fear no evil.
“But . . . how?”
Tell me how, daughter. Tell me the only way to rise above fear.
I answered from weeks of training under Talya’s charge.
“By seeing beyond the shadow,” I said. “By seeing with the eyes of love. There is no fear in the sight of love.” Then, “I’m not seeing it the way you see it?”
In my nature and in my name, I see no darkness. It is cast infinitely away from my sight as far as the east is from the west.1 What is cast infinitely far doesn’t exist. It’s only a shadow. Remember?
“There is no fear in love because love doesn’t make any account of wrong.”
It sounded so simple to me. I’d known this in the storm. I was the daughter of Elyon, one with him in the light, beyond any threat. But binding myself once more to the perception of danger separated me from that knowing, dragged me back into fear.
“So I have to see with the eyes of love,” I said. “With your eyes.”
Love, precious one. Let the wind of my w
rath blow away the judgment that blinds, and see that only love remains as you. Now tell me, what is shown to be in the one who sees?
The Fifth Seal! Was there still hope? Was the me on Earth finding the Fifth Seal?
Ba’al lifted his hand, and the thundering warriors to my right and left reined up, separating from the last of those who’d entered the Realm.
Smoke billowed to the sky in the direction of the village, and my heart sank.
“Be strong, my love,” a gentle voice said to my left. I turned to see that Jacob had chewed through his gag and edged his mount beside mine. He couldn’t hide the dried trails of tears left on his cheeks, but he showed me a courageous face. “Death means nothing to us.”
I nodded, but tears slipped down my face at the sight of him. My Jacob. What a beautiful man he was. What a tender heart, yet strong like a mighty oak, unbreaking in the most ferocious gale.
“I love you like I love Justin,” he said. “You are a flower in the desert. None of this means anything. As Talya said, death is but a shadow.”
I love you, Jacob! I wanted to say. I am so proud of you, mighty warrior. But I was still gagged.
“Silence!” Ba’al snapped. He glanced between us, eyes fiery, lips twisted in a wicked grin. “Gag him and bring them both!”
He headed into the Realm with Aaron and Qurong riding high on either side. They were surrounded by their guard, entering a Realm their armies had turned to wasteland.
One of the warriors took my horse’s lead rope and led me forward. Another gagged Jacob and followed.
With the Shataiki, the armies had annihilated all but the outer edges of the valley—they alone now showed any color at all. It was as if a fire had passed through, pushed by a blasting wind. Wrath.
But if the wrath revealed beauty, I wasn’t seeing it. The kingdom was here, just as Yeshua had said, but I needed his eyes to see it. And I wasn’t seeing with those eyes because I was still being born again, learning to see with the eyes of Christ, just like everyone else. I was still journeying out of blindness into truth beyond the storm, where there was no trouble and no fear of trouble.
The moment my horse stepped into the first lines of stripped trees, the Shataiki all around the valley took flight, soaring up to the cliffs, where they perched, peering down with red eyes. The Realm of Mystics had become a great arena of death. I knew death was a shadow, but I couldn’t deny just how deep that shadow appeared to me.
The trees weren’t just stripped of leaves—they were drained of life. The grass wasn’t merely trampled but pounded to dust. There were no flowers, no green to be seen, only bare, gray trees with long branches stretching to the sky like claws, begging for mercy.
Tell me, daughter. Whisper what you know into my ear.
“There is no fear in love,” I said, trembling inside.
Love. See with the eyes of love. Offer them love.
“How? How do I love?”
Bless those who persecute you.2
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. In the darkness, I saw no destruction. There was only emptiness in my sight. But then that darkness lightened and I saw a sea of earthen-vessel sand-men against a red sky.
The boy’s sky, filled with those who’d become blinded to who they were in the light. And me? Was I blind or was I seeing with the eyes of love? Either way, I was seeing more now than when my eyes were open, wasn’t I? This was truer than what I saw as a ruined valley.
Bless those who persecute you, daughter. Forgive them, for they know not what they do. Let it all go. Enter my rest.3
I swallowed the knot in my throat, sinking into a warm grace. I rode like that for a long time, eyes closed, resting in a peace that was beyond my earthen vessel.
Not until we stopped did I open my eyes. We’d come to the crest of a hill overlooking the village. It was burned to the ground except for one tall structure on the far side. A Thrall, colorless and bleak, surrounded by a hundred warriors.
The steps were red with blood. There was only one body on those steps, and it wore a bloodied white robe. My heart stopped.
It was Talya. Was he dead? No, still moving. But badly wounded. My heart pounded.
I quickly scanned the charred ground, looking for any sign of life other than Horde or Elyonite. There was none. They’d slaughtered the Mystics. All but Talya, whom they allowed to suffer. The Thrall was now their tomb.
New tears flowed down my face and I was powerless to stop them. But I felt no dread for Talya because I knew that neither he nor any of the other Mystics I’d once known were attached to this life.
My sorrow was for the deception that had caused such devastation in this valley. It was a strange feeling that defied my old mind. I should be crushed. But at least a part of me had already surrendered what I thought should be.
“And now you are the last Mystic,” Ba’al rasped. “The very last heretic to deceive this world. When you are gone, only Albinos stand in the way of our enduring peace.”
Aaron overheard him and drilled him with a hard stare. “When she is gone, I will personally cut out your tongue and feed it to my dogs.”
“Silence!” Qurong snapped, still not turning back. “We finish what we came for and leave this pit of death.” He refused to lay eyes on his son. My heart broke for the Horde leader.
I caught myself. A new awareness began to fill my mind. My compassion had been far more for Samuel and Qurong than for myself or Jacob. I had no fear for my life. Nor Talya’s. But I had compassion for Samuel and for Qurong because they were so blind. No blame, only compassion. Was that the expression of love? Was that being in love?
What you do to the least of these, you do to me.
“They’re you?”
What you do to the least of these, you do to me.
“To you . . . Then . . . they are you.”
What you do to the least of these, you do to me. To me. To me, sweet daughter.
“You are the light of the world. They are the light of the world. To see in love is to see the light in them, not the darkness they cling to.”
I blinked. The “least” were the lowest sinners. But . . .
“Love even Ba’al?” I asked.
Especially Ba’al.
I sat stunned, unable to comprehend how that could be possible. Love held no record of wrong. Love saw beyond another’s fear. Love saw beyond all darkness and shadow.
Hear me. Tell me. What is shown to be in the one who sees?
“To the water!” Ba’al growled.
His voice jerked me back. They were going to drown Jacob and me. The realization hollowed me out. Terrified my earthen vessel. But the tender words I’d heard echoed still, haunting me, drawing me.
The greatest power that existed in the universe waited for me beyond a door that was opened with a single key. And that key was the answer to one question.
What is shown to be in the one who sees?
But it was still beyond my grasp. And time was running out.
In the few minutes it took us to reach the lake, I knew a fear deeper than any I had yet known. Deeper because I knew the Fifth Seal was love and there was no fear in love. The fact that I was feeling fear meant I wasn’t in love, which meant I was failing.
That self-condemnation took my mind into an even deeper darkness. The voice was silent now, and I longed for it, begged for it, crying out to Justin and Elyon and Yeshua and God—all of whom were One.
And I was one with them, but my fear blinded my experience of that union as we approached the pool of death. Of my death. Of Jacob’s death.
The waterfall was now a gray trickle splashing into a large pool of muddy water. High above perched a large Shataiki, twice the size of the others that eagerly peered down from the cliffs surrounding the vanquished Realm.
Teeleh. This was Teeleh, gloating in silence high above us all.
Come to me, my beloved. Awaken from your sleep. Awaken and tell me what is shown to be in the one who sees.
“Fix the hoods and
cut them down!”
I swallowed and closed my eyes.
“I come to you because I’m already one with you. I will love Ba’al because we love him. I will surrender what blinds me. Awaken me to love.”
The hood fell over my head but my world didn’t darken. I was seeing the red sky again, and against it the sea of lights the boy had shown me. I was going there, I thought.
They cut the ropes and dragged me from my mount, arms bound before me. Then they hauled me to my feet and shoved me to the edge of the muddy pool. Cool water swallowed my ankles.
A great silence filled the valley as I stood there, mind numb, trembling from head to foot.
“I love you, 49th!” Jacob was crying out. He’d cut through his gag again. “I love you more than death!”
“Drown them!” Qurong’s voice was torn by rage and terrible sorrow.
“Drown them!” Ba’al’s shriek was the last voice I heard before being shoved headlong into the water.
Forgive them, for they know not what they do.
And then I was under.
37
“WELCOME TO the end, my darling.”
Vlad’s words might have been heard by some, but his voice was low and meant for me alone. He lowered his arms and walked up to me. I could smell his scent, a musky cologne that made me nauseous.
“I have news for you, 49th.”
And then he was right in front of me, flashing a grin that sent chills down my spine. He leaned close so only I could hear.
“The Realm is no more. Even the old goat is dead. All but you. Now it’s your turn.”
He quickly reached past me, snapped up one of the wireless microphones, stepped away, and spun to the closest camera, mic at his mouth.
“Keep it rolling! Keep them all rolling. I want the whole world to see what we have here! Because what we have here”—his accusing finger stabbed at me, frozen behind the podium—“is hatred!”
But my mind was on his previous claim. The Realm of Mystics was no more. There hadn’t been an ounce of deception in his voice. It was true. That’s why I’d frozen. He was going to kill me because he could do it now without compromising his plan.
