by Jeremy Finn
“I think I understand,” James said slowly, then added with humor, “But this will give me something more to meditate on as well. I can certainly see some of His brilliance, I guess, in the sunrise or a beautiful scene, but what about all the decay and destruction that are readily apparent in this world too?”
“That, of course,” Arcturas answered, “is a direct result of the settling of the Darkness upon this world and man’s acceptance of it. As you know, this world is under siege. It has not fallen completely to the dark, but remains a struggling shadow of what it was before the deception. The Malakin have been sent to assist and encourage your struggle, but the result ultimately rests on you – on men’s actions and decisions. We can do nothing apart from the Father and He desires that you retain a free will – we may only influence. Look at this garden. Do you see any decay or disorder? This place is separated. It is hidden from the Darkness and remains much like the world before the deception. Someday the whole world will be reformed to this state, but for now the struggle continues.”
“I don’t understand,” James confessed. “If there is a struggle and the outcome rests on us, how can you predict that the world will be remade like this garden? Isn’t there the possibility, which seems likely to me, that the Darkness will win and consume the earth?”
“This will be hard for you to understand,” Arcturas sighed, “but the battle is already won. The Father cannot be overcome, and He desires a return to the earth He formed. Though the one you call Jaeil is powerful on this earth, he is nonetheless finite. He is not all knowing and all powerful like the Father. The struggle continues in part because the Darkness refuses to acknowledge its defeat and also because it seeks to drag as many of the hated men with it into the dark depths as it possibly can.”
“But if the battle is won and the Father has control, why doesn’t He just end it now and crush the Darkness?” James contested.
“Remember what I said about the Father’s desire to leave men free. He will have a world free from darkness, but like he dealt with the Malakin, he will only accept those who choose the Light over the Darkness. Allowing the choice to exist is the only way to gather those who truly belong to the Light and create a new, pure world here.”
“But why just some of us? I mean, what if I didn’t hear about the Servants or believe in all this light and darkness stuff?
“You heard and have seen,” Arcturas revealed. “Though you may not remember, you have witnessed the Light in others and in this world. Every person experiences the pull of the Light in one way or another. How they respond to that pull determines whether they are drawn into truth or sink deeper into deception. That your eyes have finally opened to it are both a function of your choice to see and the Father’s choice to reveal it to you.”
“Well I know now, but what about others who don’t follow the Light? Are they doomed to follow the Darkness?” James questioned.
“That is, in part, up to you, James,” Arcturas replied with a weight that James felt in his gut. “Do not waste your life in idle concerns. Its length is but a flicker of flame or like the strings of steam that rise off this tea,” he explained as he held up a small, delicate cup of brown liquid. “You know what is before you now, so do not hesitate.”
“Well, I know I have a mission,” James agreed, “but how can I get to it when I can’t seem to get through all these tests that keep coming.”
“You are close,” Arcturas encouraged. “Do not forget what you have learned and be prepared at all times.”
After a little more tea and some inconsequential conversation, James took his leave and retired to his blankets. His thoughts swirled around all the new revelations he gained this evening, but sleep eventually crept in and seized control.
He woke in the midst of the timeless night unaware of the length of his rest, but still feeling quite tired. Everything seemed the same, but he began to notice a faint crackling noise. He glanced around the garden, but everything seemed normal. Then, a gust of hot wind brushed across the back of his neck and his nostrils were filled with the acrid smell of smoke. He turned to face the interior of the house and noticed the paper screens dividing the rooms were bulging and swaying slightly. Carefully rising to his feet since his legs were still somewhat asleep, James shuffled to one of the screens and slid it to the side. As he did so, several things assaulted his senses at once. He felt hot air rush into his face, tasted the bitter smoke he smelled earlier, heard a shrill cry for help in the native language, and saw a calamity sprawled before him though the open doorway of the house. Outside on the street of traditional craft shops and restaurants a fire was aggressively sweeping through the thatch and tile roof buildings. Ash and cinders floated through the air like falling black snow, and local people rushed about in an attempt to flee the onslaught of flames that swirled like whips being cracked.
James called for Arcturas but did not wait for a response. He was out in the street in seconds and searching for anyone who might be trapped by the inferno. The narrow street had become an oven and he could feel his skin baking slowly. The cry for help he heard earlier sounded again and he traced its direction to a two story restaurant across the street. As he approached the traditional structure, though, three men in black crashed through the windows and door on the first floor and charged James with their dark blades exposed. He wondered if this was another test or perhaps something real. After all, he had never been outside the garden since he stumbled upon it. He had no time to debate the matter, though, and quickly decided he better open himself up and fight as if it were real, just in case.
He charged the three men coming at him and his aggressiveness caused them to hesitate for a moment. Just as they were about to collide, James dove forward and tucked himself into a ball. He struck all three in the legs and caused them to tumble over him and onto the ground. James was the first up, and lifted one knee for support while throwing his blade out in a wide arc that lobbed the head off the rising figure in the center. Immediately, he stood and stepped toward the man on the right, bringing his blade down in a merciless arc that halved the attacker diagonally through his chest. Pivoting on his forward foot, he turned to face the final opponent, but the man gained his feet and was moving against him already. James caught a level slash with his blade and twisted his wrists to throw off the enemy’s control while at the same time bringing his blade under the man’s sword and wrists. James stepped forward with arms extended and thrust the blade into the unprotected midsection of the final opponent. As he fell in defeat, though, James could see many more black figures approaching from the flames around him. He was sweating profusely now, and more panicked locals seemed to be rushing through the streets oblivious to the swordsmen weaving between them toward James.
Realizing his position in the open would soon prove fatal, James furtively looked for a place to make a better stand. He noticed a small alleyway that had not been consumed in flames yet, and dashed toward the opening. As he ran, he was forced to push his way through a confusion of crazed shoppers. The dark attackers did not seem to be interested in anything but him, so he sought to distance himself from these innocent people who were likely to be injured if their erratic movement brought them near the duel that was pending.
As soon as he entered the tributary street, an attacker came at him from the end of the twisting corridor. James picked up speed and managed to reach the man’s raised arms with an upward slash before he could bring his blow to bear. Both hands flew off, still grasping the black blade, and cart-wheeled to the ground as James threw a punch into the handicapped enemy’s face without releasing his grip on the hilt of his sword. James did not have time to see the man fall to the ground, though, as he heard rapid footsteps approaching from behind and pivoted on his rear foot while drawing his sword up near his cheek. As soon as his eyes caught sight of the rushing attacker, he thrust his blade forward at eye level and skewered the man through the neck. Then, grasping the hilt with both hands, he twisted it and pulled it to the side, fre
eing it from the confines of the enemy’s throat and ensuring the neutralization of his opponent.
While the alley had given him a more defensible position, attackers still came at him from both directions. There was an intersection just ahead, and he decided to keep moving to avoid being trapped in one place as the number of enemy converging on his position continued to increase. As he approached the junction, another dark warrior came running down the alley, threatening to block his escape. James brought his weapon up and moved to meet him, but just as he neared the intersection, a man in casual clothes frantically shot through between them. James had to bring his sword down immediately to avoid accidentally stabbing the man. The act of mercy cost him, though, as his guard was lowered and the attacker lashed out at him. Without time to raise his rhema in defense, James just followed his instinct and fell sideways to the ground on his back. He felt the breeze from the blade rushing over his face as he fell helplessly. While this move spared him his life, it seemed futile, as the enemy took the opportunity to plant his foot on James’ chest and drew his sword up in preparation for a fatal thrust. James let go of his blade and hooked his fist into the back of the man’s knee. The joint buckled and gave way at the unexpected shock, causing his foe to fall backwards with the momentum of the swing. Without even getting off his back, James grabbed his sword again with one hand and unceremoniously thrust it into the prone man’s side.
Though James was now free to escape down the intersecting alley, his situation did not look much better. Black clothed warriors occupied this alley as well, and after more desperate swordplay, he was forced to flee into a burning building opening onto the small street. Apparently, the building was once a restaurant, as James could see while he was jumping over fallen chairs and squeezing around a maze of smoking table remnants. The smoke was blinding and suffocating, but he managed to claw his way up to the second floor ahead of his pursuers. The top floor was small and had panoramic windows overlooking the street. Though it was still filled with smoke, it appeared most of the actual fire was still limited to the first floor. He squared off at the top of the staircase against his enemies and fought furiously to prevent his foes from cornering him in this final stronghold. Despite his best efforts, though, there were soon three men in the room attempting to encircle him while others negotiated the smoke-filled stairwell. James swatted at their blades with his, but they were being patient and just holding him at bay while the others swarmed into the room. One of the men laughed at him, and James was on the verge of diving into the breach despite his certain doom when he saw a large, dark object swooping out of the sky outside toward the window behind the heckling warrior. Before he could make out what it was, the car-sized object struck the window and crashed through the entire wall of the building. In a storm of shattered wood, glass, and people, James was knocked backwards through the panoramic windows and rolled across an overhang before dropping to the ground. His fall was broken by one of the dark warriors whose body cracked as James landed on top of him. His rhema lay a meter to his left partially covered by scattered planks of torn wood. As he rolled toward the weapon, a blast of hot air hit him, and ash and wood particles stung his eyes. Rubbing his eyes, he looked toward the source of the gale and saw the monstrous being standing before him. It was something like a huge hairless bat covered with blood vessels which protruded from its flesh in pulsating spider webs. It glared at him with a ring of small, glossy black eyes that circled around its head and reflected the orange flames surrounding them. It had no hands, but fangs protruded from its drooling mouth, and its wings were tipped with long, razor sharp talons.
The monster unleashed a shrill howl and jumped into the air with a single beat of its massive, leathery wings. James grabbed his rhema, but the beast was already swooping down on him with its talons reaching hungrily for his head. He dove under the dagger-like claws and escaped with torn clothes and some deep cuts across his back. As he staggered to his feet, he saw the nefarin strike the ground just beyond his previous position, and his claws shattered a pile of scattered wood in their crushing grasp. With no time to think, James ran. He reached the side of the street before the beast resumed its pursuit, and ducked behind a row of abandoned food carts. He did not slow down, but continued to run behind the sparse cover separating him from the airborne nefarin. The monster quickly caught up, though, and James had to dodge and twist to avoid the long talons as they crashed through the rickety carts and penetrated the thin metal walls of the stalls. Food flew everywhere in the confusion. Everything from hot dogs on sticks to boiling pots of silk worm cocoons assaulted him and littered the air around him.
As he slipped and tripped down the sidewalk, the beast rose higher into the air and threatened to pounce upon him. He saw some cars parked along the road ahead, and sprinted into a dive that wedged him uncomfortably under the nearest sedan. No sooner had he gained the cover, though, than the car was lifted off of him and forced upon its side. The winged nemesis stood above the car with his talons penetrating the doors. Without hesitation, James lifted his blade and swung at the only portion of the beast he could reach – its legs. The bone and muscle gave way easily against the unstoppable blade, and the nefarin rose into the air with a horrible scream as dark liquid dripped from its severed appendages. The talons and feet themselves remained rooted in the side of the car.
James had crippled the monster, but it remained a danger as it swooped through the air and slashed at him with its two massive spikes. Open to the Light, James was able to dodge, duck, and repel the assaults while repeatedly taking advantage of brief openings in the assault to hack at the nefarin’s huge wings. He seemed to be making progress as the creature was slowing and oozing foul liquid from multiple wounds, but James was being driven back against the buildings, and the black liquid that splattered onto his skin was burning with a fierceness that was difficult to ignore. As the beast seemed to sense its final opportunity for victory, it pressed its attack and James found himself back on the sidewalk and nearly out of room to maneuver. Just as the monster dove in with wings extended toward him in an attempt to skewer him against the burning building behind him, James lashed out at a tall metal light post next to him and pushed it with all his might toward the winged enemy. The timing was perfect, and the pointed tip of the pole hit the monster in the chest and penetrated deeply as the other end wedged against the building behind him and provided force to the thrust. The glass in the windows of the building shattered, and the metal bent inward as the spear dug deeply into the beast’s chest. The monster finally slumped in defeat in an upright but reclined position against the pole. For a moment, James stood frozen in place staring into the orange-sized tar-black eyes just an arm’s distance away from him. Then, he pulled a strong upward swing with his blade that took off the head and finalized the outcome of the contest. Even as the head was wheeling toward the ground, though, a flash of movement appeared in the corner of his eye. Acting instinctively, James turned on his back foot and thrust his blade in the direction of the buildings behind him. All the confusion and chaos around him seemed to freeze as he found himself staring into the shocked, wide eyes of a young, delicate woman who stood with one hand clenched at her side and the other covered with blood and grasping the middle of James blade, which was buried in her chest. James let go of his sword and the woman crumpled to the ground, the look of shock permanently etched on her fading visage.
James backed away from the scene of horror and struggled to take a breath. He was angry, confused, ashamed, and guilt ridden all at the same time. Only the sudden appearance of Arcturas eased his mind as he realized this was likely a simulation after all. But still, he failed the test, obviously, by striking an innocent bystander.
“I failed!” James cried. “I just don’t understand. I opened myself up and it seemed to be working, but look what happened! I killed this woman because I was relying too much on instinct and let myself get carried away.”
“On the contrary,” Arcturas corrected calmly, “the o
nly way that you have failed is in believing that you have failed.”
“What are you talking about?” James questioned. “She’s a panicked passerby. She shouldn’t have died. Even if this is a simulation, what if it were real?”
“Mistakes happen in this fallen world, James,” Arcturas explained, “and you must be prepared to deal with such disasters brought out of good intentions. This, though, was no mistake. You have finally really learned how to open yourself to the Light and follow its lead regardless of what your senses present to you.”
“I don’t understand,” James sighed.
Arcturas said nothing, but stepped toward the delicate feminine form and drew his rhema. Reaching down with the tip of his blade, the guardian caught the edge of the blouse resting on the woman’s clenched fist and drew the material up the arm. There, held within her palm and pressed against the inside of the woman’s thin arm, was a vile, ebony blade.
“She meant to kill you, James,” Arcturas said. “And she would have if you had not been open to the Light. This was the real test. The rest of the battle was mostly a means of pushing you to the point of high stress and anxiety that would create the perfect atmosphere for this final evaluation.”
