The Prophet Box-Set: Books 1-4

by David Beers

  She sat in blackness, watching lights explode across some invisible barrier. Orange light flashed out at each explosion; Nicki didn’t know what it was, but she found that she didn’t care all that much either. It was beautiful. More so than anything she’d ever seen.

  Nicki didn’t know the names for it—the Edge and the Beyond. She didn’t know that she sat at the universe’s end, and was literally watching it push against whatever lay on the other side.

  There was happiness here, and Nicki was fine with that simplicity. Beauty. Peace. No more running, no more visions, no more dark man with gray eyes looking at her. Here, she was alone—and while her dad wasn’t with her—a lot of the fear from the world wasn’t either.

  Actually, none of it.

  Questions didn’t come to Nicki, questions she might have asked if the majesty before her hadn’t been so grand. Questions like, How did I get here? Who brought me? What brought me? How do I get back? Important things to an outside observer, but at the Beyond …

  All such things ceased to matter, and had Nicki known back on Earth her death was only moments away, she might not have cared about that either. For now she was happy looking at beauty.

  That was enough.

  The Unformed’s thoughts could not be easily translated to English. In fact, no true understanding of Its thoughts could be transcribed, as they were beyond any human’s comprehension. For our part, we can only do our best in hoping to understand something beyond both us and perhaps the space/time continuum itself.

  Forgive this poor transcriber if it is done poorly.

  The Unformed watched now. It saw this new creature before It, just on the other side of the barrier constantly weighing down upon It. This creature was like the others that had come before, yet different, too. Different in that the Unformed hadn’t summoned her.

  Worrying wasn’t possible with the Unformed. The word had no meaning to It, and the feeling associated with the word would have been unfathomable. The creature in front of It now didn’t worry the Unformed—no more than an eagle would be worried by a new species of squirrel scurrying beneath its perch.

  A squirrel was a squirrel, and this creature was the same as the rest of them—even if not summoned by the Unformed.

  Still, she was here and looking at something she shouldn’t be, which were the primary reasons the Unformed preferred her dead.

  The closest approximation to the Unformed’s thoughts were: How?

  It could connect with her if It wanted, the same as It had the others, but It hadn’t yet. There were rules to these connections that the Unformed didn’t fully understand, because It hadn’t created them … and time was running short for It. Its lifespan would seem infinite to Earth, but It had never even considered time. It simply existed without thought of death or birth, mate or foe.

  That had changed, though. At least partially. It now considered time almost constantly, that and Its own death.

  Perhaps the Unformed had waited too long, thinking the impending threat this universe caused could be easily disposed of, but twice now, the Unformed had been thwarted. There was time yet, It knew that, but not how much.

  And this new creature caused the Unformed to hesitate—though hesitate wasn’t fully accurate. It didn’t want to make contact with this one, as It didn’t know if Its connection with the other would be damaged. The other would complete the necessary tasks. Not this one. These creatures, their lives were short and they were forced to spend the entirety of them on one task, if that task was to be done well. The Unformed couldn’t simply start over with this new creature, not without destroying everything already built.

  How?

  The question didn’t matter, and the Unformed quickly moved on from it. The creature must die. It had already told the other so, but yet here this new one was, staring out at the Unformed, its head nearly empty—filled only with wonder.

  The Unformed pulled back some, deciding to let the creature continue staring. If she was here, she couldn’t interfere with Its plans. The other one would kill this new creature soon.

  And then the necessary actions would be completed.

  Time was short, but the Unformed’s power knew no limits.

  The helmet swung down so that it hovered over Daniel’s head.

  He looked at the people around him, unable to see those behind him. The ones at the panel.

  “You going to tell me when its starts?”

  “Yes,” Dr. Lane said from behind.

  Daniel looked to the Pope. “What if this doesn’t work? What do we do then?”

  “You’re not a believer are you?”

  Daniel said nothing.

  “It’s okay,” the Pope said. “No ill will befall you from the Church, Daniel. Your heresy is forgiven through me by God; no Hail Marys, no penance necessary. This will work, and I’m able to say that because of my faith in God. This program, however disastrous and painful it has been over the past thousand years, was created for a reason. I think your daughter is that reason, and I think you’re a part of it. My faith says it has to work.”

  Daniel looked at the Pope for a few more seconds, seeing something he’d never experienced before. Faith. It was a concept Daniel had rejected his whole life, looking on those who carried it as sheep. The man before him didn’t look like a sheep, though. He looked confident and perfectly content with the critical look Daniel cast on him.

  Daniel turned his eyes forward. “Turn it on, I guess. We’ll see what happens.”

  He heard soft movement behind him, someone typing at the panel. Daniel waited, saying nothing. A minute later, he heard a slight hum start inside the helmet but that was all.

  “It’s on?”

  “Yes,” Dr. Lane said from behind him.

  “I’m not feeling anything.”

  “We need to give it some time,” Dr. Lane said.

  Daniel was quiet. He didn’t know if they needed time or not, and he doubted anyone else knew either. From what Daniel could tell, this room contained three types of people. The completely clueless—which was him. Those that thought they knew a little—the technicians and this Lane character. And then those who knew they were clueless, but still knew everything would work—the Pope.

  Daniel closed his eyes and waited.

  Minutes passed, he didn’t know how many.

  “Still nothing,” he said, opening his eyes and automatically searching for Yule.

  The Pope was nowhere to be found and Daniel Sesam found himself staring at his daughter. Her beauty caused him pause, and love swelled in his heart.

  If only for a second.

  Because in the next, he realized fire surrounded him, and from what he could tell, Nicki had only a few minutes left to live.

  “Nicki! NICKI!”

  Nicki looked around but saw only blackness. Of course, explosions still decorated the world in front of her, but the voice wasn’t coming from there.

  It was her father’s voice, and for some reason Nicki thought he had to be behind her. She knew nothing that might be in front. Whatever lay out there … Nicki didn’t think it was human.

  “NICKI! CAN YOU HEAR ME?”

  Dad?

  She didn’t say anything aloud, because nothing could have heard her in this place. That didn’t make much sense, given that she was hearing her father’s voice, but it was true all the same.

  “YOU’VE GOT TO WAKE UP, NICKI! NOW!”

  She was asleep? Nicki hadn’t known that—hadn’t really even thought of it.

  “NICKI!”

  She felt herself being pulled backward, or perhaps the blackness around her was being pulled forward. The result was the same, though, and she watched as the beautiful field of explosions ripped away from her, moving rapidly into the distance and replaced by nothing but infinite darkness.

  “NICKI!” her father’s voice sounded closer, and still the black space whipped by her. Were those stars? She thought so, seeing them burn in the distance. The barrier full of orange explosions was gon
e now, so far in front of her that she couldn’t see any hint of it—all of this happening in only seconds, her being rushed back at speeds unimaginable.

  She saw planets in the distance. Massive things, some with rings, some with gasses, some barren. Then they were gone, too.

  And then Nicki simply opened her eyes and saw her father standing in front of her.

  She was sweating, the air around her almost crackling with heat. She saw orange flames blazing across the outside of …

  Where am I? she wondered, mental faculties returning that had been held in suspension.

  “Nicki, can you hear me?” her father asked. He stood hunched over, and Nicki could see people in front of him. One was silent, the other asking questions loudly.

  Whatever they were inside, they appeared to be in the air, but heading down.

  Oh my God. We’re crashing.

  “Nicki, say something!” her father shouted.

  “What’s happening?” she asked, swinging her feet around and sitting up.

  “You’re in a transport, Nicki, and it’s falling. You’ve got to stop it. Do you hear me? You’ve got to pull it up!”

  Nicki shook her head, her eyes wide and sweat pouring from her brow. “What can I do?” she shouted. The people in front gave no indication they had heard anything.

  “Whatever you did in that motel room, you’ve got to do it again. Do you remember?”

  The motel room?

  Her father had been there. She had, too.

  The man up front, the one on the right. He’d been there.

  Her father knelt down and scooted next to her knees. He put his hands on hers and looked in her eyes. “You have to focus now. Whatever you did in that motel room, you can do it again. It has to be done right now. If you don’t, you’re going to die, honey. There’s no other way to say it.”

  Nicki looked to her right, seeing beyond the fire that swarmed over the glass. There was sand beneath her, lots of it and growing closer with each second. The sky outside was dark, but the moon showed enough. Her father was right, they would die, and within a few seconds.

  “How do I do it?”

  “I don’t know, baby, but you’ve got to, and right now.”

  Her hands were shaking, just as sweaty as her forehead.

  Something was inside her, though—ready to be used. She could feel it even if she didn’t know what it was. There had been gray light in the motel room and it had stemmed from her. Gray light and power, and somehow, that light was still inside Nicki.

  She closed her eyes but didn’t try to find it. That wasn’t the way. If she searched for it, she’d be looking forever. The light wasn’t something that could be pinned down, but rather something that needed to be let loose.

  “Quickly,” her father whispered. Nicki heard the raw edge in his voice and understood the ground was nearly upon them, ready to shatter them all.

  She said nothing back, only tried to clear her mind.

  Five seconds passed and the fear of death wrapped around her. Threatening to take over and completely cripple her.

  Let it come. Just trust it, and let it come.

  The voice wasn’t hers.

  It wasn’t her father’s either.

  She’d never heard it before, but thought it was a woman.

  The few words stilled her mind, though, and Nicki didn’t fight or question them.

  The gray came. It filled her all at once, seeming to move as fast as the universe had only seconds before. Last time in the motel room, she hadn’t felt anything, hadn’t been able to experience it. She did now, though, even if only momentarily. The gray light—she could almost see it inside of her—felt like electricity, or perhaps a cousin to it. It didn’t burn or shock, but there was real energy.

  Palpable.

  And then, it simply became her, and she it.

  She opened her eyes and no longer saw her father. Perhaps the men in the front had felt something, because the one on the right stared back at Nicki. She saw him through gray eyes. Almost impossible to describe, Nicki peered into a world that she hadn’t known existed. Endless possibilities spread out before her, decisions not yet made, but she saw that they could be. The man on the right, he could turn around and look out the window, but Nicki understood he might also turn to the man on the left and yell something. She saw immediately where their transport would crash, but no other possibilities spread out from that.

  It’s because human choice has been taken out of it, she thought. The man has different paths because he hasn’t made up his mind. The transport, though, it’s going to crash in a single place.

  Nicki saw all of this in a single instant.

  Is this what God feels like?

  The time for thought was at an end, but Nicki felt no pressure—no more panic. Sweat still dripped from her body, but not from fear, only the heat surrounding her.

  She placed her hands down on the seat and tilted the transport up. That was it. She simply willed it, and it happened. No gray light shot from her eyes nor from her fingers. The touch and wish was all it took.

  The transport straightened.

  Both men stared at her now, but she looked past them and out the window in front. The ship’s projection had changed. It wouldn’t hit the sand, nearly disintegrating at first contact. She saw it continuing on the current path, understanding that her control of the transport decided where it would go.

  The flames were still a problem, though, because they weren’t fading.

  She raised a hand from the seat and touched the glass to her left. She felt warmth, but the gray protected her, not allowing heat to blister her skin.

  “Open it,” she said.

  “What?” the man on the left asked, his voice almost a whisper.

  But Nicki realized how foolish the command had been. Again, she willed it and the window slid down. Her hand ventured out into the fire. Flames started licking the inside, warm air rushing in and raising the temperature higher.

  She turned her palm upward and small gray orbs rose like bubbles in water. Ten or twenty, Nicki didn’t know. She didn’t understand how it happened, only that she wanted the fire to quit burning. The gray understood this and would accomplish the task for her. The orbs flowed freely around the transport, sitting inside the flames without harm.

  They moved into place and then paused. Nicki brought her hand back in.

  She was still looking in front of her, but she saw the dark man to her right. He was beyond the flames and gray orbs, outside the transport. His black outline and gray eyes looked in on her, and Nicki knew he was seeing her just as she had him on that platform.

  The orbs burst, gray flickering light expanding outward like a tiny supernova. Each orb produced hundreds of electrical strands, and each one rapidly rushed through the flames, eating them as they went.

  In moments, everything was over

  The orbs had flowed from Nicki, burst, and then the fire was no more.

  The window rose back up and Nicki placed her hand on the seat. The dark man was gone.

  “We need to land,” she said. “This thing won’t fly on its own anymore.”

  Rachel Veritros

  The juxtaposition between Rachel Veritros’s revolution, and David Hollowborne’s, must not simply be glossed over.

  The Summoning, as it had to be, was much the same for both.

  The lead up for each was different, and perhaps the situation contributed to it as much as anything else. Even so, the contrast was quite stark.

  Rachel Veritros took only five years gathering her troops, yet spent a year planning before war.

  David Hollowborne spent 20 years amassing his soldiers, and released them with little to no thought.

  Their blood was the same. What David lacked in strategy, he made up for in size. What Rachel lacked in size, she made up for in strategy.

  She, of course, didn’t know she would lose. She didn’t know that the bloodshed across the entire world would be for nothing, and that in the end hers w
ould be shed as well. She didn’t know death would encompass her movement as it had the one who came before her. Not in the beginning.

  At the end of the Summoning’s first week, she sat down with her lieutenants. She looked at the four of them, taking their measure. A large, red gash sat across the man to her right’s cheek. Reynold Listoria. A name that shouldn’t have been involved with war, but teaching something, somewhere. Yet he would have a scar dripping from the corner of his eye to his chin for the rest of his life.

  “Okay,” Rachel said. “Seven days are over. Let’s hear it. Where are we?”

  Brail spoke first, and though Rachel had said nothing else about their earlier conversation, she hadn’t forgotten it either.

  “We’re in control of 40% of all cities within the True Faith. Population, 65%.”

  Reynold spoke next. “The Old World is at 90% of cities, 98% population.”

  Rachel looked to Corey.

  “One Path. 70, and 80%.”

  Finally, she looked at Werner.

  “Constant Ministry is at 98% and 98%. We control everything here except for the Citadel itself. The Representatives have walled themselves off. Getting in will be hard.”

  Rachel leaned back in her chair, a brown leather thing, old with holes in the arm rests, but still comfortable. She tilted her head up and stared at the ceiling.

  “How many dead? Them and us.”

  “We’re reaching the millions for them, Rachel,” Reynold said.

  “And us.”

  “Best estimates, putting us at 50,000.”

  She let out a long sigh, not looking down from the ceiling. She said nothing for a few seconds, stretching it perhaps as long as a minute. Thoughts were in her head, many of them, but as always, she found the truth of the matter. Any number of questions could be asked, an infinite amount of orders given, but Rachel knew only a few things were critical.