

THE AGE BETWEEN

### BREATH & FIRE

A NOVEL

### JOHN BATTENFIELD

### REALM

THE AGE BETWEEN

### BREATH & FIRE

A NOVEL

### JOHN BATTENFIELD

Copyright © 2017 by John Battenfield

Smashwords Edition

First Edition: November 2017

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

To Amy, my beloved copper sunset girl, and to Athena, who, when she was two, called ladybugs, "Leelah."

### THANKS

Thanks to all of you who encouraged me to start and finish this book. Thanks to those who read early versions and gave helpful feedback. Thanks especially to Jan, Sarah, and Uncle Bob for their stellar edits!

### CONTENTS

PART ONE

Chapter 1  
Chapter 2  
Chapter 3  
Chapter 4  
Chapter 5  
Chapter 6  
Chapter 7

PART TWO

Chapter 8  
Chapter 9  
Chapter 10  
Chapter 11  
Chapter 12  
Chapter 13  
Chapter 14

PART THREE

Chapter 15  
Chapter 16  
Chapter 17  
Chapter 18  
Chapter 19  
Chapter 20  
Chapter 21

PART FOUR

Chapter 22  
Chapter 23  
Chapter 24  
Chapter 25  
Chapter 26  
Chapter 27  
Chapter 28

PART FIVE

Chapter 29  
Chapter 30  
Chapter 31  
Chapter 32  
Chapter 33  
Chapter 34  
Chapter 35

PART SIX

Chapter 36  
Chapter 37  
Chapter 38  
Chapter 39  
Chapter 40  
Chapter 41  
Chapter 42

PART SEVEN

Chapter 43  
Chapter 44  
Chapter 45  
Chapter 46  
Chapter 47  
Chapter 48  
Chapter 49

PART EIGHT

Chapter 50

PREFACE

The Bible talks a lot about the Kingdom. It is a notion that pervades nearly all of Scripture, whether as a promise, picture, or parable.

I have always enjoyed writing and have clumped together some pleasant short pieces over the years, but I first truly realized I could produce my own story—I mean, like a novel—when my wife and I were driving across Kansas listening to a secular audiobook. The author was entertaining and engaging enough, but what struck me was that he intertwined his worldview (albeit incorrect) into his story.

He put words in the mouths of his characters that preached his personal opinion to his readers and listeners. He also directed the plot, location, and every detail of the story so that his view would end up rationalized and justified in the end.

What a powerful tool! Suddenly, I wanted to write a story in which a Biblical worldview could be presented. And with the advent of digital printing and short print runs, I already had the budget to produce a novel of my own.

As a Christian, I look forward to the future with almost unbridled anticipation. The Millennial Reign of King Jesus has intrigued me since I was saved at age five, so I've been imagining what that amazing period in history would be like for years and years. Some of the concepts and even character names have been with me since high school when I scribbled a feature-length sci-fi fantasy screenplay out on paper with a pencil. My blue Trapper Keeper notebook was filled with sketches and schematics. So maybe this book is the completion of that project.

Since I have a strategic, eternity-impacting day job, the challenge for me was to find time to work on this book. Thanks to my iPad Mini and Google Docs, I could write wherever I was; in the coffee shop, in the dentist's waiting room. But most of the time, it was late at night when my wife and (now) daughter were asleep.

When I began writing Realm, I was a new dad and new foster dad, so I think you may find, as you read, some of my explorations of fatherhood and family and the inescapable impact that parenting has always had on the rise and fall of civilizations.

I have many dear brothers and sisters in the Lord that adhere, for various good reasons, to other, more allegorical, eschatological views. They love Jesus; I will see them in Heaven; and we can— with unity, liberty, and charity—strive for the cause of Christ together. Dear reader, if you find yourself in that vital group, please skip ahead to chapter 49.

They say that writers write the stories that they would like to read themselves. Well, it's true. The very act of writing this book was a pleasure in and of itself, and, more than that, it was a colossal Bible study, gleaning from passages all over the Scriptures for clues and references to what the literal, historical Reign of Christ would be like from His Return to the descent of New Jerusalem.

In the glorious Name of the King,

John Battenfield

For a map of the coming earthly kingdom, please visit:

realmnovel.weebly.com/explore-the-realm or scan the QR code on the back cover of this book.

ONE

### The Two Feasts

1

### Aftermath

### Year 1

Ezasen thrust his elbows out, trying to keep on his feet as the crowd washed relentlessly down the dirty street. The reek of smoke and blood offended his nostrils with every labored breath. He hadn't eaten for days. The shouts and sweaty, frightened faces around him made it clear. They were running for their lives.

More deafening shots rang out behind him. Shouts of victory from the United Earth Forces soldiers behind them stole all hope of escape. Swarms of T6 aerial drones, known as flying crossbows, firing tiny darts armed with neurotoxins, thinned the stampede with uncanny accuracy. A new level of panic settled like ice around his heart. This is the endgame, he realized as the street narrowed and took a sharp turn up and to the left.

Jerusalem was already a dark maze of stone and filth but was now strewn with the broken bodies of her sons and daughters, losing a war that had ground her people into the dust for more than three years. Half the population had been captured, tormented, raped, and either slaughtered outright or led to detention camps on foot.

Ezasen had arrived here only four days earlier at the end of a long detour in his travel plans. He had been told to find a new life in the relatively peaceful city of Dubai, but a freak accident over the Mediterranean diverted his flight to the Holy City.

The writhing mob, two hundred strong, slammed into a staircase, and the leading edge of the crowd buckled under as Ezasen and others started to scramble over them. He tried to stop to pick up a little girl but was himself knocked against a wall. He reached out and grabbed her and buried her in his chest. God, what is going on? he sobbed.

He risked a glance east. Through the hundreds of columns of smoke rising from the Kidron Valley and the Mount of Olives beyond, he glimpsed the horizon. Morning was finally coming. A crescent moon hung off to the southeast. His bones ached. It felt as if he had been running all night. And now, the feeble, red, sickly sun was trying to rise. His heart sank further. It would only shed light on the death he knew was everywhere.

The girl whimpered in his arms as he swung his legs against the stone wall behind him. The legs of the crowd whipped by his face until they all managed to get up the stairs, and he lay there some minutes more in case any soldiers might pass by and take notice of him.

When the screaming had finally been replaced with moans and what must have been prayers, he gently set the girl on her feet and brushed the matted hair from her face. Under a tattered zipper vest, she wore a pink T-shirt with a kitten on it. A quick glance at the tag inside the vest revealed a word, perhaps a name: Pelekos.

"Do you have a name?" Ezasen scanned the crowd.

"Ana," she said, eyes glazed over with too much exposure to death and loss. "I'm five." Her accent betrayed an Eastern European background.

"Let's find your mom."

He took her hand and led her up the stairs. A frantic young woman rushed toward them and scooped Ana into her arms. "Oh, thank you. Thank you!" She barely made eye contact, rattled by the now-distant gunfire and eager to find safety. She ran off into the smoke.

At that moment, a violent shudder plucked at the foundations of the mountain below them like at a piano string. Those left standing were pitched headlong back down the stairs, and a new round of screams and shouts erupted all around. The pursuing army stopped filling the sky with bullets. A quick aftershock rippled by, and an eerie silence fell upon the city. A dog barked. Klaxons sounded. Seconds ticked by.

Then a third and final quake began, just a vibration at first. Ezasen watched with moon-disk eyes as the street in front of him fell away into black nothingness. With it succumbed the entire row of buildings on the east, while the north and south sides slid away from each other. Dust and soot flew everywhere. He looked up the street at the western tip of the newly-formed ravine and saw a small, bedraggled old man.

Ezasen stared. The man, barefoot and wrapped in ribbon rags, stood oblivious to the havoc around him. His face was serene, though smeared with dirt and blood, and he seemed almost content. The shaking stopped. He was just a few meters away, and Ezasen heard him whisper a single word.

Azel. He said it again louder, staring down into the hungry chasm. Azel. It sounded less like a question this time, more like a long-awaited answer, more like hope. Then he closed his deep, tired eyes and said in Hebrew, Baruch hashem Adonai, El Shammah. Malkuth shamaim. Blessed be the Name of the Lord, the God who is here. But Ezasen did not understand him. English had become so prevalent worldwide that he couldn't remember the last time he had heard Hebrew spoken. A few other voices joined the man weakly in the chant as he stepped slowly but confidently down into the rubble. Ezasen couldn't fathom what it was that gave these people such peace, but as the little man was joined by others in the ditch, he shouted the word, and it sounded less like hope and more like fact. Azel!

As it descended eastward, the trough became a crevice; the crevice became a canyon; and the canyon became a valley. Everyone still alive in the city eventually poured into it, including the detachment of UE troops, their black uniforms bearing the hated horse emblem. Ezasen found himself in the midst of the stampede again, but this time the fear and panic were replaced by relief and effervescent joy. What was behind all the elation? he thought, plowing ahead toward the dark hill just east of Jerusalem proper.

The low light hid the path in front of them. Some cried out in shock as they splashed into the bed of the valley. Soon enough, Ezasen realized this thick, rancid flow was not water or mud, but blood. And his feet, trousers, and hands were dripping with it.

He stopped and tried more than once to turn back. Instead, he thrust sideways to the edge of the crowd, pulling and clawing on people, forcing his legs to drag through the tar-like blood. He was back to the west side of the Kidron in a few seconds, but the aborted crossing had taken its toll. He fell to his knees and vomited. The joy he had heard earlier shifted to sober desperation as the rest of them climbed the far bank. More bodies. More death. Ezasen could only think, Was this hell?

He lay on the bank for what seemed like minutes, trying to wipe the blood from his hands and clothes. In the distance, he could hear sirens and helicopters, and soon even the familiar thrum of news drones. A swarm of them had followed the sea of people down from the city. Immune to earthquakes, they broadcasted planet-wide the carnage and the revelry alike. Suddenly, a crack of thunder split the dark, gaping skies above them. Everyone looked up as shimmery light exploded throughout the city. A tear in the black canopy of space had opened, and Ezasen instinctively brought out his phone and started filming.

Golden clouds billowed out of the rift as it widened to fill the eastern sky above the Mount of Olives. Cries of amazement and glee rose to a crescendo from the throng, now numbering in the tens of thousands. Everyone with a phone captured the event. On the clouds rode a massive army on white horses. Their leader, striding out in front, descended toward the rim of the mount, and his steed came to rest on the dry turf. Slowly, and with a confirmed countenance that rivaled the sun in brightness, the man lowered his feet to the ground.

Just before he touched the earth, everything else went dark. Phones, lights from the city, car engines, planes, drones—all dead. The sirens stopped, and the dogs ceased their barking. Planes and helicopters crumpled into the ground, snapped in half, or exploded all around Ezasen, but he didn't hear them.

Now this being was the only light in the universe. Where had the sun and moon gone? Where was the jaundiced light from all the fires? Nothing but this blazing, magnificent God-man was visible.

Ezasen forgot to shade his eyes from the brilliance. He let himself be blinded by the One, he finally realized, who had caused him to truly see.

***

This godlike figure looked out over the masses with his blazing, penetrating eyes. On his brow were several concentric, gleaming crowns made of some luminous metal. Over and around his head orbited many more diadems, some like crystal, some like iron. The being's chest expanded as he took a deep breath then uttered a single word.

The sheer power of this simple act knocked everyone backward ten to twenty meters through the bloody muck and over bodies. Some merely staggered. Most hit the ground. But there were some who began to screech in horror as they felt their lungs convulsing inside their bodies. They could each feel the tongue in their mouth begin to dissolve and rot.

When one such death scream sounded beside him, Ezasen managed to pull his gaze away from Jesus for the first time and saw a heavyset, roly-poly African man standing off to the side holding a UE soldier by the scruff of his neck.

The soldier, having heard the single word that the God-man had pronounced, clutched at his own throat as his skin and hair slowly turned into slime then dust. The particles of his body sailed silently away on the pulse of the word, brushing the shirt of the portly man as they went by. Over the next few seconds, the soldier's tendons, muscle tissue, glands, and organs started to rot in the same way. Finally, his bones showed through, and his carcass fell limply to the ground.

Ezasen approached the man, stepping over several other bodies that belonged to soldiers and civilians sharing in the same gruesome end. Out of nowhere, thousands of ravens and vultures appeared, attacking the corpses hungrily. The man holding the empty uniform wept bitterly. "I felt it. I felt the killing power pass through him but go around me. It was so cold and..."

His voice was familiar. "Hey, man. It's gonna be alright." Ezasen didn't believe his own words whatsoever. "Um. I'm Ezasen. You helped me get past security at the airport in Guatamala."

"I'm Carl," the man said, shocked by the pedestrian tone this new person used in such a defining moment in all of history. "I—I work with the resistance," he stammered, "helping believers escape."

"Thank you, Carl. You basically saved my life!" Ezasen's eyes locked back on Jesus.

"Praise God! He put me in the right place at the right time." They shook hands, neither looking at the other.

"I'll say."

"He does that all the time." They finally glanced at each other, like brothers meeting for the first time.

"I'll take your word for it," Ezasen smiled. "Quick question. Do you have any idea what's going on?"

They looked back at Jesus on the Mount of Olives and saw other horses now landing on the stark hillside, depositing their riders, then returning in great waves back through the rift blown open in the sky. First hundreds, then thousands of people dressed in shining white apparel descended to the valley and spread out through the crowds, embracing some, shaking hands with others, and turning often to observe and bow before their King.

They were almost as brilliant as the God-man. It was as if the stars had descended to the earth and were wandering among its inhabitants. They glowed and smiled. They came from every ethnic background, men and women, and they all looked to be about twenty years old with athletic builds. For a moment, Ezasen imagined he was watching the opening ceremonies of some intergalactic Olympic Games.

One of these beings approached Ezasen and Carl. They dove to the ground, cowering and whimpering uncontrollably. The glorious beauty of the creature was so awesome as to cause them both to worship him. But he touched their shoulders with his hands and said, "Do not worship me, for I am your fellow servant and heir. Do not be afraid." He smiled and gestured to Jesus. "Worship God."

The glorified man moved on as if in a dream and greeted others on his way. Ezasen and Carl were left transfixed and unable to stand.

"This is all happening, right?" Ezasen asked through rapid, shallow breaths. He fought a wave of vertigo. "It's actually real?"

"Yes, my brother," Carl said after literally minutes of stunned silence. "Like He predicted two thousand years ago, Jesus has returned."

Jesus Himself was now back on His magnificent horse and proceeding down one side of the valley toward the river of blood. Ezasen was about to call out and warn the Creator of the universe, but Carl clapped his hand, rather violently, over Ezasen's mouth. The conquering King approached the river without stopping or glancing down. The horse's mighty hooves went in and were instantly stained red, as were its legs. As the Messiah reached the deepest part, His robe up to His thighs was soaked.

Carl was sobbing, half from deep remorse, half from unbridled joy. Half from disbelief. Half from belief. "He's headed for the Eastern Gate of the city."

The Lion from the tribe of Judah indeed exited the river and made His way up the steep canyon toward a waiting Jerusalem, followed by millions of His chosen people, Jew and Gentile, both glorified and not.

"Behold," Carl quoted, "He is coming with the clouds, and His holy ones will come with Him. He will set up His Kingdom that will never end, and He will rule the nations with a rod of iron."

2

### The Grave and the Grove

The day was warm and humid. "I think that might be the last of them," Carl said blandly. "I don't see any more markers." His pleasant demeanor usually lifted the mood of those around him, and it was no different even now. A gentle rain began to fall on the thousands and thousands of mounds of Middle Eastern soil that surrounded the pair of men. Carl grimaced. "Even the wicked are made in the image of God."

Ezasen turned and shared a solemn look with Carl then glanced out over the field of graves stretching out in all directions. Lush grasses and wildflowers had now taken residence in the shallow valley, and Ezasen allowed his calloused hands to loosen their grip on his shovel. It fell to the ground as he dropped unceremoniously to his knees. "So much death, so many endings—"

"—In a time when life itself is bursting forth all around us," Carl finished for him. "I've been thinking. The war is over. The crows and vultures are gone. All the bad guys are gone. This might very well be the Kingdom."

"I'll take your word for it." Ezasen held out a hand and Carl grabbed it, helping him back to his feet. Ezasen brushed his hands together. "How do we know we haven't been beamed to another planet? Or thrown back in time before Columbus?" he asked, leaving the shovel there forever. The two men walked together west along the row of tiny green hills somewhere between Yahud and Shoham on the southern edge of what was now called the Sea of Blood.

"What are we supposed to do now?" Ezasen added. "I've noticed over the last few months a curious lack of—How shall I put it?— civilization around here. I mean, everything's been wiped out by all the quakes. Buildings. Cars. Indoor plumbing. And these creepy plants are growing too fast. And the bugs are getting bigger and certainly friendlier."

"I know. I know." Carl finally spoke. "It's not exactly what I was expecting either. I was always told the Kingdom was symbolic, an analogy for the church."

"It feels pretty real to me, unless we're in some really freaky, seven-month dream."

Carl closed his eyes, concentrating. "No. No. We're really here. It's just I need to rethink what I was taught about the Bible."

"Well, that's great." Ezasen was feigning some exuberance. "Let's get everyone together and have a Bible study, maybe sing Kumbaya. But what about after that? Where is all this headed?"

"We take it a day at a time, my good brother. and we figure it out. We start with that volcano thing. Come on!" Carl cracked a wide, bright smile and took off running, drawing on this new, endless supply of energy they both possessed.

Despite his frustration, Ezasen had to smile, too, and he caught up to the large man easily enough. Carl's words made him squint, peering through the increasing number of raindrops at the unbelievably massive peak forty-five kilometers to the south and east. Smoke or clouds or something constantly rose from its summit like Mount Saint Helens or Yellowstone constantly erupting. He didn't understand it all, but he was electric with the desire to learn all he could about this strange world he now found himself in. If this was a dream, only half of him wanted to wake up.

This desert had, by some miracle, become a tropical paradise. Miraculously, the shoes he had worn every day for the last seven months showed no sign of wear or tear. He barely remembered what being tired was like. And Carl, who, when they first met, was quite lethargic and spherical in shape, had no fat on his body now and was as strong as an ox. These were mysteries that he decided to explore in the coming days.

Other teams joined them on the path that led toward their camp along one of the hundreds of lively brooks and streams that rushed down from the Mountain to the sea. Saplings were already starting to put forth leaves and buds, and the flowers all seemed to think it was spring. Somewhere beyond the clouds, the sun was setting, which meant the Mountain was about to do its thing. Right at sunset every night, the cloud that pushed up continually would turn to flame. It reminded Ezasen of the story in the Bible where Pharaoh was chasing the Israelites, and a pillar of fire both guided them and lit the way.

The air grew refreshingly cool as the group rounded a sharp bend in the ravine and arrived at their little settlement. It was nestled in a grove of fig trees, although a variety of other species were popping up every day, filling the whole region with sweet aromas.

There were no buildings in the camp, just several tents and makeshift pergolas and hammocks. The rain had stopped, and families sat in circles in the undergrowth working frenetically on some new project. For days they had been anticipating the end of the burials and had pieced together backpacks and fashioned walking sticks and other supplies in hopes of moving on from this sober chapter to whatever the future held for them. Some indeed believed they were living in the Kingdom the Bible promised. For Ezasen and Carl, more evidence was needed. But now they were all bent over little bundles, passing them through an assembly line on their way to sheets or cloth bags.

"What's all this?" Carl bellowed, and his three daughters came running. They greeted him exuberantly, and the youngest, Leelah, a busy two-year-old, took his hand and pulled him back toward the grove.

His eldest, Skylah, the awkward one at fourteen, smiled at him with her green eyes and answered, "Necklaces and bracelets! We decided to gather all the scraps of cloth and string we had and start making Gospel tools, memorizing Bible verses as we go. Mom is in her element directing and organizing the troops."

"I made one. Look, Daddy!" Carl's middle daughter, Willah, industrious and eight, held out her wrist.

"What a very good idea, my loves." Carl picked up all three of them and carried them the rest of the way. Ezasen watched as the family sat down together, thoroughly caught up in fellowship. He was happy for them. So many had lost relatives and friends over the last four years or so. Some had literally lost everyone they knew.

He turned right and made a quick stop at the brook for a drink. Something tugged at his pant leg. It was Leelah. She held out her little hand. In it was a bracelet made of striped beads.

"Why, thank you, young lady," he said, ramping up the drama. "How pretty!" She blushed with a wide grin and scampered off like a fairytale woodland creature.

Once among the trees, Ezasen rounded a mulberry bush and found his roost. He had woven truck straps together to design a hammock that hung between the two prongs of a Y-shaped sycamore, so he slept some five meters above the ground.

Four months ago, he had determined to read the Bible through, and tonight he was most of the way through the Psalms. His dinner was hand-picked berries and leaves, all within arm's reach of his perch.

The Bible was so easy to memorize, or at least it was easier now in this crazy world. He concluded he should have gone off caffeine years ago, despite the violent headaches he endured the first three weeks after seeing Jesus. He was never good at remembering things before, but now, with this new clarity in his mind, there wasn't a verse that he had read so far that he couldn't recall instantly. Maybe it was something in the water. The stories were amazing, most of which he was reading for the first time.

He could hardly sleep that night. The blinding sight of Jesus standing on the Mount of Olives seemed indelibly etched on his cornea even after all these days. He had both trembled and longed to embrace Him. Only the horrifying demise of the soldiers around him had pulled his gaze away from Christ. Who was this God who had used Carl to rescue him from killers in Central America? Why did all those people have to die? Was this caveman existence really all there was?

The next morning, Ezasen stood with Carl and his family in the center of camp. The stragglers were just sitting down with their breakfasts when Carl addressed the group. "Grace and peace to you in the name of our God and King, Jesus Christ. Before we give thanks, there is something Ezasen would like to share."

Ezasen cleared his throat. "Good morning. I'll be brief. As you know, I have been a believer less than a year, so please have patience with me. I'm reading the Bible and learning a lot. Thanks for welcoming me and treating me like family. Trust is a huge hurdle for me, and I guess it is for all of us after what we've been through. I've still got a lot to learn. I'm encouraged, however, that none of you are more than seven years older than me in the faith." A few of his listeners chuckled.

"Since the burials are now complete, I'm sure we've all been thinking about what to do next. I think God wants me to encourage you, as we go, to get into the Bible like never before. Let the Bible get into you. Carl tells me that he believes that, in many respects, humanity is starting over. That we're not dead. That we're not on another planet, despite the crazy things going on around here." At this there were a few more smiles from the crowd.

"He also thinks that the availability of printed Bibles will be almost zero until technology and infrastructure catches up. I think the total number is around twelve copies for the more than seventy people here. We don't know how many survived what Jesus did, or where they are. In the meantime, we are the copies, right? We will carry it forward, until it can be mass-produced again. It was a simple Bible tract that led me to salvation. If this is the Kingdom the Bible talks about, then there will be children born who will know nothing of Christ and His love unless we tell them. Thanks."

Carl thanked him and prayed. From then on, they were all intentional about internalizing and studying the few Bibles they had between them and teaching the children to do the same.

That afternoon Ezasen was cordially invited to attend a tea party with Leelah and a few of her friends, including a black rock, a pine cone, and UE helmet. They found a grassy spot in the middle of a field of wildflowers and spread out a section of a parachute. Around the edge, they placed the friends, making sure there was a spot for Ezasen and one for her. For saucers, they used lily pads. For cups, they used acorn shells. She also invited a frog, but he couldn't stay long.

Leelah knew the drill. She placed the dishes in front of each guest and said a brief yet indecipherable prayer. Then she pretended to pour the tea from a coconut shell into each cup. She handed Ezasen a twig and demonstrated stirring the tea with hers. He obliged, and they sat enjoying the hot, flavored beverage for about twenty seconds before she announced she wanted to ride his back. "Heaven. Horsey!" was how she made her request.

Ezasen was shocked by the idea that all she knew of horses and tea was what she had learned in this bizarre new reality. She was too young to have any memory of the age that had been before. How soon he would be obsolete! With several nieces and nephews before the rapture, he was an old pro at giving horsey rides. He was the fun uncle that made brick towers and cardboard box forts. He could make the perfect water balloon and the perfect snowball.

He crouched with his back toward her, and she crawled on, squealing with joy before the ride even began. He jogged around the camp a few times, down by the sandbar in the river, and over to Carl's makeshift family tent to drop her off. She was not pleased when she was told playtime was over. How thankful Ezasen was that he never ended up with kids of his own.

The following day was both the Lord's Day and Sabbath. Nearly every living soul in the whole region made the trek up the slopes of the Mountain to celebrate the character, plan, and rule of their Savior. As rivers of water flowed down, rivers of worshipers poured into the gates of the outer court of the new temple, singing a psalm as they went.

This would be Willah's first ascent. She had heard the songs and seen the trains of people making their way in such gladness, but she never imagined how brilliant and wondrous the focus of all the celebration would be. "We're leaving in a few minutes. Won't you be joining us this morning?" she looked back at Ezasen and watched him carving a piece of wood with determination.

"Not today, kiddo." He didn't do her the kindness of looking up. "I'm still trying to figure things out. You go on and have fun."

"Fun isn't really the goal, is it?" Her brow dropped into a grimace. "No. I get it. You're here, so you must have been chosen. Your words yesterday at breakfast were awesome. But you're new enough to still be carrying your pride and your guilt around with you, even though it is no longer tied to your back."

"Aren't you supposed to be like, eight, years old?" He finally looked at her. She was too small and young for all the deep words that were coming out of her. "Sorry. That wasn't very nice of me to say. See?" He held up his piece of wood. "Rough edges."

"None of us is worthy to go up. We all still have rough edges." Willah sat on the grass in front of him. "But it's not about us, is it? It's not about somehow becoming perfect before we go to Him. While we were still sinners, He loved us so much that He died for us to give us life. This life. This life that you're not really living yet. It's about Jesus. He is worthy."

Ezasen let out a slow, fierce breath through pursed lips and set down the stick. "Nail on the head, Willah. I guess I still miss toothpaste and pillows and soap."

She scoffed. "You were telling me just last week that you lost your glasses but don't need them anymore, your beer gut is gone, you no longer get hangnails, you're no longer afraid of germs, your arthritis and carpal tunnel are gone, you no longer get migraines, and your beard grows in fuller. Aren't those good things?"

"That's an amazing memory you have! You forgot one, though. My feet are still a size different. My left foot is a size twelve, and my right foot is a size eleven!"

"Your complaining is the opposite of thanks. Maybe you've forgotten that we're not running for our lives anymore. We're not hiding in sewers from drones."

Ezasen stood, fighting to keep his words to a whisper. "We're stuck in the middle of nowhere with nothing but the clothes on our backs. Besides air to breathe and a beating heart, what do I have to be thankful for?"

"Isn't that enough?" Willah stood, too, moving her bracelet absently around her wrist. Ezasen closed his eyes and said nothing.

"Well, we'll be here for you. When you're ready." Her face was still grave as she turned to join her family on the ascent.

3

### Tabernacle

Some days later, Leelah had elected Ezasen to take her and her sisters on a hike. They had left just after a rather large and social breakfast, and it was now the middle of the day. They brought no particular provisions, trusting that they could each pick a giant berry or two and be satisfied until evening. Their itinerary today was to follow one of the larger rivers west toward the sea and determine just how far they could get in a day. The goal every day was to see what new plants and animals they could discover and identify.

Ezasen was amazed at the variety and frequency of animals they observed that he was used to seeing only in a zoo. But he had to remind himself often that they were in Israel, even though they were dodging jungle vines and negotiating bubbling brooks in a formerly arid desert plain called the Shephelah. Only rocks, sand, and jackals had dwelt here before this kingdom had commenced.

He had instructed the two older girls not to get too far ahead, and he could hear them talking and laughing without pause some twenty meters away. They were somehow now above him to his left, maybe on the densely covered slope of the valley to find better footing and easier progress, but then their giggles suddenly stopped. The birds and insects seemed to stop, too, and a breath later his blood raced and adrenaline knifed through him. Years of running and fear and hunger and hate had made his instincts finely tuned. He silently plucked Leelah from the low branch in front of him and climbed with a newfound strength and agility up through the levels of foliage toward the spot where the girls had been.

Two young men in shining white priestly robes stood across a clearing from Skylah and Willah. The strangers were extremely tall, well over two meters, and they seemed to have been interrupted in their walk for they had turned and were each still holding a staff out in front of them, guiding two large beasts. The oxen bellowed urging them to continue, and one of the men smiled as Ezasen came to a stop in the middle of the meadow.

"Grace and peace to you in the name of Jesus the King," the man said in a voice so sweet and so near that Ezasen fell to one knee. "Do not be afraid. Like you, we are the Lord's servants. You are welcome here." They turned to go, and he felt hands on his shoulders. He tore his eyes away from the men and glanced at the girls who now surrounded him, their faces streaked with tears. Leelah, however, ran out a little further, stopped, and exclaimed, "Cow say mooo!" She was then immediately distracted by a large beetle and disappeared into the wildflowers.

Ezasen and the girls laughed and sighed with joy. "Who were those people?" Skylah asked, wiping her face.

"I just don't know, sweetie." Ezasen finally stood as the men and the oxen blended in with the jungle below the Mountain. "Maybe angels? Maybe more of those warriors that returned with Jesus?"

Willah spoke, still staring at the place she last saw them, hoping for another glimpse. "They're believing Jews, glorified saints from Old Testament times. Did you see their robes and turbans? Priests in Israel were instructed to wear very similar clothes. It is said that in the Kingdom they would be a nation of priests and that the sacrificial system would start up again. They must be taking those oxen to be slaughtered and burnt as an offering to the Lord in the new temple!"

"I don't get it," Ezasen said. "Your dad told me the sacrifices ended when Jesus died and rose again and tore the veil. Wasn't He the sacrifice all the others pointed to?"

"That's right," she said. "But for whatever reason, God has started it up again. It was predicted in Ezekiel. He talks about a new temple and priests and sacrifices, all to take place now, in the far future in the Kingdom. Maybe it's to remember what Christ did."

They returned to camp in a daze of wonder.

That evening at dinner, they shared their experience with the whole camp. Many passages from the Bible were recited, describing all the glimpses of the age in which they now lived. After the meal, Carl leaned over to Ezasen.

"It's okay that you cried like a little girl back there. Most men fall flat on their face when they encounter a glorified being, as you know. They are part of the millions and millions of God's people who returned with Christ. They were promised the Kingdom. This is the land and the age they were promised, and they will rule over angels. They have been in paradise with Jesus these last seven years, and they've been given bodies like the one Jesus had when he was resurrected. It is said they can walk through walls and travel at the speed of thought. They are holy and without sin. And they are what you will become some day when you die, E."

Ezasen sat on the far southern edge of the grove overlooking another valley with yet more streams. The warm firelight from the Mountain reflected off the ever-present clouds and made the tributaries sparkle like intrusions of copper as they cut along the valley floor feeding a larger river.

His weathered pocket Bible in the metal case lay on his knee open to the book of Zechariah. Leelah lay spread-eagle on the grass a few meters away relishing a juicy fig, the evidence of which was all over her face, hands, and sleeves. A minute later, she was asleep and breathing evenly.

What a different life she will lead from mine! Ezasen wondered. No suffering. No needs. No thorns. No danger. And no memory of war or hate or greed.

His thoughts were interrupted by Carl's lumbering frame as he joined him there on the knoll.

"The stars are different," Ezasen said casually. "I don't recognize any of the constellations."

"I hadn't noticed," Carl remarked, peering into the rare clearing sky as if for the first time. "I was always so busy I guess I never took the time to look up and see the amazing things going on above me. That's part of why I think I missed the truth about Jesus the first time around."

Ezasen cocked his head toward the big man. "You know, I've known you for weeks, but I don't think I've ever heard your story."

Carl shrugged. "Well, it's not an amazing adventure, except for what Jesus did."

"That's enough to make it amazing." They both glanced over at Leelah, still asleep, as she let out a tiny snort and rolled on to her side.

"Well," Carl leaned back on his elbows. "My father was from South Sudan and my mother was a Tuareg from Libya. They met at university in Hawaii and lived there until I was sixteen. Then they both got jobs in San Diego as marine biologists, and we basically stayed there until the rapture. A good friend of mine who I visited often on Maui got me interested in ham radio, and it's been my hobby ever since."

"Ah, so helping Christians escape to Dubai was right up your alley with all that audio/earpiece stuff. That makes sense now."

"Yep."

"Sorry. Go on."

"Well, in San Diego we attended a megachurch that was really good about fellowship and outreach but very fluffy when it came to the Bible or how it impacted my life. In fact, it didn't. The place was this warm, welcoming social network filled with thousands of people following the American Dream. I went to college and met Anaya and got married. I got into real estate right out of college, and the church gave me an instant, huge, wealthy market to tap. I was a millionaire by the time I was 27. I helped a friend build a real estate phone app, and we sold it for half a billion two years later."

"Whoa! Nice job!"

"Well, I say that not because it was some great thing. It was actually the darkest part of my life. It was empty. I was empty. I had everything I wanted: a perfect family, money, prestige. But there was this bottomless pit in my life that I couldn't fill or cover."

"You didn't become a Christian through your church?"

"Not remotely. I never heard the real Gospel there. Just because it's called a church doesn't mean it was the church that the Bible describes. As the rapture neared, the so-called church was the strongest persecutor of genuine believers. We thought they were crazy and narrow and black-and-white. All that talk of sin and rules and absolutes. We were glad when they disappeared in the rapture. We could get back to our lives of self-serving, pleasure-crazed delusion."

"I always thought the aliens took them."

"That's what the culture had been stuffing our brains with for decades before. Yeah, you're right."

"It seemed logical at the time. But I was a big science fiction fan back then." They both smiled. "What finally brought you around?"

"It was a couple I sold a house to in Escondido that finally shared Christ's love with me. God took me to the absolute end of myself and gave me a new heart that day in their empty kitchen. I had gained the whole world but nearly forfeited my own soul."

"God is good," Ezasen said after a long silence.

"And His timing is absolutely perfect. Don't ever forget that! Even when nothing makes sense, He is still on His throne."

"But surely all that trouble and testing is over. Christ has won. They call this the Times of Refreshing, right?"

"Wherever sin is present, Ezasen, there will always be trouble. There is enough evil in us, even in just you and me, to cause chaos and ruin."

"Chaos and ruin?" A man stepped out from the trees.

"Hey, Asher!" Carl whispered. "Come and join us."

Asher sat down and picked a blade of grass. "It's too nice an evening to be speaking of chaos and ruin. I assume you speak of the past?" His Australian accent was thick.

Carl shifted on the grass so they could all view the valley. "We were talking about sin, in any age, and its impact on people."

"What's your story, Ash?" Ezasen asked. "You were part of a church before the rapture, too."

"To my shame, lads." Asher threw the blade of grass to the side. "And it was a solid, Bible-believing church in Adelaide. Our doctrine was right on target. Our fellowship and service were right out of the book of Acts. Our interpretation of end time events was spot on. It was a beautiful thing, but I was just going through the motions. I talked the talk, as they say. I had an excellent reputation and I taught Sunday school on occasion, but it struck me one day about two weeks before the Rapture, during a sermon on the Parable of the Sower."

Ezasen and Carl nodded.

"That fourth soil it talks about, the rich soil that bears fruit—it just wasn't me. I realized I was, in some ways, all the other soils. It tore me up for days. I met with one of the pastors a couple of times.

Prayed a lot. In the end, I was on my way to meet him when the rapture happened. I got to his house, and, like all the other stories you've heard, the door was open and his whole family was gone, leaving their clothes, wedding rings, and tooth fillings in piles on the dining room chairs and floor."

"Must have been horrible," Ezasen said.

Asher sighed deeply. "Yes, but God is good, isn't He? And He's the God of second chances."

"Amen, brother."

"Asher, you mentioned the end times." Ezasen leaned forward. "I've heard the term. You're saying your church knew, even then, how things would turn out."

"Right. Yeah. We knew the genuine, believing church would be taken in the rapture, that the Tribulation would last seven years, that Christ would then return to set up His very real, physical Kingdom here on earth that will last a literal thousand years."

"And you get all that from the book of Revelation?" Ezasen asked.

"Actually, the whole Bible speaks of this Kingdom. It's the fulfillment of many, many promises to God's people. But, yes, the specific passage on the earthly reign of Christ is found in Revelation 20. It speaks of Satan being bound so he's not here accusing, condemning, and inspiring rebellion. But he will be loosed at the end briefly. Then it speaks of God's people from every age ruling with Jesus. And, thirdly, it describes a large army that follows Satan after he is released."

"So if everyone is a part of God's people, where does this evil army come from?"

"Frankly, that's where we come in. We are saved, but each of the children we produce will still enter the world with a sinful nature. Some of them, God will redeem. Others, He will allow to follow their own dark hearts and spurn Him."

"So another thousand years of sin and death and failure and, eventually, war. I thought this was going to be paradise."

"This will be an incredible time. And think of it this way. God has billions more souls He will offer salvation to. He has more citizens to graciously add to His Kingdom."

"But why did God do it this way?" "His ways are higher than ours, according to Isaiah. He is sovereign and He does as He pleases. He defines reality and has determined that this plan, this history, will bring Him the maximum glory. Who are we to question His motives? Our role is to love Him, love others, trust and obey." Asher stood. "Embrace that, and see God do some amazing things in you and through you! Good night, gentlemen."

When Asher had left, Carl chuckled with his deep voice. "Just wait a few years, Ezasen, until some unsaved kids start acting up, maybe even yours." With that, he jabbed Ezasen on the shoulder with his meat-hook hand and stood. He checked on Leelah then returned.

"My mind is officially blown!" Ezasen lay back on the grass. "Lots to think about."

"Yeah, I won't be sleeping tonight."

"Or tomorrow night! I mean, I'll ask it again. What do we do now?"

"This is the long game, Ezasen. I'm going to go do what Asher suggested and start by raising my kids."

"You're going to feed them berries in the forest until they're as old as Methuselah?"

"I'm going—" He lowered his voice to a whisper again. "I'm going to trust God."

"I'm sorry, Carl. I'm new at this faith thing. Here's the deal. The priests said we're welcome to stay, but it's their land, and it feels weird to be here squatting like this. Now might be a good time for us all to move on and find our own space. Where we 'won't build and another inhabit' as it says."

"Ah, now he's quoting Scripture. I'm impressed. We'll make a preacher out of you yet!" Carl smiled. He looked down at the sleeping child, reluctant to wake her. "I completely agree. It's time to start a new chapter. Where will you go?"

Ezasen looked back at the smoldering light on the river. "No idea. I'm a graphic artist. I worked in my basement. I was never into this whole outdoorsy, camping thing. What I would give for some toothpaste! No, I mean, I'm so thankful to be alive, and I have no right to complain, but I'm looking at this big long time, like centuries. I'm sure God has something amazing waiting for me, right? I mean, you say He's written the future.

"It's as sure as if it's already happened."

"Craziness!"

"Exactly," whispered Carl, now kneeling over Leelah's limp form. "You just stick close to Him, honor Him with every moment, and His desires will become your desires; His plans your plans."

"The very thing I am eager to do." He was whispering now, too. "How about you? I know you're a visionary. What big idea do you have forming in that big brain?"

And without skipping a beat, Carl announced, "I've always wanted a vineyard." They both chuckled and quickly stifled it.

"Thanks, Carl. You've been a good friend and an example of Christ to me, even if you do want to produce alcoholic beverages for a living." He smirked. "You know, I still have some reading to do. I can watch her for you."

"You know what, I'll take you up on it. Mama and Big Daddy need a little us time," and he crept away before the opportunity was gone. "I'm thankful for you, too, E! Goodnight."

4

### Times of Refreshing

### Year 2

When everything was ready, the whole camp was emptied and left as if it had never been there. A series of discussions over the previous days had brought the group to the decision to travel together for at least a few weeks.

Single file, they headed west along a tumbling, wandering river and made it to the coast in two days. It didn't occur to Carl or Ezasen to consider that this particular Israeli coast, near what was once Gaza, was the only coastline to remain the same throughout the horrific global tectonic upheaval brought by God to both judge and cleanse the earth. They turned south and strode along the cool sandy beach until Firelight, an affectionate name they gave to sunset.

Asher was in the lead as the group arrived at a large, slow-moving river. The water flowing due west was clear, as if they were looking at the perfectly straight riverbed through a pane of glass.

"This is fantastic!" He shouted back to the group. "This is it. This is the river!"

Ezasen clambered up beside him. "Ash. There are rivers and streams everywhere."

"No, this is the river. Well, one of two, actually. It's straight out of Zechariah 14. Living water flowing from Jerusalem, to the east and to the west."

"Can we get across? Is it holy or...?" Ezasen knelt and dipped his hand in, almost expecting it to be solid.

"Well, it eventually mixes with the sea. I suppose it's alright. See, it's already forming a delta out there." He pointed west where a sandbar sat just under the surface.

"Mm. It's delicious!" Ezasen cupped his hand and took another gulp. Others joined him and sampled the water. Some were filling canteens. "You know what, guys?" Ezasen stood and took off his pack. "It's time for a swim!"

They were fifty-two in all who stood and stared east over the lush canopy of date palms at the Mountain to see flame dance with receding cloud. Then fifty-two sets of belongings lay strewn among the driftwood as they enjoyed a long soak and frolick in the rising tide. To Ezasen's surprise, the water in the sea was fresh as well, not salty. "I bet there's a prophecy about that, too," he shouted to Carl over the splashes of the girls.

Two weeks later, they came over a gentle rise and gazed at the green carpet that met the slate gray sea, separated only by a ribbon of white sand. Some helpful forerunner had stuck a stick in the ground next to the trail and had hung a one-word sign from it: EGYPT

The wide basin below them crawled with settlers for several kilometers down the coast. "Wow. This is the place to be, I guess!" Ezasen marveled at the sheer number of people and dwellings and equipment and animals that covered every spot of ground that wasn't occupied by a tree or a rock.

Carl stepped off the trail and studied the landscape. "Yes, indeed! We're all reading the same book now, brother. I think I'm going with Asher on this one. It says that the camp of God will reach as far as the Euphrates river in the east and as far as Egypt to the west. Imagine a thriving metropolis nine hundred kilometers wide and we're standing at the gate. It's gonna happen."

"Aha. So we Gentiles get the rest of the planet," Ezasen snapped his fingers.

Asher chimed in. "And we become the nations that Christ rules over with His rod of iron. Yes. You're partially right. God will put certain of His saints in charge of towns and cities. We will reign with Christ! There's actually a whole system of different groups of people in the Kingdom." He sat on the ground and took a deep breath. "First, there are those who returned with Christ. They are glorified saints from before and after the cross, every believer from Adam to the church age to those taken in the rapture and those that died for their faith during the Tribulation. They have glorified bodies that are like the one Jesus had after His resurrection. They are sinless, immortal, and impervious to harm. And, as we've seen, they can walk through walls and appear and disappear at will."

Ezasen whistled in astonishment. "It's like all the rules have changed."

"Then there are those of us believers who survived the Tribulation," Asher said. "Our children will repopulate the earth and be born with a sinful nature. We will need to share the gospel with them."

Carl grimaced, "Even with Jesus right here ruling the world?"

"Yep," Asher replied, pulling on a blade of grass. "Oh, and I must mention a large and familiar subset of this surviving group. They are called the 144 thousand. They are Messianic Jews preserved through the Tribulation who inherit the land of Israel."

They began walking again, descending now toward the makeshift market. "It looks like the world has been restored to conditions that were present before the worldwide flood, present in Eden itself," Carl observed, his curiosity growing. "So does that mean we will age very slowly and live to be hundreds of years old, like Methuselah?"

"That's what the Bible seems to point to," Asher replied. "We'll see our grandchildren's grandchildren grow up and basically repopulate the earth Noah-style. The book of Revelation says that those descendants that deny Christ will ultimately form an army to fight against God's people at the end of the thousand years. The clock is already ticking."

Carl paused to survey the horizon.

Ezasen brought his head close to Carl's. "What are you looking so intently at?"

"Location. Location. Location."

"The location of what?"

Carl grinned smugly. "My vineyard!"

While the members of Ezasen's caravan mingled with the crowds in the market, he and Carl stood seventeen kilometers south with hands on hips on a huge boulder at the base of an elaborate system of waterfalls that gushed or trickled down the face of a shard of stone some thirty meters high. Up a couple of levels crouched Asher, who had been a landscape architect. He leaned out over a particularly wet bed of moss and called down to the other two men. "This will do nicely, with just a few alterations."

Carl had asked Asher if he would help him scout a spot for his vineyard. It needed an ample and vertical water supply to accommodate all of Carl's big ideas, including a series of water mills that would power various parts of the house and fields. As payment for Asher's expertise, Carl's wife, in turn, would share her entire recipe collection with Ash's wife, Mia—at least as many as she could remember, and that was many.

Ash continued his report. "Plus, there is a nice point at the top where we can set up your antenna." Ezasen remembered that Carl was an amateur ham radio operator and hoped to piece together some equipment as time went by to communicate over great distances with others. He knew it would be decades, if not centuries, before cellular implants and HoloChats were commonplace again. Carl was satisfied.

They joined the rest of the caravan for a goodbye feast that night and watched the next morning as family after family headed west or south to find their own futures.

Ezasen carried forty kilograms of tools and household items back from the market to Carl's waterfall. It took them three hours over impossible terrain. Even the girls lent a hand. Ash and Mia, by far the fittest of the group, arrived early and prepared lunch. Carl was last to set his pack down next to the big tent. It weighed nearly a hundred kilograms.

They broke ground that afternoon. They began on the broad plateau just above the falls and cut seven evenly-spaced rows of bricks right out of the granite to make channels for the water diverted from the river that fed the falls. It would then flow over the edge of the little cliff right to where Carl wanted it. His idea was to construct small mills, or paddle turbines, that would turn gears and provide power, albeit preindustrial, around the dwelling. The bricks from the channels would then be used to form the house itself.

"Why seven?" wondered Ezasen aloud after they had completed the fourth channel.

Carl hollered back, knee-deep in the roaring river, "It's the number of completion!"

"And I was going to ask you about this." He walked over and handed Carl his blade. "There are some Hebrew letters or words on all the tools. Is it a brand name or...?"

"It says, Holy to the Lord. Another prophecy out of Zechariah 14."

It took almost four months, but Carl and his family finally moved into their home. It was an excellent time for Ezasen to learn a variety of new, practical skills and spend time with a strong biblical family. He found himself in no hurry to run off and seek any adventures of his own.

The same night the house was finished, Ezasen again found himself up on a grassy cliff looking out over jungle and rivers of Egypt reflecting the Shekinah from the Mountain. The lantern that hung from Carl's antenna gave a soft squeak in the breeze. He could hear Carl jubilantly talking to Jonas, his new friend in Norway that he had found within minutes of turning on his mangled-together ham radio earlier that afternoon.

Leelah again was fast asleep nearby in the grass, this time hugging a stuffed, spotted cat-like animal that Ezasen had made for her from a sack. He absently rubbed the beads of the bracelet she had given him. Babysitting duty wasn't so bad like this. He set his Bible down and lay back on the soft green mattress of grass and fell into a deep sleep.

He awoke to a hand on his shoulder. Thousands of large but silent fireflies sped around him as he sat up, and there beside him knelt a young man in a white kurta and trousers that seemed to reflect the moon, though there was no moon to reflect. The man smiled. "Greetings in the name of King Jesus, the Lord of Hosts. I am Kalos."

Before Ezasen could find his voice, the stranger spoke again. "Ezasen, son of Liam, all that you were sent here to do has been accomplished. You will rise up and go. You will throw a stone, and the ripples it makes will fill the world with both calamity and hope. And you will not go alone."

A tiny whimper from Leelah turned his head and, just as suddenly, the enigmatic man was gone. He moved to Leelah and saw that she was fine, right where he had left her. Scratching his head at the weird dream he had just experienced, he got to his feet. The fireflies were gone. He peered out over the treescape below him.

The lantern was gone.

The house was gone.

And then he couldn't help but say it out loud, "The Mountain is gone."

In its place through the mist, he saw a high and dark cliff with a starfield of lanterns hanging in perfect rows down its sheer face like candles on a layered birthday cake. And beyond sprawled forest in all directions. Somewhere behind him, the sun was rising. Time to get some answers.

He gently took the sleeping child in his arms and made his way down the hill to the base of the cliff where a little village had sprung up on either side of a deep but narrow river. It flowed northeast between the huddled houses that seemed to bend over its happy waves.

Ezasen turned right down a clean and orderly cobble street and knocked rather brusquely on the first door he found. The little wooden sign over the lintel read: AZOTUS. A smiling, round woman answered after a time, pushing a graying lock behind her ear. "You don't look like an angel," she pouted, her smile fading to disappointment. "Oh, but where are my manners? Come in. Come in. We've been expecting you two."

They entered the cramped little rowhouse. There was a tiny front room with a narrow staircase. Ezasen took in a breath when he saw the banister and rail. The ornate detail was astounding. "That must have taken months to hammer out. It's gorgeous."

"It did. And it is. My husband is the local smith." She smiled and maneuvered around them to set down a dish she'd been drying. "Let's get your little girl in bed. She must be exhausted from your journey."

"It's like it took no time at all. But thank you."

Once Leelah was tucked into a closet of a room upstairs, the woman led Ezasen through the kitchen to a rear balcony that leaned perilously over the river. There, sipping some sweet-smelling liquid, was a weather-worn man that barely filled his clothes. When he saw the visitor, he quickly removed the hat and apron he was wearing and gave a deep bow. "Grace to you and peace in the name of the King!"

"His Kingdom shall never pass away!" Ezasen replied.

"Welcome to our home, traveler. We are your servants. I am Flynn Azotus, and you've met my beautiful bride, Karla." They shook hands. Whatever little there was of the man, he was made of tensile steel. Ezasen winced under his grip.

"Thank you," he half whispered, half grunted. He had a million questions, but he let them bring out an extra chair and a cup of that nectar tea before he sat, took a long breath, and began telling them his story from his life before the rapture, during the Tribulation, coming to Christ, and his adventures in the Middle East so far since the Return, including his encounter with the man called Kalos less than an hour before.

"The stranger mentioned something about ripples in a pond and that I wouldn't be alone. All very cryptic and, like I said, I thought it was just a dream." He held out his cup for a refill. "And then I woke up here. At the top of that hill east of your village. Mind you, I have no idea where here is." He leaned back and sipped the warm liquid.

Flynn and Karla looked at each other, then Karla folded her hands. "As far as we can tell, you've found yourself in the village called Joppa. At the Return, we were living in Fort Collins, Colorado, and we haven't left since."

Ezasen swallowed wrong and sputtered. "Colorado? I'm from Denver. That's halfway around the world from Egypt! How did—"

"Quiet down there, youngster. You'll wake the child."

"Dear Lord! Leelah! She belongs to Carl. I need to get her back! Back to her family! How in the world do I get her back to Egypt with no planes, no boats?" He was in a full-fledged panic. "Carl's going to think I've absconded with his baby." He sat and stood repeatedly until the older couple was able to put heavy hands on his shoulders and start praying. Karla went first.

"God of the universe," she began, "we praise You for Your unchanging character, Your infinite power and unfailing love. Thank You for your Word that tells us that You've written the future, and Your plan for the world and also for our lives is perfect and unthwartable. Truly, You are a great and awesome God, yet You have our very best in mind at every crossroad, in the name of Jesus."

Then Flynn added, "Father, we don't understand Your ways, but we trust completely in Your wisdom. We ask for peace for our true brother here. Strengthen him in Your might. We know, O Lord God, that You have brought him to us and to this place for a reason, and even if he never learns why, may he take each step forward in faith, resting in the grace of Your Son, Jesus Christ, the King of kings."

"Amen," Ezasen felt a weight lifting. "Thank you both."

He went upstairs and checked on Leelah. She was amazingly still asleep. He gently woke her, wrapped her in a clean blanket that Karla provided, then brought her down to the kitchen where Flynn was putting together a light supper. She was introduced to her new friends and had a wonderful evening of playing and dipping her toes in the river. She only asked about Mommy and Daddy a few times, for which Ezasen was thankful. He evidently had spent enough time with her that she trusted him. Plus, she was an easy child and very outgoing.

A few hours before dawn, Karla put her down again and rejoined the men in the tiny front room. "You're, of course, welcome to stay as long as you need."

"Thank you so much. You've rescued us both. However, I can't possibly delay any longer. I must find a way back to the Middle East. Even if I could just get word to Carl in Egypt, that would be something." He was feeling the stress rise again.

Karla perked up, "The tower!"

"Tower?" said Flynn.

"What tower?" asked Ezasen desperately.

She slapped her husband's bony knee. "You know, the radio thing, on top of the rock."

"Oh, that tower," said Flynn, his smile showed that a few teeth were missing. "Young master Digby has been building himself a ham radio contraption on top of that cliff just west of here. Says he plans to talk to people all over the planet."

"That's it! That's the answer!" Ezasen bolted to his feet. "I helped Carl put an antenna on his house in Egypt just this week!"

"Doug's up there bright and early most mornings." Karla added. "Likes to pretend he's running the phone company!"

Flynn pointed at his wrist. "Ten minute walk, tops."

5

### Fallow Ground

### Year 3

It made sense to Ezasen to take the narrow stony stairs that wound in concentric circles up the steep cliff face, each level offering access to a humble row of dwellings that had been carved from the dark, speckled granite. Gentle, pleasant faces greeted him as he ascended with Leelah asleep in the pack on his back. Everywhere on the structure there were viaducts running nearly to the brim with cool water, supplying each residence with more than enough for washing, drinking, and plumbing.

The main path led shortly to what must be a spoke, situated perpendicular to the curves and leading more directly toward the top of the village. When he was about halfway up, he turned and took in the view. The landscape rolled along, featuring bright green forests and meadows filled with tropical flowers. Beyond the first ridge to the north and east was that perfectly round lake that he had awakened next to the night before.

A teenage boy carrying a load of large clay pots bumped him as he was trying to pass, and Ezasen was tempted to mention something about how the colorful surroundings would make a nice postcard. Then he realized that anyone under about twenty wouldn't know what one was, so decided to resume his climb. "Grace to you and peace," he called after the boy but realized after a few seconds that there was no response. He took one more step then decided he should probably reach out to the boy. He reminded him of his nephew, Damado, who died during the Tribulation.

Ezasen caught up to him. "Greetings in the name of the King," he began. The boy turned and found a thin smile to put on his dour face.

"Hello," was his quiet reply. "My apologies, sir. I am out of sorts today."

"Hmm. What teenager isn't?" Ezasen mused with his hand on his chin. He smiled and extended his hand. "My name is Ezasen." They couldn't shake hands because the boy was currently using his to hold the pots steady on his shoulder. That finally brought a smile.

"I'm Deshi. An honor to meet you, Stranger-whose-name-meansnew-life. You, too, carry a burden."

"Oh, yes. This is Leelah. She likes bugs and dinosaurs."

"I do, too. She's beautiful."

Ezasen shifted her on his back. "When she's asleep like this, yes."

Deshi wobbled slightly under the pots.

"I'll leave you to your chores. Pleasure meeting you. God is good." And with that they parted.

Jutting out over the honeycomb of houses was a massive section of the cliff. It must provide protection from rain, he assumed, as the stairway became a stairwell and led him up through the outcrop to what felt like the roof. Here the bare rock succumbed to the jungle after only a few meters, but between stood a tiny stone room with wires draped over it and dropping in through the window.

"Thank you for visiting Digby Telecom!" said the smiling, bespectacled little man with the long, graying beard leaning out through the doorway. "Would you like to place a call? Ha. Ha."

"Yes, actually. I would. To Egypt!"

"Uh. Ok. So, that was me just kidding back there when I mentioned making a call." He smiled sheepishly. "This site is under construction. I'm still missing a few key components that are—let me say—hard to come by in this day and age. Egypt you say?" He emerged and approached Ezasen with an outstretched hand. Then he pulled it back, stared at it up close, wiped it on his multipocketed pants, then offered it again. "I'm Doug Digby, President and CEO."

"Ezasen. Nice to meet you, Doug. This is Leelah. She's two."

Doug froze. "Could I see your bracelet?"

"Um. Sure." He removed it and handed it over.

"Thanks, because I think you just saved the planet."

"I did?"

"Yep. Well, my planet, anyway. You know what these are?"

Ezasen didn't know he should have considered them to be anything more than striped beads. All he could do was puff up his cheeks and raise his eyebrows.

"These are transistors. And, oh, here's a resistor. Any of these words ringing a bell?" Doug was almost dancing with excitement.

"Radio parts?"

"That sounded like a pure shot-in-the-dark guess. But you are correct, sir. Radio parts, indeed! With these, we'll come that much closer to making that first call you requested."

"Not until you buy them from me."

"Dude, I'll give you one percent of the net profits from my imminent media empire in exchange for those parts. That's how vitally important they are to me."

"One tenth of one percent," Ezasen squinted. "I don't want to come across as too greedy."

"Agreed."

"Done." They finally shook hands and began a centuries-long friendship.

***

One night, the shy boy with the pots, Deshi, finally accepted an invitation to share a meal. Ezasen asked their hosts to give their testimonies.

"Well, son," the grey-haired Flynn began, "our story starts a few years before the rapture of the church. Being from Denver, you'll remember very well the day that the supervolcano under Yellowstone National Park erupted. I can recall vividly seeing footage of all the wildlife making a concerted exodus from the park months before it blew. But that dark day was my sixtieth birthday and the day I got my pacemaker put in. I woke up in a hospital room in Honolulu instead of at my luau at Waikiki. Not a bad place to be stranded for two months with my family gathered while we waited for the air above Wyoming and parts of Montana, Idaho, Utah, Nebraska and Colorado to become breathable again. That same area had been buried in three meters of silt, debris, and ash.

"Hundreds of thousands died. Entire industries and cities were wiped out. The national economy, which at the time was already heading downhill fast, collapsed altogether and never recovered. It didn't help that we had welcomed Mexico and Canada into the Union, and we were just climbing out of the aftermath of the outbreak of boubonic plague, which had crippled the East Coast. They called it The Red River Massacre. A towering fence was erected on the western shore of the Mississippi to keep infected people from crossing. Gunmen shot anyone who tried.

That's when that Chinese and Russian company called Americom stepped in and basically took over the reins of the country. They owned most of the continent already. The national capitol was moved to San Francisco. When I was a young man, my Christian friends wondered why America, this powerful, wealthy, blessed nation, played no role in end times prophecy. It was because America did not exist when the end times came."

Karla said, "From the Red River event to the eruption of Yellowstone was less than six months. The edge of the crater formed by the eruption is 1200 kilometers across and six deep at the center. It lies just over the ridge to the north of us, just outside Joppa."

Ezasen dropped his head with the sobering memories that came to mind. "Denver was the closest large city to ground zero that was still mostly intact. Prevailing winds that day happened to be heading northeast, which doomed most of the Midwest with darkness for days and choking dust for weeks."

Then Karla added with eyes wet, "We were so blessed to have our family with us when it happened, but we were growing frantic to hear news of our neighbors and friends. Ten weeks later, we were allowed to return home and began digging out our house in the foothills west of Fort Collins, spending most nights in a community shelter. Our kids refused to leave. We'd never felt closer as a family. It took us four-and-a-half years to rebuild our home and our lives. Who would have imagined that less than three years later the rapture would come.

Flynn continued. "We were devout Mormons, and we gladly accepted the Antichrist as our messiah and returning savior. But we came into contact with some friends that shared how different real Mormonism is from the true faith."

***

A month later, as Ezasen began to realize that getting Leelah back to her family was not going to happen any time soon, he trusted God's timing and provision and decided to set up shop in Joppa. Ezasen built himself a small dwelling that spanned the river upstream from Flynn and Karla's. Here the water gushed white over steep boulders covered in moss. The lower level was one large room with space for a work bench, an anvil from Flynn, and, eventually, Ezasen hoped, a rudimentary printing press. In the corner, he planned to put a small paper mill.

Above the workshop, he made a bedroom and bathroom suite for Leelah, with its own exterior stairs and entrance. On the roof, he fashioned planters for a garden. He diverted water from the river onto the roof, just as he had learned in Egypt with Carl, then channeled it to the garden and also down into the house.

After weeks of sketching, measuring, and cutting stone, Ezasen needed a change of scenery and a change of pace. One morning, after dropping Leelah off with Karla, he and Deshi went for a run north along the lake's edge. They met at the base of the stairs that led to Deshi's room on the roof of the last house on the block, where the river turned into the forest.

Ponderosa pines, blue spruce, and cottonwood trees lined the path as it followed the ravine northeast for about three kilometers. Then they could see brush oak and aspen scattered among the pines as the two of them crossed over a new wooden bridge and steadily climbed to the ridge and their first view of the nearly-perfectlyround crater. It might as well have been the ocean. The wind-rippled water went all the way to the horizon.

Ezasen realized that they were already inside its bowl. There were no trees standing. Hundreds of thousands of tree trunks were lying on the ground, all aligned perfectly with one end toward the center of the lake like the spokes of a wheel. He was reminded that all of this highly organized destruction was unchanged right through the cataclysms of the Tribulation and the decimation of the whole planet by God at the return of His Son as King. He started singing softly as he jogged along.

They ran down the straight, steep path until it turned sharply to the right at the water's edge. After another kilometer, a pair of runners approached them from the opposite direction. The two women with dark skin and lively eyes were caught up in a humorous conversation and saw fit to smile and nothing more as they passed. But Ezasen stared and skidded to a stop as they passed. One of the women looked eerily familiar.

"Monique?" he shouted after them, and one of them halted and whipped her head around.

Her eyes were wild with anger and confusion. "Who's asking?"

Deshi and the other woman stalled but kept back from the intense interchange.

"It's me. Ezasen. I mean, Eli."

"Eli, the arrogant, self-righteous jerk?" she wondered aloud. "I think that's how she described you to me." She paused, then smiled, then stepped forward and held out her hand to shake. "I'm Edith Armand. Monique was my sister, bless her heart. I never would have guessed I'd be seeing you here. Your reputation precedes you, as they say."

"I'm sorry. You look just like her." Ezasen shook her hand. "I would have been surprised to see her here, too. A lot has changed over the last few years."

Edith looked around her. "Both outside and inside us." An awkward moment passed. "Um, this is my niece, Camille. Camille, this is Eli, a friend of your Auntie Monique."

Camille waved shyly.

Ezasen fumbled over his words. "Oh, this my friend, Deshi."

Deshi was sitting on a boulder. "Hey."

"I guess we'll see you around." Edith turned to resume their run.

"Yeah. Okay. See you around. It was nice meeting you both."

As they strode away, Deshi was even more quiet than usual. Ezasen couldn't handle it, finally stopped, and waited for Deshi to say something.

Deshi didn't mind the stress level rising in his new friend like air in a balloon. He shrugged. "You dated her sister."

"I dated her sister."

Once it was voiced, they jogged on for another hour and a half in blissful silence.

***

When their residence was ready, Ezasen and Leelah moved in, the only difference being they slept indoors instead of outdoors. They had no material possessions beyond the clothes on their backs and a few documents and toys they kept in a single handmade backpack.

Soon, however, Ezasen began to fill their little home with things: beds, a chair, and a high chair made from wood from trees he cut down himself, a cloth swing for Leelah that he suspended in her room from metal brackets he made in Flynn's forge, and a desk on which he stored drawing tools and paper. He gradually covered the walls with their sketches and design plans. Many of the pieces were depictions of friends in both Egypt and here in Joppa.

Nights were warm. Mornings were cool, and he found himself sinking readily into a routine of work and training, caring for Leelah, and spending time with others in the community. They also added a member to the family. They found a wounded marmot, a native rodent, that was big enough for Leelah to ride, and adopted him while they nursed him back to health. Leelah named him Baby Phil.

Over the following years, Flynn taught Ezasen everything he knew about working with metal. He started Joppa House Books and printed thousands of Bibles and Scripture portions.

Ezasen also invested his time and design talents heavily in Digby's fledgling telecommunications company and, with help from Karla and others in the community, raised Leelah to be a responsible and selfless young lady. She spoke with her family in Egypt every day on Digby's ham radio.

6

### Already Not Yet

### Year 11

The day before they left Joppa, the whole village gathered to celebrate Leelah's thirteenth Conception Day. Karla also had one that week so they threw a party for them both. Early the next morning, they climbed the lattice of stairs again, past the radio tower, and into the company of trees. There was a well-worn trail now, heading west as the plateau slowly descended into a labyrinth of valleys and fields for the hundred kilometers before they would reach the next settlement.

Leelah walked in front of Ezasen most of the time but was still small enough to carry on his back for short stints. During their years in Joppa, she had memorized a history book she had found in the meager library, and she was retelling the story of Marco Polo and his exploits in the Orient. One evening their discussion turned to spices and cooking, which was a new and foreign concept to her since spices were rare in this new and fragmented world.

They turned a corner around a large banana tree and almost bumped into a massive mound of muscle and fur lying along the side of the trail. Ezasen fell silent and reached for Leelah's arm, but she didn't know to be wary and extended her hand to touch the beast.

"Leelah," he hissed.

In the low light, he could only see a pair of glowing green feline eyes slowly dawning over the horizon of its back. They were fixed on Leelah as she petted it and whispered, "It's a cat, like maybe a leopard or panther."

With that, the huge animal rolled over toward her and licked her hand and bellowed a deep purr like a heavy motor. Ezasen fought his instincts once again and joined her. "Good kitty," he offered, and the cat looked at him for the first time. "Let's not get too friendly," and he took her by the hand and led her calmly around its massive paws and swishing tail and down the trail, those big eyes glued to them.

"It seems friendly enough," she said with a hint of protest in her voice.

Please don't ask if we can keep it, he thought desperately.

"Can we keep it?"

***

There were so many brooks and streams that neither Ezasen nor Leelah needed to carry water. And, at the speed they were traveling, they would encounter some form of water every ten minutes. They sat somewhat awkwardly on the soft but sinewy back of the giant jaguar she had affectionately named Cinnamon, in honor of the famous explorer who introduced so many spices to Europe. Ezasen wanted to name the cat Marco until he learned it was a she.

After a few days of such riding, all they had to do to balance themselves was to rest one hand on Cinnamon's spine. At night, they had the most comfortable pillows in the form of her massive front paws. It was reassuring to know that their very own guard cat was always on duty.

On the seventeenth day of their trek from Joppa, they discovered the camp of some fellow travelers.

"Grace and peace to you in the name of Jesus, the King of kings," offered Ezasen as he helped Leelah dismount and stepped toward the circle of wide-eyed citizens.

"The Kingdom of Christ will never end," the group greeted in unison as they stood.

"I didn't know you could ride those!" A tall smooth-cheeked man with kind eyes shook Ezasen's hand. He wore finely-braided ivory linen trousers and a long draping shirt of the same material. Fashion in those days and in this place drew heavily from memories of India. The man gingerly approached the wall of white, gold, and black fur, his eyes testing those of the cat.

Ezasen chuckled. "Until very recently, I didn't know either. But they're sure handy across open land and through all but the thickest flora, what with horses being so scarce since the Return. Are you on foot?"

"No, no. Much too slow," the man said, distracted, stroking Cinnamon's neck.

"Then you do have horses." Ezasen's brows lifted as he and Leelah took a seat on a log that was offered them.

"No, again, sir." He pointed down the slope to some dark shapes sitting in a myrtle grove. "We ride wolves."

The fire in their midst popped cheerfully as conversation continued long into the night. The group was not just a family but fellow tradesmen, all experts in building, repairing, and running paper mills. Their spokesman and leader was Rolf, the other four were his wife, Bailey; her brothers, Parker and Hunter; and Hunter's wife, Madison, who was also Rolf's sister. Because of Ezasen's background in printing, and more recently in metalwork, they had much to talk about.

Rolf's family was from Michigan, and they were slowly migrating west starting mills as they went. In the last decade, they had established five, and they had received word that there was a large population center in a coastal region out west that desperately needed Bibles and other literature. By the time supper was over, Ezasen and Leelah had decided to travel with them and offer what help they could.

Everyone, including Leelah, was wide awake at midnight after hearing Ezasen's story. It was now Rolf's turn.

"Maddy and I were raised pretty strict Roman Catholic." He stoked the fire with a stick. "We went to Catholic schools and attended Mass every week. I, frankly, didn't know anything different. It made sense. It was just the way things were.

In college, I was finally exposed to other worldviews but stood on tradition for tradition's sake. But the rapture happened, and that got me curious. The beast was my messiah, and the Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, and nominal 'Christians' accepted him as well. I felt such an unprecedented unity with humanity. We were coexisting just like the bumper sticker predicted.

"Two years into the Tribulation, which we openly called the new age, the brave new world, the new world order, utopia, and the next step in human evolution, Madison was married to Hunter, and I was married to Bailey. We were all spending a week in Hawaii with Parker, whose wife had died in an accident during the rapture— she had been riding in a car driven by a believer. While on the island of Maui, we encountered a recent convert to biblical faith. He approached us as we were worshiping the beast, and the earth, and Pele, the goddess of volcanoes, on the rim of Haleakala.

"We greeted him saying, 'Welcome to paradise!' But his reply changed all our lives forever.

"He said, "Paradise isn't a place, my friends, it's a person." In the course of the next three days, he patiently and compassionately walked us through the Bible and the Gospel. He explained that Roman Catholics have a different Bible, a different god, a different Christ, a different cross, different salvation, different church, different Mary, and a different destiny. God transformed our hearts that week. We returned to the mainland completely different people and were ostracized, then hunted, for the next five years."

Ezasen had to ask, "What happened to the man who led you to Christ?"

Rolf replied, "Things got pretty dangerous pretty fast. We never saw Carl again."

At this, Leelah shot to her feet. "Did you say Carl? Carl who?"

Parker spoke up. "He had an African name, didn't he? Malimba. Manimba?"

"Mzimba," Leelah shouted. "He's my dad!"

***

Rolf's sister, Madison, stood under the deafening torrent of a waterfall, letting a day and a night's worth of dirt and sweat wash away down the churning river. What she wouldn't give for some conditioner!

She stepped forward awkwardly on the smooth rocks that were loose under her feet. When her head had cleared the falls, she opened her eyes and saw, for just a moment, a figure next to her. But it vanished. Maybe it was just the curious shapes of the wall to her left. She reached instinctively to her right, and her pack was suddenly not where she had left it on the flat boulder next to the river.

Turning left again, she caught sight of someone crouching on a rock several meters downstream emptying out her pack into the water.

"Hey!" Madison yelled and the woman, maybe just a tall girl, looked up and smiled contentedly. Madison dove and picked up only two or three items in the swirling waves. When she came up again she asked, "Who are you and what are you doing with my stuff?" But the girl had disappeared again.

Madison retrieved her pack and glanced around suspiciously as she filled it again and threw it on her back. She began to consider that she and her family had been out here in the wilderness too long and she was starting to see things that weren't real.

Then there was the girl right in front of her in the water, smiling in pure joy and waving her small hands in the cheerful, bubbling ripples. She was clothed in a most meticulously embroidered white kurta with inlay of braided ropes and what looked to be pomegranates. She was a little taller than Madison, with mousy brown hair and curious eyes. Without looking up, she announced, "I am called Teckla."

"It's very nice to meet you, Teckla, but you haven't answered my question."

Teckla finally looked up. She was beautiful, bordering on exquisite, and her skin and eyes almost glowed with some inner light. Madison was choked up and uselessly wiped at tears with her wet sleeve. Her first instinct was to sing a song, but the Spirit within her gave a silent warning.

The girl spoke, and it was like the sweetest hug Madison had ever received from her mother. "Apologies. I saw you in the waterfall and decided that this would be an excellent opportunity to examine your belongings."

Madison struggled to make her voice work. "Really?" She couldn't make eye contact and had to steady herself with a hand on a rock. "How, um, serendipitous for you." Madison was both overwhelmed and annoyed but felt an easy compassion for this seemingly lost and possibly ignorant girl. "Where I come from," she added, feeling her rate stabilize, "it's not normal to take another person's things and dispose of them."

"Thank you, friend, for clarifying. I am very intrigued to learn what normal is." She climbed up onto a boulder and sat cross-legged, picking some grapes from a cluster on a vine above her head. "There was what I believe they call a spider on your luggage. I was attempting to remove it."

As if on cue, Madison felt a nudge on her spine from inside the pack. She whipped it off, and out of the main compartment crawled a brown recluse spider whose body was the size of a loaf of bread and whose fuzzy legs each extended to almost a meter in length. It casually climbed over to Teckla who lifted it up to the grapevine before it disappeared into the clutch of mulberry trees above. Madison stood frozen with her eyes closed. "Eeeee! Is it gone? Tell me it's gone!"

"He is gone." Teckla smiled. "I can understand you might cling to some enmity with snakes, but not with spiders."

Madison patted down the rest of her clothes. "This is officially NOT paradise."

"I've never encountered someone like you. May I please learn how you do what you do?"

"Actually, no. I'm not the kind of person you want to learn from or emulate," Madison replied. "My name is Madison, by the way. Everyone just calls me Maddie."

"Greetings, Maddie, in the name of King Jesus." Teckla handed her the pack, which was dropped at the first sign of the spider. "What brings you to this part of the Realm?"

"The 'Realm.' Interesting." She considered the word for a moment. "We are looking for a temporary place to live and work."

"So am I," Teckla said, looking a little forlorn. "I don't really fit in with the Fulfilled Jews in the Holy City." She handed Maddie a large, single grape about the size of her hand.

"I'm sure I would feel the same way. I've never really fit in anywhere either."

"You and your companions are headed southwest toward Inconium."

"That's certainly the plan at the moment. Where do you live? Are you out here on your own?"

"My home is heaven. At least, that's the only home I've known." Teckla glanced wistfully skyward.

Madison's jaw dropped open. "For an angel, you're certainly lacking in the joy department."

"Oh, I'm not—wait." Teckla bolted to her feet. "Until next time!" She smiled and winked then blinked out of sight like a forest fairy.

"Madison!" Hunter called out from above the waterfall. "Here she is, guys!" He jumped down over the falls and cannonballed his wife. He was built like a tree, tall and lean with broad shoulders and muscular arms. He brought Madison close and kissed her. She backed up and attacked him with splashes. By the time the others arrived, this was a full-on water war. "Okay. Okay!" He smiled under defensive hands. "Where's the firewood? I'm starving!"

"Hunter, my love." Madison climbed out of the river. "If I had collected any, it would all now be soaking wet."

They all looked for wood and pushed together some stones to form a fire pit just east of the mulberries. As they fried some fish and shared an almond, Madison kept checking the branches over their heads.

"What's got you spooked, Mad?" Bailey wondered.

"Spiders," she said absently. They all looked up, their chewing paused. "But even more interesting than that," she met all their eyes and lowered her voice as if she were starting a ghost story, "I think I met an angel!"

7

### The Canvas and the Tapestry

### Year 14

Rolf carried Bailey in a full sprint down the hill past wildflowers and noisy, fist-sized bees. She had scraped her leg on a sharp rock just ten minutes before and was bleeding badly.

"There. In the middle of the valley!" Ezasen bounded up to them on Cinnamon. He had scouted ahead to find help, then had doubled back to fetch the patient. "I'm sorry the wolves aren't big enough for two. Here. It's another couple of kilometers and there are too many bends in the river to ford on foot. Take the cat."

Without a word, Rolf accepted the offer and fluidly switched places with his friend and raced on, clearing the first riverbend with ease.

"I'll catch up." As Ezasen watched them he was finally able to take in the scene. The wide valley swept from northeast to southwest. Wild grasses undulated in the soft breeze and thick reeds lined a winding river as it meandered in hairpin turns all over the basin. Thick pine forests covered the gentle slopes on either side, and a herd of enormous elk grazed downstream. A tiny farm house sat situated in the middle of one of the hairpins surrounded by a small field, a modest garden, and a freshly-painted barn. Just add Wi-Fi, he thought. Ezasen could have retired right here. So much for that other life.

Smoke curled up in wisps from the chimney. He counted as he crossed the river seventeen times to reach the thatched-roof stone house. As he turned the corner to the front of the building, he heard laughter. There wasn't any door in the low door frame, and he ducked inside slowly. Seated in a wooden chair with her leg elevated on the table was Bailey. Rolf hovered over her as a man finished cleaning her wound and began wrapping it with strips of cloth.

Everyone looked up at Ezasen with a friendly smile, including the stranger. A woman and two teenagers appeared from a back room.

"Grace to you and peace," he said to his hosts. "I'm with the happy couple here," gesturing to Rolf and Bailey.

They replied in unison, "His lovingkindness is everlasting."

The father figure then said, "Welcome! My name is Xander Fireknife. This is my wife, Nora, and our kids, Jim and Louise." The children waved sheepishly. "God guided you to the right place," Xander said. "I was a medic in the Air Force back in the day."

"Praise God!" Ezasen said, smiling. "So she'll live after all."

He was offered a seat at the table and took it. "This is a beautiful area. I'd love to hear how you came upon it."

"All in good time," Nora stepped forward. "If young Miss Bailey would be willing to move her leg, I've got some supper ready."

Just then Parker, Hunter, Madison, and Leelah cautiously came in the door. Madison was frantic. "We found the sign you left at the campsite. Who's hurt?"

Hunter eased her with a hand on her shoulder. "Thank God we saw what you meant immediately."

Leelah asked, "Yeah, what kind of message is 'Blood. Smoke,' anyway?"

"It got you here, didn't it?" Ezasen said innocently.

They ate and took turns sharing their stories. Nora invited the whole group to stay until Bailey was able to travel, although they would have to sleep out under the clouds. Bailey was given Louise's room and the kids planned to sleep outside with the guests and the animals.

"Let me introduce you to someone," Xander said once it was dark and led Ezasen and Leelah to the barn and opened the big red doors. He lit a candle and held it over one of the stalls. On a blanket in the straw lay a sleeping black form. Its fur was covered in spots just a shade lighter than the rest of its coat.

"A black jaguar!" Leelah whispered in awe. "They're so rare. May I?" With a nod from Xander, she slipped into the stall and knelt beside the cub. Large teal eyes opened and looked at the visitors. "He looks sad."

"We found him at the bottom of a ravine with a bad bump on his head. He was lying next to his dead mother. We think she probably fell from a tree with him on her back. He's rarer than you think, actually." The cat yawned and bared his magnificent canine teeth, which were much larger than what any of them expected. "I'm no expert, but I think he's got some sabertooth in him."

Ezasen nodded, as if answering an inner question. "He needs a mom."

"That's what I was thinking." Xander opened the stall gate for Leelah. "And when I saw Cinnamon bounding across the valley..."

"Makes sense, Hapa. He wouldn't slow us down." Leelah gave Ezasen that Can-we-keep-him? look, and he thanked God for the amazing young woman Leelah was becoming.

"No pressure or persuading needed," Ezasen replied. "This is God providing. In a couple of years, we'll have a second car."

Xander chuckled. "Good mileage. Good engine. Reliable brand."

Leelah was stunned and stared suspiciously at the two men. "Oh, no. There are others out here like you."

***

The next day, Nora stayed with Bailey and the animals while the rest hiked downstream to see two local attractions: the twenty-meter ant hill and the hot springs. Naturally, they spent more time at the hot springs, which covered more than half a square kilometer. It was a steamy patchwork of pools, each about one to one-and-a-half meters deep and varying from thirty to thirty-five degrees celsius.

As the group meandered from spring to spring, Xander's son, Jim, led them with confidence. Leelah was right behind him. "So do you like living here?" she asked, trying to make conversation with the quiet boy.

"Yeah, it's pretty cool. I work a lot with my dad on the farm, so I don't have a ton of free time."

"When you do get some time, what do you like to do?"

"Well, I like listening to dad's stories of when he was a pilot, and I like building stuff."

"What kinds of stuff?"

"Mainly airplanes. Dad's taught me all about aerodynamics, and there's a stand of balsa trees about six kilometers over that ridge where we get wood."

"That sounds like a lot of fun."

"Really? You're a girl."

"Yep. I'm a girl who likes to fly. Well, I like to think about flying. So I bet I can guess what you want to be when you grow up."

"A pilot," they both said and shared a smile.

While at the springs, Xander led an impromptu discussion on prophecy. Jim had inquired, and not the first time, about how the world was before the Return, then wondered how the events of recent history connected with what was going on now and what would come later.

"Let me outline things for you. How about that?" He was saying to Jimmy. "The Church Age ended at the rapture, when all true believers were removed from the earth to dwell in Heaven with the Lord for seven years while He judged the rest of that generation for their sin. The first half of that period called the Tribulation was like a golden age for those who did not know Christ. The man known as the beast was charismatic, eloquent, and popular, uniting the planet as it celebrated what they thought was nothing less than their destiny.

"After three-and-a-half years, however, the Beast began his reign of terror on everyone, setting himself up as a god to be worshiped. Then the one true God began hurling devastating physical judgments onto the earth, culminating in the battle of Armageddon where He wiped out every last living person who rebelled against Him. I like to think of this final stroke as the first of two feasts. Birds gorged themselves on the flesh of the beast's fallen armies. Christ then returned and ushered in the current age, this thousand-year period some call the Millennium. The Bible also calls it 'The Marriage Supper of the Lamb.' It's the second feast. We've been invited to celebrate the wedding of Christ and His bride."

"Who did Jesus marry?" Jimmy looked confused.

"The bride of Christ is made up of everyone He has redeemed throughout history, from Adam to you and all who He saves until the second feast comes to a close almost a thousand years from now."

"That's crazy! I'm not going to wear a dress!"

"It's a spiritual marriage. In fact, the marriage your mom and I have is just a picture of the far greater reality of Christ's marriage to His people. When the celebration is finally over, this universe will be un-created—melted with fervent heat—the Bible says. A new heaven and a new earth will be created, and in that new perfect universe, we will enjoy perfect intimacy with God forever."

"I guess that sounds okay," Jimmy said after a pause.

Xander chuckled. "I'm glad you approve."

***

On day four in the valley, Bailey was finally up and around. Rain kept everyone indoors except Leelah, Jim, and Louisewho declared it imperative to make the trek to the balsa stand for more airplane wood. Ezasen allowed it but told them to take the cats with them.

"Yes, because cats love the rain so much." Leelah had learned sarcasm from her guardian along with everything else. "And because the smell of wet cat is so delightful." She walked out and followed the children to the barn. "Really?" she said under her breath to no one as they swung the door wide. "Have you ever seen a cat who is happy and wet at the same time?"

Louise pondered the question seriously. "I don't think so."

"What's going on, Leelah?" Jim asked, opening the gate to the cub's stall.

"Nothing. Sorry." She saw that Cinnamon wasn't budging. "Ezasen can be a little overbearing sometimes."

"Dad's the same way." Jim joined her behind the giant jaguar and helped push. "He says he's that way because he loves us. They went through a lot before the Return. I think a little overprotectiveness could be permitted from time to time."

"You're right, I guess." Leehah saw the cat's ears bend flat against its spotted head. "But we won't be getting any overprotectiveness from this lazy, warm, dry cat today. Will we?"

"I guess not," Louise answered her rhetorical question.

"Let's take the cub at least," Jim suggested, lifting the rather heavy animal out of the stall and setting it down on the floor of the barn. Louise petted it affectionately.

"Yeah. Maybe we can draw out Cinnamon's motherly instincts."

They left the barn and headed south through the garden. The rain was now just a drizzle. The jaguar cub, fully awake, was slinking after them, sniffing every leaf and twig and bug. Xander and Jim had placed stepping stones across the river in five places between the farm and the forest. They all crossed easily, though the stones were four meters apart.

Thankful for a day of respite from parental supervision, the teens broke into a jog when they passed the tree line and into a full run when they hit the ridge and descended down the other side. The evergreens and scrub oak were thicker here, and the slopes of the hillsides were steeper and covered in boulders. Jim sprang from rock to rock like a mountain goat and paused on one that he knew had a sweeping view of the valley.

"Up here. Take a look," he said, and the girls joined him. Between the pines, they could see another ridge and the glistening turquoise of a body of water beyond.

"Is that the coast?" Leelah asked when she joined them on the boulder. "I've never seen the ocean before."

"Nope. Just a really big lake," Jim replied.

"Although the far edge of it is close to the sea," Louise added.

"It can't be that big. I grew up in Joppa next to the Yellowstone Crater." Leelah hopped back down to the gravel trail.

"Ok, yeah." Jim had to concede. "Not as big as that."

Louise urged them on. "Come on, people. Oh, and cat, too.Sorry, little guy. It could start raining again. Let's get your silly wood and get back." She took off down through the trees and turned left, riding a little rockslide down toward the valley floor. In a few minutes they were all jogging along the base of a steep cliff face that lined the southern edge of the basin. The rain had indeed come again, worse than before, and they decided to stop under a ponderosa pine that was growing out of a slender crevice in the rock face.

Their hair and clothes were soaked. The cub looked absolutely dejected. "Like I said," Louise offered again.

"Thanks, weather girl," Jim said, climbing the pine's angled trunk. "I'm fine with it raining. I'd rather be out here on our own getting wet than being back on the farm."

Leelah studied the dark crack in the rock above the tree. "Maybe we could sit out the storm in there."

Louise jumped up and peeked inside. "Why not? Anything's better than listening to my brother complaining." She picked up the cat and vanished into the blackness.

"My complaining? Ugh! Do you have any sisters, Leelah?"

"Yes, but I don't really remember them."

"Lucky you." Then Jim was gone, too.

Leelah followed them into the crack. She couldn't see for a few seconds, so she felt her way using the walls. They were cool and damp, if not a little slimy, and she recoiled. Then she saw the children's silhouettes against a playful waterfall that was lit from the top of the crevice.

"I was going to say back there, Jim," Leelah started. "My dad, I mean Ezasen, always says there's no such thing as luck." The two kids stepped aside, and the full size and contents of the chamber were revealed. The crack opened up and was at least fifteen meters across and a good forty meters long. On the floor lay a nearly complete skeleton of some long animal. It filled the chamber. The end of its tail was at Louise's feet. The beast's rib cage formed a round corridor taller than their heads.

But the most mind-blowing object before them lay in the dirt inside the skeleton where the stomach must have been. It was about two meters long, thirty centimeters wide, and looked to be made of metal. It had four small fins at one end.

Jim pushed past his sister and reverently stepped along the bony spine, trying to make sense of both the animal and this mysterious object, and their strange placement of one within the other.

"What is it?" Louise whispered.

Jim glanced back. "Assuming you're referring to the skeleton, it's a dinosaur. A mosasaur, to be exact. Adolescent, I think. See the short leg bones on each side? Those are its fins."

"Um. No, you big nerd. I'm talking about the metal fish thing!"

"No clue."

Louise turned to Leelah. "Unbelievable. Do you have any brothers?" She joined Jim inside the dinosaur's belly.

"No. I—" Leelah held her tears back. "You guys are so blessed to have each other, but all you do is fight. Why don't we head back to your house? It's probably a good idea to tell your parents what we found. They'll know what that thing is and what to do with it, if anything."

"Are you kidding?" Jim put his hands on his hips. "We just got here. For once, Louise is right. The balsa wood will be too wet to get today anyway, and we're sitting on a real discovery here. These bones? Are. Not. Petrified." He tapped one of the giant ribs with each word. "Mr. Mosasaur here was alive a few months or years ago, not thousands. That's, like, history-making awesomeness!"

Louise knelt by the metal object. "And I want to know what this thing is. Is it like a torpedo or a missile, maybe? Dad's always telling stories about war and fighting and submarines and stuff."

"Ok. We're definitely going back. Right now." Leelah snapped her fingers and the siblings, to her surprise, stood straight at attention. "This stuff is too dangerous and too much to deal with on our own. Come on."

Jim and Louise both slouched their shoulders but shuffled obediently out of the cavern, up over the trunk of the tree, and turned north. The three of them felt somewhere between robbed and baffled as they plodded along in the rain, so the hike home took longer. The cub refused to walk so Jim carried him around his shoulders.

***

When they arrived back at the farmhouse and found everyone dry and relaxed around the fireplace, they erupted simultaneously with stories and questions. After the excitement and interrogations had subsided and a plan had been made to make an all-hands-ondeck visit to the skeleton the following day, Ezasen and Xander sat alone on the roof of the barn.

Ezasen gazed south toward the source of the day's mystery. "Back in the day, I would just dial 911 or call the ranger station, but out here, in this rebooted world..."

"I know," Xander said. "Without an infrastructure, there's no one to contact; there are no engineers or scientists to make sense of it; and, if it truly is some sort of undetonated ordnance, there is no way to safely destroy it."

"Our options are limited," Ezasen summarized. "Time to pray."

The next morning, the whole entourage trekked to the mosasaur site, including Bailey. They all filed into the narrow crevice and stood gawking at the magnificent skeleton. But the metal object that had everyone so intrigued was gone.

TWO

### The Absence of Accusation

8

### The Wheel and the Angels

### Year 18

Almond-shaped Bethany Peninsula was connected to the mainland by a narrow sandbar and reef no wider than six kilometers. For several hours each day, Bethany became an island when the tide overran the reef.

When Ezasen and Leelah first saw it, they couldn't help but take in a breath of awe. The eastern coast boasted high, unfinished castle walls, turrets, parapets, balustrades, and flag-tipped towers, all interwoven with the jungle terrain. The ambition of the local populace was significant, and they had made much progress over the last couple of decades. From the very early days, a broad and sturdy stone bridge spanned the reef, and this morning it was already bustling with traffic in both directions.

Most were on foot, but many led a zoo's variety of native animals like bears, coyotes, elk, rams, puma, wolverines, and various other big cats and deer, pulling carts or wagons filled with correspondence or goods such as clothing, axles, wheels, and garden tools.

"Whoa, Pixel," Ezasen said to his muscular, feline steed. The black jaguar had grown and learned quickly, becoming a vital part of the family. Leelah dismounted from Cinnamon, and adjusted the single green ribbon that held her long black hair out of her face. She was now as tall as her adopted father. They guided the cats on foot down a series of switchbacks to the reef bridge. Pixel's long, protruding saberteeth drew stares and raised eyebrows from the passing travelers. Rolf's family had ridden on ahead to secure a place to stay for the first few nights while Ezasen was to ask around for information on local printing establishments and paper manufacturing enterprises.

Once on the peninsula, the main road led up a steep hill through a regal arch into the center of the primary eastern city of Iconium. Once inside, Ezasen and Leelah stopped at an octagonal fountain and watered the animals and themselves. After a few inquiries with shop owners, they learned of a publisher called Deep Square Books located further inland. Rolf found them two hours later outside a forge. "We've found a place to stay about two kilometers up."

"Did you happen to see the publishing house?" Leelah asked.

"Yes, on the way back. I stopped in, and they are eager to speak with us this afternoon. They mentioned, too that there are at least twenty thousand people living on the peninsula, 95 percent of whom were born here and are in desperate need of the truth."

While Rolf was talking, Leelah noticed a pair of girls sitting on the rim of the fountain, giggling and whispering in each other's ears. Ezasen suggested they go into the forge and talk to the smith about ordering some custom printing press parts. Then Leelah said, "Go on ahead, Hapa. I'll catch up. I think I'll see if I can get a sense of the place from the locals."

Ezasen smiled. "I like the nickname you've given me."

"Me, too," Leelah replied. "Sounds like Papa."

"Greetings in the name of Jesus! How old are you?" one of the girls asked Leelah when she sat down next to them.

"The Lord reigns. Let the earth rejoice. I'm nineteen. My name's Leelah."

"Pleased to meet you," the first girl said.

"You must be new here," the other girl added. "I'm Petra Townsend. This is my sister, Koriander."

"Pleased to meet you both." Leelah removed her pack and set it on the ground between her feet. "I rode in this morning."

"Where from?" Kori asked, but she was already looking at Leelah's impressive cat.

Leelah scratched Cinnamon's nose. "Joppa. Have you heard of it?"

Petra was also focused elsewhere. "Is that your dad? That good-looking older man talking to the smith?"

"Uh, no. He's just looking out for me. We got separated from my real dad."

Petra frowned. "Where is he?"

"Egypt."

"Wow. That sounds like an amazing story." Petra finally met her eyes. "Hey. We're having a party tomorrow night, just some of the girls. You should come."

"Um, thank you." Leelah smiled shyly. "I won't be able to come this time, but please ask me again."

***

Over breakfast the following day, Rolf and Ezasen discussed plans for setting up shop in Iconium. Parker and Hunter had been hired on the spot the day before at Deep Square Books working in the bindery. Madison and Bailey, the latter with a little one on the way, signed on as typesetters and editors part time. Rolf and Ezasen would each split their time between the forge, the print shop, and starting a paper mill. Leelah still had her studies and started out working at the local library.

"So," Rolf said above the lively conversations around the stone table in the inn's restaurant, "a little apartment hunting today?"

"Absolutely." Ezasen grabbed another biscuit. "Feels weird after all these years of campfires and sleeping under the stars that we get to have indoor plumbing and neighbors and rush hour."

"There's no pressure really. If you're not quite ready for city life again, I'm told there's a few peaceful little coves on the southern coast. You could pitch your tent, and the cats would have room to run around."

"You mean we can't keep Cinnamon and Pixel in our apartment?" Ezasen feigned disappointment.

"Um. No." Rolf smiled. "No giant pets allowed, I'm afraid. Speaking of which, I'd better go check on the pack."

"I'll come with you," Bailey said, standing up slowly.

Everyone was finishing up their meal. Ezasen pocketed two more biscuits for the road. "Let's split up. Focus on the area between the print shop and the forge so our commute isn't too long and we can all still be neighbors."

"Sounds perfect. God has just the right places for us already picked out." Madison wiped her mouth one last time. "We can meet back here at the inn around lunchtime and go from there. None of us start work till next week."

By noon, everyone was a little frustrated. There were no places available in a radius of four kilometers unless they wanted to rent a houseboat. So, ironically, for their first two months in Iconium, they would spend their nights on the beach in one of the lonely coves Rolf had mentioned.

***

Six weeks later, Leelah lay on the sand one night listening to the crickets, the waves, and Cinnamon's heavy purr. Then a new faint sound came wafting from further west down the beach. Laughter. She opened her eyes and gently lifted her head off the big cat's paw. In the next cove, she could see firelight casting tall dancing shadows on the cliff wall. She supposed it must be well after midnight, but she wasn't tired. So she rose and left the camp unseen and unheard by anyone except Cinnamon who perked up but dozed off readily after a good stretch. When Leelah didn't return after a few minutes, she followed silently.

The voices, though hushed, grew louder as Leelah approached the outcropping of rock that separated the two coves. She crouched low and peeked around the corner. Surrounding the stone fire pit were eight girls between the ages of thirteen and sixteen. They each had a thick book on their lap, and one of the girls was blindfolded. Leelah nearly jumped as Cinnamon brushed her back with a whisker, and she let out the smallest of yelps.

They all turned, gasped, and giggled. "We seem to have an audience, girls." Their leader removed her blindfold. "Spying isn't a very Christian activity."

Instead of showing herself, Leelah pushed Cinnamon's head into view. The other girls, all wound up from the late night, too much sugar, and spooky goings-on, all screamed and scattered. Leelah finally poked her head up, laughing. "Oh. It's you." Leelah and Petra said simultaneously.

"Sorry to interrupt," Leelah said. "We're just camping down the beach a little ways and couldn't help but notice the fire and voices."

"We certainly didn't mean to wake you. Just a bit of fun," Petra said. "I haven't seen you around the last few weeks. Otherwise, I definitely would have invited you." The rest of the girls cautiously returned to the circle and had to find somewhere to sit that wasn't taken up by the jaguar.

"I've been busy with work and school," Leelah explained and finally sat down between Petra and Kori. She looked around the circle of young faces. "Do your parents know you're out here?"

"I sure hope so," Rolf stood over the group with his arms folded over his chest. Behind him stood the rest of Leelah's group, including Ezasen. "Better yet, I think we should all call it a night."

The girls gave each other hugs, which took a while; doused the fire; and sulked off, yawning as they went.

"Sorry to wake you, Hapa." Leelah walked back to the camp with Ezasen's arm around her. "I was hoping to make some friends."

"I know it's been rough hanging out with us old people," he said. "I'm sure you'll see them again."

A week later, Leelah joined Petra, Kori, and their parents on an excursion west of Iconium toward the middle of the peninsula. The family rode on two elk and a young bison, which was just the right size for Kori. Leelah rode Cinnamon for the first thirty minutes, then switched with Petra and rode her elk, named Pearl.

"I was hoping to ask you the other night about the blindfold and the books." Leelah tried to make it sound casual.

Petra adjusted her grip on Cinnamon's fur. She was used to reins. "We call them flash parties." Her voice was low and her eyes were watching the back of her father's head, just in case he got too interested in their conversation. "It's a memory game. There are a lot of different versions, but that time we were playing crazy eights. The books are all different but ones I've already read. Each girl takes a turn reading a random sentence from her book, and I say the next sentence from memory. The blindfold keeps me from knowing who has what book when."

"Sounds fun."

Then the group came to a break in the trees. The clearing was covered in a thick mist. "Is it fog?" Leelah asked. "Smells like sulphur."

Neither Petra nor her family stopped. "We're getting close to the geyser fields. Looks like dad is taking us down through Ram's Horn Canyon. It's a bit tricky, so hold on." Kori urged her bison on. "It's okay, Dakota."

They re-entered the forest on the far side of the meadow, and now they couldn't see the trees on either side of the trail. Their father lit a torch and went first, and their mother came behind them with her own torch. "Just stay close," Petra's voice reassured.

The animals seemed nonplussed by the smell and the flames, but Leelah was concerned enough for all of them. The rich turf of the trail gave way to long, slanted slabs of limestone that led deeper and deeper into a cloistered ravine. It grew dark at midday, and the party thinned out as the animals took care on the natural staircase. Kori's little voice called out from somewhere ahead, "Let's sing a happy song about Jesus!" Leelah could tell she was a little scared and shared a smile with Kori's mother. Soon they were all humming or singing a hymn.

The walls of the canyon widened to accommodate a bubbling hot spring, then narrowed just on the other side. Their path became a ledge that lined the shaft, circling the spring and disappearing into a tunnel below where they had entered. Steam rose steadily from the crystal clear pool some ten meters down. Kori's father had already rounded the spring on his elk and passed into the tunnel by the time Leelah saw the beautiful shaft. Seagulls squawked as they rode ocean breezes high above.

Petra was back on Pearl on the far side of the spring when Pearl lost her footing and slipped off the ledge. Without warning Cinnamon leaped across the shaft and pinned Petra to the wall with her soft paw two meters below the ledge. Pearl skidded out of control into the spring. Leelah, having been thrown from Cinnamon's back as she jumped, hit the wall opposite Petra but caught herself on the ledge with her long arms. The jaguar, once she saw the girls were safely back on the ledge, dropped into the scalding water to help Pearl, but she was too late. The elk had sunk below the surface and drowned in front of the whole group. Cinnamon found footholds and pulled herself up to safety, but not without burns on her legs and tail and significantly less fur.

Petra had suffered some nice scrapes and bruises from the fall. Her father carried her down through the tunnel, around some switchbacks, and out onto a grassy plateau overlooking their original destination, the geyser field. No one said a word. The parents saw to Petra's injuries and got her cleaned up. Koriander was frantic and couldn't take deep breaths for several minutes. Leelah sat with the heroic, life-saving cat who reeked of burnt flesh and singed fur. She patted the top of Cinnamon's head. "Good girl. Good girl."

They ate a solemn lunch then began the return journey by another route.

9

### Bells

### Year 31

Ezasen and Leelah buried Cinnamon a few kilometers from where they had found her twenty years before. They had many good memories of the faithful and tireless cat. She would be dearly missed and not just for the companionship she provided, but also for the speed at which she could travel. Although that, too, dwindled in her autumn years.

On foot, three weeks later, they stepped out of the trees and found themselves at Doug Digby's radio hut. In Joppa's main square that evening, they celebrated God's goodness with old friends some young ones as well. Among them was an impressive and altogether grown-up Deshi. He and Leelah were engaged within a month and married within a year, and they spoke every day with Carl and Anaya in Egypt.

Ezasen wasn't at all surprised at this turn of events. To him, it didn't seem like a turn at all, just further down the straight path of God's provision and care. He knew, too, that the next chapter for him would be just as straight from God's perspective.

After many long goodbyes, he continued east. He had heard of a publishing work starting up in Copper Falls, a month's journey toward the center of the land of Wimmral.

Pixel was younger and more agile than Cinnamon ever was, and traveling alone somehow lent itself to covering more distance, shorter breaks, and slightly less sleep. Ezasen trusted him so completely that they actually preferred running at night. Pixel's dark fur blended in with the shadows, and his rider began wearing a thin, black cloak.

At every campfire, settlement, or farm they encountered he dropped a packet of a hundred Gospels of John. Most recipients were thankful and eagerly passed them on. Others were happy to accept the gift. One young lone traveler, however, had the audacity to throw the whole packet on the fire while Ezasen was standing there. Ezasen spent a week with him heading south until he came to Christ in tears.

Just as the veiled sun was rising on a relatively cool morning, Pixel burst abruptly out of the trees and onto sand. A small fringe of dunes lined the southwestern rim of what must be Copper Lake, because even beneath overcast skies, it glowed a burning orange. The northern edge of the lake, some seventy kilometers away, was concealed in mist. He assumed those must be the falls. He decided to camp there on the beach that day and spend some time reading and studying. Pixel enjoyed a luxurious day filled with naps.

Copper Falls reminded Ezasen of a documentary on Niagara that he watched as a kid. He would learn later that these falls were three times higher and spilled seven times more water over its crescent rim. He was two-thirds around the west side of the lake and hadn't figured out where the city was supposed to be. If it was on the eastern shore, perhaps among the trees somewhere, he had chosen poorly which way around the lake to come. Perhaps it was above and upstream from the falls, in which case he'd have to—.

And then it appeared out of the mist. It was towering, the most vertical city he had yet seen. It resembled a single skyscraper, yet lined with vegetation sprawling out every window. It was as if God himself had pulled the blanket of the jungle up into the sky and propped it there on its own folds. Lanterns were being lit in the waning light on every level, and the image of a cylindrical Christmas tree passed humorously through his mind.

He steered Pixel further north toward the main east-west road. The cat's giant paws padded silently on the wet sand leading up to a long stone staircase that connected the beach with the road above. Pixel studied the rocky cliff and decided to skip the stairs, bounding from boulder to boulder to the top. They joined the light traffic heading home from work in vineyards and farms west of the city. Ezasen was curious how one traversed from the rim of the falls to the cylindrical tower situated at the center of the crescent. From the road, he couldn't see any bridge.

Soon enough the road dipped into a tunnel as it approached the rim from above. At its end, man and beast came into the daylight and soaking spray onto an ornate stone bridge that vanished into the mist just ahead. Turn on fog lights, next three miles, he thought and smiled. One look around at his fellow commuters with their composed, peaceful faces made him feel better about continuing on into the grey void. He had no idea how high up they were, but he estimated somewhere near fifty stories above the lake. And it was many degrees hotter. He wondered if perhaps the lake was also geothermal.

Another tunnel. They must be entering the cylinder itself. Lanterns overhead guided them deeper and deeper. When they exited, they found themselves in a wide atrium. He would have called it a town square, but it was a circle, and it was certainly the center of activity. It must have been market day. Stalls and booths covered the space, and a diverse crowd milled around buying what they needed for the week ahead.

Then something bright and red caught his eye. Was that sunlight?

He dismounted and led Pixel deeper into the crowd. Maybe it was cloth or metal turned to reflect the light from far above. It was moving. Was someone carrying it? No, it was hair. A woman's coppery red locks swaying as she walked, but he couldn't see her face.

Suddenly he felt flush. He was following a strange woman through a public market. Worse, he still had his black cloak on, and the hood was up from going through the spray on the bridge. He must look like a nefarious stalker.

He quickly turned down a side aisle and removed his cloak. Pixel bumped a stack of boxes, and dates and walnuts went flying everywhere. Of course, all eyes turned immediately to Ezasen, including those of the mysterious woman he was now trying to avoid. Don't look at me! It was the cat! he thought, cowering lower behind a watermelon.

For an instant, their gazes met. He had never, in any age, seen anything more beautiful. But now the perturbed stall proprietress was yelling, and the copper locks vanished into the crowd. He spent the next twenty minutes picking up and cleaning fruits and nuts and getting to know many of the locals, one of which was the son of the leading publisher in Copper Falls. Ezasen was invited to tour the facility of Lion Books the following day.

With some festival in town, there were no vacancies in any of the inns, so the now-famous man with the black cat, like so many nights before, camped on the beach. Even mustering all his will, he couldn't get her face out of his mind. He didn't sleep that night. Instead, he spent it in prayer.

Ezasen followed the same route he had taken the day before up to the road and the tunnel but continued around the rim of the falls on a raised highway. Spokes fanned out in all directions from this central arc, and he turned on the fifth one which headed due north. Small islands dotted the river that fed the falls, and it was to the third one of these that he was directed to come. A much flatter but wider copy of the main cylinder waited for him, covering more than half the island. He let Pixel seek out a nice tree branch to perch on and entered the facility.

Almost immediately he could hear familiar machinery rhythmically pulling paper and ink together. He was warmly welcomed by Guillermo, the director's son and head pressman. A hearty brunch was served in the expansive courtyard, and Ezasen met the rest of the staff. He felt as if he had known them forever.

"We have just the one press so far," the director said in a thick South American accent. "Nine total members on the team if you count my niece who runs the bookstore in the falls."

***

Ezasen set a heavy box of books down at the end of a long, walnut counter and surveyed the room. The curving walls of the store were interlaced with regal columns of bookshelves and tall windows that provided a view south over the lake. More shelves crowded the floor, all supporting the weight of thousands of unwieldy tomes.

Under glass in an ornate cherrywood case lay a thick Bible open to the book of Proverbs. Ezasen's brow lifted as he noted the rough page edges, the large type, and the hand-sown spine. "Gorgeous!" he whispered as he touched the glass reverently.

"Excuse me?" A woman's voice came from somewhere among the shelves.

Ezasen looked up but saw no one. "Oh. Sorry, no. I was talking to the Bible. I mean, talking about the Bible."

"Then to whom were you speaking?" the voice now had a smile.

"Uh, no one?" he stammered. "Myself?" This was not going well.

The bell over the door chimed, and Ezasen was relieved at the distraction. Why was he so flummoxed? In strode a taller, darker, and certainly younger man named Guillermo with a box bigger than Ezasen's over each shoulder.

"Hi, Gigi." The owner of the voice popped up from behind a shelf and received a peck on the cheek from her cousin. "Hey! We're wiping our boots before we come in. Out you go."

It was the copper-headed girl from the market launching all those jibes! She must be the boss's niece! Ezasen swallowed audibly and looked down at his own dirt-encrusted boots and the clumpy trail of mud that led from him back to the side door.

"Can I at least set these boxes—" Guillermo was pleading, his face scrunched like a six-year-old's.

"Out!" the girl pronounced. Finally, she turned and saw Ezasen. "Oh, it's you." She pushed a pair of thick-rimmed spectacles up her nose. "Where's your cat?"

***

Pixel yawned.

The tree branch he had been sleeping on most of the afternoon was the perfect diameter and jutted off the trunk of the sycamore at the perfect angle for maximum comfort. The branch was just the right height that he could get to the ground directly without having to carom off the trunk, and few other creatures could get up to his perch in one leap.

This ideal sycamore grew next to the window of the tiny room above the Lion Press print shop that Ezasen was given as part of his salary. An ample bed and a minuscule writing desk were all that fit. It was the first actual bed he had slept in for more than thirty years, but most dry nights he spent in a hammock strung between two boughs a few meters above Pixel.

Tonight, he could not find sleep. His encounter with Thirzah the beautiful bookworm earlier in the day brought back all the feelings and questions he wrestled with following the day at the market. He couldn't move on.

He stood on the bank of the river that flowed beneath the sycamore, listening to the cicadas serenade him. The Holy Spirit prompted him to seek wisdom in the scriptures. Sitting down, he pulled out his metal-clad Bible and opened to Genesis 23 where he had been reading that morning.

The very next chapter had the heading A wife for Isaac, and Ezasen rolled his eyes. "Really, Lord?" He read the passage then stepped down to the water's edge to pick up some smooth stones. The great black cat, intrigued by this new possible game, joined him.

"You are my witness, Pixel." He tossed a stone up a few centimeters and caught it to test its weight. "If it skips, I ask her out." Pixel gave a sniff of approval. "If it doesn't, I don't."

He leaned back and side-armed the stone out over the fast-moving stream. It went right in with an uneventful kerthunk. Pixel, suddenly thinking he was a golden retriever, dove in after it with such a tumultuous splash that half the shop staff woke up and ran outside to see what could have caused such a sound in the middle of the night.

When fears and nerves were calmed and apologies were earnestly given, Ezasen was again alone with his conscience and his wet cat. "It didn't skip, buddy." He felt a tug of disappointment. "Looks like I'm off the hook." Saying the words made him sad. He looked at the river then at his cat who was vibrating with excitement. "How about two out of three?"

10

### Momentary Light

### Year 47

Thirzah held the slimy, red lizard at arm's length and tried to put as stern and disapproving a look on her otherwise happy face as possible. "No new pets in the house, little man. You know the rules." She handed the complacent reptile back to her eight-yearold. "You have the entire rest of the island to use as your own private zoo." The boy, named Gryphon, ran back to the water's edge and resumed his solitary imaginings.

His sister Onastasia, now ten, was busy inside at the kitchen counter baking date and walnut cookies. Their mother, passing by directly to the sink to wash her hands, asked, "Oni, could you set the table for lunch?"

"Can we eat outside?" Oni's cheeks were dusted with flour.

"Sure, but start now. Your father will be home any minute." She kissed her daughter on her auburn hair and headed through to the front room of the house where her youngest, Cord, six, and Ava, four, were bickering over a wooden puzzle. "Work it out outside, please. You're driving your mother crazy."

Less than a minute later, she heard squeals of joy from all the kids almost simultaneously and knew Ezasen had arrived. She found them all in a pile on the grass beyond the patio tiles. Gryphon broke off and treated Pixel with just as much exuberance. The jaguar rolled and pawed at him playfully like he was his own kitten.

They were setting the food out when a sight met their eyes that they simply could not believe. Two enormous birds of prey, whose wingspans must have been over seven meters, beat their wings audibly as they descended out of the clouds and landed on the family's little pier. If that wasn't enough, Ezasen realized the birds had riders.

"Leelah!" the kids all screamed. "Deshi! You're here!"

"Hi, everyone!" Leelah shouted.

"Hey, guys!" Deshi grabbed them all, and there was more piling and wrestling. Pixel just sat there looking a bit upstaged and started a bath.

Ezasen was still trying to form words. "Um, you just landed here on eagles!"

"Haast's eagles to be precise, Dad." Gryphon, of course, would know that. He was already making friends with one of them, scratching its huge, feathered head. "Thought to have been hunted to extinction around fourteen hundred AD. From New Zealand."

Deshi introduced the birds to the children. "This big, darker one is named Aquila. The smaller one is Priscilla."

The adults greeted each other with hugs, and they all sat down to eat. "It's so good to see you, Thirzah," said Leelah after prayer as they passed plates of food around. "Deshi and I see your husband most days at the plant, but we rarely take the time to get out of town anymore. This is such a beautiful location, and I love what you've done with the garden!"

Thirzah smiled between bites. "Thanks. We're so glad you both could come out. The children have missed you dearly."

Ezasen sipped some nectar tea. "That was some entrance you made. I didn't know you had new modes of transportation."

"We've had them just over a week," Deshi said, winking at Oni. "Never really had the chance to stretch their wings until yesterday when we took them around the lake."

"May I ride on one of them, Mama?" Gryphon set his fork down in case the answer was Yes, right now!

For a split second, Thirzah's eyes widened and she looked over at Leelah hoping the answer would be No, no. They're just for grown-ups.

"They're perfectly safe." Leelah raised her hands, putting it back on his parents for the final verdict.

"Um, sure, buddy. Just finish your bean first," Ezasen caved, finally looking up from a pad of paper, "and you'll go with an adult."

"Mumtaz!" cried Gryphon in perfect Arabic.

"What's that, darling?" Thirzah saw her husband scribbling on something next to his plate.

"It's just a sketchbook. A book with blank pages. I had Rusty make it small enough to fit in my pocket. With it and a pencil, I can sketch ideas when I think of them."

"May I have one, Mom?" Oni asked, her cheeks large with lettuce.

"And I just had a thought about a name for a new publishing ministry. Thought I'd jot it down." Ezasen put it away.

"May I have one, Mama? Please?" Gryphon chimed in.

"Okay. I can see this is getting out of hand. Yes, kids. You may each have a sketchbook." She smiled, but there was some annoyance behind it. "Ezasen, no ideas at the table. More salad, Deshi?"

"Mom! Mom!" Oni stood suddenly with uncontainable excitement. "Can we give Dad his gift now?"

"Oh, I forgot all about it." Thirzah set her napkin on the table next to her plate. "I'll just run in and—"

"I'll get it! Can I get it?" Gryphon was on his feet as well now.

"A gift? Alright!" Ezasen said imperiously. "Bring it forth."

Both Oni and Grif took that as license to sprint into the house.

"It's on the counter," Thirzah sighed. Some days she just wasn't in charge.

The children returned, bickering about which one of them would actually be handing the small wooden box to their dad. It had a brass latch and a recently crumpled teal ribbon wrapped around it.

Ezasen held up his hands. "Kids, listen. Each of you hold on end of the box and set it here in front of the royal dad."

That got a giggle out of all the children, and they followed his advice. Gryphon came close and playfully put his hands on his dad's cheeks. "Dad, you're referring to yourself in the third person again."

"It was on purpose, buddy." Ezasen reached out and, with great fanfare, pulled the box slowly across the sanded and stained planks of the picnic table. "What could it be?"

"May I open it?" Ava had made her way around the table in all the clamor and was now tucked under Ezasen's arm.

"How about we open it together?" he suggested and lifted her onto his knee. He let her pull the ribbon off, and they both opened the shiny hinge. Inside lay a toothbrush. It was well-crafted and had real bristles with a handle made of wood. "Ooh, this is nice! Thank you!"

"Everyone pitched in," Leelah admitted. "We ordered it over six weeks ago, and it just arrived today. It's mostly a just-because gift."

"Just because I have bad breath?" Ezasen made funny faces at the children, who laughed and came in close for hugs. "Well, thank you, royal family. I have so much to be thankful for." This launched a wrestling pile-up session that lasted minutes.

Later, Leelah sat down next to Ezasen on the bench under the pergola east of the house. It was half tucked into a field of towering sunflower stalks. She handed him a bowl with a strawberry in it and then dug into one of her own. His eyebrows shot up. "I know. A whole strawberry," she said, relishing her first juicy bite. "But I figured it's a special occasion, and it will carry us through an afternoon of printing."

"Thank you." He lopped off a morsel. "I know what you're planning. I knew the moment I saw you descending from heaven on that bird. And this is you buttering me up so I'll say yes."

"Yes to what, Hapa?" She couldn't hide her grin.

"You want to fly to Egypt and finally see your family." He smiled, but his heart filled with hard memories. They put their desserts down and hugged.

"Until Gryphon gets around to reinventing the jumbo jet, yeah! That's the general idea."

"I'll say yes if you take Deshi."

"Of course!" Leelah thumped him on the shoulder.

Ezasen took another bite. "And you've cleared it with the print shop?"

"Besides Deshi, you're the first person that guessed. I haven't told anyone else. We would leave within the week."

"That's going to be a long trip. You up for it?"

"I've logged quite a few kilometers on the backs of animals over the years." She hugged him again. "Thank you, Hapa! I love you!"

"Love you too, ladybug. You will be missed." Having finished their dessert, they stood.

"Back to work, guys," said Deshi from the pier, setting Cord down and thanking Thirzah for the meal.

***

Three days later, Leelah and her new copilot, Gryphon, sat astride Priscilla's neck and shoulders. The great bird was fidgety under the additional weight, but she got the idea. She hoped it would be a short flight.

She spread her magnificent wings and sensed the breeze at various speeds all around her. Like two sails of a ship, her wings filled with air and, with the slightest of flaps, she was airborne. The humans, particularly the smaller one, made shrill noises that she assumed were ones of delight as she tilted forward and all but fell out of the sky toward the rising steam of the lake. She had taken off from the top of the cylinder nest and now skimmed its sheer face. Her vague shadow rippled right in front of her. A flick of her feathers and they curled away from the nest wall and glided out over the lake.

Then the boy's body shifted suddenly. Priscilla could tell he had lost his balance or his grip on the nice woman or both. A moment later both her passengers were gone. But where? She spun, scanning everywhere below her. There. They were shooting away from her into the mist. She dove down, tucking her wings in tight. The humans were screaming, sounding very bird-like actually, and it made sense, since they couldn't fly.

Even with her bulk, she managed to catch up to the falling humans. She tried to get under them, but at this speed they would be hitting the water soon. She was closer to the boy, so she grabbed him as gently as she could with her talons and stretched out her wings.

The female hit the water with a pretty good splash. The sudden stop had made the boy go limp. She seriously hoped he wasn't dead. A few seconds later, she saw the woman surface and flail a little, but started swimming. Good. But she seemed in severe pain. Priscilla quickly delivered the boy to a rock and headed back to fetch the woman. Soon, they both lay on the rock. The boy woke up and was yelling and crying. The woman was trying to comfort him and fight her own pain. It looked like she may have broken a leg.

Priscilla gingerly plucked them both off the rock and flew them back to their starting point at the top of the nest. Her talons were so sharp, however, that she had inadvertently sliced the hand of the woman. Soon, more humans came and took them away. She had done what she could.

***

Leelah sat up in her bed and adjusted her pillows. A week with a cast on her leg had not made it easy to sleep. Deshi walked into the room with some fresh water. "Gryphon is here again."

"Oh, bless his little heart. Let him come in," she said, working up a smile.

"This is all my fault, and I feel absolutely dreadful." The boy sat on the edge of her bed and held her hand as a grown-up would. He was careful not to touch the bandaged area around the nub where her left pinky finger once was.

"Gryphon, I love you, and I forgive you." She hugged him and kissed his forehead. "It's in the past, and I'm ready to put it behind us."

"Good," he said. "That's what I want to do, too." He looked up at her. "But it's really hard. I'm struggling with guilt, and I'm eight, and it's really hard."

"Look at me, little man. Have you considered forgiving yourself?" She asked as he wiped his nose on his sleeve.

"No."

"I think that would be a good idea. What do you think? Could you do that for me?" She got a little nod. "Jesus knows it was an accident, and I'm going to be just fine in a few weeks. It was nobody's fault."

"Ok."

"Good boy. Good job forgiving yourself." She held him for a while, then they played a board game and everything was right with the world again. Two months later, she and Deshi began their long journey east.

11

### Honor and Power

### Year 154

Onastasia crept up behind the mossy log breathing hard. She had never been fatigued in her life, but today her heart was pounding, and adrenaline was flowing freely through her body.

What had she just seen? An angel? Something bright and glimmering danced among the trees casting brilliant beams that filtered through the mist. There it was again. Were there two of them? Dozens of them now swirled and came to stop in the secluded meadow. Their glow faded, and they took the form of men standing in military rank. They remained still for an impossibly long minute until a new figure emerged from the jungle and stood in front of the troop.

Hushed but serious words came from their leader, and then the angels vanished in a ripple of light, leaving him alone. He walked straight toward Onastasia, and she ducked lower into the ferns. "Peace. Peace, child. You may come out now, my dear. Don't be afraid."

She didn't know how to stop trembling. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to spy. My name is Onastasia. I'm the new teacher for the school. I'm so sorry." She stared up at him as he extended a hand to help her to her feet. He seemed young, even younger than herself, except for his deep pool eyes which betrayed centuries of experiences and loss. Yet they were full of a playful joy. He was thin but tall and clothed in the finely embroidered white linen of the day. His perfectly-trimmed beard was a dark umber brown, and it wrapped a strong jaw on an Eastern face.

"No need to apologize. I can hardly fault you for using your eyes." He smiled. "And God made angels to be amazing creatures, to be sure."

"Angels," she said slowly with eyes widening, turning to the meadow to replay the scene in her mind, adding this new piece of information.

"Come," he said, guiding her back to the worn dirt road that was deeply grooved with wagon ruts. They walked together toward the village. "My name is Yann. I am the Whitestone for the district of Antioch."

"And you command angels." Her eyes were still wide.

"Yes. By God's grace and wisdom."

"How old are you?" Her hand covered her mouth too late. "I'm so sorry. Okay, that was so rude. I'm sorry."

"No, no. It's fine." His chuckle echoed across the meadow. "You've heard of John Calvin of Geneva? I was a servant in his house, if that gives you an idea."

A cart filled with vegetables and pulled by a bear passed them on the road. A young girl walked beside the bear, and when she saw the Whitestone, she waved wildly and grinned. "Thank you again so much for your message this morning!" And then to Onastasia, "Oh, hello. Are you the new teacher? I'm Didette."

"Yes. I'm Onastasia." Didette offered to show her around the village and introduce her to all the right people.

"Excellent. Just make sure you're both in the square tonight for the Lighting," Yann reminded.

They said their goodbyes to the Whitestone, and Didette urged the bear up the rising grade toward the outskirts of the town.

The bear took them on a circuitous route while they sat on the tailgate sharing a fresh blueberry. "What is the Lighting?" asked Onastasia, handing the fist-sized fruit to her new friend.

"Oh, yes. They're turning on the lights in town for the first time tonight. They've been building a hydroelectric dam just north of the village for years. Oh, there's the library."

"And what was the message Whitestone gave this morning? Was it from a particular passage of Scripture?"

"Mm, yes." Didette handed it to her, smiling with blue teeth. "It was from Ephesians 2. And so powerful. I really think I understood the Gospel for the first time. I mean, in my heart, not just my head. I believe I became a Christian today! Oh, there's the bakery."

The bear stopped the cart and growled in annoyance as if to say Where to now? "Oh, Sylvie. I'm sorry. I know you're hungry. Just take us home, please." Didette hopped down, gave the bear part of an apple, then returned to her spot in back as the cart lurched forward again.

"That's some encouraging news. Before I congratulate you, let me ask you this: What has changed about you since this morning? Because it's not just a decision, not just praying a prayer. It's a miraculous transformation of your heart that only the Holy Spirit can perform."

Didette squinted in thought. "Well, I want to understand the Bible more. I memorized it a long time ago, but it wasn't until today that it really came alive for me, and so many passages make sense now. So many others just make me cry over my own sin. And I've just been shouting in the woods thanks to God for His goodness and patience and forgiveness." She couldn't help but stand up in the cart right then and cry out, "God, You're awesome!"

Then Onastasia saw what she had been looking for. A mark, like a snowflake in sunlight, began to form and glow on Didette's forehead. It consisted of four intertwined letters of the name of God: YHWH. Each Saint's mark is unique. "You have the seal of Christ. Welcome to the family!" They hugged and cried the rest of the way to Didette's farmhouse. The girls were still famished, including Sylvie.

That evening just before dusk, they walked back into town. The square was filled with chattering people, all dressed in their finest. A band concert gazebo had been erected between the courthouse and the central spring and fountain. The Whitestone stepped forward, and the crowd was silenced.

"Citizens of Antioch. Grace to you and peace in the name of Christ our King! In His grace, He has given us our lives, our every breath, our every heartbeat. And He has given us each other. Tonight, we celebrate another gift from God. Many hours of your tireless labor have paid off, and it is my pleasure now to introduce a special member of our community who will officially throw the switch. Miss Didette Armand!"

Thrilled, Didette ran to the gazebo and up the stairs to the giant brass-plated lever that would, when lowered, connect the dam to the town and bring electric power to thousands of homes for the first time.

"Please extinguish your lanterns."

The square grew dark and quiet. Many of the townspeople, including Didette, felt a twinge of loss in the natural beauty that surrounded them. There was an innocence that they would lose tonight, but they also saw the supreme value of moving forward for the sake of the Gospel, if for nothing else.

Didette pulled, and a satisfying crackle filled the silent night. Then a hum, then one by one a thousand bulbs ignited and the square was warm and friendly again.

"Quite a first day in Antioch!" Whitestone remarked to Onastasia hours later as the crowds dispersed. "I'll expect to see you first thing in the morning to start your duties."

"Looking forward to it, sir," she said, placing a sleeping Didette gently into her cart. "For how many students should I prepare?"

"Three." Whitestone clasped his hands behind his back. He was the picture of poise and patience.

She looked puzzled as she stepped gingerly around the cart. Reaching way up, she scratched Sylvie behind her fuzzy ears and gave the bear another apple slice.

"Yes, only three. Almost all the families here provide education for their own children, but there are three that, through various incidents, have lost a parent or even both. These are the children you shall teach." He smiled.

A cloud settled over her heart. "I see. Well, very good. In the morning, then." Her expectations for this new chapter in her life were set too high. Perhaps it was a mistake to leave the work in Copper Falls and venture out on her own like this.

"Goodnight, child." Whitestone sensed the turmoil in the girl but wisely let it play out. The Holy Spirit was leading her down the dark path of doubt in order to show her how bright by comparison was the Father of Lights.

"Goodnight, sir." Oni barely acknowledged the Whitestone's kind words. Everything she knew was now far away. Was that true? The King was near, always close. Her heart pushed against the cloud. Her family—those she loved and looked out for—they might be far away but were surely praying for her and eager to hear good news of her adventures here in the wilds. The cloud lifted, and happy light hugged her weary heart once again.

Oni clicked her tongue like she had heard Didette do earlier, and the bear obediently started the lazy march home. She sang a hymn softly as she sat on the cart next to Didette. She brushed the girl's hair from her face and turned the collar down on her rumpled dress.

***

Oni stepped gingerly on the squeaky threshold board at the oaken door to the Whitestone's spartan office. The walls were covered in full bookshelves, and she was transported home for an instant as she smelled the the ink, glue, leather, and paper. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Yes, yes. Please come in, Onastasia." The almost-glowing being who was now her boss set the heavy tome he was consulting down and sat on the edge of his cherry desk. "How has your first week gone so far?"

"Very well, thank you." She smiled but was distracted. "May I ask if that is Phirzadi ink I smell?" She looked around like a child in a candy shop.

He laughed. "The King has blessed you with a good smeller!" He stood and pulled a brass-encrusted case down from a high shelf. He set it carefully on the desk and pushed the sturdy latch from right to left. The box opened to reveal twenty-four hand-blown glass vials filled with a black liquid. Suspended luxuriously from the inside of the lid was a set of quill, feather, and mahogany pens with a variety of nibs.

Oni was on the edge of a religious experience. "May I?"

"For someone as devoted to the craft as you, of course." Yann crossed his arms and watched her exuberance bubbling all over the room. "And how fare the children?"

Oni slid a feather stylus from its red ribbon clasp and rolled it in her fingers. Without looking up, she replied. "The children are well behaved for their ages, and they seem to be devouring the curriculum."

"And are you, in honest appraisal, enjoying the work?" He stood, found a fresh sheet of paper, and set it before her on the desk.

"Yes, sir." She dipped the stylus in one of the vials and expertly drew a series of straight lines on the page. "It has its challenges and sometimes I feel like I'm in over my head, but it's rewarding."

"Excellent."

"Have you been all the way to Phirzad?" She effortlessly cleaned the pen and replaced everything back in the case. "If it's not my place to ask, I'll understand."

"It's no intrusion. Yes, I've been many places, including Refuge in Phirzad." He closed the lid of the case but left it on the desk. "It is, in truth, an amazing corner of the Realm."

She looked toward the dusty window, and a pair of butterflies with wings as long as her arms floated by. "I'm sure it is. I hope I get to go some day. What an enormous undertaking!" She finally sat down in his meticulously carved and stained guest chair with an upholstered red cushion.

"I have no doubt, for my part, that you'll go there and far more interesting locales." He smiled and sat down behind his desk. "Onastasia, I wanted to mention to you that I plan to be gone for several hours tomorrow."

"Oh?"

"Yes. It's the Sabbath, and it is yet my weekly privilege to join the brethren to celebrate. In fact, I was just returning from said gathering last week when you and I met on the road." He picked up a pen himself now and seemed to be ready to dismiss her.

She stood. "Very good. If I may ask, sir, is it far?" She turned and reached the door, taking one last deep breath of the room's rich, memory-filled air.

"The celebration? Yes. Quite far."

Oni turned, her interest piqued.

"It is, gladly, in fair Jerusalem."

"Jerusalem?" she blurted loudly. "But that's halfway—oh, I see."

Yann waited a beat to graciously let it sink in. "Thank you for understanding. I don't want it to be an uncomfortable topic. It's just the way God, in His perfect condescension, has ordained things here in the Regeneration."

Oni's head swirled. So months of hypothetical travel for her took no more effort for him than thinking about being in a place and he's there. She suffered a twinge of jealousy, but it was quickly replaced by a mind-blowing thought. Could he travel among the stars as well? She found a nonchalant face and put in on. "Sir, I cannot pretend to understand, but thank you for letting me know."

"Goodnight, Onastasia."

"Goodnight, sir." She left and pondered the sheer magnitude of Creator God till sunrise.

True to his word, Whitestone disappeared just after breakfast and wasn't seen in Antioch until mid-afternoon.

12

### The Pantheon Blades

### Year 155

"By the time they're fifty, most children in the Kingdom have mastered thirty languages, hold degrees in a dozen academic fields, and contributed significantly to society through literature, art, or science," said the serious but godly printshop director to his staff. "But this girl is well over a hundred years old and has done none of those."

A lanky woman with her hair in a bun looked again at Onastasia's short resume and added, "Her father is an itinerant printer and has taught her typography. She has spent several decades designing and machining typefaces. She is a talented illustrator as well."

"That's excellent. But is she a person of character?"

"From what we've heard around town, the very finest."

At that, the director smiled under his push-broom mustache. "Let her in."

Onastasia joined them in the office area that had windows overlooking the giant print shop floor. It felt like home seeing all the familiar kinds of presses and folding machines. She eyed a Meuller Seven Series Perfector and pretty much fell in love.

"Well, I think we can put you to work right away. You may very well teach us some things we don't know." The director smiled again and cleared his throat. "Hector, would you show this young lady to one of the extra offices and get her whatever she needs?"

"Pleasure, sir. Particularly since you've just smiled twice in one day." Hector motioned Onastasia through the door that led to a staircase down to the print shop. The pungence of inks greeted her with a warm welcome.

"I love the smell of a freshly printed book, don't you?" she asked as he rolled up his sleeves to move a pallet of paper to make the aisle wider.

"That smell got me into printing—" He opened a glass door to an empty office under the other offices and stepped aside. "—and pretty much saved my life."

She couldn't help but notice the fading tattoos covering his forearms. "I would very much like to hear your story, Hector."

"It would be a pleasure to tell, miss, but let me first find you a desk."

Ten minutes later, Oni sat and swiveled in a lacquered wooden chair Hector had brought from the storeroom. "This will do nicely. Now let's hear that story."

"Well, my family came across the border from Mexico into Texas just a year before I was born. At that time it was still illegal to do so, but I was born in America. There were nine of us kids. My dad worked construction jobs from El Paso to Fresno, and, by the time I was eight, we were living in Los Angeles, and he had a steady job building high-rise apartment complexes."

"The City of Angels. It's hard to imagine a desert next to an ocean. I've heard that Southern California was sunny." She stood patiently while he moved heavy wood crates around again in the storeroom looking for an extra desk.

"East LA was not the best place to grow up, though. I was a nightmare for my parents—at least when they noticed me. I would wander off for hours and come back when I was hungry. I started following the wrong kids around, and, when I was ten, a local gang became my new family. I didn't think my parents would care at all."

They were back in the storeroom now where he unearthed a sturdy wood table. "This do?"

She nodded and held the door as he twisted it through.

"At fifteen, I was rising in the ranks of the gang. That's when I got the ink on my arms and chest and back. I was identifying with something. I was taking control of my life. One night, our leader, who called himself Diablo—"

"Nice."

"Yeah. He was planning to burn down an abandoned building where an enemy gang was known to hang out. You have to understand. I hated everyone and everything. I was so filled with rage all the time. I turned to drugs to take the edge off.

"That night, I was pretty high on narcotics as we essentially invaded this other gang's hideout. They never saw it coming, and it was a massive fire that destroyed their building and the one behind it. That second house was where my parents and brothers and sisters lived. They were all sleeping. No one survived. I had killed my family.

"I didn't even realize what I had done for days. It broke me. I wanted to get out of the gang, but I couldn't. If I had told Diablo, he would have knifed me on the spot. I knew too much and was too tangled in the darkness of that world. I was also a legend. No one in LA messed with me. I was so evil. I had wasted my own family. But Diablo became jealous and approached me with an ultimatum. Leave or die.

"I knew which choice he preferred, so we fought and he ended up falling off a parking garage and died. We were alone that night, so when I returned to the rest of the gang, I told them I killed him and that I was the new Diablo." He set the table down in her office and leaned on it.

"Their loyalty was unwavering. We became the most powerful gang in California within a year, and then I got caught selling drugs in a huge government sting operation and was thrown in prison. I was nineteen. Three days into my fifteen-year sentence, the rapture happened. God used it to wake me up to my hate, rebellion, and sin. I became a Christian a week later."

"God is good." Oni placed her bag on the table and started taking out her tools and pencils and rulers and books.

"There was a pastor named Mike who used to minister at the prison. I was surprised to see him about three months later because he should have been taken with all the other genuine saints. But there he was, newly saved and humiliated but eager to continue teaching the Bible. He was honest about his former lack of true faith. For Mike, it had all been about the numbers. It was about friendships. But he had never bowed to Christ. His amazing biblical knowledge was intellectual but never went from his head to his heart.

"Mike and I served and ministered in the prison together for seven years. While inside, I learned the printing trade and helped Mike produce several books, booklets, and a ton of tracts and Gospels of John. By the time of Armageddon, most Christians had either been killed or were suffering in some concentration camp. I had been transferred to a facility in North Carolina. And so, at the Return, I found my way here to Antioch."

"Thanks for sharing, Hector. I know it must be difficult to drudge up dark memories."

"It is the story God wrote for my life. I don't understand how, but since it happened that way, it must somehow bring Him glory. He has given me a second chance, and all I want to do is put Christ on display with my life."

"I have to ask. How do you feel about your tattoos now?"

"Ugh. They sicken me like they have always sickened God."

"You're talking about Leviticus 19 where He forbids us from cutting ourselves?"

"Yes. They are like the stain of sin on my life, but they are also a reminder of how merciful the Lord was and is to me and how much I need His grace every day."

***

A man called Justice walked alone along the top of the dam. The rush of hundreds of thousands of liters of water below him caused a deafening roar, and he liked how it blocked out all other sounds. He pulled a long hood over his head and stood there for hours watching the thick clouds rolling by, reflecting the new lights in the village.

He was in a terrible state. He had lived alone for decades in one of the many caves north of town. He had never really adjusted to the modern conveniences that had been springing up in recent years.

He knew nothing of the age before and never felt like he belonged in this one either. If he was honest with himself, he hated the over-friendly inhabitants of Antioch with their smug smiles and stuffy manners.

Most of all, he loathed that perfect Whitestone. Why would God send such a thorn to torment him? How was he to live up to that kind of standard? He didn't need any standard outside the ones he set for himself. But somehow that didn't cool the rage building and festering inside him. Why couldn't he just disappear? Go into the jungle and never come out? What was it about these people that made him curious and—if he was honest—disgusted at the same time?

Maybe he would just go. No one would notice. No one would miss him. Was that what all this angst was about? Did he want their approval? Why did he want the approval of these ignorant hypocrites? There was one of them, Justice reminded himself, that could see him. Her face floated by his mind's eye. He replayed every smile, every laugh, every bow and flower in her hair. So young, so unspoiled. He sighed at the memory of her fragrance. Lilacs. He wanted to smell lilacs again.

There were some in his cave. He turned to go when he realized he was not alone on the dam anymore. A figure stood no more than twenty meters away, watching him, no doubt. Freak! There was no way around him unless he walked to the village side of the dam, then around the reservoir. That would be a thirteen-hour hike and well worth it if it meant avoiding a corrosive interaction with one of these Snowflakes. He spit on the ground in disgust then started to slink away from his observer.

"How we doing, Justice?" The voice was impossibly close. Justice kept walking. "Don't you live this way? About two kilometers on the trail, then another one off? Second cave on the left?"

Justice whipped around and squinted into the dark. He fought desperately to control his need to know how this stranger knew precisely where he lived, to the point of moving his lips. It began to rain.

The man was also hooded, and huge. He stepped into the pale lamplight and lifted a tattooed arm to pull back his hood. "Man, Hector! You're freaking me out, Man!" Justice said and was genuinely relieved it was a human and not one of those shiny freaks.

"What are you doing out here, man? Isn't it past your bedtime?"

"Same as you, J. Walking on the dam. Taking in the beauty of the night God made." Hector leaned casually on the railing.

"I ain't taking in no beauty, man," Justice scoffed. "Nothing worth looking at around here." He wasn't sure what Hector's angle was tonight. Hector always had an angle, a way of manipulating him to talk. Talk about real things. Talk about what he was feeling. Justice wanted to feel repulsed right now, but he wasn't.

"There's beauty in all things God made." Hector was looking at the rain in the light of the lamp. "Need some coffee or something?"

Justice tensed. Did Hector know something? Fooled again! These mind tricks and these sneaking, planning deviants! Justice, be strong! Don't them inside your head! "Naw, man. I'm good. Just heading home, Officer Lima." But he was not headed home just yet. He would descend into Antioch and become shadow. All-seeing but not seen.

He would see if she was home.

The trail between the dam and the village was steep and challenging, more so in the dark and rain. Justice took it slow. He only wished to—

A giant hand caught his elbow. He turned and Hector studied him like a spider. "Justice, let me say one thing, and I'll let you go."

Justice bit his tongue until it bled as he writhed pointlessly in Hector's grip. "Fine."

"The God who made all this beauty is also your judge. There will come a day when you will stand before Him and give an account of your life." He slowed down his words. "And unless your heart has been transformed by King Jesus, God must punish you in the lake of fire forever for your sins."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, man." Justice finally wrenched his arm away. "Oh, and, I heard it all before."

He resumed his course.

***

Oni sat on her bed after a long day and brushed her hair in a mirror. This was the only time her hair was out of a bun or clipped to her head somehow. She had let it grow down past her waist, so brushing it all was a big event every night. Her tiny room had a tiny window overlooking the square, and she peered out at the lamppost someone had placed a little too close to her building. She had purchased some material and made a curtain to hang in front of it—not overly attractive, but certainly practical.

Tonight she heard a tapping down at the door. Her host family would hear that and would see to it right away. She heard it again a minute later. Maybe it was some animal. She decided she would brave it and go see who, or what, was out at this hour. She silently walked down the narrow stairs and peeked through the red, blue, and green squares of stained glass embedded in the door. What she saw gave her a fright.

She opened the heavy door and smiled. "Hector? This is highly irregular."

"It's been a highly irregular night. Pardon my late presence. I wanted to make sure you were alright." He kept looking up and down the street.

"It's raining. Come inside," she said genuinely.

"Sorry, Miss Oni." Their eyes finally met. "Decorum prevents me from taking such a seemingly innocuous action. I will say good night."

"I meant nothing by my invitation." She smiled. "And I'm perfectly safe. The Whitestone is right next door. Now go home and locate a towel, Señor Lima."

The door clicked shut, and Hector felt a half sigh of relief coming on. He turned, and there was Whitestone staring at him pleasantly. "Greetings in the name of the King, Hector. Everything alright?"

"It must be, right?" Hector strode away, his suspicions evaporating.

But eyes watched Whitestone as he strolled thoughtfully across the square toward the town hall. His robes shimmered in the pale, flickering electric lamplight overhead. He seemed to glide from pocket of darkness to patch of light like a spirit. His observer shifted their weight behind some low willow branches, and Whitestone almost paused at the minute change in atmospheric pressure. But he continued his stroll, seized suddenly by curiosity and sadness at what he suspected the next few moments would hold.

"Good evening, sir!" Didette called cheerfully from her furry perch atop her faithful bear.

"Yes, it is, my child." Whitestone glanced furtively about. "Run along home now, Didette. That's a good girl!" He quickened his pace slightly and was thankful she thought nothing more of his odd behavior. He reached the broad, stony steps of the town hall and dared one more peek at the silent town square before ascending.

A spinning whisper sliced the air behind him, and as he stopped at the top stair, he felt the slightest touch on his shoulder, followed by a piercing clank of metal hitting stone. He turned but saw nothing and heard nothing more.

The next morning, there was no small disturbance on the town hall steps. A talkative crowd had gathered around a knife protruding peculiarly from the east pillar, its thick blade plunged into the granite nearly up to its handle.

13

### The King and the Judge

When the morning was yet cool, Onastasia walked through the forest on a path high above the hydroelectric dam outside the town. She would make this hour-long trek most days to pray and think and read before heading to the print shop to design typefaces and book covers.

The wide path led to an old watchtower that overlooked the valley. It had a single turret and courtyard that once had a roof but was now overgrown with ferns and ivy. Bolted onto the outer wall of the turret but twice as tall was a communications antenna. Its sleek, silver coating seemed odd to her next to the stone and vines of the century-old tower.

She came to a fragrant terrace below the courtyard and crossed it to a curved staircase that hugged the west side of the turret. At the top was a small arched doorway that led inside. Like she had done a hundred times, she climbed more stairs inside until she was about halfway up the tower. There on the east wall was a tiny window that looked out over the courtyard. To her surprise, there was a man sitting down there on a stone bench. She knew immediately who it was.

"I hope I'm not interrupting, sir," she said softly as she entered the courtyard. Whitestone's back was to her, and he seemed particularly bent over.

After a long silence, he finally muttered, "Not at all, child. Just deep in thought." He turned slowly, his kind eyes hooded with concern. He smiled and motioned her closer. "How is my favorite typographer?"

"Doing well. Thank you." She approached and stood next to the bench. "It seemed as if you were sleeping just then."

"Sleeping?" He looked up at the sky as if he had lost something. "Hmm. I remember sleep. It's been a long time." He looked down again and studied a hand-sized ladybug beetle as it munched on a fern in the corner. "No. Just in need of wisdom. I'm deliberating a significant matter of the court, the solution to which seems to elude me."

"Perhaps I should go then." She turned to leave but noticed a shape move on the tower. "Who's there?" she called.

Whitestone stood and turned. "Let her go."

"Her. Then you know who that was?"

"Yes."

"It was Didette. Wasn't it? I can still catch her." She ran across the courtyard and into the dark turret. When she emerged onto the stairs beyond, Whitestone was already there.

"Onastasia, I need you to let her go."

"She's part of the case. The case you're deciding." She held a hand to her mouth.

He sighed. He didn't have to answer.

"I won't speak to her about it. I promise." She saw the strain in his eyes. "I'm sorry if I'm making things difficult for you."

"Thank you, child. The hearing is yet today. You won't have to wait long." Whitestone studied her, sensing her agitation. "I need you to be content with not knowing. I need you to trust that God is in control. Can you do that?" His eyes finally met hers. "He loves Didette more than you could possibly know."

"Yes, sir."

She relaxed and took a deep breath. They went back to the courtyard bench. The ladybug was perched there cleaning its wings. They sat, and Whitestone picked up the creature and let it continue its activity on his lap. "These used to be smaller. One of them could stand on the tip of your finger."

"I don't believe it!" She held up her own index finger and tried to imagine it. She looked at her friend and mentor. "What was it like?"

"What was what like, my dear?"

"The age before. Before the Kingdom."

Whitestone replaced the Ladybug on the cobbled floor of the courtyard and watched it skitter in circles then noisily take off and fly away over the wall. "Allow me to tell it from my point of view."

"That's just what I need, sir." She sat down across from him on another stone bench. "Some perspective."

As he closed his eyes and fell back in his mind to that other lifetime, she couldn't help but stare at the perfected, glorious man across from her.

He observed that she was again nervous and trembling slightly. "You are still concerned for your friend." But it was different. "Are you quite well, my child?"

"I am at the very end of myself, sir. Only the Holy Spirit within me keeps me from falling on my face and worshiping you!"

"Peace. Peace, Onastasia. All my works are filthy rags. Close your eyes and hear about the matchless worth of King Jesus."

She closed her eyes and imagined the cross.

"I died in the Ancient Year 1570," he began, and Oni thought it was a marvelous way to begin a story. She was reminded of so many hours spent on her father's lap listening to tales of riding Pixel the black jaguar all over the untamed West.

He continued. "When my new master came to Geneva to stay, I had already seen more than seventy winters. Calvin himself was passionate and filled with energy. He was a clear and organized thinker and rallied the entire city to the cause of the Reformation. Never before or since had a community shined the light of God's truth inside and out than under his keen leadership."

"What was your role in his household?" Oni asked.

"I was, in those later years, among his scribes," Whitestone revealed. "He would also, on nearly a daily basis, task me with locating and often procuring manuscripts, both rare and common, for his reference as he worked on his many sermons and writing projects." He winked at her. "I also brought him his tea."

She grinned. "Was it not unique for a city in those days of war, religious factions, and deception to find itself so united under the banner of Christ? Our own Antioch seems the very picture of Geneva in this Kingdom, but it seems the rule here, not the exception."

"Quite perceptive, young one." He smiled. "But it was not so black and white as things are today. The world in that time was rife with powerful false religion; bloodthirsty men with no regard for human life; and the Accuser, the Evil One himself who did freely exercise his lion prowl, devouring families and cities and countries with his lies."

"Surely Geneva was a haven from such darkness." Oni rested her chin on her knee.

"Child, here is a timely tale of calamity which befell the Beacon City. The Spaniard heretic Servetus was, for a grievous season, a nemesis and thorn in the side of my master until he came to Geneva in order to destroy the faith of many. Calvin was, in many ways, the spiritual leader of the whole community, and, for a critical season, enjoyed the favor of the civil authorities."

"So dangerous was Servetus and his unholy teachings deemed, that it was decided he be burned alive and so bring to an end to his attacks on the vulnerable church."

"Curious," Oni mused. "It's hard to believe there was an age when God did not deal out His punishments immediately and resolutely upon the unrepentant wicked."

"Remember, precious one, by the King's kindness, you were born and live in a world nearly choking on privilege and ease. I warn you in most earnestness, be not ungrateful. I sense in you the prick of fascination to which the young are always prone. Love Christ, and trust His lofty ways. There is still much work to be done in this long and glorious absence of accusation."

"My apologies, Whitestone. Pray for my weak faith and base mind."

"I will, child." His eyes grew distant. "Let us speak of brighter things."

"What brighter place exists than Heaven?"

"You say rightly, but Heaven was only Heaven because Christ was there."

Oni nodded thoughtfully.

"The glories of that gilded site in Christ's presence are almost indescribable; the bright beauties thereof cannot by mere words be duly shared. Were it not for the Father's own merciful hand between Himself and this servant worm, I would have dissolved back into dust the very instant these unclean eyes met thrice holy His.

"Thus I passed in increasing measures of joy some centuries taking up no other course than to stare at the face of the anointed Christ. There was no body or earthly form that held us in one place as this vessel does that you see today. And yet everyone was in attendance, their presence felt but not seen. Oh, the songs that were sung with spiritual lips!

"As the Day of the Lord spoken of by Joel the prophet—very nice fellow, by the way—drew nigh, the clamor and hosts and yearnings for justice increased. A very palpable but righteous dissatisfaction was both nourished and flourished among those who had given their heads for the great cause. Their chants still ring in my ears when, in recent and quiet terrestrial hours, I am given to recall those closing days of Jacob's Trouble."

Oni sat entranced. "My father does not speak of those dark days. He led a life of more than mild peril, if I trust his few reports."

Whitestone grinned.

"I speak of a time of thick shadows and you smile?" She leaned forward, putting her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands.

"Forgive me, child. It is only that I celebrated diligently at the news of your father's conversion. It shines in my mind as if only one night has past since. In His all-knowing providence, the King made much of it, which brought about no small feast and supply of reveling as only angels can foment. Ezasen the Stone-thrown. Ezasen the Ripple-start. Ezasen the Kingdom-catalyst. Suffice to say, he has many names in that fairer country."

"Remind me not to mention my father's myriad accolades in his hearing."

"He would, I'm certain, reflect each bestowing word back to the Bestower for he knows, by settled determination and faith in the Unthwartable, that he, too, is but the dust on the nape of a worm, made a vessel of service to the Master, and that Christ is all."

"Sir, I often say that God is on His throne when challenges invariably come in my life and in the lives of others." She stood and prepared to leave. "But today that happy and welcome truth is bigger. Thank you most kindly."

Whitestone stood as well.

"I'll leave you to your ponderings."

"I should thank you in turn." He gave a short bow. "I believe I've found the best course of action."

***

Whitestone appeared at the top of the courthouse stairs. The people in the square hushed. A second whitestone, similarly dressed but with black hair and big, dark eyes stood beside the first and addressed the crowd.

"Let us commence. I am the Whitestone of Trinity, a city in the land of Neutarsa, many days' journey to the east. Because my brother is directly involved in the situation surrounding this crime, I have been asked to preside over this trial."

No sound could be heard as he paused.

"Bring forth Justice D'Anjou."

The proud-faced man was led unshackled through the crowd and deposited before the judge. He dared not look either Whitestone in the eye. Instead, he spat and wiped his chin on his shoulder.

"Your Christian parents named you well, for it is God's justice that you will receive today." Whitestone folded his hands behind him and surveyed the townspeople. "Bring forth the witness."

Didette approached him on the portico and stopped next to the pillar.

"Didette Armand, did you see the accused attack this man with a knife?"

"Yes, in truth." She was pale with the weight of her words but spoke clearly and with a strength bigger than her small frame.

"Citizens of Antioch, the weapon of which we speak is yet on display before us all." He motioned to the handle still jutting from the pillar above Didette's head. Those few present who had not yet seen it gasped.

"Justice D'Anjou, based on the physical evidence and the word of two witnesses, and by the authority given to me by God Almighty, the Judge of the living and the dead, I find you to be guilty of attempting to take the life of another man, which is against the perfect law of God and punishable by death. Do you understand these charges?"

Justice stared at the ground, the gravity of his predicament dawning on his face. He nodded.

"Will you turn from your sin and look to Christ Jesus, your only hope, for salvation?"

The cold, fierce scowl returned.

"You will make haste, therefore, to find yourself beyond the confines of this city. May God have mercy on your soul."

Justice turned and sprinted southwest toward the forest even as a black storm cloud writhed into existence above the first ridge of trees. A single bolt of lightning flashed like an exclamation point on the horrible day. His body was buried outside the village.

Sobered by these events, Onastasia trie to settle into life and work and ministry in Antioch. The children thrived in her care, and a fourth and fifth student were added some months later, but after the first year, she was ready for a change. She wanted to be doing something she was good at, had a passion for, and that would have a wider impact on people's spiritual lives.

14

### Conundrum

### Year 161

A small wrought-iron fence and a heavy wooden door and posts stood together at the far end of a sports field. They were life-size replicas designed from memory of the entrance to the Castle Church in Wittenberg, Germany, where Martin Luther posted his famous theses that lit the fire of the Protestant Reformation more than six centuries ago.

Onastasia and her brother, Gryphon, stood together in front of the forgotten monument in silence. The people who founded this new Wittenberg in the Province of Byttgrym wanted to honor all those who had given their lives for the cause of Christ over the centuries, including the nearly two billion who were slaughtered for their faith during the Tribulation.

But one hundred fifty-three years after the monument was erected, none of the children who played on the grass nearby could tell them more than a few trivial facts about it. That is why Onastasia was quiet and contemplative.

Gryphon, however, was hungry, and although he was being still for his sister's sake, his stomach wasn't. "Sorry, Sis. You heard that, didn't you?"

"Yep. Loud and clear." She turned a smirk toward him. "Let's go find something to stick in your mouth so you don't die."

They started back to his skiff that was moored nearby. As they went, Gryphon perused the dilapidated neighborhood. "You know, isolationism isn't doing these guys any favors. They should just go ahead and become a nation, not just a province. Join the rest of the world."

"For the good of the people?" She knew him well and jabbed him in the ribs.

"Yes. Absolutely. Ow! For the good of the people. And, you know, other noble causes. Like my bank account."

"Selling them your technologies won't necessarily make their lives better, Mr. Weaselhead. What they need is Christ."

"That's the underlying reason you're here in Wittenberg, isn't it? But hasn't everyone heard the Gospel? Doesn't everyone have access to the Bible? People have known about it all along, right?"

"You're right, but every generation needs to hear it. You can't just go into a city and tell them once. It's an ongoing labor of love. There will always be more people being born into sin. Without Christ. Literature development and distribution is a big part of that labor. I'm compelled. I can't not do it. Does that make sense?"

"You always bring it back around to God, don't you?"

"Yep." She flashed her biggest smile, and they walked on arm in arm, him privately racked with guilt for so many things, and her praying like crazy for his salvation.

"Or are you thinking about your boyfriend, Hector, and how he's arriving tomorrow from Antioch?" Gryphon tickled her rib.

She stopped, her face beet red. "He's not my boyfriend! Well, not yet anyway. He's a mature, selfless, godly man."

"Ah. I see. Exactly opposite of me then."

"I didn't say that. His printing skills and experience will be a big help to the ministry here. He just finished training three younger men to take his place. A man who knows how to run a modern film lithography press and can operate our folding and binding machines is a rare catch."

"Oh, he's a catch alright. Tall, dark, handsome. Criminal past. What's not to like?"

"Stop it, you big nerd. That was a long time ago, before God changed his heart."

"You should really consider a digital press. They're the cutting edge technology-wise. Just send the prepared file to the press's onboard computer, and out pops the finished, bound, and trimmed book. Ready to read. And you can print thousands of copies, or just one. It would put poor Tattoo Man out of a job."

"It would also take me fifteen years to save up enough to buy one."

"I'll buy you one." Gryphon offered nonchalantly. "I know a guy."

"Really, Grif? That would be amazing." She looked up at him, searching for authenticity in his eyes.

"Sure. If it would help."

She hugged her brother. "Yes. Yes! It would help. You've no idea how much!"

"It's my pleasure, sis. I love you. All you have to do is ask. And it's a nice donation line item on my annuals."

"Thank you! Thank you!"

"See? I can be selfless, too!"

"Be careful, little brother. You might get a reputation." They continued on as the sky grew dark and plump with impending rain.

The city was crisscrossed by a network of canals that were just as important as the streets and far more utilized by the locals for trade, commuting, and facilitating tourism. The landscape here, as it was all over the earth, was so drastically changed by the earthquakes and other judgements leading up to Armageddon that no one really knew where the original site for Wittenberg was. Most of what was estimated to be western Germany and eastern France were under water, which made this town of forty thousand into a vital seaport in the region.

They powered up the blade-shaped craft and followed a spoke of the watery web north toward the sea. The bow of the skiff, which took up three fourths of its length, was covered in thin layers of what Gryphon called Solar Foam. He had developed a photovoltaic liquid that could be blown into micro-thin sheets of translucent bubbles. Once hardened, the spherical shape of the bubbles captured the sun's energy at multiple angles. Its translucence allowed whatever light that didn't get soaked up by the top layer of bubbles to be collected by layers underneath. Although the sheets were less that five millimeters thick, they were producing sixty percent efficiency in a cloudy environment. They collected both visible and invisible solar radiation. This skiff was an experimental prototype and could theoretically travel the oceans indefinitely powered only by the sun.

Onastasia knew of a nice little Tandoori restaurant a kilometer or so up the coast, and they both liked Indian cuisine. Once in open water, Gryphon leaned on the throttle, and they sped their way through the waves, dodging fishing trawlers, steam ships, barges and tankers that were waiting to access the busy terminals. Since she normally commuted by land in this part of the city, Onastasia was lost as to how to get around or through all the docks and jetties that pointed out like lobster legs into the churning tide. "Let's just head out further to sea and get around all this mess," she suggested, knowing it would fall on deaf ears.

"No, I think I can find a shortcut," he shouted back over the roar of a yacht's propellor that came a little too close for comfort. "I'm using my inner map."

"You're enjoying this too much, beanpole. I thought you were hungry."

"Alright. Fine," he conceded, but just then his phone rang. "Hey, Frederick. Yeah. Let me pull off here. Just a sec. No. I'm hanging out with my super cool sister for the weekend. What? No, in Byttgrym. Yeah, I know, right? Ha, ha. Yeah. Hold on a sec." Gryphon found the closest dock and idled the skiff, the engine still idling. "Oni, I'm sorry. I'm going to have to take this."

"No problem. I'll go on ahead and get us a table." She hopped out onto the unmarked, random dock, looking around for anything that looked even vaguely familiar.

"Like I said, super cool sister! Thanks. I'll see you in a few. Make sure you order extra naan." With that, he spun the skiff and was out of sight between two tugs.

She turned and sized up her next challenge.

"Lovable little jerk," she said out loud. "Sorry, Lord."

***

Aboard his hundred-meter executive yacht, Gryphon continued his conversation with his accountant, Frederick, while searching for some documents in his plush office. "You know what, Fred, I'm going to call you back. It's easier to look with two hands." He set the phone down and turned to another filing cabinet across the room.

The phone rang again. This time it was his father, Ezasen. "Hey, Dad! I'm right in the middle of something. Can I—? Yes, I'm with her. I mean I'm here in Byttgrym. I just stopped at the ship to—. No. Like ten minutes ago. She what? Where? I'm on my way. Yeah. I'm walking out now. What's the address? Got it. I'll get there as soon as I can. Yes. Intensive Care. Ok. I'll call you as soon as I know anything."

Gryphon shut out everything and everyone. His entire purpose in life now was to get to his sister.

He raced down to his skiff and exploded out of the mid-keel docking bay toward the coast. He was already calculating the fastest route to the hospital in his mind. What he wouldn't give for a helicopter right now. He'd have to invent them someday.

Seventeen minutes later, he was standing over her bed, caressing her hand. I'm so sorry, sis. This is my fault. What an idiot I've been.

The doctor said that she had been hit by a shipping container being loaded onto a ship by a crane. She was lucky to be alive. The container had knocked her off the dock and into the water. If a worker hadn't witnessed the whole event, she would have drowned. It would be a few days until they could give a proper prognosis.

He sat by her side that night into the following day without eating or sleeping. Why was she even here in this backwards province? Weren't there others who could do the work she does? Was it worth it? Really? In the end? Giving and risking her life for people who don't care and don't listen. Who don't return any of the charity and acceptance and love that she unconditionally gives them. God, if You're really in control, what are You doing? Wasn't this supposed to be a paradise? No suffering? No pain?

He listened. The regular beep from her heart monitor was the only answer he perceived. If he was honest, he didn't want an answer. Not from God anyway.

He didn't understand that the beep was the answer. God is in control. God sustains all things. God has a plan.

A knock on the open door of her room brought Gryphon back to reality. A tan, muscular man in a white, collared shirt and beige pants blocked the light from the hall. "How is she?" the man said, taking a step forward.

"They don't know," Gryphon reported, standing slowly after sitting on a wooden chair all night. He extended his hand. "I'm Gryphon, Oni's brother." As they clasped hands, the man's sleeve slid back a few centimeters to reveal faded blue ink on his arm. "You must be Señor Lima."

"Yes, Sir. Hector Lima. Sorry to intrude. I am Miss Onastasia's colleague."

"No intrusion at all. She speaks very highly of you." Gryphon sat on the edge of the bed. "You look tired. Long trip from Antioch?"

"Yes, I arrived in Wittenberg this morning. It has taken me the better part of three hours to track her down." Hector sat in a chair across the bed from Gryphon. They both looked at Oni in silence for nearly a minute. "Do you know what happened to her? The nurse said she was in some kind of accident."

Gryphon breathed out a long sigh. "Wrong place. Wrong time. Down at the docks. Knocked into the water by some equipment."

Hector stared at the floor, squinting. "How terrible! May I ask what she was doing there?"

"I—" The question hit him like a punch to his stomach. Gryphon cleared his throat. "I... Um. It was her stupid, self-absorbed brother." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He held his head in his hands. "We were on our way to lunch yesterday, and I dropped her off there. To take... um... a business call. I can't believe I just—" He let out a fierce, hissing breath. "It's a nightmare."

"Do not punish yourself. Surely you did not mean her harm. It was an accident." Hector stood and removed his cloak and draped it over the back of his chair. "It was no surprise to God."

Gryphon rubbed his knees with his sweaty hands. "Mr. Lima, we've only known each other five minutes. I don't need to hear your advice or your worldview right now." He stood and started pacing.

Hector held his tongue. More awkward seconds passed. "I am hungry from my journey. Would you tell me where to find some food?"

"You know what, Hector? I'll go get us something." Gryphon walked out without another word.

Hector sighed. He crossed to Oni's bed, knelt beside it, and carefully placed her dormant hand in his. Her nose and mouth were covered by a breathing mask; her hair was matted against her face and pillow. Ten minutes later, Gryphon returned to find him praying.

The two men ate some soup and drank some flavorless coffee. Gryphon gathered the dishes and placed them on a tray in the hall.

"Why did you choose to say this was no surprise to God? It wasn't received as comforting or encouraging."

"I must preface with this, that if I answer, my worldview, and possibly some advice, might be expressed." Hector warned, then smiled.

"I'm ready."

"Tell me about your father," Hector folded his hands.

"My father?" Gryphon's whole body tensed. "What's he got to do with this?"

"Well, from what Oni has told me of him, his life is a good example of my point about God and surprises." When he wasn't speaking, Hector prayed silently.

"Ok. Let's see. He's older than dirt."

They both smiled. "How about his life before the Return?"

Gryphon closed his eyes. "He doesn't talk about it much. He was a real prodigal before the Jake, and, during it, he tried his best to keep his head down."

"The Jake?" Hector inquired.

"Yeah. It's short for Jacob's trouble; what we call the Tribulation."

Hector kept his voice even. "Your sister mentioned he had a girlfriend. An extended family he loved. An amazing career. Then a month before the Return, his girlfriend leaves him. God saves him. He spends weeks running, hiding, starving. Betrayed by everyone he knows. Everything is stripped away from him except Christ. Then he wakes up in this world, and slowly, over the years and decades, God richly blessed him with ministry, a loving wife, and children, including you."

Gryphon scoffed."I'm not much of a blessing."

"With all due respect, this isn't about you."

Gryphon was on his feet again. "Look, I know you think you're trying to help and all, but this isn't a good time for a lecture or a Bible study. That's my sister laying there, fighting for her life!"

"This isn't ultimately about her either."

A nurse entered the room. "There are other patients that are trying to sleep, gentlemen. If you can't lower your voices, I will have to ask you to leave." Her stern gaze locked on Gryphon even as she left.

Gryphon found his chair again. "I apologize. I'm under a great deal of stress. Well, more than usual. Let's go ahead and hear whatever point you're trying to make."

"Job said it best. The Lord gives, and the Lord takes away. Blessed be the Name of the Lord."

"Ok." Gryphon shrugged.

"It's about God. All this, your dad's life, my life, your sister's life. It's for the glory of God. Tell me, what do you do with a God who made, upholds, and is sovereign over every molecule, intention, and possibility in the universe?"

"Honestly? You run and hide." Gryphon pushed the hair from his face. "Or you stick your fingers in your ears and pretend He doesn't exist."

"Yes. Unless He is also infinitely loving and merciful." Hector held out his hands wide.

"What then? You've just made me into a pet robot."

"No. If He is in control, just, and loving, there is only one thing to do. Trust Him. Like your dad, Job lost everything. But before he gained everything back, he was able to say, 'Even if God slays me, I will still hope in Him.'"

The two men talked until Hector left for work the next morning. Four days later, Onastasia fell into a coma from which she would never wake in this life, and Gryphon sensed somewhere in his soul that he was now a runaway train, hurtling down inescapable rails.

THREE

### The Planet of Promise

15

### Baptism

### Year 232

Ezasen was never much for luggage. Since clothing didn't wear out in the Kingdom, he didn't need to pack extra shirts. But he packed two extra anyway, just for the variety. So, into his bag he placed some basic toiletries; his first-generation electronic tablet, compliments of one Doug Digby of Digby Telecom; his current sketchbook that was marked with 338 on the cover denoting the number of volumes he'd filled in two centuries; and two empty ones. Surely he wouldn't fill all three in the coming year while away.

He left the pack next to his wife's by the door of their bedroom and headed down the long hall toward the wing of the house they had added when Onastasia came home from the hospital seventy-one years before. Her condition had not altered in all that time. Her doctor had been by this morning for one final check before the family left. Ezasen entered her room reverently, still expecting to see her eyes open, greeting him with a smile.

But instead the machine companions surrounding her bed beeped rhythmically in their eternal vigil. The doctor had said at the beginning that technology wasn't far enough along to help her, and that, by the time it had caught up, she was too far gone to receive the help that was finally available.

In many ways, medicine, communication, travel, and global infrastructure were now about where they were before the Jake, at least as Ezasen recalled. The Jake was a recent, colloquial term used to describe the Tribulation, also called Jacob's Trouble. One primary difference was the complete absence of access to fossil fuels. No oil meant no gasoline. No gas meant no internal combustion engines. Progress this time around went the way of hydroelectric, because of so much more moving water present, and solar, despite the canopy of cloud that often swaddled the planet much like it did before the Flood.

Personal travel very quickly took to the air with the development of highly efficient electric motors, ultra lightweight metamaterials, and ThruCloud solar panels. No jets or rockets flew overhead, just helium-filled airships that resembled lethargic whales and darting sharks.

Ezasen was brought out of his reverie by screams of delight from children playing outside. He kissed his daughter on her forehead and knelt beside her bed and prayed.

A half hour later he walked to the back of his house where a lively picnic was winding down. Nearly all his family was there, including children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. Five of the youngest were from a grandson and wife who had died without salvation a year ago in a farming accident.

Ezasen treasured them all, and when he suggested the idea of taking some of them along on a year-long, around-the-world adventure, everyone was delighted, if not curious, as to the logistics of such an endeavor.

He assured all the parents that it would be fun as well as educational, and he would put them to work assisting him in a Kingdom ministry. His vision was to distribute Bibles and Bible portions in all the major cities of the Realm. That sealed the deal as far as permission went, and, when he mentioned the idea to Gryphon, he was overwhelmed with his son's generosity. He offered to loan him an airship and competent crew, print and supply all the literature needed, and provide lodging for their many stops. He owned hotels in nearly fifty cities.

So it was really going to happen. The day had finally come to begin the trek.

Around the perimeter of the yard, the older kids had set up a miniature train track for the younger ones. Using spare metal for rails and some old magnets to line a shallow trough in two rows between the rails, they attached more magnets on the underside of three little wooden carts. With a small-enough child or pet in each cart, the train could be pushed in joyous, up-and-down laps for hours on end.

Today, Novi, a four-year-old great-granddaughter, sat in the first car, followed by her younger sister, Nari. She held a reluctant, live Squirrel whose name Ezasen hadn't learned yet in her lap in the second car. In the third car sat their quiet but brilliant brother, Ezra. He smiled at the proprioceptive motion of the train as it was flung around the curves by their older cousin, Thad.

One turn went poorly, and everyone went tumbling onto the thick grass. Giggles and shouts of "Again, again!" blended in with singing and games of tag and ring toss. Ezra put on his best pout face and came over and tugged at Ezasen's pant leg.

"Hapa? Do you have a bandage?"

"I sure do, buddy." Ezasen picked him up and carried him into the house. The kitchen was first aid central. More than bandages, available in a variety of colors, there were fresh pecans, which, according to Ezra, often worked better than bandages. This time, he got one of each. Hapa had the touch.

Feeling sufficiently pampered, Ezra was content to sit on Ezasen's lap on the bench under the pergola and eat his pecan. "Hapa, where do magnets come from?"

"Hmm. That's a good question, little E. You know what? Thad might do a better job of explaining that to you, but Hapa's gonna try."

Ezra gave him a thumbs up.

"Well, God made some special metals that have little tiny parts called molecules. The molecules in these special metals really want to be next to other metal molecules, so when you put pieces of this special metal near each other, they slide together and don't let go."

Ezra chewed and stared.

"But that only happens when the magnets are turned a certain way. Turn one around, and suddenly the magnets slide away from each other."

"Were there magnets in the Age before?"

"Oh, yes!" Ezasen shifted the boy to his other knee. "Lots and lots of magnets."

"What else was there?"

"Well, the oceans were a lot bigger and deeper. Sometimes the sun would shine all day long. And there were many, many mountains, and, in some places, the snow would stay on the mountains all year round. There were deserts, too. Nothing but sand as far as you could see."

"Do you know what things were not there, buddy?"

"You know, Hapa."

"Jesus?"

"Right. He was in heaven."

"Dinosaurs?"

"Correct. They died out pretty early on, just after the Tower of Babel was started."

"Can we go there?"

"Nope, sorry, little E. But do you know what we're going to go do today? We're gonna go on a real Maglev train just like this one, and then we'll go on a real airship. Does that sound like fun?"

Ezra nodded, pecan molecules covering his hands, face, and hair.

***

Ezasen leaned over and kissed Thirzah on her cheek. "So, are you ready to count to nineteen all day long, every day for a year?"

She rolled her eyes and tucked her ever-present tablet into her pack. "This year-abroad idea is a crazy, wonderful thing, and I love you, but never forget that it was your idea." She smiled, kissed him back, and closed her eyes.

Ezasen watched the hills and trees whipping past. The train almost imperceptibly began to slow. They leaned into a wide left turn, and a coastline came into view. In the distance, a gleaming white city rose above the jungle like a thousand knife blades standing at attention. Then blackness. Dipping into the tunnel at 400 kilometers per hour made Ezasen jump, and it woke Thirzah.

"Sorry. Spooked by the tunnel." He looked up, and they were out of the tunnel just that fast. "We're coming up on our stop."

Antioch had become, particularly in this second age of flight, a strategic inland port. It was a distribution hub for all the rich resources of Wimmral. They pulled into a massive transportation complex that housed the airport above, train station below, and docks to the north. The family gathered their belongings and walked from the train to an escalator. One floor up and they found themselves in the glass-covered air terminal.

At the desk they were directed to the shuttle that would deliver them to their craft. As they boarded the shuttle, Ezasen couldn't help but notice its bold teal chassis and the increasingly familiar half-eagle-half-lion griffin logo he had designed for his son's growing conglomerate. In giant, white letters from stern to bow, it read: GRYPHONWORLD TOURS

Ezasen took note of the lack of space between the first two words. It bewildered him that Gryphon was beginning to think the planet was his own personal theme park.

The shuttle rose up into traffic above the terminal and wove its way east several minutes across the port to a relatively secluded platform close to the wall of towers that lined the city proper. Against that shaded chrome backdrop floated their white whale of a ship, the HTTL Lydiana, an Icarus Class airship 150 meters long and as tall as a five-story building. Its entire flat top, save a teardrop-shaped cockpit, was covered in black NanosolarFoam (NSF) panels; its rounded, white underbelly was girded with a 360 degree observation deck; and then aft, but before the minuscule twin tail fins, were housed its six silent propellers, tucked organically like round gills into the smooth hull.

The shuttle landed just long enough to allow the family to step off, then it whisked away.

Tour representatives in crisp, teal uniforms greeted Ezasen, Thirzah, and their great grandchildren and relieved them of their luggage. One of the attendants, a small young woman with bright eyes, mousy blonde hair, and the name Anikka on her badge, stepped forward holding what looked like a large empty picture frame. "Welcome. Please turn your attention to the screen for a message from our CEO."

She held the frame up, and it buzzed to life, displaying a recorded message. "Hey, Mom. Dad. Hey, kids! Just wanted to say hi before you left." Gryphon's voice crackled. "I've got my best people taking care of you on my most advanced vessel, so if you need anything—anything at all—don't hesitate to ask. And I'm just a call away, too. It's a noble thing you're setting out to do, and I'm honored to be able to help make it happen. May God protect you on your journey and bring you safely to Jerusalem. I plan to meet you there for the Feast. I love you all. Good hunting!"

His face was replaced by the Gryphon logo. Anikka switched off the frame and said, "Please follow me." She led them up the temporary ramp and onto the ship at the observation deck and joined the other passengers. "We'll be underway shortly," she remarked and left them to gaze out at the bustling cityscape.

"Excited?" Thirzah asked her husband, little Ezra asleep on her shoulder.

He was quiet for a time and sighed. "It's all so amazing, what Grif's accomplished. I was just thinking. Antioch was where Oni spent her first year away from home. It was just a stone village then. She was there when they brought electricity to the town and look at it now. 'A shining tribute to man's ingenuity,' Grif had called it once." His solemn face reflected in the thick glass. "I'm worried for them both."

"I know," she said softly, putting her spare arm around his waist. "I am, too. For Oni, that she'll give up fighting, and Gryphon, that he won't." Their eyes finally met. "But God is on His throne. If there is one thing you've taught me, my darling, it's that trust is the opposite of worry. And His love is everlasting."

"And He has a plan," they said together.

"That's like three things I've taught you," Ezasen realized. She jabbed his shoulder, and Ezra woke up.

She pulled out her tablet, and she and Ezra began reviewing his lesson on metric time. "How many hours are there in a day?"

"Ten."

"Good job, Ezra! And how many minutes are in each hour?"

"A hundred?"

"That's right! Way to go, Kiddo!"

Ezasen listened. Each metric minute was about 84 seconds long from his life before the Return. He had spent decades having to convert each time it came up. Now it seemed foreign to him to think of twenty-four hour days and hours made up of sixty minutes.

The soft hum of the engines grew slightly louder, and the platform outside crept away.

A myriad of centuries later, more than a million souls would still be celebrating this day.

Antioch quickly vanished behind a grove of opulent redwoods. All eyes turned as a polished, well-built man with a military air and posture entered the observation deck from the bridge. "Ladies and gentlemen, good morning and welcome aboard the HTTL Lydiana. I am Captain James Fireknife. On behalf of my crew and staff, it will be a pleasure to serve each of you during our voyage together. I look forward to making your better acquaintance over the coming year. Let me introduce you to some members of your senior staff."

A man and two women, all in uniform, joined him. He motioned to them one by one as he presented them. "Your chief medical officer, Dr. Koriander Townsend, from Iconium." A tall woman with auburn hair and blue eyes nodded. "Your chief engineer, Willius Dray, from Capa, in Teops." A slender man with large shoulders and deep, black eyes raised his hand. "And your communications specialist, Dr. Zaliana Messer, from Wittenberg, in Byttgrym." The second woman flashed a quick smile. She looked the part with a headset snug in her bleached blonde hair.

The Captain continued. "Your helmsman, Tor Kirlonsyn, from Am Ende in Byttgrym, for obvious reasons, can't be with us at the moment." The passengers chuckled. "And your Science Liaison, Dr Muramaja, from Toma, in Phirzad, will be joining us later in the journey. You've already met Nurse Anikka Stronius and any of our seven other crew members are at your service."

All but Captain Fireknife turned to leave. "Once again, welcome aboard."

Ezasen caught his eye as the passengers began mingling. He could see a hint of the teenager he once knew, mainly in those curious eyes, but a question nagged at his mind. Was Jim Fireknife ever brought into the secret that he and his father had protected for centuries. "Good to see you again, Captain," Ezasen said, shaking his hand vigorously. "It's been a while."

"A pleasure, sir." Fireknife smiled. "I think 218 years is too long."

"Indeed. How are your parents and sister?"

The Captain's face grew grim. "My father was translated nine years ago. He's in Jerusalem."

"It's a glorious, wonderful thing, but there's still a loss, isn't there? For the brief time I knew him, I found him faithful."

"Very true. Let's see. My mom still lives in Maze Springs, and Louise is married and lives nearby in Mosasaur. Well, of course, you'll remember our little adventure during your month with us. That was the beginning of the end of our quiet, secluded life. It was like a gold rush, only for bones. The whole region exploded in tourism and science. The first university west of Egypt started just eighteen years later, right at the base of that cliff with the crevice."

"I know. I know. I've kept an eye on news from the region all along," Ezasen added. "I'll let you get back to your duties. I'm sure we'll have time to connect again on the way."

It seemed that the Captain was still in the dark about the fate of the nuclear warhead he had discovered inside the dinosaur. Ezasen sighed with relief.

"Thank you, Ezasen. Again, so good to see you."

16

### Thistledown

Their stop in Meda was brief.

It was Wimrall's southernmost city and a thriving metropolis. Situated in the midst of four lakes, Meda was by far the most tropical of the regions Ezasen had ever visited, even compared to Egypt. The lakes themselves were shallow and rimmed with white sand beaches and coconut palms. The forests surrounding them were thick and hundreds of meters tall.

Consequently, much of the city was built vertically in the form of towers that rivaled neighboring trees in height. The airport was not much more than the tops of seven of these towers connected by thin bridges in a hexagon, with the seventh in the middle. This center tower housed the control facility and boasted a spire that pushed up to double its height.

It was upon one of these perimeter platforms that the Lydiana settled silently. Waiting was a solitary dark man with a single large duffle at his feet. Ezasen sat reading a book to Ezra,but paused to watch from the observation deck as the figure walked briskly toward the ship and disappeared under the hull. A few seconds later, they were airborne again and pivoting to starboard to continue their voyage south.

Since his encounter with the angel called Kalos, Ezasen had never been so far from his home in Copper Falls. Soon they would cross the border into Galileus, a relatively uninhabited region in the southern hemisphere that was known for its rich mineral deposits and excellent coffee. Their first ports of call were to be the twin cities of Poiema and Propempo, where they were scheduled to stay two weeks.

***

Thirzah led the way into the small but clean hotel in downtown Poiema that the family was about to completely occupy. She was indeed getting very good at counting to nineteen, and she did so as all the children filed into the lobby from the balcony where the ship's runabout had dropped them.

On the curved wall was a colorful mural depicting a white horse and its Rider, with bright rays of light illuminating golden clouds. Behind the horse were a myriad of souls in white robes. On the thigh of the Rider was written King of kings and Lord of lords.

The kind-faced, black-haired woman behind the reception desk stood and smiled graciously. "Grace to you and peace in the name of Jesus. We are so glad you're here. Welcome to the Caballo Blanco."

Ezasen and Thirzah were taken aback by the formal, almost archaic salutation. They glanced at each other and decided to roll with it. Thirzah replied, "His righteousness and justice never sleep."

"Thank you for the warm welcome and for accommodating our large family. We can't wait to get settled then explore your amazing city!" Ezasen added.

"Excellent." She smiled warmly and winked at the children, who marveled at all things new and different. "My name is Amelia. I will show you each to your rooms. Please follow me."

In the lobby stood the stranger Ezasen had seen at the airport in Meda. He was of southern Indian complexion, perhaps from Goa or Bangalore, with a strong, chiseled jaw and wavy black hair that reached his shoulders. His kurta and trousers were grey, and he wore a matching sharp fedora. Around his neck hung a leather-andbead necklace with a curved claw or tooth at its base. His hands were in his pockets, and he was admiring the mural of the White Horse.

"It bears a striking resemblance to the actual event. Excuse me, I don't believe we've met."

"Mr. Ezasen, of course," the professor said in a British Bangalore accent. "Grace and peace. I have heard many good things about you. I am Professor Muramaja."

"Jesus is King," Ezasen replied. They shook hands and were instant brothers. He looked at the mural again, trying to see it with new eyes. "Were you there?"

"No. No, at that particular moment I was huddled in a crate in Jaipur with my two daughters. We had nothing left, and we were being hunted by the Beast's drones. We were watching live coverage on my phone when the electromagnetic pulse hit."

A hand tugged at Ezasen's leg. It was Ezra, his big brown eyes reminding him that the family was waiting.

Ezasen excused himself, and the professor agreed to connect later.

The hotel was a saucer built on a toothpick. Amelia had assigned the children nine of the ten rooms on the saucer level, just below the balcony. Each suite had ample room for two or three kids and a nice view of the bustling city, but not spectacular. Many of the buildings around the hotel were much taller. The children were glad to be on their own and done with forced marches for a while.

At last ,Amelia led the patriarch and matriarch down one more level into the stem of the mushroom to a suite that had a 180 degree view of the hotel's private courtyard. The windows were angled down, and the room was insulated for sound. They relaxed for an hour then collected the children to take them into the city for the evening.

One of the runabouts from the Lydiana fetched them and descended smoothly down through the highrise-lined streets to the bay. The city lights reflected off the canopy of clouds and lit the crystal clear water. Boats and skiffs of every kind and size glided around the bay all evening. Music with strong Latin roots played while they enjoyed some of the best and spiciest food they had ever tasted.

The following day, the family toured all over Poiema visiting government buildings, museums, parks, some markets where they purchased local clothing, and an open air concert. When Ezasen and Thirzah felt it was time, they headed back to the hotel. The children would have continued nonstop for days.

The next four days were all business. They met up with twenty leaders and students from three local Bible schools and formed teams to distribute Gospels of John in the most densely populated neighborhoods.

"I wanted to tell you why we are so pleased to have you with us this week," young Antonio said in front of the group as they sat on the grass in an elevated park above levels of integrated green spaces. "The story of my conversion and the beginning of this ministry really starts two centuries ago. Señor Ezasen here was traveling from Iconium to Copper Falls when he encountered a troubled teenager named Bernardo." He smiled as Ezasen's eyes slowly widened. "Señor shared the gospel with him, but he threw his literature on the fire. Señor pursued him, out of his way, for a week urging him to bow the knee to Jesus. Finally, God softened his heart, and he was washed of his sins. Ladies and gentlemen, Bernardo is my grandfather." Applause erupted and many had kind words to say to Ezasen. He was humbled and praised God. The teachers and students sang a hymn in Spanish.

Antonio continued. "I know we are all eager to begin our day, but I wanted to share an anonymous ancient text that my grandfather told me often when I was just a niño. It is called The Thistledown."

The life is not in the sower, but in the seed. Even if an infidel scattered the Scriptures, he would only be exploding his own battlements. For in scattering divine literature, we liberate thistledown, laden with precious seed, which, blown by the winds of the Spirit, floats over the world.

The printed page never flinches, never shows cowardice; it is never tempted to compromise; it never tires, never grows disheartened; it travels cheaply, and requires no hired hall; it works while we sleep; it never loses its temper; and it works long after we are dead.

The printed page is a visitor which gets inside the home, and stays there; it always catches a man in the right mood, for it speaks to him only when he is reading it; it always sticks to what it has said, and never answers back; and it is bait left permanently in the pool.

The printed page is deathless: you can destroy one, but the press can reproduce millions; as often as it is martyred, it is raised.

The ripple started by a given tract can widen down the centuries until it bears upon the Great White Throne.

***

Their last day in Poiema was spent resting at the hotel, either in their rooms or down in the flower-filled courtyard. Then they boarded the Lydiana for the five-hour trip east to Propempo, a canal city with a complex system of elevated and subterranean waterways. This was also the site of the Gryphon Propempo International Children's Hospital, which the family visited on their first day of touring. Many of the children said that this was their favorite city so far, mainly because their hotel room was ten meters underwater. Huge, floor-to-ceiling viewing ports allowed them to see amazing sea creatures. The marine petting zoo was a big hit as well.

Propempo was a world class center for science, medicine, and research. The family's days of literature distribution included handing out Gospels of Luke and giving their testimonies at the university.

They planned to follow this same schedule of touring, distribution, and resting for all thirty-two cities they were to visit that year.

***

The man on the stage in the center of the city called Cloud was excellently dressed, and his hair was perfectly styled. He spoke with a smooth, comforting voice that drew his listeners in. "It's time we moved on, love." Thirzah tugged on Ezasen's sleeve and started herding the children back to the runabout. "Sounds like he's just trying to sell us something."

"Right behind you." Ezasen placed his last Gospel of Luke on the corner of the stage, picked up the three smallest kids, and started nudging through the crowd. Once they were all aboard and underway, he leaned back against his wife's shoulder and closed his eyes. "So curious. I haven't heard that kind of deception and manipulation since the Jake."

"What? There were street vendors pushing self-cleaning robot vacuum cleaners back then, too?" she asked, keeping it lighthearted.

"Well, yeah, but everything was that way. Everything you saw; everything you heard. Every message was subtle and was said only to benefit the sender."

"A sign of the times, perhaps? You've said yourself that sin is still very much present in this paradise."

As the evening started to fade, he finally looked up at her, then out toward Cloud's glistening skyline. "Makes me a little sad. The world is forgetting again."

***

Because of some unforeseen changes to their schedule, the family's last day in Cloud was touring day. So with all of the literature handed out, they started their investigation of the city by heading north into Lakeside.

Cloud was affectionately split in two distinct halves, divided, and brought together by a bridge of gargantuan proportion. In fact, a significant percentage of the population dwelt on the bridge itself. It was five kilometers long and one hundred meters wide, and the peak of its organically-curved arch was three kilometers above a set of seven raging waterfalls.

To the north lay a sizable lake. To the south, owning well the name of Seaside, was a long fjord that led to the great Southern Ocean. The unique topography of the region, including the funnel shape of the fjord, paired with the marine layer, formed the perfect environment to support steady winds at altitude strong enough to be harnessed to produce energy. Lining the underside of the bridge were thousands of integrated, vertical axis, MagLev wind turbines that produced enough energy to offset the city's grid by a sizable percentage.

The top of the bridge was covered in hundreds of white domes of various sizes. Along its spine were three streets in parallel. The main one carried motor and other vehicle traffic, while the two side streets were strictly for pedestrian use. The family could have spent a week ducking in and out of shops, eateries, galleries and markets. But they only had a few hours, so it was more of a brisk jog. The runabout had dropped them off on the west end and picked them up at the east.

This was actually the second time they had seen many of the shop owners and commuters. They had handed out literature all over the bridge all week. Naturally, they received a mix of thanks and spurious looks from the citizenry. One gritty man with a long face and bushy eyebrows stopped them in the street and lamented, "Oh, that I could go back and never hear the words of that maddening book! It sounded so sweet going into my ears, but like honey those words have stuck to my soul. Like leeches feeding on my conscience day and night. I scratch at them through the bars of my guilt. This world would be paradise without the Bible and its Messiah." The family prayed with this man for nearly an hour but sadly he blended into the crowd, and they never saw him again.

Once back aboard the Lydiana, Thirzah requested that their itinerary be adjusted so that touring should always be after distribution. This way they could follow up personally with some of the people in addition to connecting them with local believers.

17

### Gravity

Every passenger was present on the observation deck as the ship glided out over the fjord and over the perfectly transparent waves as she said goodbye to land and greeted the deeper, bluer ocean to the south. Almost immediately, they were welcomed by dolphins and pilot whales jumping and splashing above a colorful coral reef. The children were nearing an ecstatic state, and Professor Muramaja was giving the play-by-play.

Dr. Townsend looked up from an article she was reading on her tablet and looked out the porthole of her cabin at the passing waves. It was time to check in with the senior staff, so she headed down the hall and up a steep flight of stairs toward the bridge. Coming down the cramped stairs was Thirzah, who was being guided on a tour of the ship by communications officer Messer.

"You are Mr. Ezasen's wife. I'm Dr. Townsend. Nice to meet you." She said with a smile.

"Yes. Thirzah. A pleasure," Thirzah replied. "You must be honored to be stationed on a such an amazing ship."

"I am, and I have your daughter to thank for it!" Kori said, watching her jaw drop. "Yes. It's true. I'm referring to Leelah, when we were kids together in Iconium."

Thirzah was still a little confused. "You knew Leelah? How remarkable!"

"Yep. Just a week after we met, she joined my family on an outing to see the geyser fields. There was an accident, and my sister was injured. It was that day that I decided to become a doctor.

***

About an hour into the marine life encounter, the Lydiana came upon an atoll at the edge of an expansive but shallower reef. It was a popular attraction among adventurers, and the crew had stopped here on each of their previous three tours. The atoll itself was a complete arrowhead-shaped ring about a kilometer across, covered in white sand, palms, and ferns. The closer the ship approached, the shallower and clearer the water became. Chair-sized angelfish, sofa-sized otters, and house-sized hammerheads patrolled the perimeter munching on kelp and reeds.

The water inside the ring was darker and deeper, but even the children surmised there must be some underwater passage between the ocean and the interior bay because it, too, was teaming with life. Playful dolphins and sea lions were pushing a piece of driftwood back and forth like in some strange animal version of water polo, and a flock of puffins was lining up to high dive off the low-hanging trunk of a palm tree.

The island was called Jonathan's Arrow. The ship hovered over the southern beach while two crew members tethered it to three thick steel rings that had been encased in buried foundations of concrete decades before. Once secured, passengers and crew alike spilled onto the sand and fanned out over the atoll, never out of earshot of the professor and his fact-filled monologue.

Thirzah had a blanket under one arm and a bottle of Ezasen's favorite nectar tea in her hand as she led him stealthily through the undergrowth to the inner coast of the Arrow. They had to grab every opportunity for privacy and romance they could, especially considering they had had at least one young person living with them their entire marriage.

"Perfect spot. Right there," Ezasen said, now doing the pulling. They threw the blanket down and spread it out. "I noticed you took me clockwise around the island whereas the majority of the group followed Muramaja as he headed counterclockwise." He was drawing circles in the air. "Very strategic."

"I'm amazing like that," she said, settling down next to her husband and removing the bottle's lid to pour the drinks.

"Yes. You are!"

"Oh no!" Her eyes and hands searched all around. "I forgot cups!"

"It's wonderful anyway! Bottoms up!" They each sipped from the bottle. "Happy two hundredth, darling."

"Thank you. Wait. Isn't it our two hundred fourth?"

"Well, yes. Officially. But I started planning this trip before our 200th, so that's what we're celebrating. Oh, good. We're not alone after all."

Thirzah looked, and furtively creeping toward them was a rockhopper penguin with its flashy red and yellow head feathers that shot up from just above his dark, curious eyes.

"Ah. He's cute."

"And that ends the romantic getaway."

They took another hour and talked and strolled on the beach and watched the animals play. The sunlight danced on large palm branches, and a cooling breeze curled around jumbles of smooth, grey boulders. Eventually the biology brigade circled around to them, and they listened to story after story of the fascinating things each child had seen.

The couple held hands as they led the troupe back to the ship.

***

The eleventh day at sea seemed to drag on. There weren't many sightings of exotic animals or curious atolls. It was also an especially hot day, so the windows on the observation deck were opened a crack to let some fresh, moving air into the ship.

Ezra had wandered off from the towering cluster of brothers, sisters, and cousins on the observation deck. He wanted to see more real whales and birds, not just stare at some pictures on a screen.

He climbed down from the main flooring to the lounge chairs next to the windows. Travel over the rough terrain of the hammock-style chairs was difficult and took some time, but it was worth it. Because of the curvature of the ship's hull, the windows themselves were slanted 60 degrees from vertical. That meant it was easy to lay on the glass with his feet on the sill, giving him an unrestricted view of the blue gray waves below. Surely using this method he could spot some proper wildlife, maybe even discover some brand new animal. That would be a nice present for his fourth Conception Day coming up next week.

As he relished the ever-changing swells, he sang his way through the months of the year. "Jaspar, Zafire, Kalsodon, Emerald, Onyx, Sardius, Peridot, Beryl, Topaz, Zilica, Jacinth, and Amithus." He was also teaching himself to whistle.

The deck was the coolest place on the ship, so it was slowly filling with passengers. Out of the corner of her eye, Thirzah caught the group of children gathered around the professor's screen and smiled with thankfulness and satisfaction. Then she spotted Ezasen talking to the captain. Did he have Ezra?

She couldn't quite tell between the mingling crowds. She had better check. She moved slowly, excusing herself as she went. When she was about halfway to her husband she saw a little boy lying right on the window with his head out the crack. Was that Ezra? Was he being held there?

"Ezra!" she screamed and started knocking people over to get to him. He was now out the window to his waist. Ezasen was closer and instantly went into rescue mode. He and the captain flew toward the window, tripping on the hammock. Ezasen landed on the pane just as Ezra fell free of the ship and out of sight. A moment later, the captain crashed awkwardly into Ezasen, causing the glass itself to unhinge. Out went Ezasen. The captain grabbed his foot but couldn't hold on.

It turned out to be a strange sensation, falling for those few seconds toward this endless blue wall. Just before he hit the waves himself, Ezasen saw Ezra's entry splash, then everything was froth and bubbles while he found which way was up. His great grandson couldn't be far.

Before Ezasen even came up for air, he spotted the tiny body about forty meters off and started swimming, desperate for some infusion of speed or strength. He had swum in lakes and rivers, but the open ocean had strong currents and intimidating swells. Each time his head went under, he would correct his course toward Ezra. Each time his head came up, he saw the Lydiana turning around, then coming nearer, then finally deploying one of the runabouts.

When he went under again, he saw what seemed to him to be a part of the ocean floor rising up to meet the child. Rippling light danced on the dark shape. It was under Ezasen now. He was a couple strokes from Ezra when it broke the churning surface, sending swirls of water rushing in all directions.

Ezasen grabbed Ezra and held him close. He was crying, which meant breathing. Relieved, he sat up, touching one hand to the rubbery island. It wasn't sand. It moved and flexed as if it were alive. The runabout arrived, and Dr. Townsend helped them up through the bottom hatch. She examined Ezra as they lifted away toward the ship. Ezasen peered over his shoulder back down at the ocean, and his aquatic angel came into full view. The helpful manta ray, with wings longer than a school bus, sank without further consideration into the depths.

"He's a little water-logged and scared, but no worse for wear," the doctor said. "Grace of God."

Emotions were mixed when they were safely back on board the ship. Most were just relieved that no one was hurt. Others scowled and thought it was foolish to bring a toddler on such a trip in the first place, much less let him wander around the ship unattended.

Thirzah was a mess for the rest of the day, but she was ready to talk about it with Ezasen as they settled into bed that night.

"How many times can I say I'm sorry?" His tone was soft and calm as he lay his head on the pillow and covered his face with his arms.

"I know. I know. It's just as much my fault." She sat cross-legged on the bed. "The whole thing stresses me out. Ezra could have died today. You could have died." She put her hands in his. He sat up, and she cried on his shoulder.

"It's over. God kept us safe. Please forgive me." Ezasen kissed her head.

She wiped her eyes, breathing slowly. "Please forgive me, too. From now on, we need to be diligent to keep him close."

"Absolutely. I love you." They stood and hugged again.

Thirzah pinned her thick hair behind her. "I love you. Let me just check on him and then we can head to bed."

There was a discernible extra level of joy and thankfulness as the crew and passengers gathered a week later to celebrate Ezra's fourth Conception Day, and all on board vowed to keep an eye on Ezra. Captain Fireknife ended the festivities by addressing the crowd.

"Ezra's adventure reminded me of a misconception I had as a child. I saw salvation like a rescue at sea. I'm there floating in the water, crying for help, flailing my arms, trying to keep my head above the waves. When, suddenly, there is Jesus in a boat, and He's throwing a life preserver to me. I could swim to shore, although I don't know how far it is, so I gladly receive the help from Jesus. He saves me. He's my Savior.

"My father later explained it to me differently. He said that I was instead a corpse, lying at the bottom of the ocean. Lifeless, motionless, totally unaware of my circumstances, unable to swim or call for help, ignorant of my need to be saved. But then God, when I am dead, reaches down and gives me life and the ability to see my predicament. I can now see my need and respond with the faith He has given me.

"The first picture puts salvation in my hands; the second in God's. That was the night I was transformed. I was transferred from death to spiritual life. Rescued from my ignorance, sin, and helplessness. And what has been my response to Christ ever since? Thanks. Trust. Obedience. He has given me a heart that loves Him and loves others. A corpse cannot love. Paul writes to the Ephesians that we were dead in our sin, not just lost. But God, being rich in mercy, gives us life, a new birth, through His Son." He patted Ezra on the head. "Happy Conception Day, Ezra. I pray that Jesus will, someday soon, grant you new life by His grace."

***

Willius Dray spun in his chair away from his engineering control panel on the port flank of the narrow bridge. "The batteries are running hot, sir. I'm not sure what's causing it."

Fireknife checked the time automatically. "Get back there and see if you can figure it out."

"Aye, Captain." Dray disappeared aft.

The captain leaned on his armrest and stroked his chin. "Head-up display, please, Zaliana. Include telemetry and grid buoys."

She tapped a circle off to her left. "HUD loading, Captain." A cylinder of orange, projected light flickered around Fireknife wide enough to include his communications officer. Course, speed, wind, altitude, radar, and position were displayed, along with a virtual 360-degree view outside the ship. All was calm, and no other ships were in the vicinity.

"Helm. Report."

"All parameters normal save the battery temp, sir." Tor sat forward and above the main bridge compartment peering out the cockpit. This glass bubble was the only part of the ship above the solar deck. He had a smaller version of the HUD cylinder hovering around his head. "Suggest we temporarily enter the cloud canopy and open the vents to cool things down. It could give Dray some time."

"Did you copy that, Will?" The captain asked.

"Aye, that," came the engineer's voice over the comm. "It's as good a plan as any right now. I don't want to risk a swim just yet."

"Take us upstairs, Tor."

That's all it took. The Lydiana began to climb and climb. Their cruising altitude was modest, but tonight the clouds started at one kilometer and reached as high as thirteen. Since it was well after midnight, most of the passengers were asleep. The emergency maneuvers were so silent and subtle that most of the guests who were awake made no note of the event.

Thaddeus and Claire, Ezasen's oldest attending charges, sat alone in two of the hammock seats on the observation deck wrestling with homework. Thad, at fourteen, was contemplating a bit of particle physics for a paper he was writing. His time abroad with family didn't mean he could take a year off from school. Claire, seventeen and Thad's cousin, was the musical one. She was composing a string concerto on her tablet and had earphones stuck to her red hair.

Claire was thus oblivious to all around her until she saw Thad stand up out of the corner of her eye. He was intrigued by something out the window. She instinctively turned and saw soupy clouds whipping past them. It was so dense and moist that streaks and rivulets of water were running sideways along the glass. Neither of them had really ever seen anything like it.

"Is that like a storm?" she whispered after removing her headphones and daring to touch the glass. "It's beautiful."

Thad put one hand on his hip and held his chin with the other. "Maybe?" Out came his tablet and he was thumbing through several news and weather sources. "There weren't any systems in the area when I last checked." A few more taps. "And none now. I wonder what our altitude is." He immediately started walking toward the door at the forward end of the room.

"Where are you going?" Claire's whisper was louder. "I'm pretty sure we're not allowed on the bridge."

Her cousin stopped and turned. "What makes you say that?"

"Maybe the sign on the door that says No Dorks Named Thad. No. Seriously. It says Crew Members Only." Claire was standing now, too. "It's just common sense, and, besides, there's probably just the one guy up there, and he's busy flying the plane."

"Ok. First of all, you are so busted for calling me a dork. Secondly, this is an airship, not a plane. And, lastly, I don't intend to enter the bridge. I'm just going to knock." Thad returned to his previous heading toward the door, and Claire caught up with him.

"Fine," she hissed. "But let me do the talking."

"Oh, this I gotta see."

Zaliana heard a faint knocking somewhere below deck. "Who would be up at this hour?" she wondered, then stood to investigate when she got a nod from the captain. She took the ladder down four decks, past the passenger suites to the OD. There was the knocking again. She straightened her top and collar, put on her most authoritative face, and slid the door open. Two teenagers stood there looking sheepish or guilty. She couldn't decide. "May I help you?"

The nervous girl with freckles spoke first. "I am so sorry to bother you, ma'am. My undernourished cousin here saw the storm outside and wanted to ask what our attitude was. I mean altitude." She smiled a forced smile then stared at the floor. The boy just looked embarrassed to be seen with her.

"It is no bother," Zaliana said, trying to keep a straight face. "Your cousin is very wise to suspect a storm, but alas, it is no storm. We have merely maneuvered the ship into the cloud canopy temporarily. You may return to your quarters. We will let everyone know if anything of import occurs the rest of the night. Thank you."

The children were speechless but evidently satisfied by her answer, so she slid the door closed and returned to her post.

Thad and Claire shoved and slapped each other on the way back to their seats. "Ow. Stop." Claire plopped down and reached for her headphones. Thad had a sly grin that he couldn't get rid of. Finally, she asked, "What?"

He leaned back and folded his hands behind his mess of brown, wavy hair. "The cute communications officer thinks I'm wise." A cushion hit him square in the face.

Then his pocket beeped. "Is it getting cold in here?"

Another knock on the door.

Zaliana opened it a second time. "Yes?"

This time the boy spoke. "Um, did you know there's a solar flare going on?"

Now she was actually impressed. "No. No, I didn't. Thank you, Thaddeus, is it? That is helpful." She closed the door, already working through the implications of such news on her way back to the bridge.

"Solar flare, sir." She said sitting down at her station and adding astrometrics as a layer to the HUD.

Dray walked back in. "Did you say solar flare?" He leaned over his console, checking figures. "That's it. That's what's causing the spike. The panels are getting an overdose of radiation, and it's overtaxing the batteries. Disengaging solar array, Captain."

A beeping with warning lights flashed around them. Tor yelled down from the cockpit. "We're approaching the top of the canopy, Captain. Permission to open vents?"

Fireknife's voice was steady. "Granted. But let's not stay up here too long. The passengers are going to get frostbite in their sleep."

"Aye, sir. Venting battery compartment." Tor said and tapped his screen.

Meanwhile, down on the observation deck, the children had their tablets out filming the most beautiful site of their short lives. The top of the canopy that encased this corner of the planet lay out in all directions like a mattress of white silk. Thousands upon thousands of twinkling stars shimmered as if on fire, and the silent moon hung like a giant silver disk just above the horizon. There was nothing to say until they both recalled Psalm nineteen.

The next morning everyone was talking about how cold it had been overnight. Anikka, the nurse and self-proclaimed morale officer, made the rounds informing each passenger that after breakfast the captain himself would address the group.

"We've had to make an emergency stop. First, let me assure you that the ship and all aboard are in no danger. Second, I will give you some background that will help you understand our situation. Approximately two hours after midnight this morning, we experienced the effects of a rare, but powerful, solar flare.

It caused our batteries to overheat. We went into the cloud canopy to cool them, and that caused the temperature on the ship to go down temporarily. As you can see, we've stopped the ship and are still diagnosing the battery problem. Now, thirdly, our current position is very close to the South Pole, which means we are about halfway between our last stop, Cloud, and our next stop, the city of Throne, in Australia. It would take just as long to go back as it would to go forward.

As soon as Chief Engineer Dray determines that it is okay to move again, we will launch the runabout and tow the ship to the coast of Teops for repairs. The runabout's top speed is faster than that of the ship, but towing her will slow things down.

This will mean we will have to skip some of the cities we planned to visit in order to make it to Jerusalem in time for the Feast. My apologies for the delay. Your safety is our number one concern. We will keep you updated as more information becomes available. Thank you."

18

### Mammals

"Let's head this way. Here's where it gets interesting." Professor Muramaja had just spotted a massive cousin of the rhino grazing over the next ridge. The children followed him through a hedge of rooibos and crouched down in the tall grass. "It's called Titanotherium and was thought to be extinct."

His pupils nodded.

"Look at that!"

"Whoa!"

"Cool!"

"Looks like she's about four meters at the shoulder. Notice the large wishbone-shaped horn on her snout. Before the Return, it was used for defense, but today she uses it to push trees down to reach the leaves. What should we call her?"

"Bill!" One of the children shouted.

Muramaja smiled and looked everyone in the eyes in turn."That's not a girl's name."

"Ethel?" Claire couldn't help but roll her eyes at this whole excursion.

"Ethel it is. What does she eat? Can anyone tell me?"

"Leaves!"

"Trees?"

"Rocks!"

"Just leaves, primarily. Thank you. Now. You're all familiar with the concept of evolution, right? How one kind of animal slowly turned into another kind through chance. Well, what have you learned was the most important idea in evolution? What was the lynchpin that all the other ideas hinged on for it to be true?"

"Additional genetic information," stated Thad.

"Yes, Thad. Tell me more."

"Well, in tested reality, genetic mutations always denote a loss of information. Never a gain. There is no new information in nature. For evolution to be plausible, mutations would have to gain information in order to develop more complex life forms."

"Correct. No one has ever observed additional genetic information in living things. God created all matter, and then he stopped creating. So our conclusion must be? Right. Evolution was a myth. A fantasy invented by man in hopes of eliminating our awareness of our need for a creator, sustainer, and savior. To somehow absolve us of our guilt before—and accountability to—a perfect, holy God who judges sin."

"Now. Who can tell me the name of that tree?"

Tor tapped the professor on the shoulder. "It's been just about three hours, sir. We should probably be heading back."

"Yes. Thank you, Tor. And thanks for taking us out. I think it did the children good to stretch their legs a little."

"My pleasure. Thanks for sharing your expertise and passion."

The professor smiled and nodded, then turned to round up the kids. The group headed northeast back toward where they had tethered the runabout to a tree. They spotted it while still a ways off, but something was horribly wrong. The runabout was moving, slowly, like a child's balloon bobbing along above the crowd at a street fair.

"What in the Realm?" Tor wondered out loud.

The professor needed some young leadership fast. "Mister Thad. Miss Claire. Look after the others."

Without further words, Tor and the Professor took off running after the wayward ship. They sprinted through meadows filled with antelope, bounded over rocks and crags, and finally caught up to the culprit.

Tor almost ran past the animal but banked off a tree. He stood there puzzled. "Is that a... pig?"

"No, it's a tapir. Barylambda, I think." The black-and-whitesnouted tapir saw the two men and assumed they wanted to play. Off it darted with the tether in its mouth. Some twenty minutes later they cornered it at the end of a shallow ravine.

"Game over, little one." The professor announced as he wrested the rope from the disappointed animal and handed it to Tor. "Well played." He scratched it behind its ears. "Well played." He smacked the tapir on its rump, and it trotted away obediently.

Tor reeled in the runabout and examined it for any damage. Aside from a few dents from bouncing off tree trunks and being covered in leaves, twigs, and a few bananas, it was in pretty good shape. They climbed in and headed back to pick up the kids. While Tor steered, the professor bailed out the flora. "What a mess! Can't we just turn it over and shake it?" He looked at Tor and got the disapproving look he was expecting.

A minute later they were hovering over the spot where they left the children. "This is not good," Tor said, turning the agile ship to the south.

"Maybe they headed back toward the Lydiana. We were gone for nearly an hour."

"True." Tor increased their altitude and sped off toward the coast.

"Hey. What's that? Slow down." The professor pointed, and Tor complied.

"Looks like that rhinoceros we saw earlier." Tor said. "Wait a second. No. I don't believe it! Look!"

It was Ethel the Titanotherium jogging south at a pretty good pace, and, on her back, holding on to her tough hide and to each other, were all eight children who had come on the safari. Thad was out front straddling the great beast's head like a warrior charging into battle. It was at that moment that the professor remembered Ezasen's final instructions to him before they left: "Don't bring back any pets!"

***

Ezasen and Thirzah sat with Ezra at a cozy table outside a sleepy café. The seaside village of Afwango boasted exactly two cafés: one here and one just two streets down the coast. This one had the better view and, according to local sources, the better tea-flavored ice cream. They boiled plentiful rooibos leaves in the cream then removed them before adding cane sugar and vanilla.

The reviews were in, and Ezra gave hearty approval. In the interest of pure research, as any four year old must, empirical evidence was obtained from the rival establishment for comparison. He was on his second bowl. After the trauma of falling from the airship into the ocean, his great-grandparents had been going a little easy on him. They were beginning to think it was time to bring the fences of his behavioral backyard back into their previous positions.

With some of the youth on a relaxing safari with Tor and the professor, Ezasen had sent the rest with Anikka and Dr. Townsend down to the beach to work off some energy.

A flock of gyrfalcons with tremendous wingspans darted over the waves catching fish and insects to take back to their chicks in nests above the dizzying cliffs. Between scoops, Ezra peered through the clear railing at the waterfalls and waves and the older children having fun. Thirzah wiped his cheek and showed him an illustration of the sun, moon and Realm on her tablet. "How many days are there in a year, Ezra?"

"Three sixty." He answered without looking at her.

"Good. And how many days are there in a month?"

Another dripping spoonful went into his mouth. "Thirty."

"This kid is a genius." Ezasen stole a bite from Ezra's bowl. "Okay. How about the planets?"

Ezra stuck his lip out and blew his own bangs in sheer suffering. Then he had an idea. "I'll say one planet after I take a bite."

"Deal." Thirzah snapped her finger and smiled. "Give both Kingdom and classical names."

Ezra began hungrily. "Mercury is Misericord. Venus is Virtu. Earth is Realm. Mars is Demut. Jupiter is Justys. Saturn is Sanctuary. Uranus is Unthwart. Neptune is Nefesh. And Pluto is Persevere."

Ezasen clapped. "Good job. You've been working hard this year!"

Thirzah, turning off the tablet and standing to leave, smiled broadly. "He gets it from me." She placed a Gospel of John booklet on the table, and they walked to the steep, rocky stairs that led down to the cove. Each step was covered in a fine layer of sand from years of foot traffic.

Perched on his Hapa's shoulders, Ezra asked, "What time is it?"

"It is two hours after noon." Thirzah saw this as yet another teaching moment. "How many hours in a day, Ezra?"

"Metric or classical?"

Ezasen stepped down the first step, one hand on the rail, and one on Ezra's leg."Why don't you compare them both?"

"I just want to play."

"Come on, buddy. This will be our last question today."

Ezra sighed and rolled his eyes. "From twenty-four hours with sixty minutes per hour to ten hours with a hundred minutes per hour. Each metric minute is about eighty-four classical seconds long and has a hundred metric seconds."

"Way to go, Little E!" Ezasen shouted and brought the boy down for a hug. They had reached the first landing and turned to descend more.

Thirzah kissed his blonde head. "Good job, Ezra! You're doing so well!"

Just then, they heard a commotion above them in the street. Crashes and yelling preceded the body of an antelope careening over their heads and down to the crowded beach. They barely had time to assume it had been struck by a vehicle when a second and third deer came leaping to their apparent deaths. Ezasen slammed his wife and child against the cliff face. When an incredible screech stopped abruptly, a ground truck slid off the overhang and tumbled past them.

Suddenly, the falcons were pairing off and plucking the deer out of the sky and setting them safely on the sand below. One of the birds grabbed the driver of the truck and yanked him out of the free-falling vehicle before it hit the ground.

Ezasen was covered in dust and praying. In the moment he checked on Ezra, who was shocked but fine, a man slid by next to Thirzah, and she thrust out an arm. He caught it, and she pulled him onto their precarious ledge.

Dozens more deer and three more people vaulted over. By sheer divine orchestration, the falcons were fast and numerous enough to each make three or four trips to fetch whatever was hurtling toward them. Ezasen could see his family down on the beach, huddled together on a flat boulder out of harm's way. All told, forty-seven antelope, three sheep, one cat, and four humans had tumbled over the cliff. Only three deer and one sheep lost their lives.

When some quiet moments had passed, Ezasen dared to peek up over the lip of the terrace to see what had caused such chaos. Several fruit and vegetable stands, two ground cars, and a tricycle lay broken and trampled on the narrow paved road. People sat in disheveled disbelief all up and down the sidewalk in front of the café.

A Whitestone materialized and began accessing the damage to people and property. Beyond him, nibbling at a potato from a wagon, stood a mammoth pachyderm with a Y-shaped horn. Around her loitered a group of children.

Thirzah helped the small fisherman she had rescued to sit on a stone step. He kept whispering, "Thank you, thank you!"

She smiled and picked up Ezra then joined Ezasen on the street. She spotted the titanotherium and rest of the family, too, and crossed to them. The children were delirious with fright. Claire raced to her, crying rare tears, and blurted, "It was an accident! We had been riding Ethel up on that plateau. We said goodbye and, as we shooed her away, she swerved to miss a woman on the road. She broke through a hedge and right into a herd of these springbok, who bolted straight down toward the village." She finally took a breath. "This is awful! Is everyone alright?"

Ezra, whose face was caked with mud, perked up. "I'm fine. Thank you for asking, Claire. But after another such a scary adventure, I could really use some more ice cream."

***

An hour later, after talking with the authorities and counting all the children and adults, the group piled back into the freshly cleaned runabout and sailed up and over Afwango and south down the rugged coast toward Capa. The Lydiana was moored a few kilometers away. Some amazing stories were told at dinner that night, some lacking detail, some lacking accuracy, but all of them impassioned tales.

Thirzah was widely accepted as the hero of the day, and everyone was invited back to the village the following evening to attend a feast in her honor, hosted by the family of the man she had caught in mid-air. Although she was given bead necklaces, stunning tribal dresses, and handmade pottery, her favorite gift was two tickets to the local professional basketball team's game that night.

19

### Thomas and His Kin

The dry wind whipped dust and ice into Arosh's face. He urged his cow forward and tucked the rag of his headdress tighter over his nose and mouth. "Come, Prisha. It will soon be dark." The loyal but lazy beast gargled her protests but soldiered on.

A long hour later, Arosh saw the swaying lantern hanging outside his simple stone dwelling. His father must have lit it recently, for twilight was just beginning to fall. He tied Prisha to the well and saw that the trough was already filled with water right to the brim. This had taken someone hours to do. Or some magical spell had been cast. How favored his house must be this day!

He approached the rough, black goat hair drape that was his front door and pulled it aside. "Father, Prisha will dance for joy tonight, for the gods have blessed us with—"

Then he saw the three strangers sitting cross-legged in a circle on his family's old, stained, flat pillows. They wore strange, striped robes and hadn't shaved their faces in years. His eyes grew wide. His father stood and brought him fully through the doorway. "Arosh, my son. We have visitors. They indicate that they are from the far west, from beyond the mountains, but I say they are messengers of the gods. Have you ever seen skin so milky white."

Arosh unwrapped his face and removed three layers of cloaks and robes. "What is their message?"

His father wrung his hands nervously. "That is the thing, my firstborn. They made it clear they would not enlighten me alone. They insisted we wait until my entire family had arrived. Come. Sit. I must fetch Prem and Sundir. They want the servants present as well."

Arosh took his father's place and studied the men in silence. They were patient and seemed relieved to be out of the cold as they sipped hot chai. They looked to be in their late twenties. He couldn't get over their beards. It was as if they were hiding more than their chins. "Thank you for filling the trough," he said slowly, wondering how well they spoke his language, a mix of Persian and Hindi.

One of them held up a hand as if to say Wait. He then pointed to where his father had gone, then motioned around the circle. Clear enough. Arosh glanced around the room and noticed three pillows were unoccupied. Did they really want the servants to be a part of the conversation? he mused.

And then his father returned with Prem. She was the maid Arosh had a secret crush on. Then crept in Sundir, the mute stable boy. Everyone sat. The servants felt very uncomfortable being considered even for a moment on the same level as their master. They would have to be reminded several times to stay seated.

Their leader, who had done the signaling earlier, bowed his head for a long moment then spoke perfectly in Arosh's language, unfolding a most amazing and nonsensical tale about a single God that was the only God and he created everything and we had fallen out of relationship with this one God. They went on to explain that this God wanted a restored relationship with us so badly that he sacrificed his son to bring it about. There was such a ring of truth in what they were saying, but Arosh had no idea how it applied to anyone he knew.

These men stayed with them a week and answered many of his household's questions, helped with chores, ran errands, and treated the servants like siblings. They sought no benefit for themselves, nor pleasure, nor payment, nor influence over the community save their attentive ears. We learned that their leader was called Thomas. They were from a land almost as far away as Greece.

They moved into the village and wintered there. When spring came, Arosh was a believer in their God, named Jesus. He traveled and served with them all over India for the rest of his life, helped translate their holy writings, and saw many rescued from the foolishness of their gods.

***

It was the silent cacophony of fragrance that hit them first. Thad and Claire stepped out of the airport tower's elevator at ground level and suddenly they were on a busy market square in downtown Toma, in the land of Phirzad. Stall after stall of bowls with cones of powdered spices and dried vegetables filled the square, and everyone was talking. Skiffs and ground cars hurried past, and the crowds seemed to take all the chaos in stride.

Claire, always the culturally-appropriate teen, had a mission. "First order of business is to find a clothing shop. We need to blend in with the locals."

"Better find a wig store, too, then, copper locks," Thad scoffed wryly. "And a freckle removal establishment."

"Nice. Look. There's one. Come on." She pushed through the throng undaunted, crossing to a corner store with racks of sale items outside.

"Don't you know you're supposed to feed your servants?" Thad sighed heavily and followed. "I suppose I could get a new kurta." They arrived at the outdoor bargain racks. "Look at this stuff. Everybody wears these. What's the big deal?"

"You're a boy. You simply wouldn't understand." Claire gave him a glare that said you will be my slave and you will like it. "Inside, dear cousin. You're going to help me pick out a sari, a shawl, and some sandals."

"Fabulous. Oh, wait. Did my heart just skip a beat out of sheer joy? No. That was heartburn."

She flicked his ear, and they entered the shop.

Every surface of the tiny store was covered in bright, colorful fabrics. Thad put his head down and darted to the minuscule men's section. It took centuries, but trends were finally departing from the traditional white shirt and pants. He saw off-white, cream, beige, light grey, and some lavender thing that he wouldn't be caught dead wearing. But what is this material? he asked himself and started consulting tags.

Nanofibers. "Ok. Tell me more." He was now searching the term on his tablet. One article was especially helpful. It read: Nanofiber is a material that is engineered to maximize comfort, flexibility, and breathability. Nanofibers make clothing thinner, lighter, but more photovoltaic. It also is thermoelectric, so in addition to collecting energy from the sun, it absorbs your body heat and converts it to energy to power personal electronic devices. Manufacturing is cheaper.

"I think I'm in love." Thad declared out loud.

"Okay, Romeo." Claire was back with several saris draped over her shoulder. "There's something over here I think you'll be interested in." She tugged on his arm.

"Hands off, annoying female tyrant. There couldn't possib--." And then he saw her in the far corner of the shop, holding a piece of fabric up in front of a mirror. Zaliana saw him and quickly lowered the cloth and marched away. Thad couldn't help but smile. "You know what, dear Cousin? You might just be right this time."

Claire tried to focus on her shopping but found herself glancing over her shoulder at Thad and the sophisticated communications officer who seemed engrossed in meaningful dialog with each other. To her knowledge, Thad had never participated in meaningful dialog with anyone in his life. Then she experimented with looking at those shelves and racks that would give her a clear view of the happy couple. A half hour later, Claire was frustrated and ready to go and hadn't found more than one outfit she really liked. Thad, in stark contrast, was reluctant to be pulled from the store and couldn't wipe that silly grin off his face.

No sooner had they stepped out into the busy square when they heard a crack above them and a heavy, limp something smacked the stone pavement right in front of them. Claire recoiled. In the next instant, she looked up to see where it had dropped from and saw a man standing behind a broken lattice four stories up. Then the screams started from the crowd, and her attention was whipped back to the shape on the ground. It was moving. She leaned forward and now noticed hands, feet, and hair.

The man rolled over onto his back, obviously in much pain. Claire knelt beside him. He grabbed her hand and forcefully pulled her toward him. He was convulsing. With his other hand he pulled her head down and whispered through gurgling breaths into her ear. Then his life left him, and she had to wrench her head and hand away from the corpse. Tears and blood stained the street as the crowd closed in, and Thad yanked her back against the wall of the store.

"Claire. Look at me." He held her shoulders and spoke softly. "You Ok?" She couldn't stop crying but found enough will to nod her head. She realized it was safer to keep her eyes open. Every time she blinked, she saw the face of the man she had just watched die. "It's going to be Ok. It's alright. It's over. I'm here."

Then someone was standing over them dressed in the purest white. Others like him were suddenly behind him in the crowd, some looking after the body, others moving through the crowd and listening to their accounts of the incident. The figure over them knelt and placed his dark hand on Claire's shoulder. He seemed their age. His eyes were black and sad. He put his other hand on Thad's shoulder and said, "Grace and peace to you in the Name of King Jesus. Don't be afraid. My name is Arosh. Please come with me."

Thad and Claire awoke in a small vestibule covered in white marble from floor to high ceiling. Thick pillars occupied the four corners of the room, and they could hear faint voices echoing throughout a much larger central hall beyond. Their heads had been resting on cushions, and, as they sat up, they saw that the man calling himself Arosh was sitting on one with an elbow on his knee. The children's clothing was clean. All the blood was gone from Claire's shirt and hands.

"I hope you feel rested," Arosh said. "I wanted to ask you a few questions about what happened earlier in the square."

She could feel the panic rising again in her chest. "I saw him. I saw his face."

"Don't be afraid, Claire." Thad could see she was still shaken up. "How long have we been here?"

Arosh gave a quick smile."The incident occurred twelve minutes ago. We're interviewing everyone who was there."

Claire reached out to Thad, and he took her hand. He patted it. "It's going to be Okay."

Arosh asked them to each recount the event from their perspective and to give as much detail as possible. Thad went first. As Claire was finishing her story, Arosh interrupted her for a clarification.

"You've said several times that you saw the man's face, the man that died."

"No, no." She seemed intact for a moment. "I mean, yes. I saw his face, but his was not the face I was talking about."

"Whose face did you see?"

"The man. Up above, behind the lattice. Behind the lattice that broke."

"Did you recognize this man?"

"He was looking down. He looked scared. So scared."

"Claire, can you tell us who the man was? Do you know him?"

After a full minute of more crying and wiping her face, she finally nodded. Her nose was red. Her eyes were bloodshot.

"It was Gryphon. It was one of our uncles. His name is Gryphon."

The air in the room seemed to ripple, heralding the arrival of twelve magnificent angels. They stood, hands on hilts, behind Arosh awaiting his bidding.

The Whitestone squeezed his eyes to slits. "Are you certain, child?"

Claire nodded weakly. "Gryphon."

Before she had finished the word, a blinding blue disc appeared, opened, and received Arosh before it blinked out of existence. The angels, too, dispersed in a flash.

***

Gryphon was taken bodily from a taxi in Toma and dropped unceremoniously into the snow on the slope of the Holy Mountain in Jerusalem. He had never felt so cold. Waist deep in a white, frozen, crunchy substance, he attempted to climb out of it, but wherever he thrust a hand or elbow, the surface would give and not hold his weight, and he tumbled again. His thin Phirzadi clothing was soaked. He sat up and vigorously patted his arms to his torso to keep the blood pumping.

Through the thick mist he heard a crowd of heavy footfalls growing louder and nearer, almost like a train or thunder. He dove down the slope, just avoiding being trampled upon by a stampede of massive cattle. Woolly and grunting heavily, they passed over him. Their driver stood holding a long staff on the back of the lead musk ox. The herd faded belligerently into the cloud.

"One of the King's patrols." A voice said behind Gryphon. He whirled, shivering, to see a man in white linens that shimmered even in this bewildering fog. Gryphon noted that the man stood casually on top of the white surface, dry, and unaffected by the debilitating chill.

"Greetings in the Name of the Almighty, whose gaze sees the intent of the heart."

Gryphon's teeth clattered together like falling dishes.

"I am Arosh, Whitestone of Toma. You have much to answer for."

For Gryphon, it was an effort to move his jaw, much less form words. "If you are speaking... of the man who fell..."

"I am indeed." The face of Arosh was stern but annoyingly patient.

Gryphon shivered uncontrollably. "Then it was an accident."

"You understand the gravity of this interview. A man has died in his sins."

"Yes, sir." Gryphon could no longer feel his toes. "I was on my way to conduct a business transaction with the employer of the deceased. I turned a corner, only to see the man fall through the latticework. Naturally, I ran to where he had fallen from."

"To what end?"

Gryphon closed his eyes but that didn't help."To see if he was alright."

"And, afterward, why did you leave the scene?"

"Fear."

"What did you fear, young man?" Arosh pressed.

"Entanglement. Complicity. Look, I know I shouldn't have run away."

Arosh scrutinized his face but also seemed to be listening to something or someone else. "Do not leave Toma."

The next moment, Gryphon found himself back in the taxi, dripping all over the Nanofiber seats. He took comfort in the fact that if the driver complained about the mess, he wouldn't have to go far to take it up with the owner of the cab company.

***

Arosh sat once again before the children. "After hearing all aspects of this tragedy, the man's death has been ruled an accident."

Thad and Claire both nodded slowly.

"Furthermore, your uncle was not involved in any wrongdoing, save leaving the scene."

"Oh, that's great!" Claire exhaled in relief.

"Thanks for telling us!" Thad added as they stood.

"Now I have just one more clarification before I let you go. You said that the man whispered something in your ear before he died. Can you tell me what he said?"

"It was in Phirzadi." Claire was still wiping her cheeks. "One of the few languages I have yet to learn. I don't know what it means, but I can sound it out for you."

Arosh nodded. She closed her eyes and reproduced the sounds of the dead man's words precisely, her voice even growing deep and raspy. When she finished, she looked at Arosh like an eager student wanting good marks.

"Interesting. Yes. Well done."

"Do you know what it means?"

"Well, yes. The words are clear enough. As to their implications, I'll have to confer with some colleagues."

"What did he say? I mean in English?" Thad pushed. "We can look it up easy enough, but we'd prefer to hear it from you."

"Right. Well, basically he said, 'All that you were sent here to do has been accomplished. You will rise up and go. You will throw a stone, and the ripples it makes will fill the world with both calamity and hope. And you will not go alone.'"

20

### A Good Report

A special dinner with the captain was arranged once a month for the passengers. There were thirty-seven adult guests aboard the Lydiana, so six or seven of them would join him and his senior staff in his private dining quarters. Tonight was the last of these meals for the voyage. The ship was en route to its last stop before Jerusalem, a northern city called Hotothlo nestled in a lush, green region that used to be Siberia.

Captain Fireknife tried to be pleasant and conversational with the guests as they were all seated and waiting for the food to be brought in. To his left and starboard sat the helmsman, Tor. Dray was driving the ship so that Tor could attend. Next to him was Professor Muramaja, then Communications Officer Zaliana Stronius, Doctor Townsend, and Nurse Anikka. To the captain's right and port were Ezasen and Thirzah, a Mr. and Mrs. Ashton and Alexis DuPris, and a Mr. and Mrs. Roger and Amanda Lee.

Ezasen had met them all but had not heard all their stories during their year together. The food arrived, and the captain prayed. They enjoyed small talk and light conversation for a while, then the captain asked for each guest to share about their life in turn. Ashton DuPris went first.

"I was born to wealthy parents in Philadelphia, studied nonprofit law at Princeton, and started an agency that protected environmentalists from certain forms of litigation. I met Alexis at a climate change conference in San Francisco. She was studying biology and hydrology at Cal Berkeley on her way to a research position with a globalization think tank called GAIA. We lived and traveled together for four years, and then the Rapture happened."

Alexis continued for him. "The world, as you know, changed in an instant, and we were thrust into the highest circles of global influence and opportunity. We thought we had achieved the utopia that humanity had been striving toward for centuries. We were convinced that Mother Earth had rid herself of the disease of Bible-believing Christians by giving them back to the aliens, a race universally known as the Preservers.

"You smile, but we were so wrapped up in the official explanation of events tha it took over three years for us to start questioning things. We began to be told that the official story was a complete fabrication. Everything. Nine-eleven, climate change, vaccinations, GMOs, immigration, Yellowstone, aliens. All we believed and defended were carefully crafted smoke screens."

Her husband took another turn. "Then the Beast flipped the switch halfway through the Jake, and we were forced to choose sides. God was protecting us even before we acknowledged His existence. We found ourselves that week in Denver at a green festival, and God orchestrated our run-in with a pastor of an underground Bible church. We rear-ended his car!

He reached out with such compassion and asked us questions about why we did what we did and what our motivations were. We had no answers anymore. He shared the truth of the Gospel with us and described history and current events from his God-centered worldview. We were shattered. We were brought to a cliff, the cliff of faith."

Then Alexis added, "God was gently removing our stony hearts. He was dismantling our every notion of what was real. Like Peter, James, and John, we abandoned everything and followed Him. We disappeared and joined the underground church. We ran for our lives for the next three years under the sweet protection of God's almighty wings. At the time of the Return, we were serving in Infinite, in Wimrall, where Oregon used to be. Since then we have been working with Professor Muramaja."

"I couldn't ask for better co-laborers." The professor raised his glass.

"God is good," said the captain, then turned to the Lees.

Roger Lee put his arm on the back of his wife's chair. "I'll let Amanda go first. She's older."

"Hey, no fair!" She grabbed his hand on her shoulder. "Who's counting anyway?" They both smiled. "Mine is certainly the darker tale." She cleared her throat. "I was born and raised in Florida and very quickly fell in with the wrong crowd. I became pregnant when I was fifteen and wanted to keep the baby but was persuaded to have an abortion. It was never a moral issue for me. My life goals were to have all the fun I could have, control everyone I met, and escape reality as often as possible.

"It worked pretty well, too, until I met a woman at my therapist's office one day. She had driven a friend of hers there and was waiting next to me in the waiting room. This was five years after my abortion, but I still rolled my eyes at all the things she said about God and guilt and responsibility. To be honest, it turned me off to Christianity for a long time, but she also encouraged me to give life a chance and see where it led. That conversation was the catalyst that propelled me to college and eventually to a career in journalism.

"I was a feminist at the helm of an online religion column and wielded my pen with brutality and angst right through the Rapture and the Jake. I ended up being the Beast's chief correspondent in Asia, based out of Singapore. I was reading the Bible, if you can believe it, for an article I was writing on the death of religion. I interviewed a prominent Christian family in prison who, in turn, led me to Christ.

"Like Paul, they were in chains for the Gospel but praised Him and showed me genuine love for the first time in my life. They were executed three weeks before the Return along with thousands of their converts. At the Return, I was basically stranded there, no friends, no family, no language, and found myself thrust into the Stone Age. A kind Korean family in a tiny village called Refuge, in Phirzad, took me in and discipled me. And that's where Roger comes into the story."

Roger, never the conversationalist, was brief. "Well, my cousins were the family she lived with in Refuge. I was born in the third year of our Lord, and Amanda and I fell in love, were married, and moved to our current home in Paraclete when I was twenty-eight."

Ezasen asked, "What brought you on this tour?"

Roger looked at his wife. "Well, there's a happy chapter in Amanda's story that's about to begin. We were traveling in Galileus when she received word that her daughter, the one she had aborted, had been located in Hotothlo."

Amanda grabbed her napkin and wiped her tearing eyes. "We're on our way to meet her. Her name is Lorielle. She's alive, and glorified, and eager to meet us. God, I'm just blown away. He has done it all." Almost everyone was crying now. They sang a hymn.

As they were singing, a young woman dressed in white appeared in the cramped cabin, standing next to Amanda. The captain and Ezasen were on their feet immediately, tense like cats. The crew gasped. The woman smiled and brushed a black lock of hair from her face. Her Asian features made it clear exactly who she was.

Amanda stood, now so shocked and overwhelmed she couldn't cry, and studied her smiling daughter. Lorielle spoke with a voice lower than what Amanda expected. "Grace and Peace to you in the name of Jesus Christ our King and Comfort. Greetings, mother." She held out a hand, and Amanda slowly took it, making sure it was real. They embraced, and mother and daughter wept together.

"I am so, so sorry, my sweet girl," Amanda said finally.

Lorielle gave her an almost-motherly look, full of kindness and warmth. "As Christ forgives you, so do I forgive you." She nodded to the rest of the group, then held her mother's hands. "Captain, with your permission I'd like to borrow one of your passengers." Fireknife nodded. Then she looked at her mother. "May we go and talk for a time?"

"Of course," Amanda replied, and a shimmering arch of light curled into existence behind them. She watched as the room was replaced by a quiet meadow at dawn. Fragrant wildflowers grew everywhere. A swarm of blue butterflies took to the air upon their arrival. Birds greeted each other cheerfully. A bubbling brook made a wide bend around them. Mist from the jungle nearby drifted on the gentle breeze. "You're a beautiful woman."

"At least half the credit for that goes to you." They smiled. "Would you tell me how this all happened, if you're comfortable talking about it?"

"I was just a child myself, dear. Ignorant and arrogant. I had no idea how horrific and harmful my actions were. My parents were barely in my life. I felt alone and wanted any attention I could find, even negative was fine with me. If not for Jesus, and His mighty hand in our lives..."

They enjoyed a minute in silence, both thankful for the cleansing waves of mercy washing over their hearts.

Amanda finally looked around. "Is this where you live?"

"Yes, for a season. My people are migratory. Have been since we returned with the King. We cannot relate, much less integrate, with the Redeemed from any Age. It's a foreign concept to us like it is to the angels."

"That must be hard. Where are the others?"

"We're scattered all over the Realm; millions of those who were aborted, miscarried, stillborn, or died before the age of accountability. We live in groups and fellowships and tribes. We stayed and struggled in Jerusalem for a long time. It made sense logically, but has never felt right. So we stick to ourselves mostly. Many of my closest friends are angels, actually."

"Again, Lorielle, I'm so sorry. I'm so happy you decided to reach out and contact me."

"I am, too. I know my story must sound sad, but it's really not. Christ is my all, my hope and joy. I'm excited that He saved you, too. And Roger, of course."

"He's an amazing man of God. You'll like him, if I may be so presumptuous to think there might be a future for you and me."

"Presume away!" Lorielle was getting more comfortable with hugs and gave Amanda one. "I'm literally a metric second away."

"Thank you, sweetheart. So what does the future hold?"

"There is an island in a lake south of the Holy City that a few of us have been looking into. Could be something, eventually. In the meantime, we worship the King, serve where we can, and watch what God does in His perfect plan for the age."

Amanda would remain with her daughter for three days before she was returned to the Lydiana in Hotothlo.

***

"Didette. Excuse me. I might be gone for a couple of hours." Whitestone leaned out from his study in the old part of Antioch. His voice was obviously shaken. Without waiting for a response, he closed the door. He vanished and reappeared in Copper Falls on the pier behind Ezasen's home.

The house was empty except for the resident nurse, Kelly, who was watching the house while most of the family was abroad. She was on the couch reading when she felt overcome by fatigue and fell asleep.

Yann entered the house right through the wall and stood beside Onastasia's bed. For the first time in seventy-two years, she opened her eyes. "Where am I?"

He held her hand, and leaned over her so she would not have to move her neck to see him. "You're at home, dear one. In your father's house in Copper Falls."

"Whitestone. How good to see you! My father? And brother?" Her eyes explored the room, blinking often.

"You'll see them soon, child."

Oni felt so peaceful. The pillow next to her cheek was soft. "How long have I been asleep?"

He leaned over and kissed her forehead. "A while. Be still now. It is not quite dawn."

"Mm. I'm glad you're here, sir." Oni closed her eyes and smiled.

"Your time has come. Be at peace."

Oni's smile became a look of sheer astounding joy. "Oh. Oh, Jesus. I see. I see Jesus." She breathed her last breath.

Kelly sat up on the couch, thinking she must have dozed off. She stretched and headed toward the back of the house and the garden where she planned to get some fresh vegetables for dinner. Then she heard the droning whine of the heart rate monitor from Onastasia's room registering the deadline. She ran in and checked her pulse manually. She rechecked all the machines. She backed away from the bed slowly. She had never met her patient but had cared for her every day for eighteen years. She cried, then prayed, then pulled out her phone and made the call she hoped she would never have to make.

As she left the room, Onastasia began to glow. The molecules of her body began to drift up through the ceiling on some supernatural breeze.

***

"Mr. Ezasen, Claire is here to see you." One of the yeoman had knocked on the door of the captain's private dining room and apologized for interrupting. "She says it's urgent."

He stood and excused himself from the table. He imagined it was something to do with the events in Toma two weeks before.

"I'm sure it's nothing, darling. You stay." He placed a hand on his wife's shoulder then followed the yeoman out. Claire was waiting on the OD.

"Hapa, I'm sorry to bother you. Kelly tried to call you several times."

"Yeah, well I had my phone off for the dinner, kiddo. What did she need?" He pulled out his phone and started checking his messages.

"She didn't say. She just said to have you call her as soon as you could."

"Thanks, Claire. I'm sure it's nothing." He played the first of five messages from Kelly: Mr. Ezasen, this is Kelly. It's Oni. I need you to call me right away.

He immediately tapped her number, and she gave him the news that his daughter had died. He sat down in the middle of the floor, and Claire sat by him, her head on his shoulder. He thanked Kelly and ended the call. He smiled at Claire through pursed lips. "Your Auntie Oni's finally with Jesus."

21

### Visitation

Dr. Koriander Townsend stood by while a giant lion strode regally past her on the glistening white stone causeway north of the Reuben Gate. Had she ducked her head, she could have walked between its sinewy legs. The animals roamed free in the streets of Jerusalem's Holy District, that part of the capitol reserved for the priests among the sons of Zadok.

Twenty-four gleaming terraces wrapped the southern slopes of the Mountain between the city and the temple. But it was not up the five kilometers of stairs she would be traveling today. She was here to see a friend.

She made her way west along a broad avenue that overlooked the verdant, rolling fields where crops grew that fed the Yahweh Shamah, the very center of life in Jerusalem. Soon, she found a grassy park with tables and benches. Children and animals frolicked about while a young man sat alone on the far bench.

Kori smiled, and her heart might have skipped a beat. Ari was tall with ink black hair down to his angular shoulders. She quickened her pace. He reminded her of photos she had seen of King Solomon who also was living in the city. As she approached his bench, she saw a small, ornate box sitting next to him. His rugged hand rested on it protectively.

Kori took one last look at her embroidered blouse and stirred up her courage. "Grace and Peace to you, Ari, son of Elionim."

Ari turned, grinned, and stood. "And also to you, Koriander, daughter of Iconium. Welcome!" He motioned to the bench and they sat, their eyes unceasingly trained on each other. "I am glad you could make the time to see me. I know your studies are very demanding."

"I'm pleased to see you, as well." She was certain she was blushing. "Thankfully, I can prepare for my exams even while traveling. Your message sounded quite urgent. Please tell me your big news!"

"My uncle, the temple prince, is on his deathbed. He may have but six months before he is translated."

"Ari, I'm so sorry. You two are so close." She wanted to hug him or just hold his hand, but that would have been grossly inappropriate in this place in this time. She folded her hands in her lap instead.

"It is bittersweet at best. He will soon be glorified, and my heart clings to that wonderful truth. But, as you know, the office requires a soul still bound by mortality to occupy it. He cannot continue once he is perfected. That means that the position of temple prince—"

"—falls to your father?"

"Normally, yes, but his current duties in the temple make him unavailable."

"Ari, what are you telling me? You have six older brothers. There's no way you could be—"

"You are beautiful and intelligent, sweet Koriander. My father informs me the King Himself has passed down the decree. Upon my uncle's passing, I am to become the new prince of the temple." He looked and sounded dejected. "I do not want this burden."

Kori didn't know whether to be thrilled or weep bitterly. This was the man she thought she loved. She honestly couldn't care less about this priestly, princely business.

"This may change everything else, but it doesn't change my heart." That was way out of bounds, she realized. Everything was unraveling. "Forgive me, Ari. I don't—"

"Kori, I—" He stared at her and she could see the struggle behind his eyes. "I have something for you." He brought out the box. "You speak bravely of your heart. Well, here is mine." He handed it to her.

Speechless, she opened it, and inside was a fabulous necklace.

"Thank you. It's beautiful." She took it out and placed it around her neck. "Ari, I have some news as well. I've decided to take a position on an airship mercy tour around the Realm. It will likely last a year." She said it all without taking a breath, fearing she would not be able to finish otherwise.

Ari was silent for a time, but his sober face slowly turned to a broad smile. She knew that smile. It meant things had fallen into place in his extraordinary mind. "Good." He glanced out over Jerusalem as if seeing it clearly now for the first time. He stood and offered his hand to her. "So very good. King Jesus is wise. You will take my heart and it will see what the Realm looks like next to yours. I will remain and prepare for the next chapter the Lord has written for us."

"I will call you every day." Now she was crying.

"Then I shall purchase a phone." He kissed her hand. The day was still young. They spent the rest of it together.

***

Gryphon took a taxi to the airport.

Even though it had been over seventy years since that horrible day in Wittenberg, the news of his sister's eventual passing hit him hard. Her sweet face flashed in his mind, and he settled back in his seat. I miss you, Oni. You were always my anchor. My sail. Maybe I leaned on you too much. Maybe I wasn't strong for you like you were for me.

"Ugh!" This week, this whole month, was ending up to be too busy to just drop everything and go hang out with his dad and the ethnic group he and his mom had been forming since forever.

The skiff came to rest sixty stories above the city of Hotothlo next to the arrival tower long enough for Gryphon to hop out. He absently thanked the driver and walked through the narrow transparent doors to the observation deck.

Inside, Kori was standing in front of the opposite window smiling and talking to her fiancé, Ari, who she hadn't seen face to face for more than eleven months.

"Dr. Townsend, where's my father?"

She cupped her hand over her phone. "Gap to you, sir. We've put your family up in the Gateway Hotel, in your private suites."

"Sorry. Grace and peace," he replied without interest. "And the Lydiana?"

"Hanger Four, Sir. They've repaired the motor pulley, but then they found a damaged impeller spacer. So Willius is working on that."

"Good thing they didn't try to go the last leg. Can you believe it? My brand new skiff just got rear-ended. I had to take a taxi." He clenched his fist. "If I wouldn't get struck by lightning for using profanity, I'd be half tempted to use some today." His phone rang. "And now I guess I'm taking public transportation to get to the hotel." He spit those words like so much mildewed bread from his mouth. His phone rang again, and he let out a deep sigh. "Thank you, doctor. I'll be at the Gateway. Call me with any updates."

Now her fist was clenching How many more days until this assignment was over? "With all due respect, Sir, I'll have Officer Dray relay his own updates directly."

But Gryphon was already walking away and shouting into his phone.

***

Thirzah finally located the peanut butter. She had just finished cleaning up after serving dinner for twenty, and now the kids were either reading, playing quiet games, or were already asleep. Ezasen was busy with Ezra's bedtime routine.

A panel on the wall of the kitchen lit up and chimed pleasantly. She approached it cautiously and tapped an area of the screen that was blinking orange. There was static. Then a voice said, "Dad. Mom. It's Gryphon." Her eyes widened with joy. She nearly cried out but caught herself.

So she whispered back, "Oh, Grif! It's good to hear your voice. We've missed you so much!"

She could hear him expel a breath of frustration. He seemed then to gain some control. "Mom, I'm here. I'm outside the door."

"What do you mean?"

"Mom. That's not a phone. That's the intercom into the hallway."

"Oh, my son! You're really here!" Thirzah cried at the top of her lungs, waking the whole family instantly. "Oh no! Oh, Gryphon, I'm so glad you're here! Now, what do I do to let you in?" By now the kitchen was full of bleary-eyed but inquisitive kids all talking at once.

"Mom, come to the door." He wasn't heard over the din. "Mom. Come. To. The. Door!" Finally, Thad let him in without looking up from his homework. It took a good hour to get everyone calmed down, properly satisfied with snacks and drinks of water, and back in their rooms. Their guest and host was even able to help Thad with his particle physics. To Thirzah's chagrin, there was nothing left of the peanut butter.

When the kitchen was quiet once again, Gryphon slouched on a stool with his elbows on the granite countertop. Ezasen was busy settling Ezra down again. Thirzah placed a comforting, motherly hand on his shoulder, pushing a cup of Propempo coffee toward him.

"It's all the normal stuff, Mom. Nothing I can't handle."

"Let me guess." She leaned against the refrigerator and crossed her arms. "You need to delegate but can't find enough people you trust, so you end up doing it all yourself because it's easier and you know it's going to get done right. Only it's too much, even with your amazing intellect, and it builds up inside, and you get so stressed that you explode at the people you love, leaving them hurt and confused."

He cocked his head. "You don't know how to operate the intercom, Mom. How do you know all that?"

"Try being a parent for 200 years," she said as Ezasen walked in. "Right, love?"

"Gryphon, you're having a baby?" He whispered. "Congrats!"

Gryphon let his head fall onto the counter. Thirzah stood there shaking her head and trying to keep from laughing.

"In all that time, Grif, God has taught me a great deal about leadership, responsibility, and, most profoundly, compassion." Thirzah took a stool. "Hard lessons you would also do well to learn, it would seem."

His father took his son's empty cup and placed it quietly in the sink. "Come on, chief. Let's take a walk and let your mom get some rest."

Gryphon rose and pushed his hand through his disheveled hair. "Yeah." He hugged her. "Thanks, Mom. I love you."

"I love you too, little man. Thanks for the wonderful trip and letting us borrow your place. Don't be a stranger between now and the Feast." She walked them to the door. "And get some rest. Maybe try something different for a change. Shake things up a bit. If you're anything like me, your creative juices can get stale after a while."

He rolled his eyes. "Night, Mom."

***

The night air was actually quite cool as they sat moored to the very top of the airport tower spire some hundred stories above Hotothlo. They had strolled the hotel lobby, the entire promenade shopping district and all the terminal corridors at the airport. They finally stopped by the hotel again, which Gryphon owned, and checked out a utility skiff.

Gryphon returned his phone to his pocket. "That was Tor. Says Dray thinks it's going to be another couple days. Waiting for one more part."

"A pretty complex piece?"

"No. Just a bushing or spacer something. Why?"

"Do you have access to a lathe?"

"Dad. It's me. I've got a state of the art—Dad?"

Ezasen had slumped over in the small, open cabin. Gryphon turned and was blinded by an undulating blue radiance out at the bow of the skiff. Then he saw a human form moving toward him. Real feet touched the skiff's array of solar panels which instantly started the engine and lit the controls and dials. He watched, still stunned, as the battery level went from 46 percent to 100 in about three seconds.

Then the brilliant light vanished. Sitting cross-legged before him with her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hand, dressed in a simple, white kurta and pants with her hair in a braid, was Onastasia.

Tears streamed down his face like Copper Falls. She smiled. "Hey, beanpole."

FOUR

### To Rule and to Reign

22

### Synapse

### Year 424

Her bike whined as she shifted it into a lower gear. Lei Ming's jet black hair whipped wildly around her head. She had given her helmet to the girl behind her whose arms had a vice grip around her middle, but for good reason.

"Just hold on, Nuria, and try to breathe normally!" she shouted as she weaved between taxis and other ground cars in the long tunnel that connected downtown Trinity with the financial district.

Nuria, who was fifteen years old and nine months pregnant, felt another contraction and let out a yelp. "I'm trying. Our current circumstances are not making things much easier."

The bike flew out of the tunnel and made a right turn toward Gryphon Community Hospital. As Nuria half yelled, half cried, in rhythm with Lei Ming's bobs and swerves, she was actually quite calm. She knew she was in excellent hands. Besides Jesus, Lei Ming was the only friend she had.

They had met at a community center about seven months earlier. Nuria had just found out that she was pregnant and didn't know where else to turn. Lei Ming, a native of Eklesus in Dodinya had been working there for a few years as a crisis counselor and had led dozens of girls to Christ. Most of her girls were addicted to a new drug that had recently hit the streets called Wipe.

The resident doctor at the center had explained it to her once. "As you know, everyone born since the Return remembers perfectly everything they learn and experience. About three years ago, scientists were working on a way to help victims of severe trauma suppress the memories of specific events, and they developed an injectable chemical that targets the temporal lobes of the brain."

"With only limited success, the experiment was halted, but somehow the formula found its way to the streets. People started using it to forget not just painful experiences but information. It turned out that Wipe could be caramelized then ground into a powder and smoked in order to forget facts, conversations, entire books, even the Bible. It was still compulsory for every child to memorize the Bible by the time they were seven years old. For those children its Truth did not convict and convert, it often became an unbearable weight of guilt."

But soon it became clear that the drug was also mildly hallucinogenic, and its popularity exploded.

Much of Lei Ming's time with the girls was spent re-teaching them the Bible.

Nuria was, in that sense, a success story. She was now a believer but had taken Wipe before she knew she was carrying a child.

No child of a Wipe addict had ever reached birth alive, and their wild ride to the emergency room was not giving this child any better chances.

Nuria's bleached blonde locks were darkened with perspiration, and the cool wind at three in the morning felt good on Nuria's neck. She was getting tired. It was hard to hold on.

"Just another block. Hang tight. We're almost there," Lei Ming reassured her. The three-meter bike, called a hydrogen-electric Drybrid because its hydrogen tank required no refueling, boasted near-spherical tires, old-school six-speed transmission, and a top speed of three hundred kilometers per hour. It belonged to her brother, a racing champion who taught Lei Ming everything he knew about going fast on two wheels.

She didn't need any of those bells or whistles for tonight's quick ride through town. The hospital entrance was well lit and quiet. I'm glad I called ahead, she thought as she pulled up right to the sliding glass double doors. Three nurses and a float chair were waiting.

She parked the bike and went in to see that Nuria was settled. The nurse at the station desk told her the room number, and she took the elevator up three flights. She found her young friend already in a bed and hooked up to monitoring equipment.

"You are one sweaty mess, girl."

"Ladies don't sweat. They glow," stated Nuria in between deliberate deep breaths.

"Okay. Glowing mess."

"Ooh. There's another one," Nuria hissed.

Lei Ming came close and held her hand. "Best hospital in Neutarsa. You and baby are going to be fine."

"Thanks for everything, Mimi. I understand if you need to go."

"Nope. This is where I'm going to be. Where I want to be." They shared a smile. "What can I get you, besides a box of Byttgrymman Chocolate?"

"Ugh. That doesn't even sound good right now! No. I'm good. Thanks. How about a story? Something to take my mind off Junior here."

"Uh, sure. Anything for the brand new mom." Lei Ming plopped into a chair and hugged her knees. "You think your ride here was an adventure..."

***

The Eklesus Super Speedway was a ring two kilometers across and paved with a sun-drinking layer of Meta3. Spectators inside and outside the track cheered for their favorite competitors who hurled themselves at break-neck velocities with nothing but a lightning bolt and two wheels beneath them.

"Here he comes," shouted a young girl to the four-man pit crew poised with tools, pumps, and scanners at the ready. She leaped off the railing and sprinted to the pit just as her brother pulled in, frantically barking orders. The crew, who she referred to as the Quadruplets, closed in on the smoking bike and got to work.

"I don't know, Mimi." Her brother, Daniel, sixteen, was shouting. "Somewhere between turns two and three."

"Let's have a look." Lei Ming, only twelve, shouted back as if they had all afternoon to find the problem. She tried opening the engine compartment cover but steam shot out and she instinctively pulled her hands back. One of the crew members slapped a pair of gloves into her hand and once fitted, she tried again.

Seconds were ticking by. "What's causing it?" Daniel demanded. "We're falling behind!"

She could hear the frustration rising in his voice. "Breathe, big brother, and remember what you told me about apples." They shared a quick smile. "If I can adjust this air filter, you'll have no problem making up that time." One of the other crew squeezed water into Daniel's mouth through a slit in his helmet.

"I like winning more than breathing." Daniel exclaimed, his panic gone.

"There!" She slapped the cover into place then slapped the back of his helmet. "God speed," she added as the crew screamed and flailed. Daniel and the bike catapulted out of the pit and back into the rocketing swarm.

The constant squeal of the race was still ringing in her ears as Lei Ming cinched the last strap that anchored the bike to the bed of the family's decades-old tow skiff. The bike was black with the letters HTTL emblazoned generously on one side, and the letters LBRC on the other. Their father had named it the Little Black Rain Cloud. He had said that it was a reference to an ancient and revered legend about a cunning bear and angry bees, but to Daniel's competition it meant doom, gloom, and likely defeat were coming.

When she finally climbed into the skiff, one of the crew handed her Daniel's first place trophy. "Very nice, big brother!"

"Shh!" her Mom urged from the driver's seat, pointing to the row of seats between them. Daniel was passed out and oblivious to the Realm. And deservedly so.

***

Nuria reached out her frail hand, and Lei Ming took it. "What an exciting and dangerous life your brother lived!"

"Oh, he's not done yet," Lei Ming assured. "Daniel still races in Eklesus several times a year. He does it for King Jesus. His success and notoriety give him almost daily opportunities to share the Gospel. He helps lead one of the larger congregations there."

"Pretty amazing. I could never do anything like all that," admitted Nuria after taking a long, deep breath. "What did you mean about the apples?"

"Oh, that. That was something Daniel was showing me on the way to the race that weekend. We were in the skiff, and we had an apple to share as a family as part of our lunch. We flew past a billboard that had a picture of an apple on it.

***

"Christ is the substance," Daniel was saying seated in the skiff. "This life is just a picture of heavenly realities." He took out his tablet, opened a blank page and sketched the outline of an apple with the stem and a leaf. Although it was just black lines on white, it was clearly an apple. He said, "See? This is an apple," pointing to the simple drawing.

"Yes," Lei Ming said, seated next to him.

"And you saw the billboard apple?"

"Yes." she said again.

"Which was more real?"

"Well, the billboard. Right? I mean, it's got color and texture, and it's a photographic capture of an actual apple."

"Right," Daniel replied. "Now think about what you just said. It's a capture of the real thing only two-dimensional, and the billboard is made of paper or something. It's not made of apple."

Lei Ming scratched her head. "I'm following you so far."

Daniel held up his slice of apple. "So think of this real, three-dimensional, delicious apple as only a picture of what a heavenly apple is like."

"Like a fourth dimension?"

"Not necessarily," he said smiling. Just more real. The highest level of reality, really. Think of it. Everything God has made—the earth, the stars, plants, animals—are just pictures of the real thing in heaven."

***

Nuria adjusted herself in the stiff hospital bed. "I'm sorry. I'm feeling a little dehydrated. Could I get some water?"

"Oh! Um, sure!" Lei Ming left the room and found a water cooler in the hall. There were no cups. She inquired at the nurses station, and they handed her a glass tumbler. She smiled her thanks, but as she turned to leave she saw a dwarfish man standing on a chair, puzzling over a table-sized machine. Lei Ming asked wryly, "Did you unplug it and plug it back in?"

The man, dressed in a diminutive set of teal scrubs, looked up. "I think we're beyond that. Can't you smell the smoke?"

"Wow. Let me take a look." Lei Ming came around the counter and knelt down next to him.

"So you're a documented expert on sophisticated medical diagnostic equipment?" The dwarf stood, looking dubiously at her over a pair of magnifying spectacles.

Lei Ming smiled. "It's a machine. All machines are essentially the same, aren't they?" She removed a panel and pulled out a blackened clump of sludge. "When was the last time you replaced the imaging cylinder? My guess would be never."

"Uhh..." He stammered, but recovered nicely. "My name is Dr. Zuph."

"Hi, Dr. Zuph."

"Maybe you could take a look at our MagRez sometime. It only displays in purple."

"I'm actually here with a friend who I need to get back to, but, yes, I'd love to help." Seconds later, she returned to Nuria's room to find her crying and wincing in pain.

"This doesn't feel right!" Nuria, eyes bulging, clenched the rails on the side of the bed. "I think she's ready to come out!"

Lei Ming rushed to her side, setting the glass of water only half on the cabinet by the door. It fell and shattered on the floor. Lei Ming dropped to her hands and knees and started carefully picking up some of the larger shards of sharp glass. Just then, a nurse rushed in, slipped on the wet floor, and landed on Lei Ming's hand.

Nuria was giving birth. The nurse had cracked her ulna bone right on the tip of the elbow and was rolling around in considerable pain. When Lei Ming finally stood up, the baby was exiting quickly. A moment later, she held the baby in her arms, it's Wipe-tainted amniotic fluid mingling inexorably with the blood on her sliced hand.

Zuph ran in, quickly assessing the situation. He jabbed a red circle on a display on the wall that alerted the whole building of their predicament. "Sorry Janice, dear. You're on your own. Do what you have to do," he said to the nurse on the ground. She nodded, and hobbled out to attend to her arm.

He turned to Lei Ming. "Hand me the child."

"I—" She let him take the little life out of her grasp. "I don't feel so..."

He slapped the child expertly, and it cried a magnificent first breath. Still looking at Lei Ming, he ordered. "You're bleeding and you're going into shock. Here's a sink. I need you to wash that cut thoroughly then sit in that chair. Okay?"

"Okay." She said weakly and used the wall to steady herself on the way.

While she was washing, he cut the umbilical cord and then gently washed the screaming baby. By the time she had finished, he had swaddled it in a blanket and placed a tiny knit cap on its beautiful head. It quieted down and went to sleep.

"You up for holding Junior?"

Lei Ming roused and sat up. "Yes. I'm feeling much better now. Thank you." She took the child. "How is the mother?"

Zuph peered at the monitor displaying Nuria's vitals. In all the commotion, neither of them had noticed the solitary, cold tone of the flatline.

23

### Nurture

### Year 445

It was a strange feeling to do anything or go anywhere without Axa at her side. But here Lei Ming sat, alone on a crowded shuttle hurtling over the endless jungle between Trinity and Wittenberg. Soon, the isthmus that separates Neutarsa from Byttgrym passed beneath her without fanfare, and she instinctively reached for Axa's hand. Then she was sure that she had forgotten her bag but remembered she didn't have one. Even as the moment passed, she could feel the panic continue to rise. She knew that within twenty minutes the migraine would hit.

She tapped the med-release tab on her bodysuit next to her rib, and it hissed soothingly. She would be able to relax and focus on something other than the dull pressure on her sinuses.

Her slender tablet was sheathed on her thigh. She took it out and opened the Bible application which she enjoyed until she noticed a blind spot in the center of her field of vision. Sparkling stripes started to creep in from the lower right corner. Frustrated by the growing frequency of these headaches, she pulled her knees up under her chin and closed her eyes. In an hour she might dare to open them.

Before the hour was over, they had arrived at Haven, the skydock being constructed four kilometers above the seaport city of Wittenberg. The passengers bustled off the shuttle onto the platform where the winds were swift and brisk. These conditions did not make Lei Ming's transfer any easier. Thankfully, doors opened and swallowed the crowd as they climbed into indoor skiffs. Haven was laid out like a cross with wide circles like finials at the end of its four spokes. She checked her electronic reservation and took the skiff headed across the center of the dock to the far eastern terminal.

Everything was glass, so as she floated past the hub, she expected to see her ship, the HTTL Infinite, tethered to the dock and, since it was supposed to become home to more than a thousand people for a year, she thought it should be all but gargantuan.

But it wasn't there.

The skiff stopped, and the other seventeen passengers stepped off, busy with conversations and consulting maps and schedules on the walls. Lei Ming descended as if in slow motion. The skiff spun smoothly and zoomed away. She found a chair and was trying to keep her composure while she rechecked all her travel documents when a flight attendant in a crisp, teal uniform touched her shoulder.

"Miss Lei Ming?" He was saying.

"Yes." She looked up. He was young and had a friendly face. The name on his badge read Kalim.

"We're glad you're here! If you would kindly come with me, we'll get you to your ship." His voice was reassuring and soft, for which she was thankful. Her head was still fragile.

"I'm so sorry. For a minute there I thought you had left without me." Now they were walking toward another skiff.

The attendant opened his mouth but paused so he could choose just the right words. "We did. Well, actually, they did. I was strategically positioned here to await your arrival." He was rather proud of his answer.

She stopped as he climbed into the skiff and powered it up. "You're saying the ship has already departed? When did it leave?"

"A little under twelve hours ago. Up you go." He pretended to ignore her launching eyebrows.

Lei Ming jumped in and sat down, her error dawning on her. "Evening. Not morning. I'm so sorry. That was stupid of me."

"No worries, miss." He said as one of the long, transparent window panels that lined the concourse opened and they eased out into the chilly sky. "We'll catch up."

The skiff dipped over the edge of Haven and dropped like a stone toward the Wittenberg coast. They turned north and followed the Starker River over farmland and vineyards, rolling patchwork hills and turquoise lakes on their way to the Northern Ocean and the city of Am Ende, the Infinite's first port of call.

An hour later, the horizon before them was a dark grey wall. An ominous storm was gathering, and that was actually good news for Lei Ming if it meant her ship was also delayed. She figured her ship would also be delayed. Kalim and Lei Ming shared a tense look. The tempest was dense and quickly sweeping south, covering village, forest and field as it went. Kalim slowed the skiff.

"Protocol says we land and find cover." He pitched the craft forward and started their descent toward the edge of a grove of austrian pine. "I think we can make it."

"I don't want to delay any longer, Kalim. Can't we just fly above the storm?" Then she pointed. "What's that?"

Just beyond the crest of the storm, the cloud deck shifted and the ebony hide of a massive airship rose triumphantly into the clear sky. Lei Ming gasped at its sheer size and majestic wings. The HTTL Infinite measured 250 meters in length with a wingspan of 100 meters. The white underbelly boasted thirty-two decks.

Kalim had time enough to shout, "There she is!" and then the sky flashed as twin bolts of lightning struck a simple stone barn less than a kilometer east of them. A moment later, alerts from the skiff's instrument panel proximity sensor beeped wildly, and they were engulfed by the relentless wave of clouds.

Lei Ming sank lower on the bench seat. The skiff had no roof, so the rain and spritzing pine needles went everywhere from her hair to her boots. Kalim was bravely out on the bow tethering their tiny craft to a tree. The wind howled. She sat there, eyes clamped shut, for forty minutes while the storm passed over them. When the fury had finally subsided, the two of them untied the skiff, dragged it limply behind them, and then skillfully dropped themselves to the ground.

They and the skiff were battered and covered in muck. They towed the skiff out into a meadow dappled with fallen trees. At the east end of the clearing stood the barn they had seen struck. Smoke began to curl out of two holes in its tiled roof. As many as twenty angels surrounded the humble building. Lei Ming was awestruck. Their brilliant white clothing and flashing swords shone where there was dappled sun, but each wore a solemn face.

Kalim and Lei Ming approached cautiously and the angels, evidently having accomplished their task, winked out of sight, taking no notice of the humans. The barn was small and simple, consisting of two rooms. Kalim entered first, eager to find a shower or at least a sink. Lei Ming noted the scented candles, bottle of wine, and the plate of half-eaten Neutarsan cheese on the coffee table in front of the the tiny sofa. One of the candles still burned. The rest must have blown out during the storm.

Kalim held his head under the faucet in the kitchenette, watching the dirt from his hair flow down toward the drain. He closed his eyes. The cool water felt good on his stiff neck. When he shut the faucet off, he heard a sharp intake of breath from the next little room. Still dripping, he entered and saw Lei Ming staring at the bed. On it were two blackened, charred, mangled bodies. The sheets and pillows, though wet from the rain that had fallen through the two gaping holes in the roof, were pristinely un-singed.

Dozens of candles surrounded the bed. Lei Ming tried to imagine the scene before the lightning strike. It would have been romantic, intimate. This couple had obviously been enjoying a quiet getaway together. She thought out loud. "What brought them under such judgment?"

Kalim was examining the floor, strewn with various garments. "Maybe they committed some form of..." He shuttered at the disgusting thought. "...infidelity." Then he corrected himself with a scoffing breath. "Impossible. In this age?"

"Not impossible." Lei Ming was still pulling pine needles absentmindedly from her black hair. "Back in the day, I used to counsel girls who got mixed up in sexual sin and drugs and crime. Most of them didn't make it. For the last twenty years, I raised the daughter of a girl who got hooked on Wipe, then later was raped." She saw the incredulous look on Kalim's face. "Yeah. In this age of paradise. The sinfulness of humanity runs bottomlessly deep."

Kalim was now looking at the clothing on the floor again. "That's odd."

"What's odd?"

"These are all women's clothes. You don't think—"

"—that these two women sinned grossly with one another. Yes."

Suddenly, a young woman dressed in glimmering white stood next to the bed. "As the scriptures say, 'because of their willfully dark hearts, God gave them over to dishonorable passions. For their women exchanged natural relations for those that are contrary to nature.'"

Kalim fell over in pure shock.

The woman smiled. "Don't be afraid. But you must leave this place. It is to be destroyed for it has become unclean in the sight of the King."

Lei Ming inched closer to the beautiful, glorified Saint. "We apologize. We sought cover from the storm." She squinted. "You seem so familiar to me."

"Dear Mimi. I am Nuria!" They embraced joyfully.

"Sweet Nuria, how you have changed!" Lei Ming grinned with satisfaction.

"God is faithful to His promises, I assure you. But we really must remove ourselves from the area. Fetch the man called Kalim and follow me."

Lei Ming hefted Kalim's gangly, dead weight, and they made their way to a river several hundred meters from the barn. They stood watching as a column of fire fell through the cloud canopy and consumed the building, its foundation, and the chicken wire fence surrounding it.

Nuria turned. "Thank you for your many years of kindness toward me and my baby. Axa belongs to the King and is thriving. I check in on her as often as my duties allow."

"It was a privilege to raise her." Lei Ming stared at the grass at her feet. "I would do it all again except for the Wipe. That was hard, and I'm beginning to manifest symptoms."

Nuria placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Mimi. Please be assured that nothing that happens is outside of God's hand." She saw her friend and mentor's silent plea for relief. "No, I am not permitted to remove this thorn from you. In fact, your condition will grow worse, but it will not stop you from accomplishing many things for your Master's glory. Can you carry this burden?"

"With Christ's strength, yes!" Their eyes met and tears washed the doubt from Lei Ming's face. "Thank you, Nuria. I had been tempted to despair."

"I remember despair. A dark and ravenous companion. How do you fare now that Axa is grown and gone?"

"Some days are better than others. The occasional holes in my memory are the most frustrating, and the headaches."

"And today?"

"It is a good day now that you've strengthened me."

Kalim stirred on a flat boulder a few meters away.

"The ship you pursue will soon be here. Grace and peace to you," Nuria said, and she was gone.

Kalim sat up, fully alert, looking desperately around. "Who was that girl? She was so beautiful! Where did she go?" He slid down the side of the rock to his feet, still searching.

"Stand down there, soldier." Lei Ming rolled her eyes. "That was my friend, Nuria."

"O sweet Nuria! My new favorite name in all the world. Could you introduce me to her? I think I'm in love!"

"Um, Kalim? She's a glorified Saint." She grabbed him by the shoulders. "That means she is most assuredly and eternally unavailable."

"How do we really know unless we ask her?" His eyes were pleading.

"Alright." She flung him over her shoulder again. "You're freaking me out." She carried him to the riverbank and dropped him in. He flailed and sputtered for a while but trudged, dripping, up the bank in his right mind.

"Thank you," he said between coughs. They started walking through the long grass to the edge of the trees where they had left the skiff. "I've just never seen one so up close before."

"It takes some getting used to." She stopped, pulling at her matted, encrusted hair. "You know what? I could use a quick rinse, too." So they walked back to the river, and she waded in while he lay on the boulder again.

"What was she doing here anyway?"

Lei Ming floated, massaging her long black locks, letting the water carry the dirt, leaves, and soot downstream. "I'm pretty sure she was in charge of those angels we saw." She stood and came up out of the river feeling and looking refreshed. "They were obviously here to execute judgment on those two women in the barn."

"Well, I, personally, don't get it." Kalim was rubbing his hair vigorously, letting the water fly off him like a dog. "I know homosexuality is against Realmly law, but in the Bible, Jesus never says anything against it."

She joined him on the boulder. "Although Jesus never mentioned it in the Gospels, it is certainly established as a wicked abomination in the Old Testament. People were stoned to death or destroyed by fire from heaven for engaging in such practices."

"Yes, but how did Jesus feel about it?"

"Kalim, let me ask you this. Is Jesus God?"

"Yes."

"And who wrote the whole Bible?"

"Well, God did. Ah. Ok, so that's how Jesus feels about it."

"Yeah. Christ, through Paul, says in First Corinthians chapter six verse nine that homosexuals will not inherit the Kingdom."

"Well, my niece has shared with her mom, my sister, that she struggles with homosexual thoughts, and my sister basically let it go. She is a believer and holds biblical convictions for herself in this area, but I think she values her relationship with her daughter more than standing up for what's right."

"That's a tough call to make."

"And I'm the uncle, so it's weird to know how to speak into the situation."

"I've been in that arena many times with the girls I counseled. I say, tell your sister to stand on God's truth."

"Even if my niece walks away?"

"Yep. The truth of Scripture will never return void. More than a mother-daughter relationship is at stake here. Your niece's eternal destiny hangs in the balance."

Lei Ming suddenly stood up on the rock, searching desperately around, and then, from behind her, she heard the whisper soft hum of giant engines, and the Infinite hovered closer like an eagle returning to its nest.

***

Three days later, Lei Ming relaxed in a cloth chair and watched the retreating towers of Am Ende. Across from her sat a curious, refined-looking woman with dark skin and dazzling green eyes. Over her emerald bodysuit, she had wrapped a hex-patterned black and grey sarong, popular in Egypt at the time. She was engrossed in reading something on her tablet. Lei Ming watched her for several minutes while the rest of the new passengers filled the Observation Deck.

Noting that the stranger seemed to be alone, Lei Ming crossed and sat next to her. "Excuse me, I'm terrible with names. Have we met before, or are you just joining the tour?"

"I just boarded. No. I don't believe we've met." The distinguished woman smiled and held out her hand. "I'm Leelah Deshi."

***

Captain James Fireknife watched a pair of peregrine falcons from his chair in his cabin aboard the Infinite. The sky over the northern port city of Whitehorse grew light, and they were once more underway.

A computer screen on his desk chimed, lit up, and a decidedly artificial voice spoke. Pardon me, sir. A Leelah Deshi to see you.

"Of course. Send her in." Fireknife still wasn't used to talking to machines. He stood and rounded the desk his father had made. The door opened, and Leelah entered, graceful as always.

"Captain." She crossed the room, a placid smile on her dark face. Once the door hissed shut, they hugged stiffly and chuckled.

"You look great, Leelah." He sat on the edge of the desk and pointed gallantly to the only other place to sit, a low couch on the port wall.

"The King has been kind." She sat. "You haven't changed a bit, except for maybe the beard." They laughed again. "And you're about a meter taller than I remember."

"It's good to see you." He crossed his arms and looked at the floor long enough for Leelah to begin to wonder the real reason she had been summoned.

She kept her tone light. "So, what's up, Jim?"

He dove right in. "There's been a development in the mosasaur situation."

Leelah cleared her throat. "I wasn't aware there was an ongoing situation. We saw the missile inside the skeleton. It was gone the next day. End of story." She raised her eyebrows. "Right?"

Their eyes met. She slowly and unconsciously moved her hands to the armrests of the couch, bracing herself. "Are you saying that after four hundred years the missile has resurfaced?"

"It's a bit more complicated than that." He joined her on the couch. Now Leelah's eyes were large with either curiosity or suspicion; he couldn't tell which.

"I'm listening." Her knuckles were white.

"Well, as you may have heard, my father passed away in Year

223. On his deathbed, he shared with me what really happened all those years ago."

"And you've waited two centuries to tell me because...?"

"Because I was sworn to secrecy. It was his dying request that I tell no one. He felt it was too dangerous, even in this age, to burden anyone else."

"Okay." She sat up rail straight like a school teacher. "I will scold you later for playing God with other people's lives." She was squinting now. "But first you will tell me everything."

A call for you, Captain. The rudimentary voice used no inflection.

Leelah jumped. "Talking computers? This really is a state-of-theart ship."

"Something your baby brother is working on." He patted the monitor. "Installed just before we sailed. Her name's GWEN."

"Her name? It's a she?" Leelah scoffed.

Jim put a hand to his head. "It's one of those Artificial Intelligence learning programs. Stands for Gryphon World Enhanced Network."

"Cute."

The computer chimed again. Captain, there is—.

"Not now, GWEN." He growled then said to Leelah, "Sorry." He sighed and closed his eyes. "That night, after we had told everyone about our discovery, my dad and Ezasen—"

"Wait. What? Ezasen is wrapped up in all this, too?" She was furious and stood over him with hands on hips.

"Leelah, please calm down and listen." Jim's words were steady and had the desired effect.

She sat again and added in a even, controlled voice, "I don't know which I'm more angry about: the level of stupidity that you've all stooped to, or that someone, like a Whitestone, for example, wasn't informed the moment this weapon was identified."

"Listen. Then scold. Right?" He was whispering and wanted her to join him.

"Fine!" Leelah hissed.

"Ok, so my dad and Ezasen snuck back to the cave and moved the missile before we all went to see it. That's why it wasn't there the next day."

"What did they do with it?" Leelah leaned in.

"Initially, they hid it nearby. Once you and Ezasen had left a few weeks later, Dad found an excuse to go and move it again. He knew an old hermit who lived by Thunder Lake a couple hours away. It's the lake I pointed out to you on our day out, remember?"

She closed her eyes, concentrating. "Of course. I thought it was the ocean."

"Exactly, so Dad convinces this man to hide it and tell no one. Dad figured the guy would die soon enough, and the missile would effectively be lost again. And he didn't tell Ezasen about the old man. As far as Ezasen was concerned, it was still hidden in the first hiding place."

"So it's in the lake somewhere." Leelah concluded. "How long afterward did the man pass away?"

"Here's the thing. He's still alive. Lives in Thicket."

"Still alive. Wow! So that means it's not really lost." She stood again and started pacing. "This is good. We can find the old man, he'll tell us where he hid the missile, and we can go find it and turn it over to the local authorities." She stopped, staring at the captain. "When do we leave?"

"Not so fast." He stood now, too. "Let's take this a step at a time. The reason I orchestrated this meeting today and not earlier is that I've learned just this week that the old man, name of Bleeker, is dying. He was already over ninety when the Rapture happened."

"I'm shocked he's hung on this long."

"Exactly, so he could go anytime."

"But that's good, right? Well, I don't mean his death is good. Bless his heart. Well, in a sense it is because he'll be translated and be with Jesus. Never mind. It's good because the secret will die with him. In his glorified state, he won't be tempted to share its location with anyone."

"Look, Leelah. I don't want any more people roped into this than are already involved."

"And that's why you told me just now. Jim, you're not making sense. Listen to me. No one is going anywhere. We've been circling around the main point here. Christ the King knows all things. None of this is a surprise to Him. He's orchestrated the whole situation, the whole history from discovering the skeleton on. Whatever He has planned will bring Him glory."

"You're right. It's not on us to sleuth this out or solve the puzzle."

Captain, my apologies for intruding again. GWEN was programmed with an adjustable level of sarcasm. It's the Whitestone of Am Ende on the line. I doubt he'll wait forever.

Fireknife and Leelah realized the same thing at the same time. He posed a question to the computer. "GWEN, do you know anything about the Mosasaur Missile?"

24

### Palace

### Year 454

The lake, filling the bottom of a steep, grey-green valley of beech and black pine, caressed a wooden canoe moored at a small but sturdy pier. There, on a rickety stool, sat a 229-year-old woman, utterly lost in concentration. She pulled the bow in her hand across the thick strings of a bass cello, sending deep, soulful chords resonating into the forest and over flagstone steps which climbed from the shore, up the mossy hill, between two giant oaks, to a simple stone cabin wreathed by wild chestnut and dogwood.

Hector sat for an hour listening to the somber yet noble tones on the needle-laden deck with his favorite Bible, its pages worn from centuries of turning and tears. From behind him in the cabin wafted the rich aroma of eggs, chives, and smoked salmon. He sipped the strong Byttgryman coffee that he enjoyed as thick as his homemade salsa and headed inside to turn the filets.

When he came back out, the music had stopped, and the subtle fragrance worn by his wife of five years caught his attention.

Claire stepped up onto the deck and paused to take in the view and the fresh air, her red hair tied loosely above her neck. She put a hand on her husband's arm and sipped from his steaming mug.

"Thank you, love. Breakfast is almost ready." He stretched.

"How's your practicing going? It sounds truly amazing."

"Still feels a little mechanical, but it's getting there. The natural acoustics of the valley help it a lot." Claire hummed a few notes from the piece.

"I still can't believe in a month's time you'll be performing a piece by Heiden, conducted by Heiden himself."

She smiled up at him. "Especially since he wrote it almost seven hundred years ago."

"It's beautiful! I'm so proud of you! God has certainly given you a gift."

"It was nice, wasn't it, of my uncle to lend us his place for a week?" She wrapped her arms around his waist. "Feels like years since we took a break together."

"It has been years." He smiled. "And, yes, it was extremely gracious of Gryphon to offer, especially considering the cold shoulder I generally get from him."

"Oh, he's just weird." She turned to head inside. "He's adopted, you know."

"That explains a lot." Hector slid the wooden chair back against the wall.

"Love, he's harmless. And I'm sure you're growing on him," she called from inside, plates clanking.

"Like a barnacle," he added under his breath.

"What was that?" she asked.

"Sorry, Claire. I didn't mean anything—"

"No. What was that sound?" She reemerged, her green eyes wide with both curiosity and concern. "Like an engine or..." With gymnastic grace, she planted one foot on the railing and vaulted upward, landing on the roof so she could get a better view of the gravel path that led from the main road to the front of the cabin.

"Millennials. Always showing off," Hector noted out loud. He still couldn't hear anything. Nevertheless, he jogged around the corner and was astonished to see a glistening black street bike parked among the ferns. Its rider was cautiously approaching the door, carrying her helmet. She was of Asian descent, wore a black bodysuit, and reeled back in surprise when Claire landed agilely in front of her.

"Hello. Greetings in Christ!" said Claire cheerfully. "How can we help you?"

Lei Ming stepped back further when she saw the massive, tattooed Mexican wearing an apron and armed with a coffee mug and a spatula.

"I'm pretty sure I'm lost."

***

After a slightly burnt breakfast, the three of them sat around the cramped dining booth in the corner of the cabin, sharing more delicouls coffee. Very quickly, Hector and Claire surmised that Lei Ming's problems went far deeper than getting turned around on the road. From what little she could remember and successfully relay, they pieced together bits of her life story, learning of her time in Eklesus and her more recent move to Trinity.

"I don't know what my next move is," Lei Ming was saying as they stood, "beyond taking a hike in these beautiful woods."

"You're more than welcome. There are dozens of trails that spread out over several square kilometers." Claire was trying to be helpful. She was ravenous for more alone time with her husband.

Hector cleared the table. "If you stay close to the lake, you'll always be able to find the cabin."

"Thank you so much, you two lovebirds. I sense I'm intruding on a much needed and much anticipated retreat, so I'll let you get back to your day."

"Why don't you join us for dinner later." Claire had spent a few moments in prayer about her attitude. "I hope you like chalupas and tamales."

Lei Ming found the back deck and the view of the majestic lake. "Well, let's see. Of all the invitations I've received today, yours is the best." She smiled and skipped down the stairs to the water.

She returned at dusk with another migraine. The medipatch on her suit had run out. Before knocking on the door of the cabin, Lei Ming decided to top up her medication from the spare supply on her bike.

When she arrived, the bike was being guarded by a colossal mound of long, coarse fur. She wasn't sure if it was an animal or not and, if so, whether it was currently alive or not. She interrupted more delicious cooking at the cabin, and Claire and Hector came outside.

Hector saw the pile of what reminded him of shag carpet. "Oh, that's just Chewy. Gryphon said he'd be in the area this time of year."

Upon hearing its name, the woolly rhinoceros rolled over, raising his massive head and his horn that was taller than Hector.

Claire approached the beast slowly, her hand out as a sign of peaceful greeting. "He also said Chewy liked machines. I'm not sure if he meant their shininess or their flavor."

"Just make sure it's still there under all that fur." Lei Ming cautiously joined her.

Chewy seemed more than glad to see them. He was up on his feet and enjoying a scratch under his chin from Claire like a clumsy puppy. The bike was still there, knocked on its side but relatively unscathed. Lei Ming grabbed her gear, lifting a duffle out of the small storage compartment under the seat.

As she did so, a single sheet of paper floated to the gravel drive.

Hector noticed it and picked it up for her. It had a single word written on it in blue ink: GRYPHON. He handed it to her. "Is that how you found this place?"

"Oh, thanks. Yeah." Lei Ming took it from him and stared at the name. "I think I was talking to someone, and they handed me this paper." She closed her eyes to concentrate through the assault on her sinuses. "Then I was talking to someone else. Later. And they told me about this cabin."

Claire was feeding Chewy a pomegranate. "Seems about right. Maybe you spoke to someone down in the village. They would connect the name with this place. Gryphon owns this whole area."

"Speaking of the village, I need to get going. I'm sorry for all the trouble." Lei Ming held her head. "I'm going to ride back and get a place to stay for the night. You've been so kind and hospitable."

Claire patted Chewy on the nose and walked over to Lei Ming wiping her red-stained hand on her apron. "Nothing of the sort. You'll be staying with us tonight. End of discussion."

Hector nodded. "And in the morning we'll take you wherever you need to go. Our skiff is parked in the village."

"I can't say no."

"Good!" Claire gave her a hug. "I was praying just this morning for God to bring a new person or ministry into my life," then she added wryly, "Hector can sleep outside."

***

Before dawn, Hector rode on Chewy's back down to the village but returned with no skiff. "It wouldn't start so I came back to get you. I would have towed it, but I didn't want to get it all scratched up in this thick forest. Maybe I'll see if someone in the village can get it running."

"I could take a look at it," Lei Ming suggested as she wiped her mouth with a napkin after breakfast

Twenty minutes later, Claire and Lei Ming sped off on the bike. Hector lumbered along behind on Chewy, now weighed down with their cooking equipment and the cello. When he arrived at the small docking tower where the skiff was moored, the girls were chatting on the wooden platform.

"All fixed? I don't believe it!" Hector called up to them.

Claire leaned over the rail. "Done and done. Took Lei Ming under a metric minute to find the issue. Turns out it was a fuse log chip!"

"A what?" Hector cupped his ear. "I'm coming up."

"A fuse regulator chip." Lei Ming corrected when he reached the top of the stairs. "You're good to go."

"Well, thanks," he said, gently placing the cello in the hold. "Listen, I was thinking on the way over."

"Uh oh," Claire said with a grin.

"Hey, come on now, chica!" He picked up a bag. "Why don't you give Gryphon a call. See if he might be able to shed some light on Lei Ming's mysterious past and open future."

"I was going to ask you to if you hadn't offered," Lei Ming said immediately. "You put me up for the night. I fix your skiff." Now she was grinning. "It's your turn to bless me. See?"

Hector pointed a finger in the air. "Don't forget the incredible Mexican cuisine." Claire already had her tablet out and was dialing.

***

Aboard Gryphon's luxury yacht, the HTTL Talon Mane, Claire watched the endless carpet of jungle trees pass under them at eight hundred kilometers per hour. She turned her attention from the window and accepted a flute of bubbling water from her uncle.

Gryphon sat down across from her and her husband balancing a slice of mango on a table knife. He took a bite and laid the knife on a cloth napkin. "So, I've just spent twenty minutes with her, and already I want to pay her gobs of money to help me take over the Realm."

"Haven't you pretty much done that, Grif?" Claire's eyebrows were raised.

"She's beautiful, and she's amazing. We were conversing at such a highly specialized, technical level in there. Thanks for making this connection." Another slice of mango neared his mouth. "I know you just met her, too, but from your time together, what is your general impression of her problem with memory?"

Hector leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "She's not crazy, and she didn't hit her head. I know it was a lifetime ago since I've seen one, but I'll never forget the look of an addict."

"Hmm." Gryphon chewed and thought. "That's sad if it's true. Wipe maybe." He leaned back, spreading his arms along the back of the divan. "Well, I have access to some of the Realm's best medical minds. I'm sure we can help her manage her condition moving forward."

"How handy for you." Claire was beginning to regret calling her uncle.

"She's already in good hands. Dr. Townsend is on board and looking after her. You remember her, Claire, from Hapa's famous first world tour."

Claire simply nodded. "Blast from the past."

Hector took out the sheet of paper. "Then there's this." He handed it to Gryphon.

He took it and stared at it like it was on fire. "Where did you get this? This is Leelah's handwriting."

"Leelah?" Claire and Hector said at the same time.

"Yeah, I'm sure of it! She held a pencil a weird way because she damaged her pinky finger in an accident."

Claire set down her glass. "That is so small-world! So Lei Ming knows our Leelah."

Hector, not familiar with Ezasen's adopted daughter, was confused. "Why would this Leelah refer Lei Ming to you?"

The upholstered door at the end of the futuristic cabin slid open. "Because she knew Mr. Gryphon could help meet my medical and employment needs. A wise woman." She smiled and sat gingerly next to Claire.

Claire patted her friend's knee. "I'm glad you're feeling better."

"Oh, it comes and goes." Lei Ming assured, glancing out the window. "Good days and bad. Wow. I was about to ask where we were, but I think I have my answer." The three of them looked. On the horizon towered the holy Mountain, its churning pillar of cloud ever billowing upward.

An hour later, Claire and Hector said their goodbyes. Their skiff detached from the Talon Mane and floated off toward the crowded royal port of Jerusalem.

Gryphon, Townsend, and Lei Ming stood on the Observation Deck watching vessels bringing tribute to the King of kings from every nation of the Realm. "Check this out, brand new friend of mine." He handed Lei Ming a swatch of thick, textured cloth covered in minute hexagonal cells. "Remind you of anything?"

Lei Ming felt the fabric, turning it over in her hands. "Makes me think of the eyes of an insect, like a moth or butterfly."

"Amazing!" Gryphon exclaimed. "That's exactly what it was based upon. I've developed a Meta5 material that captures nearly the full spectrum of electromagnetic waves."

Lei Ming handed it back. "Impressive. Do these hex ridges act as an antenna?"

Dr. Townsend smiled and turned to go check on her ailing husband, the Temple Prince. "Here's my Third Wheel card. You two have fun." She walked away unnoticed.

"Right again, Miss Lei Ming!" Gryphon danced a tight circle. "Imagine a bodysuit, or even a dive suit, made of this stuff!"

She touched his shoulder to balance herself. "Mr. Grove. I am more interested than I might seem. May I sit down?"

"Of course. Right here near the window." He helped her to a sofa and sat down at the other end. "Some water?" He handed her a glass and retrieved a pitcher from the OD kitchenette. After pouring, he sat down a civilized distance from her. She sipped. They watched the Mountain and a million ships like flying ants droning on in silence.

After a few minutes, Gryphon leaned over and said to Lei Ming, "I'm putting together a special team."

***

Gryphon muted his Digby Telecom D455 SolarSat with a tap to his ear. The three pre-teenage girls in front of him were shy but wanted their picture taken with the famous inventor and entrepreneur. They gathered in under his arms and each of them held out a device that hovered up from their hands. In unison, the three cameras said say cheese then flashed several shots of the group. The girls thanked him and scampered off down the white stone causeway.

"Sorry, Amir." He said into the air. "Some tourists. You were saying?" As he listened to his top sales expert, he couldn't help but drink in the unique panorama before him. Jerusalem was the chief city of the Realm. It was almost a thousand kilometers across and constructed completely out of a white, quartz-like stone. Incredibly hard and polished into a mirror, the material made its walls and streets seem metallic.

From his vantage point on the western slope of The Mountain, Gryphon could see the royal coast to the west, with its myriad of docks and ports welcoming literally millions of ships on the sea and in the air. Each one brought pilgrims or tribute or both to the Holy City from where Jesus Himself ruled the nations. To the south he saw nothing but endless white as the city stretched over the horizon. It was the same to the north. The sheer scale of what he was witnessing made him breathless. It was easier to just focus on the ground.

And he didn't dare look at the peak behind him to the east. Having never lived in an age with mountains, this mammoth spire defied all logic. It's summit was somewhere above ten thousand meters above sea level. He had spent a few freezing minutes higher up on one of those imposing slopes. So, from firsthand experience, he knew it was covered year-round with water that was so cold it had become solid. That happened in freezers and refrigerators, not in nature.

But what gave Gryphon an almost nauseous vertigo the few times he dared look was the pillar of cloud that tumbled upwards from the summit all day, every day. It rumbled and bellowed like a thousand waterfalls, a constant reminder that God was among His people. For the pillar of cloud, he had respect. Awe. That was magnificent, raw, cosmic power. But when night fell, his reverence turned to fear. Fear in his very soul.

Between dusk and dawn the cloud turned to fire. The flames had a million colors. Nothing else on the planet produced more heat.

He tried to get his mind around the amount of energy it produced (or consumed, he couldn't tell which) every second of every night for over four hundred fifty years so far. But this was no volcano. He had heard about them, studied them theoretically. No, this was a manifestation. It was evidence of God's innate significance and man's insignificance. And he got the message.

His reverie was stopped short by something Amir had said. "Say that again."

Amir sounded a little annoyed as he told him the details of the biggest corporate sale in the history of the Kingdom. Gryphon had decided to splinter all his investments, banks, hospitals, all his research firms, all his companies and sell them to the highest bidders. Everything from his shares in Digby Telecom to his lucrative world tours empire was out the door. After four years of negotiations and legal processes, it had finally come down to this. "What's the bottom line, Amir?"

Amir gave him a number. "Thanks." Gryphon said and hung up. He had to smile. Now only Jesus had more money than he did.

He hummed a little tune that he and Oni used to sing on their canoe rides on Copper Lake. He adjusted the angle control on the tripod next to him and panned his one-of-a-kind, experimental camera toward a group of men in white robes two streets below. Almost as if he had said action, two of the men dematerialized. The camera recorded the event on several levels: infrared, ultraviolet, temperature, radio, radiation, and electromagnetic spectrum. Those were in addition to audio and visual. "How do you do it?" He said out loud.

25

### Adrift

### Year 46

With both hands, seven-year-old Gryphon scooped a grasshopper off his brother's lap and onto the little sandbar next to his favorite bend in the river. "We can't have giant insects invading our floating island city, can we, Cord?" He said with sheer delight.

Ezasen, sitting waist deep in the water keeping his son's latest creation from careening downstream, replied for Cord, "No, we certainly cannot." They both smiled. Ezasen saw his chance. "Do you know what else we certainly cannot have?"

Cord continued to smile, but Gryphon's grin was gone. He squinted and pursed his lips, tracking perfectly with his father's redirection. "Dad, I have a question. What is the sun made of?"

"Focus, Grif." Ezasen's tone was now stern but soft. "We do not test new paint colors on the animals." He picked up both his sons and set Gryphon on the grass above the sandbar. "Let's go visit Nutmeg. Take my hand."

"But—"

"Let's go, Professor." The three of them dripped across the yard toward the sunflower field to the flourishing maple that gave shade to the property. Sticking out from behind the tree was the bushy tail of a fox.

Painted blue.

"Now listen, buddy. It was wrong to paint Nutmeg." Ezasen barely succeeded in keeping a straight face. "I know we didn't mention it as a specific rule, but it's a good time to start practicing making some good decisions on your own about what the right thing to do is." He sat on an exposed root of the tree and put a son on each knee. Nutmeg, looking a bit betrayed, reluctantly rolled over and tucked in at his feet. Cord was still young enough to be mostly oblivious to this heady interview and so decided to blow bubbles with his saliva and pull at Nutmeg's blue fur.

"Mom and I can't be with you every moment of every day, and you have a brother that adores you and looks to you to set an example for him to follow." Ezasen could tell the wheels of conscience were slowly turning under that shock of black (and blue) hair. And when you grow up and you're on your own, you'll have to make those decisions for real, on your own. You're really smart, and you know a lot things, but who is knowledge's best buddy?

"Wisdom," Gryphon said it indicating that this was not the first time they had had this conversation.

"Yes, and how does wisdom help knowledge?"

Gryphon's elbow was on his knee, and his chin was on his hand. The inner battle for his will was fierce, but he hid it with nonchalance. "Wisdom puts knowledge into right action."

"Good job! Now, look me in the eyes. What do we say?"

Gryphon was eager to say it. "I'm sorry, Dad." They hugged.

"I love you, and I forgive you." He said and kissed both boys on the head. Nutmeg leaped and bowled the trio over, licking and yipping. "And it looks like I'm not the only one!"

By the time they got back to the house for breakfast, all three of them were blue from head to toe.

***

### Year 488

Cord watched a pilot whale spraying water out of its blowhole just a few meters away. He turned, leaned on the railing, and looked almost straight up at the top of the docking tower high above the floating island. He wore a form-fitting royal blue body suit covered in nanosolar cells. The cells were woven directly into the thermoelectric tetrahedrite fabric of the suit and powered his personal communications system wirelessly. A molecule-thin layer of silica kept the suit cool. The material was extremely light but durable and breathed like cotton.

A heavier man than his brother, his sandy blond hair was cropped short on the sides and long on top. A thick mustache framed his wide mouth. His large blue eyes took everything in. "You've color-coded the tower so you know where you are on the island. Nice touch."

"Remember those little houseboats and floating castles we used to make for our toy farmers and animals, and we'd float them down the river?" Gryphon said, staring at the waves. His hands were clasped like that of a field marshall behind his back. Cord studied his brother. The clean slick business veneer was gone. His dark hair was now shoulder-length. He wore a similar, but gray, bodysuit and had grown a full, but well-trimmed, beard. He looked healthier, younger, more connected to the here and now.

"You mean the ones we made out of mom's rolling pins and wooden spoons?"

"Yes. Those." Then he gestured to encompass the entire craft. "That was the kernel of the idea for all this. It's just a prototype, but I think I'm close to getting all the bugs out." The two men began walking clockwise around the vessel's nine-and-a-half kilometer circumference. Every horizontal surface was coated with solar panels, even the walking and bike paths. Every vertical surface was covered either in huge glass windows or micro-wind turbines, each thirty centimeters in diameter. The perimeter of the island-ship boasted ten floors of terraced living quarters above water and two more underwater. The center column housed the tower above, where thirty-seven airships were currently tethered, and five stories of offices and crew quarters below. The ring between was flat and had room for parks, markets, and assembly areas.

When Cord and Gryphon reached a lane that led toward the core, they turned and strolled to a grassy sector. Grif pointed to a pair of low-slung couches. "I'm calling her Mosaic."

"Catchy," Cord remarked. "No, really. It's amazing. I see reminders everywhere of other ships and buildings you've designed in the past. You're getting better." He smirked and reached down and picked a blade of real grass. "So you've constructed a floating retirement village."

Gryphon smiled but didn't answer. They sat.

"Explain something to me, Grif," Cord pressed. "Thirtyfour years ago you basically drop off the face of the earth. Sell everything. Liquidate your life and go down to Jonathan's Arrow to do what? Live as a hermit?"

"Coffee?" Gryphon asked, abruptly standing and headed toward the hub. Five minutes later he was making himself a cup in the tiny kitchenette in the corner of his massive bridge twenty-three floors up. The room was deserted but was filled with screens, workstations, and control panels. In the center stood a huge interactive light table, currently displaying maps and diagnostic overlays of the ship.

"Uh, tea, please. If you have some."

"Chai latté? It's a powder."

"Sure. Thanks. So. That was me asking why you're doing what you're doing."

"Actually, the exact opposite of living like a hermit, as you say. I needed a place to get away and think and plan before I become very involved in society."

"Some sort of midlife crisis? You're redefining yourself?"

"Something like that. We are approaching the 500-year mark of the Age, after all. Here you go." Gryphon handed his brother a large glass mug filled with frothy Phirzadi tea, milk, and ice. "Maybe the Age needs a mid-life crisis."

"Served by the liter. Thanks."

"It's better than the stuff you get in Cloud. Before I say much more and tap your lawyer brain, dear sibling, I want to bring someone else into the conversation." On the wall hung a giant display that beeped to life. Gryphon tapped on the light table a few times and an empty living room came into view on the screen.

"Who did you have in mind?" Cord tensed slightly. His brother was anything but predictable.

A few seconds later, a tall woman with bleached white hair and freckles holding a sleeping infant sat down and filled the screen. She wore a rust-colored body suit. "Hey guys!" their sister Ava said with a big smile. "What's the latest with our plan to take over the Realm?"

"Ava! It's good to see you," Cord said from the bottom of his heart. He adored his older sister. "How is Xander Valley treating you?"

"Nice stinger, Cord. Did you have that at the Feast this year? It's really good here. Ash is finishing up his contract and we're kinda looking to God for our next project."

Cord stared at his brother. "So Grif's got you and Asher roped into whatever this is. How?"

"I think you should hear him out this time. It's pretty exciting."

Gryphon finally spoke. "Bear with us for a minute, sis, while I give Cord the short version." Then the genius communicator and slick salesman was back. "Mosaic is much more than a floating village. It is a mobile community whose citizens share common goals and interests; desire to live, strive, and thrive together; and witness the diversity of the Realm firsthand. Mosaic will fuse cultures, family values, and state-of-the-art technologies and conveniences, with 100 percent energy sustainability and governance to create the ultimate living experience."

Cord held up his hand.

"Yes. Cord."

"Ok. You're using words like citizens and governance. Should I read into this that you're attempting to form some sort of independent social structure, like with laws and judges and traffic tickets?" He chuckled at the ludicrous thought. "It almost sounds like you're starting your own country."

"Our very own three-kilometer wide, self-sustaining democracy!" Gryphon confirmed with his arms stretched wide.

"You're serious. Ava, how long have you known about this?"

"It was something we were both thinking about. We were talking one day about how Dad had started those literature distribution tours a couple of centuries back and how successful and common they are now and how cool it would be to do it continually, like year-round. Plus it would be a chance to have the whole family together again. Ash has been helping Grif with plans and ideas in his spare time for, oh, ten years now." A child cried offscreen. "Hey, sorry to rush off, but I need to put out a fire here. See you in Eote next month. Give our love to Didette." She ended the call, and the screen went blank.

Cord sat down in a swivel chair, put his fingers to his temples, and closed his eyes. "Ok. Suddenly I have a thousand questions.

Not the least of which is, you said democracy. Why would you even think that's a good ide considering we live in a very authoritative, unilateral theocracy? You've heard, no doubt, how badly democracy worked out for people before the Return."

He folded his arms in protest. "I will say this. The current—and I might add, eternal—regime will simply not allow the establishment of a sovereign nation without a glorified saint at its head. The best you could hope for is to... I don't know... To start an organization or corporation that has a CEO, not a Whitestone, and employees instead of citizens. We could probably set it up on paper as a company, but the day-to-day would resemble a country. You'll note I'm using a lot of air quotes here."

Gryphon put on his older-brother hat. "You've brought up some valid points, Cord. Thank you. And, before we get down to brass tacks, I promise to answer any and all questions you may have. I want—we want you to see it as an opportunity. An opportunity to do things a little differently. Hasn't that always been a hallmark of our family?"

***

Mosaic dwarfed the tiny atoll of Jonathan's Arrow as it put out to sea on its maiden and only voyage. Her first port of call was the youngest city in the world, located far to the west of Cloud on the edge of the Galileus Peninsula. Its name, Eote, was a clever acronym for the Ends of the Earth. It was not settled like other cities had been. Instead, it had been developed in just the last thirty years as a fully functioning center for the latest in everything from technology, design, business, energy, fashion, and religion. This was Athens reborn, and just as needy for the Gospel. Its founders wanted to get as far removed physically from Jerusalem as possible in hopes of being overlooked and forgotten by He who searches the minds and motivations of all people.

The city itself was a sixteen-kilometer-wide disc with five major—and dozens of minor—arms sprawling outward into the sea like rays from the sun. Within the circle rose sloping, spiraling towers inspired by the shapes of leaves, culminating in a single spire six kilometers up. A quiet port hugged the westernmost point where Mosaic was now anchored.

Once they had parked their skiff, Cord, Didette, Asher, and Ava led their respective eight children into the market district to hand out literature. They would ask people if they had a copy of the Bible. If not, they would offer to share an electronic file with them that contained a library of Bible translations, commentaries, and other books. They made their way clockwise through shops and businesses without a strong response or welcome. Only a few children showed much interest. They weren't old enough to remember life before Eote was established and were thus the only ones who hadn't heard about Jesus and His Kingdom.

On their second circuit, many of the citizens were annoyed and simply asked them to leave, but one man became enraged and threatened to call the authorities. The families graciously moved on, but an hour later they were approached by some city officials who ushered the whole group into a large, covered skiff. Cord was secretly hoping they would be brought before the highest-ranking leaders in Eote. He was not disappointed.

The transport skimmed along the organic outer skin of the city and moored at a tower near the peak. They were guided through several doors and halls, all richly adorned, and finally deposited in a cramped room with no windows. Three hours later, the door opened, and they were shown into a plush office. A serious man sat behind an ostentatious desk. Another man sat opposite him with his back turned, but Ava recognized him immediately.

"Who is your First?" the man behind the desk demanded.

"Ezasen Grove," Cord and Ava said it together.

"You know these people?" The official steepled his chubby fingers, staring wide-eyed at Gryphon as he turned to smile at the group.

"Yes, they're my family," Gryphon answered proudly.

Cord took a step forward, and their escorts stiffened. "We are emissaries of Christ."

"Fairytales." One of the official's aides spoke up. "You can't come into the exalted chambers of Bastion Vigor and proceed to spew unsubstantiated lies and falsehoods."

Didette was furious. "With all due respect, sirs, do you each have a heartbeat?"

"Of course," The Bastion snorted. "But I'm beginning to comprehend that you and your family lack the mental capacity to properly function in this or any other society."

"Are you currently breathing?" Didette pressed, unscathed by his harsh words.

"This is absurd," the aide interjected. "Naturally, we are all breathing, miss. Sir, I realize now that we are wasting your valuable time. If you'll excuse us, I'll deliver this troubled and unstable family to our beloved deportation department."

Didette closed her eyes. Light from a window caught her face dramatically. "The God who made the world and everything in it, being Lord of heaven and earth, does not live in temples made by man, nor is he served by human hands, as though he needed anything, since he himself gives to all mankind life and breath and everything. And he made from one man every nation of mankind to live on all the face of the earth, having determined allotted periods and the boundaries of their dwelling place, that they should seek God, and perhaps feel their way toward him and find him. Yet he is actually not far from each one of us, for 'In him we live and move and have our being.'" Her quote from the book of Acts, chapter seventeen, brought silence to the room for several seconds.

Vigor himself was stunned, but recovered sooner than the others. He stood, his considerable girth balanced on spindly legs. His jacket was covered with gold inlay, braids, tassels, badges, and awards. He cleared his throat officiously. "You may be used to vassal-suzerain treaties in other countries, Mr. Gryphon, but let me assure you that here in Eote we have rules and regulations that our citizens and visitors abide by. People cannot be trusted to act with common sense. That's why they need us to care for them, protect them, and guide them through life's many challenges."

"And who is guiding you through life's many challenges, Bastion?" Cord took another determined step forward.

The Bastion refused to look Cord in the eye. "If you can't control your own people, Mr. Gryphon, I'm not sure this is a good fit for you."

"I have technologies." Gryphon stretched out his words, making them sound luxurious.

Bastion opened his mouth but then closed it and smiled deviously. He studied Gryphon's smug features for nearly a minute, then sighed, leaned back in his foreboding chair, and waved his small hand. "Let them go, but they are not to distribute literature in Eote."

"We appeal to Whitestone." Ava, holding a child on each hip, came forward and stood next to her brothers. The Bastion glared at her, at once both attracted to her pleasing hair and eyes, and disgusted by the homely, disheveled brats she carried. One sucked on a red toy skiff; the other chewed a cracker.

Before he could say another word, the air around them crackled, and the Whitestone of Eote appeared in the room with them. "That will be all, Bastion Vigor."

26

### Henchman

### Year 499

A pair of thresher sharks cruised by outside the window of Gryphon's underwater office aboard Mosaic. Demost, his executive assistant with his English-butler bearing and graying mustache, had served Gryphon for fifty-three years. But this was his last day. The two men faced each other, both having grown completely apathetic toward the other.

"Since there is nothing else, sir." Demost stated instead of asked.

Gryphon returned to his chair behind his wide glass desk. "No, Gerald. I think that will be all." Without raising his eyes, he added, "Thank you."

"Sir." And he walked out.

Gryphon tapped a blinking white circle on his interactive desk. "Yes, GWEN?"

A soothing computer-generated voice responded. We've just entered Valiant Harbor.

"Ready my ship."

She's standing by, sir.

Suddenly, and with the slightest hum, a circular opening in the floor gave way. Up slid an ovoid enclosure with a convex transparent hatch. Seawater ran in rivulets down its sleek hull. The hatch opened and Gryphon stepped in. The hatch closed, pressurizing the tiny cockpit with a puff of air, and the whole contraption sank silently into a tropical underwater scene bursting with colorful fish and flora. The sub, whose stern had popped up into the office to fetch its pilot, now leveled out and sped on its way to the remote city of Zamzumim and a meeting with a giant.

***

Those favored few who lived in or near Vladivostok, Russia, and survived through the Return were the founders of Zuzim's capitol city. There were seventeen of them.

Now, five centuries later, Zamzumim had equaled, if not bettered, the West in science and innovation but had remained isolated, allowing their culture, technology, and history to develop tangentially, providing unique solutions to common challenges. Their closed system was just starting to open up. They had found a worthy partner with which to begin a dialog.

Gryphon allowed GWEN to guide the sub deep into Valiant Harbor, located on the north side of the city. Zamzumim also had a southern harbor called Noble. An immense underwater opening separated the two bays. The wall of this gate contained hundreds of tiny ports, most just big enough for the sub to enter.

As he approached, one of the ports opened, and the sub slipped inside and stopped at a wall. Switching to Atmospheric Drive, GWEN announced as the vestibule drained of water and filled with air. The wall opened, and the sub-turned-skiff hovered forward down a busy but sterile tube for some kilometers, finally exiting and coming to a chamber devoid of decoration or other vehicles.

Gryphon hopped out and clanked noisily on the metal floor. A door across the room slid open. "I guess that's where I go next," he said half to himself, half to GWEN. He passed through and found himself in a long corridor with more sterile lighting, emanating from ceiling, wall, and floor. In niches on both sides stood suits of armor. Samurai, Hun, Visigoth, English knight.At least fifty from around the world and tracing all through the history of the Age before. All were replicas down to the minutest detail, but rendered in a white, reflective material Gryphon assumed was some form of advanced polymer.

He was staring at a United Earth Forces combat exoskeleton from Armageddon when a door at the far end of the hall slid upwards. A figure over three meters tall stepped through. In a thick accent somewhere between Mongolian and Russian, the man called, "This way, Mr. Gryphon."

Gryphon walked toward the massive man, made more massive by the bulky, fur-lined coat he wore.

"Put this on," the giant said. He handed him an identical coat. Gryphon slipped it on. It came down past his knees.

"Are you Tessarsin?"

"Yes. Follow me."

The two men walked into a capacious factory where the cacophony of tractors, welding, and hundreds of voices made it difficult to hear. In the center of the room was a black cube four meters high. Pipes and control boards covered every side. Tessarsin shouted, "Yuri. We go inside." A worker scrambled over to a door on the cube, pushed buttons on a keypad, and nervously got out of the way. The door creaked and hissed open, releasing a cloud of white mist. Gryphon paused and Tessarsin smiled ever so slightly. "Come."

When they went through the door, Gryphon automatically took in a panicked breath. Only once had he felt so cold in all his life. His woodshed encounter with the Whitestone of Toma on the slopes of the Mountain in Jerusalem still made him shiver. He groped at the coat, found a zipper, and closed the hood around his head. He stuffed his hands in the pockets and tried to keep from shaking. All modicum of control, professionalism, and poise fell like ice cubes to the frost-covered floor.

Tessarsin seemed comfortable. "The temperature in this room can be turned down to negative 50 degrees celsius."

It hurt to talk. "What is it set at now?" Gryphon's teeth were starting to vibrate uncontrollably.

"Zero, Mr. Gryphon. Celsius. The point at which water freezes. Would you believe this is made possible by magnets?"

"Very intriguing." Gryphon could see his own breath. "Let's talk about it outside."

"Yuri, drop it to negative twenty, and close the door."

"The mind boggles." All of Gryphon's decorum was gone. He now walked to the ice-encrusted door and tried turning the heavy handle. It would not budge. "It really is time to exit this death box." He pumped the handle again. "Demonstration over!"

"Of course, Mr. Gryphon." The giant joined him at the door. "Allow me. It takes a level of finesse." Tessarsin jiggled, then yanked, on the stubborn handle. "I don't understand."

"What I don't understand is how in the Realm you thought this was a good idea, cruel joke or not." Gryphon was now hopping and dancing, trying keep sensation in his legs. "I think we're past finesse, Mr. Tessarsin."

Tessarsin glowered down at him. "Yuri, open the door."

"And turn off the blessed freezer!" Gryphon yelled, unapologetically.

"Yuri. open the door. Yuri!"

"Oh, terrific. Well done, Professor Cullen!" Gryphon mocked, referring to the inventor of artificial refrigeration. "I feel like I'm back at the University of Glasgow in 1748."

Tessarsin growled. "Yuri, come in! Are you there?"

Then they heard what both of them recognized as a muffled explosion.

"That would be power coupling," Tessarsin stated blandly. He slowly raised his long arms up to protect his head. Gryphon followed suit, guessing the giant suspected something worse was about to occur.

With only that warning, another explosion went off, this time just beyond the south wall of the cube. The room shuttered and skewed off level by about ten degrees. Both men were slammed to the icy floor.

"And that was the electromagnetic coil itself." Tessarsin squinted at the walls. "This is becoming very serious, Mr. Gryphon."

"Is that so?" Gryphon also noticed the room was getting smaller as it filled with frost. "Which part? The decimated factory outside or the incredible shrinking coffin here inside? I know enough about physics to know that after a detonation like that there's nothing left of your facility."

The giant hit the door with his huge fist in a moment of rage. "Billions wasted. Decades wasted!"

"Who cares?" Gryphon instinctively backed away. "You've got people out there!"

Tessarsin punched the door again, shards of ice flying everywhere.

"That is thing about physics. The rules don't care."

"Then we break the rules!" Gryphon thought quickly. "What's this cube made of?"

The giant sat, defeated. "What? Oh, um. Mostly insulative polymer. Thirty centimeters thick."

"And the rest?" Gryphon was pacing in circles, calculating and trying to keep warm.

Tessarsin looked up, beginning to see the spark of an idea that his guest must also see. "Outer hull is Meta3. Hard as Titanium. Two centimeters thick."

"Perfect! GWEN, can you hear me?"

Ready, sir. The artificial intelligence spoke into his earpiece.

Gryphon was jogging in place now. "Great! GWEN, this is an emergency. I need you to maneuver the sub to my location."

That may prove difficult, sir. The sub is buried under a considerable amount of debris.

"Do what you can, GWEN. Mr Tessarsin and I are trapped inside a frozen black cube made of Meta3."

With all due respect, Sir, my programming prohibits me from causing property damage or endangering humanity.

"The humanity in here is going to die unless you cause some additional property damage! Alright? Work through the logic and come get us out of here!"

Tessarsin actually started to shiver. After an impossibly long pause, the computer voice said, Here I come.

The two men flattened themselves against opposite walls. They heard the sub's engines powering up. Gryphon surmised there must not be any walls left between the cube and where he had parked. More crashing and settling debris fell all around them as the sub pushed closer.

Brace yourselves.

"Aim for the center with the point of the bow. Try to pierce the seam between the edge of the door and the frame."

The men felt another jolt as the sub hit the outer hull. The cube was pushed back and pinned against the far retaining wall of the factory.

Just a dent, sir. I've contacted Mosaic, and they are sending assistance.

The frost was still spreading rapidly inside the cube and it was becoming difficult to breathe. "Try ramming us again, GWEN!"

Sir, may I remind you of the definition of ins—?

"GWEN, there's no time! Ram us again!"

Complying.

The sub, its bow wrinkled like paper airplane that's been thrown into a wall too many times, collided with the cube. The inertia of the blow propelled the cube halfway up the slope of debris toward the roof of the factory.

The sub's bow, made of Meta4, had penetrated the hull. "Great job, GWEN! You knocked the door clean off its hinges! Now back up and let us out." Gryphon was thrilled and showed it with a little dance.

Complying. However, I must inform you, Sir, that the explosion has damaged the safety controls on the municipal grid. Seawater is now filling the garage and office levels of this facility.

The sub, sparking and smoking, extricated itself from the cube and slid, completely wrecked, down to the factory floor.

Gryphon and Tessarsin crawled out of their frozen cage only to find themselves wading, then swimming, in the rising tide. The bodies of dozens of workers floated around them cloaked in death.

Three skiffs from Mosaic descended on the morbid scene. A hatch on the belly of one of the skiffs opened, and Lei Ming stretched out her hand to Tessarsin. He took it and scrambled aboard, turning and grappling Gryphon as well.

"The authorities are on their way," Lei Ming said finally when they were all seated in the skiff, wrapped in blankets. "They've managed to seal the barrier between the factory and the sea."

"Thank you." Gryphon was so relieved to be in the tropical warmth again. "Lei Ming, Tessarsin. Tessarsin, this is Lei Ming, a key member of my new team."

Tessarsin only stared at the new lake that had formed where his factory had been. "They're all gone? All of them?"

"I'm afraid no one else survived." Lei Ming tried to say it in a comforting tone, but it came out with an edge of condescension, even accusation.

"The box that almost killed us, kept us alive."

"There is no honor in what I've done," Tessarsin spoke to the wind. "I allowed good, hardworking people die today. I am finished. Ruined."

Gryphon and Lei Ming shared a glance, hoping the other would say something to the giant. Finally, Gryphon caved. "It was an accident."

"An accident in my factory! An accident that killed men in my employ!" Tessarsin stood, and the skiff eased off pitch momentarily. "My people. My city. My country! The only legacy I leave to them is one of shame."

Tessarsin removed his blankets and promptly threw his considerable self overboard. They were two kilometers above the sea.

"Really?" Gryphon sprang to the rail and watched him drop. "I was hoping to hire him."

"You really know how to pick 'em, don't you?" Lei Ming spun the controls, and the skiff dove after the suicidal giant.

27

### Clean Slate

Simchat Pal placed another stone on the wall that separated his family's lot from his rather stingy neighbors to the north. One of their oxen had broken through earlier in the evening and wanted no part in making repairs. So Simchat labored on in the light of a dwindling torch and the crescent moon that hung low over the towers and hanging gardens of the great city across the river.

He quickened his pace, wiping the soil and grass from each stone before setting it in its place. If he wasn't meticulous and thorough, he would be out here doing it all again tomorrow.

In his periphery, Simchat saw three torches crossing his field. The breeze on the river blew embers southward like glowing chaff. Their bearers were three serious men, dressed in such fine garments that the lowly farmer fell to his knees in disbelief. The first of the men was clearly a satrap from the Royal Palace itself. The gold inlays on his blue robes sparkled even in the low light. The second man, by the height of his turban, must be the regional Prefect. Simchat wondered what horrific crime they supposed he had committed to bring these powerful figures to his humble farm.

Then he assumed his short life was over when he recognized the third man. The governor of the district of Babylonia, with tightly curled beard and painted eyes, was like a god to Simchat. He resolved in that moment to blabber like an idiot so they might think him a victim of some lunacy, but his plans were cut short when he saw the thing they led behind them. Was it man or beast, he wondered, as it hobbled along, bent over and growling.

"Rise, citizen," the satrap hissed.

"May the king live forever, my lords." Simchat's voice quivered.

The Prefect stepped forward and handed one end of the heavy iron chain to the farmer. "This man is sick. As the king lives, you will see to his needs until we return for him."

Simchat, overwhelmed and shaking, held the chain to his chest and bowed low. "Your servant hears and obeys."

The three men turned to go, but the governor locked creased eyes with Simchat. "A slow but certain death awaits you if you fail your king." And just as suddenly they were gone into the darkness.

His new charge, covered in dirt and gashes, was busy chewing handfuls of grass which he clawed from the ground with jagged, curling nails. He wore nothing but a black goat hair rag held up by a chafing iron ring around his waist. His hair was long, resembling an eagle's head feathers, and encrusted with sweat and blood. When his eyes, on either side of a broad, flat nose, met those of Simchat, they glowed a boiling red.

The next morning, Simchat found the beast drinking from the cattle trough. The cows, and even the bull, we're waiting patiently for their turn on the other side of the field. A strategy was slowly forming in the farmer's mind. If the beast ate grass, then he would be treated like the other grazers. So he set about to make him a part of the herd.

As the weeks and months went by, both Simchat and the beast fell into the daily routine on the land, much to the trepidation of the other animals. He was yoked with the bull for plowing, made a fine thresher during harvest, and even helped pull the tangled roots of a gnarled sycamore out of the ground down by the pond. Seven plentiful years passed thusly, without a word from the clandestine magistrates, and the neighbor's ox never came near the stone wall again.

One very ordinary evening, as Simchat poured a tall, earthen pot of water over the head of the beast, a gravelly voice uttered two words: "Thank you."

Simchat was not as surprised as he thought he might be. He placed the pot on the rim of the well and sat next to it. He sighed a long sigh of relief. "How long?"

The beast straightened to his full, considerable height. His eyes, full of sadness, were deep black again. "The God of Heaven this very day has restored the mind of his servant. I return to the palace tonight."

"I may be simple," Simchat stood and loosed the chain from the king, "but I saw the truth behind the reports of the king's supposed ailment and absence from the Court." They shared a respectful glance. Simchat reached and took hold of sheers and began trimming the king's talon-like nails. "Do you remember anything from these seven winters?"

"Only your many kindnesses. How might Nebuchadnezzar repay his zookeeper?"

"May the king live forever. I would request to learn more of the God who exalted you, then humbled you, and is able also to exalt you now again."

A month later, three familiar magistrates stood at Simchat's door. "By order of the king," the Governor announced, "we have another task which you are obliged to undertake." None of them were pleased. They seemed to him like whipped dogs.

Simchat fought the temptation to say something discourteous. "The king's servant is ready." He bowed low. "You are to come with us to the Palace and henceforth be called upon as Royal Scribe."

### Year 515

It was Ezra's turn to host a small family weekend at his home in Iconium. He lived on the beach on the less expensive north side of town in a modest townhome. His property included a yard with a sprawling magnolia, complete with treehouse, and beyond, a steep staircase down to the sand. Jutting rock formations on either side gave some privacy to his little stretch of coastline.

Ezra and Gryphon stood on his balcony watching over the twenty-nine children down in the yard and the food on the grill. Gryphon was playing tour guide again. "Iconium has become the prime manufacturing and distribution point for construction materials, particularly Meta4, a new blend of my nanopolymer used in almost everything from buildings and vehicles to furniture. That's why I was leaning on you to host this little circus this time."

"Metaphor?"

"Yeah. Think of styrofoam that can stop a bullet."

Ezra chuckled. "I've actually heard of both of those things."

They looked out between the rocks and saw Mosaic anchored a kilometer offshore. Beyond it floated something much bigger. The tops of scaffolding pushed up through the mist, and Ezra could just barely hear the sounds of machinery. A swarm of utility skiffs buzzed around the city of cranes.

"Looks massive."

"Yep. It's about eight kilometers wide, made up of seven two-kilometer rings arranged in a hexagon, with the seventh in the middle." Gryphon turned and crossed his arms triumphantly. "All constructed using Meta4."

Ezra pointed. "No tower?"

"Yes. Just not there yet. It will be over two kilometers high with a docking capacity of one hundred eighty large craft."

"When do you launch?"

Gryphon's phone beeped, and he glanced at it. "Next year, I hope."

The door to the house whisked open, and Ezra's wife, Jennifer, stepped out. "Don't mean to interrupt, but the natives are getting restless."

Ezra slid his arm around her and kissed her on the top of her mousy brown hair. "About five minutes, love. Maybe get drink orders, and then we'll be ready to pray."

"Sounds and smells good." Jennifer disappeared inside.

After lunch, Gryphon sat with his legs dangling out the front door of the treehouse trying to talk to his materials processing plant manager in Thicket. One of Ezra's grandchildren hung from each of his legs.

"I'm going to have to call you back. Again. Sorry, Hazel." The screen on his D510 went black, and it slipped out of his hand and fell into the grass below.

Ezra picked it up and handed it back to Gryphon who slid it into its sheath on his arm. "Mm. I think that might be grape jelly on there. Sorry." Ezra pulled the kids off his great uncle's legs and urged them to play somewhere else for a while. "Thanks for being the fun uncle to my grandkids. Means a lot. Brings back a lot of memories from when I was growing up." He helped Gryphon extricate himself from the treehouse and climb down. "Even with all your business and projects and world travel, you were here for us. Just wanted to say thanks."

"My pleasure, Little E," Gryphon said and patted the taller man on the back. "And thank you for having me over this weekend. Ready to tour the construction site? I've got a ship that can fit us all."

"It's all everyone's been talking about for weeks."

Gryphon looked around the yard, patio, and deck. "Hey. Have you seen Hapa?"

"He said he was going to visit some old friends in Commonwealth."

They walked across to the house trying not to step on toys, animals, or children. "Listen. Before we go, I had a few more questions about hydroponics. Got a minute?"

***

Ezasen adeptly steered the skiff down through the many levels of downtown Iconium. Over the centuries, the city had spread across a fourth of Bethany Peninsula, growing closer to its younger neighbor, Commonwealth. It remained small and coastal because of the smattering of geyser fields that lay just inland.

The marine layer this morning, combined with the "mist that rises to water the earth," made visibility among Iconium's myriad kilometer-high towers difficult if not dangerous. Ezasen finally said, "GWEN, give me HUD, please."

Engaging Head Up Display. The ubiquitous voice confirmed. A blue wireframe version of the Realm blinked on around him, and he continued his descent.

Once near sea level, he shot west over the rocky landscape of a geyser field to the coast just south of Commonwealth, where he turned sharply and ducked under a lip of stone that hid a lonely cove. He pulled up to the only palm on the beach and tethered the skiff to it the old fashioned way, with a rope. He hopped out onto the sand and made his way deeper into the shade.

Suddenly, the sand all over the cove swirled and sprayed. The knobby shells of a thousand crabs, each a meter wide, poked up and stampeded to the water. Their myriad clicking legs were deafening for a few seconds. Ezasen froze and covered his ears. Moments later, the cove was quiet and lonely again. A single waterfall playfully poured from the overhang above directly into the sea below. As he turned, the mouth of a cave gaped wide and beckoned. His phone crackled and went silent in his ear. No signal here.

Just inside the cavern's opening, he saw the parking lot of skiffs and boats. Now he knew there was something going on. Rolf had been right. A group of people were meeting here and wanted to keep it private, even secret. Ezasen stopped and turned around. He should bring his skiff into the cave or be singled out as the one participant who didn't know where the crabs liked to park. But before he could turn the corner, he was spotted by someone inside. He froze.

"Ezasen!" Bailey whispered from the darkness. He turned, and his old friend and colleague appeared from behind a floating skiff holding a finger in front of her mouth. "Here. Put this on. Their leader has already started his speech." She handed him a flimsy, grey leather hoodie. "This way."

He concluded that his skiff wasn't important. He wondered where Rolf was. Bailey led him on a twelve-minute hike down through a winding, sometimes treacherously sloping, confining tunnel. The only source of light was the indicator stripes on their forearms. But soon a warm glow could be seen ahead of them, and a distinctive voice echoed from deeper in.

"Here's the truth of the matter, friends," the voice was saying. "The notion of the existence of an age before this one is a myth. Where is the evidence? Those who purvey this fairy tale, and those who dimwittingly believe it, tell us everything was destroyed except a few thousand people. Listen to how absurd that sounds. A supposed world of technology and art and conflict and even war? Really? And all they have to show for it is their lapsing memories? How do we even know that they are really as old as they claim? Doesn't it make more sense to say that these Firsts are actually our age but have some bizarre disease that makes them wrinkle like prunes?"

Ezasen couldn't stand to hear it anymore. He pushed past Bailey and ran the rest of the way to a cavern crowded with people standing on either side of an underground river. Steam rose from the river that also fed the geyser fields further east. Candles on tall poles lit the space eerily, casting dancing shadows on the walls. Everyone wore their hood on their head except for Ezasen who had forgot to put his on. Anonymity was paramount to the group, as was plausible deniability. Ezasen had stepped onto the proverbial stage, and all eyes were on him. He shot up a desperate, silent prayer.

The speaker thought fast. "And, right on time, here we have a prime specimen to observe and question. But, be warned, his illness has surely left him bereft of reason." He stared around the cavern dramatically. "It might also be communicable!"

That made the crowd between the two men part. Ezasen walked to the edge of the river and said in as strong a voice as he could muster, "May I say something first?"

"Whatever helps you sleep at night." The hooded leader pointed at Ezasen from across the rushing stream. "This should be rich!"

"Friends of Commonwealth, listen to me. This man would have you forget the eternal words of the King. Do you all not carry with you the truth of the origin of the world from the Bible? It is Jesus Christ, who even now sits on His throne in Jerusalem, who made the heavens and the earth in six days. Jerusalem is a real place you can visit today. This present age was spoken of and referred to throughout the Scriptures that, may I remind you, are God-breathed and without error. Not only that, but the Bible is filled with God's promises, every one fulfilled so far. A perfect track record." He turned to the leader. "Allow me to correct your own lapse in memory, Sir. You claim that a few thousand people survived the last age and entered this one."

The leader played the crowd like a musical instrument. "Allegedly. It's your view."

"My opinion is irrelevant. It's the absolute truth that matters." Ezasen pointed at the stony ground.

The leader smiled. "Yes, please enlighten us with the truth."

"You forget the 144,000 redeemed Jews that God preserved through the Tribulation who, along with their descendants, inhabit Jerusalem today. It was less than a thousand Gentiles who entered this age physically alive and have subsequently filled the Realm. I speak of your ancestors."

A new voice from somewhere behind Ezasen joined the tense debate. He recognized it immediately and thanked God in his heart.

"He speaks of me." Rolf lowered his hood. "I, too, am a First, having been delivered by the grace of God into this Kingdom physically alive."

The leader now slowly, almost absentmindedly, removed his hood as well. "Father, I—"

"It's going to be alright, Son." He stood next to Ezasen. "I beg you. Stop this madness. Stop deceiving yourself and leading these people astray."

Bailey came forward, too. Lowering her hood, she reached out to her son across the river. "Come home with us, Rolf."

Rolf, Jr., stared at his parents. His face grew cold and hard. He turned to the crowd. It was beginning to thin as people left in frustration or confusion. "They are diseased, my friends. Do not believe their words."

Ezasen could see the panic—the mania rising in his eyes. Suddenly, twelve men who had been stationed behind the speaker dropped their hoods as well. Someone cried out, "Angels!" and the rest of the crowd scattered, some deeper into the cave, others back up the path to the skiffs, and some, as agitated as Rolf was, jumped into the river, hoping to escape by way of the sea.

Before mighty hands could seize him, young Rolf dove headlong into the churning rapids. Ezasen and Bailey leaped in after him. The elder Rolf, for decades slowed by a weakened leg, limped after those taking the drier exit.

Ezasen instantly regretted jumping into the dark and turbulent river. Holding his breath was easy, but he was buffeted by rocks, boulders, and Bailey's feet all the way to the coast. The river spat them out into daylight some twenty meters above the ocean, and they plummeted in a waterfall to the blue, frothing surface.

Young Rolf floated unconscious nearby. Bailey had him in her arms as they began to swim south along the cliff face to the cove where they had parked. Waiting on the beach were the detachment of angels and a dark man dressed in radiant linen clothes. "Greetings in the Name of the God of Heaven." He kindly waded in and took Rolf over his massive shoulder. "I am Simchat Pal, Whitestone of Commonwealth."

"You contacted the authorities?" Bailey eyed Ezasen while wringing out her long braids.

They sat on the white sand next to young Rolf, still passed out. Ezasen wiped his face. "I'm through with secrets and sneaking around. You'd think after five hundred years I'd learn my lesson."

Bailey checked her son for cuts or bruises and whispered, "This wasn't your call." She turned, and the Whitestone was sitting there, closer than she remembered.

"I, for one, am glad Mr. Ezasen of Copper Falls brought this unfortunate chain of events to my attention. Although in this age we enjoy the absence of false religion and deception from our enemies, we must be vigilant to strive, by God's power within us, to root out the falsehood and lies that man creates from within his own heart." He glanced passively at Rolf, then to Ezasen. "Even if they be in Christ."

Bailey saw but did not understand the subtle communication between the two men. "I need to get my son home." She gingerly lifted him onto her athletic shoulder and plodded up the beach to her waiting husband.

Simchat and Ezasen watched a flock of sandpipers scurry in and out of the tide for a while. "I share your love of typography." The Whitestone poured sand from his hand. "Many ages ago I was a calligrapher of sorts." Their eyes met for an awkward moment. "Started out as a farmer."

"Very curious. I was a graphic designer then ended up living on a farm." They shared a small chuckle. "Look, with all due respect, Sir, I'm sure you have more important things to do with your valuable time than sit here on the beach making small talk."

"Undoubtedly, child. I await only the asking of the question you summoned me here to ask."

"What question?" Ezasen tried looking ambivalent. "You sent your angels. We caught the bad guys. High fives all around."

"I vaguely recall you saying something to the effect of 'no more secrets.'"

"Absolutely." Ezasen stood nervously and dusted off his bodysuit.

"What to do with the missile?"

Ezasen spun, half shocked, half relieved. "You know about the missile. Of course you know about the missile." He dropped to his knees, smiling. "Argh, what a load off! This means you can take over. It's out of my hands. Thank you."

"Actually, the King Himself assures me the nuclear warhead in question is firmly in your hands for a while longer." He placed a hand on Ezasen's bowed head releasing a hefty dose of encouragement and peace. "It is your character He is interested in cultivating, not your ease."

"I suspected it would be something like that." His lips curled upward, but it wasn't quite a smile this time. He let out a long, deep sigh. "Strengthen me, my King." He prayed, and the Whitestone joined him for an hour.

The men stood, revived. "Can you give me any wisdom or warning before you go?"

Simchat smiled broadly. "And deprive a slave of the Most High an opportunity to trust his Sovereign?"

"Yep. Saw that coming."

Behind Whitestone, a curved portal of whipping light and energy swelled open. He turned. "Keep an eye on your adopted son."

28

### Facade

### Year 531

Walking around the 400-meter circumference of the grassy promenade aboard the HTTL Tabula, Ezasen could read the entire text of the Bible in a glass display.

"I thought you'd like it," said Gryphon as he lifted himself off the guardrail and joined his father in front of Luke chapter 15. "There are exactly one thousand pages. It's even in large print to accommodate the needs of some of our more mature residents."

This got a squint from Ezasen, then he placed his hand over his heart as if to feign some shooting pain. They shared a laugh and walked in to lunch arm in arm, Ezasen pretending not to see the sliding door.

"Thank you, Gryphon. I know you did it for me, and maybe for the family, now that we're living here. Very thoughtful of you. And, you know, God's word never returns void."

Gryphon smiled but said nothing. Instead, he looked around the hall for his mother who walked up and asked, "Are you boys even remotely interested in eating? You should have something in you for the big event this afternoon, and, by the way, it's already after noon."

"Such a mom," her son said.

"She's Italian," her husband added.

"What does that even mean?" Thirzah wondered out loud.

After their seafood meal, the family hiked out to Ring 4, one of seven outer habitat rings on Tabula that orbited an off-center hub ring. The artificial island was just over eight kilometers across. Ring 4 was the furthest circle out, and Gryphon had quietly directed the captain to turn the vessel so that his curious little experiments would be downwind from rest of the populace.

Erected on the black, sun-soaking roof of Ring 4's mess hall stood a five-meter tall gantry with a sturdy rail bolted on the side facing the water. Cameras, giant monitors, and other sensors were mounted on the gantry, the roof, and on several hovering, remotely controlled pods to capture the event from every conceivable angle.

A rope cordoned off the area around the gantry, and Gryphon had set up his makeshift command center on a couple of tables covered in screens and controls. Four of his engineers sat there running last-minute calculations. Gryphon, always ready for an audience, played with the drones with his master tablet, making them do loops and near collisions over the water.

A couple hundred onlookers, including Ezasen, Thirzah, and many of the family's youngest generation, milled around on the roof, waiting to witness whatever crazy new thing Gryphon had invented. They cheered at the drone stunts whose live video feed played on the big screens.

A nod from an engineer, and Gryphon was an adult again, welcoming everyone to the demonstration.

"Hey everybody!" He waved casually. His raised his goggles to the top of his head and smiled. "Now I know we've had some fun recently blowing things up and submerging things. And submerging things that we then blow up."

Laughter and clapping rippled happily through the crowd.

"But not today."

"Awwww." Everyone liked explosions and voiced their disappointment.

"I know. I know, but we have some real science to do today. You're going to see some rockets!"

All the children cheered.

"And we're gonna fly through today's pesky cloud canopy and see if we can get a peek at the sky above. Sound fun?"

Louder cheers and screams of delight had the crowd in a froth. Volunteers were handing out goggles to everyone.

"So, without further delay, let's visit tomorrow!" He said this every week, and it was becoming a kind of corporate slogan.

Dramatically, his goggles lowered. The crowd followed suit, all smiles. The words Xenon Test 1 appeared on all the screens. A cylinder, about a meter across and tall, perched on top of the gantry. It hummed to life, and lights blinked green on its black hull.

"Now, we're testing different gases to see which ones might be the most efficient fuels to power flying and space-faring vehicles one day." The cylinder lifted off in a cloud of exhaust and hovered some ten meters above the water.

"Ooh," gushed the crowd.

Gryphon used his thumbs to control thrust and heading. He slid his thumb forward, and the little craft zipped straight up into the sky. All eyes dropped to the screens where they watched real-time footage of its journey. The camera drones followed the cylinder as high as they could go then returned to the roof. So now only the craft's onboard cams continued to broadcast. Suddenly, the screens went grey.

"It's alright." Gryphon reassured his fans. "Little X is passing into the storm bank."

One of the four screens blipped a few times and went to static. Then another. Then the third one. The fourth camera was wobbling wildly then started spinning. The viewers could tell because Little X had just broken through the top of the canopy into brilliant, blue sunshine, and there was a particular puff of cloud that kept rushing past again and again.

Cheers reached a crescendo, and then the last camera died. Gryphon tapped the white circle on his tablet labeled Return Home and turned grinning to the crowd with arms raised as if to say, Oh well. "Maybe next time, everyone! I think we got some good telemetry that time if nothing else." He glanced at his team. One of them gave a thumbs up. "Alright!"

People talked exuberantly with each other and began to wander over to the snack table or chat with the engineers. "Plenty more to see, ladies and gentlemen. Stick around!"

***

Seven months later, an evening came that was so still that not even the strong currents below the wide bay west of Thicket could ripple the reflection of the city lights. At twilight, Gryphon tied a knot in a thin but sturdy rope and moved aft along the starboard skirt of the creaking vessel. Ezasen sat on the stern studying a series of old maps on his tablet.

"That's cheating, you know." Gryphon secured more of the rigging then edged around his father.

"I like old maps." He said loyally. "And I don't think you would have just left every modern convention behind to go drifting out over the open ocean on this contraption." Their eyes met and Ezasen squinted in an authoritative manner. "Did you?"

Gryphon smiled, climbing the ropes down out of sight. "Every single one, Dad. We have nothing but our wits and the wind to get us where we're going."

"We don't have any wind." Ezasen called out in mild frustration. When he didn't get a response after a few seconds, he crawled to the edge of the canvas and leaned over. Gryphon was nowhere. "And I'm not sure if you'd count wittiness as wits!"

"The man of faith not trusting?" Gryphon was behind him suddenly.

"God gave us brains, too, Grif."

"That He did." His son said with a deep, satisfied sigh and gazed at the tiny ship around them.

The jumble of rope, gas, and cloth floated some thirty meters above the dark sea. The NanoSolarFoam panels, forming the top level and roof, were by far the most advanced of the simple technology used to keep the craft in the air. Under them nestled eight couch-sized Meta2 tanks containing compressed helium. Below them hung the hammock-like canvas on which the two men sat along with their few supplies. Out each side protruded long struts that held the giant sails, four in all, one above and one below each strut. Rudimentary pulley-and-lever controls on the hammock level, like oars, allowed Gryphon to rotate and fold the sails as needed.

Everything was manufactured for minimal weight and maximal strength. Although boxy and ugly, Ezasen admitted there was a kind of elegance to it, especially when he first saw it rise from the backyard lawn of his Copper Falls home four hundred years earlier.

"I can see the attraction, actually. It sure is quiet out here without all the people and frenetic schedule," Ezasen reflected out loud. "Even the busiest man in the Realm needs to get away from it all every once in awhile."

"That's not me." Gryphon held up his hands as if deflecting an accusation. "Not anymore."

The breeze they had been waiting for finally filled the sails, and they were on their way. An hour and a half later, they came across a tiny islet no more than a hundred meters long. It was a smudge of sand, volcanic rock, and twenty-three palm trees. They decided to land and take a look, even just to stretch their legs.

Gryphon tied a line around one of the palms and dropped the rope ladder. The sand felt cool and damp on their bare feet as they worked their way around the islet's northern point. The angular slab of rock was only five meters tall at its highest point, so they clambered up from shelf to shelf and reached the top in time to see their ship drifting southwest along the other coast.

"How in the Realm?" they said simultaneously and began sprinting down the slanted rock to the far end. Gryphon was in the lead. "Grab the rope! Grab the rope!" his father shouted from behind.

With an Olympic leap from the last jutting spur, Gryphon flew out over the sand and caught the rope. His trajectory brought him belly-flopping into the waves, and he lost his grip. The ship was gone. He climbed up onto the sliver of beach and sat next to Ezasen, soaked and dejected. They watched the ship wander west then get caught in a whipping southerly gust that swung it north along the edge of a massive fog bank.

"My tablet is still onboard." Ezasen winced in case his son reacted badly.

Gryphon reacted badly.

"Look. We've got some options." Ezasen started a few stressful minutes later. "Um. We make smoke signals and wait to be rescued." He smiled hopefully.

"What do we light the fire with?"

"Volcanic rock. Right here! We strike two pieces together, right? Over a palm branch?"

"I know," Gryphon offered, standing up. "Why don't I kill you, God strikes me down with lightning, and the lightning starts the fire?" His sarcasm was palpable.

"Then we'd both be dead."

"Arggggh!" And Gryphon stormed off down the beach.

***

Thirzah stepped through a hatch carrying tea. Her auburn hair was still vibrant, pulled back in braid. She wore loose, cream-colored shirt and pants, ready for some serious relaxing with girlfriends. She padded barefoot down the corridor to the observation deck where Lei Ming stood studying an old book.

"That's a classic." Thirzah crossed to the low coffee table and set the tea tray down. "Lloyd-Jones never goes out of style."

Lei Ming turned the book over in her hands. "The artistry is excellent. And the stitches on the leather. Whoever bound this had a real talent."

"And a lot of time on my hands," Thirzah admitted, not looking up while she poured the tea into three cups.

"This is your work? Impressive." Lei Ming lay the heavy tome down, sat and reached for the honey.

"It was when I was still single, before all these kids and grandkids came along."

"Do you ever think your skills were wasted?" Lei Ming wasn't just making conversation anymore.

Thirzah took a sip. "You mean because of children? Oh no. Not at all." She set her cup down and turned her shoulders toward her friend. "The value and blessings I've received from raising a family far outweigh anything I could have gained from centuries of literature production."

Lei Ming looked pensive.

"Family is the greatest responsibility and the greatest joy I could have in this life. My husband said once, 'Civilizations rise and fall on parenting.' And I think he's right. We're already seeing cultural decline and a focus on the 'limitless potential of man' as Grif would put it."

Instead of responding, Lei Ming sipped the last of her first cup.

"But something tells me we're not talking about my family anymore."

Lei Ming blushed deeply. "Well, I have a certain skill and experience in technology. I have a heart for helping young girls grow in grace. And now I find myself forming an attachment to your son. I guess I'm just wondering how it's all going to fit together."

"Thankfully, you have time." Thirzah poured another cup for them both. "You may find you'll have opportunities to do all three. God tends to bring us challenges and situations in waves. Things ebb and flow. He knows what you can handle, and he knows your heart better than you know it yourself. Patience and watchfulness.

"And while we're enjoying this open and honest moment, may I add that a strong Christian woman like you, with your compassion and that unparalleled brain of yours, would bring some much-needed balance and eternal perspective to someone like my son."

They both smiled and leaned for a hug when a chime rang out from the console.

Thirzah stood and crossed the room to a panel on the wall. "That's probably Ava saying she's late." But it wasn't a communication. It was a severe weather alert. "Interesting. Ezasen's tablet."

"What do you mean?" Lei Ming joined her.

"Well, this is showing his phone is in the middle of that storm off the coast."

Lei Ming turned to leave. "Let's get to the bridge and check the main scanners. They may be in trouble out there."

***

Ezasen and Gryphon sat on top of the rock, pitching chunks of the palm tree trunks onto a raging fire below on the sand. Boredom had replaced frustration but neither felt like talking. It was certainly windy, but they were nowhere near the storm. The murky stripe to the west was getting closer.

Gryphon had washed the sand out of his clothes as much as possible and laid his shirt out on the rock. "It's going to be morning soon. You think we should see if there's any food?"

"You don't consider palm dates food?" Ezasen took a sticky bite.

"Okay. Other food."

"Like what?" Ezasen was carefully slicing off his next bite off the loaf-sized fruit. "We've explored every centimeter of this scratch and nothing in four days. It's not like the fish are going to flop onto the beach and volunteer!"

Gryphon was slowly walking west along the ridge.

His father watched him. His patience was starting to run thin. "Are you even listening?"

"Shh. Yes, but not to you!"

Ezasen caught up to him and stared into the blackness. A light. Intermittent at best, but certainly there. "You see that?"

"Yes. It's a ship." Gryphon ran back and grabbed his shirt. "It's the Mane, I know it!" He started yelling and waving the shirty wildly above his head. Ezasen followed his lead.

***

Thirzah leaned over Lei Ming as she steered the ship closer to the islet with the dancing natives. "I sure hope that's my husband and son."

Lei Ming tapped a series of commands. "I'm pretty sure."

"If not, we're about to pick up a couple of exceedingly attractive, shirtless party animals."

FIVE

### Legacy

29

### Zenith

### Year 616

"Can I see that screwdriver?" Gryphon bent down as low as he dared, wearing a pair of stilts, and took the tool from his father's hand.

"Tell me again why you're dismantling that cooling duct." Ezasen negotiated a rafter back toward the toolbox and relative safety. Even after centuries, staring down through several stories of open joists and beams sent a wave of trepidation through his stomach. "There'll be a couple thousand guys working on this building in a few hours."

"Like that phrase you invented, if you want something done right..."

Ezasen muttered, "Not really my original idea."

"Well, I had to get a new foreman this week, and I wasn't in town to babysit him and his new crew, and they started working from old drawings, and this duct needs to be routed around this conference room instead of straight over the middle of it." Gryphon sighed as he handed down another section of polymer tubing. "So here we are at one in the morning getting a workout, using our hands, bonding as father and son."

Ezasen set the cylinder down and looked out between the girders at the cityscape. Hundreds of cranes topped hundreds of other unfinished buildings all around them, but none of them were quite as tall or quite the size as the one on which they worked. "It is nice to see you." He took the last cylinder from his son and set it next to the others. "It's been a while."

Gryphon hung from the beam above him with one hand and removed his stilts with the other. "Thanks for the help tonight!" He dropped effortlessly and landed next to Ezasen then led him back up through a maze of ladders and catwalks toward the highest floor of the colossal mirror-clad pyramid three thousand meters high. The penthouse, which Gryphon had ordered completed and furnished first, boasted an unrestricted view of the broad plain that lay east of Byttgrym. To the south, toward the Camp of God, Jerusalem, the horizon glowed a slightly redder grey.

"Now you have a problem with what shape I make my buildings?!" Gryphon was saying as he paced back and forth on the cramped balcony. The cool twilight wind whipped at their faces and hair. "Really, Dad. I think you're taking this a bit far."

"Listen to me, Grif," Ezasen pressed as they went back through glass doors into a plush apartment.

"It's a building, a city, really, not a temple."

"Gryphon, please sit down and let me give you some back story here. Some perspective, that's all."

"Fine." They sat on facing white couches made of Meta5. "GWEN. Sleep the screen, please." The interactive coffee table went blank.

Ezasen started in, hoping he could command at least a third of his son's attention. "Back before the Kingdom, before the Return, when Satan was loose and active on the earth, he was obsessed with creating counterfeit versions of all that God had made. Idols were false gods. Sexual deviance was false marriage. Surveillance and drones were false omnipresence. Machines were false people."

"Evolution?"

"False origin. The internet and then the Grid were false omniscience."

"I get the idea."

"Good. Now, one of his earliest attempts was the tower of Babel."

"A false religion?" Gryphon was finally looking at his dad.

"Not quite. A false mountain. See, only God makes mountains. They were seen as a place of power, authority, and control, a place of connection with local deities. And even glory. Satan wanted those things badly, so he inspired men, in the midst of their false religion, to build counterfeit mountains. Temples shaped like mountains with access to false gods at the top."

"How did he get them to believe they were interacting with gods?"

"Two ways, actually. Either a human king or priest would claim godhood, or very real demons would take on the persona of the god, and sometimes both. This was the basis for the single false religion that splintered all over the world when the people were scattered after Babel. Every religion can trace their dark heritage back to that seminal event. And the mountain shape, be it a pyramid, ziggurat, triangle, or obelisk, has played a crucial role in all these disparate forms of the same satanic religion."

"What's that have to do with my fun tetrahedron that's ninety-one percent completed?" He leaned back on the couch, crossed his legs, and stretched his arms across the back of the cushions. "You told me Satan isn't around these days."

"I'm not saying the shape is inherently evil. I'm saying it has had negative connotations in the past. I wanted you to be aware. There will be people, ancient people like me, that would not readily understand. That's all. And, think of this, isn't it interesting that God chose a mountain to be the centerpiece of the Holy City here in the Kingdom? It shouts, 'Here is real power. Here is real glory. Authentic. Unique in the universe. Only the one true God could do this!"

"Well, that's interesting, Dad. Kind of moot now though. I have three more evil ziggurats already nearing completion. One in Trinity, one in Eklesus, and one in Capa. They will be able to house a million people each. Don't worry."

"What's there to worry about? You're going to take care of me in my old age, right?"

"Me help you?" Gryphon scoffed. "That's kind of funny. The deal you made with Doug Digby in like Year Two set you up for the rest of the age, and you still live on a farm."

"What's wrong with living on a farm?"

Gryphon sighed deeply. "Nothing, Dad. It's a financial consideration. Other people, not you, are interested in status, and I can give it to them. In a pyramid, the higher your floor, the more exclusive your residence, and thus your reputation, becomes. I charge more for the higher suites (right up to your pesky 100 percent markup cap), furnish them with all the amenities the elite feel they deserve, and everyone's happy."

"With you at the top."

"It would be weird to my clients otherwise. This is just the natural, logical development of technology combined with the right resources, the right people, and the right opportunities. When people come together, they accomplish great things."

"You and Nimrod would have had a lot in common," Ezasen said under his breath, regretting it came out.

"The founder of Babylon? Nice one." Gryphon crossed his arms. "I didn't mean anything deceptive or shadowy by any of this."

"I'm glad. And as far as I'm concerned, the subject is closed. Now, what are these models of?" They stood and crossed the room to two tables. One had a tiny tree growing in clear soil. The other had a scale model hovering above it. "Are you using a hologram to project it in three dimensions like that?"

"Yep. All very hush-hush and experimental. The guys in Zuzim are working on something similar, and, frankly, they'll probably beat me to market, but it's a great tool for brainstorming."

"Cool. Looks like a vitamin or pill mixed with an hourglass." The black shape rotated silently, unoffended by the crude comparison.

"Well, do you remember the first space age?"

"First? Yeah, I guess so."

"Well, I'm about to inaugurate the second."

A screen filling the far wall of the apartment flickered on and chimed. "Yes?" Gryphon said, a little perturbed.

"Sir, sorry to bother you so late." A timid female voice said. "This is Amber in Paraclete. I'm calling because GWEN alerted me to an anomalous visitor in your building. Her words, not mine. I checked, and there is a woman in your lobby who wants to see you. She says she's family."

"Show me." Both men moved toward the screen as it blinked from blue to a crisp image of the lobby a thousand floors below. A tall, black-haired woman stood there, her face turned away from them, checking something on her phone. She wore a red and gray bodysuit under a bright green sash that draped from her right shoulder down to her feet. Her hair was braided and piled in an elegant but decidedly vertical array atop her head.

"Late night visits from mysterious lady friends?" Ezasen wondered softly, smiling. "What's going on exactly?"

"Dad. I have no idea who she is!" Then she turned toward the screen and smiled.

"It's ok, Amber." Ezasen said. "Send her up." Gryphon stared at his father in bewilderment.

Ezasen and Gryphon both ran out the door to the elevator in the tiny hall. Two long minutes later, it slid open, and Leelah Mzimba Deshi, Teopsian Secretary of State, walked out.

Her first words were: "Why is this place shaped like a pyramid? Isn't that like a satanic symbol from the Tower of Babel?"

Gryphon rolled his eyes, bowed his head, and sulked back into the apartment, and closed the door behind him.

Ezasen embraced his adopted daughter. "I'm in total shock mode. What brings you to Gryphon's latest little enterprise?"

"Well, I was hoping to spend some time with him, you know, play a board game, drink some tea. But on the way up just now I got a panic call from Willah, in Jerusalem."

"What? Let me see." Ezasen held her tablet and read the brief, enigmatic message. Trouble. Come ASAP.

Leelah stared at it, too. "I'm glad she thought to call me of all people, but I don't know what I can do once I get there."

He put his hand on her shoulder. "If this is genuine, then we'll just go and trust that God will show us what to do."

"Oh, Hapa, I'm not asking you to come with me."

"Yes, you are." He smiled. "How did you get here?"

"Commercial flight with five stops. I wasn't in a hurry until now."

Gryphon poked his head out the door. "You guys coming in, or should I move a couch into the lobby for you?"

"Actually, we're needed in Jerusalem. Leelah's sister, Willah, needs our help. Want to join us?" Ezasen already knew his answer.

"No." Gryphon held up his hands and scoffed. "I've been to that city one time too many." He felt a chill as he remembered vividly his encounter with that Whitestone on the Mountain's snowy slope.

"We need to get there fast." Leelah could feel the old exasperation rising. It occurred whenever she was within a few kilometers of Gryphon.

Ezasen's blood was pumping now, too, but for another reason. "Got anything close by that's fast?"

***

Below the snowy slopes crawled the lushest, greenest jungle. Jerusalem had spread hundreds of kilometers from this point in all directions. Its white stones reflected the crimson light from the Mountain's column of fire. Ezasen saw the city complex with its terraced gardens and fruit-laden streets climbing toward the Temple Square high above in the Levitical District. He gazed starboard and took in the western vista. Beyond the City proper lay millions of acres of land that belonged to the prince and his family. His property extended to the sea.

Leelah watched, too, from the snug pilot's seat in front of him. The Kestral was indeed fast, having brought Lei Ming to victory in last month's Realm Velocity Open in Eklesus. It was a four-meter bullet, painted blue, red, and gold, with the white Gryphon Systems logo plastered at least six times on its tiny hull.

"GWEN, put us down outside the South Gate and find an anchorage on the nearest tower. We'll call for you later." Ezasen was glad they didn't have to actually fly the thing.

I am not permitted to comply. Local authorities have placed a no-fly zone over your stated destination. I will drop you as close as legally possible.

"Yeah, sorry." Leelah clicked her tongue. "I forgot about the zone. I usually use the shuttle then take the stairs."

"Stairs?" Ezasen peered over the lip of the ship's transparent Meta5 shell as the craft banked to starboard to avoid an Angelic security stop. "How many are we talking?"

Leelah chuckled. "You're young. You'll live."

***

It was almost dawn by the time they reached the top of the broad, stone staircase that divided the Levitical District into eastern and western halves. This would be Ezasen's first ascent. He recalled with some regret that time he was invited to join Willah and the rest of the Mzimba family five centuries ago, when he first beheld the Mountain that had sprung up overnight in the middle of the desert.

He stood in awe of it now, the sheer immensity of it, and, as if on cue, the Fire became cloud, heralding the sunrise. Before him lay the square, a kilometer and a half long on each side, surrounded by a simple wall perhaps three meters tall. His heart rate quickened. Over the wall, he saw a bright and lively radiance. It was the Shekinah glory. Christ was here.

He followed Leelah and a cheerful throng to the second of three plain openings. An angel stood guard, allowing only those with the mark of YHWH on their forehead to pass. Once through, several first-timers gasped and cheered. He saw the Temple that the Prophet Ezekiel had described thirty-two centuries ago. As they made the last leg of their trek, he realized it was flatter than he thought it might be and recited in his mind passages that described its dimensions.

He glanced to his right and saw the towering Eastern Gate of the temple complex, sealed shut now that the King had entered. He could hear the rushing of water on both the east and west sides of the site. In front of him stood the equally ominous Southern Gate, open and busy with eager pilgrims and dutiful priests alike.

Leelah led the way and they stepped up a short set of stairs to the gate itself, covered in glistening gold. Inside the doors, three guard stations on each side were commanded by Angels and glorified saints of varying rank, checking each visitor once again for their mark. Ezasen admired the intricate carvings and inlays of cherubim and palm trees in the stone walls that went up nearly thirty meters. Over the heads of the people in front of him and still slightly out of view, Ezasen could see the otherworldly glow coming from the temple itself like fireworks in a happy fog.

The crowds around them in the outer court were sober and respectful as they crossed the Mosaic pavement, up one step, then straight toward the sanctuary. Ezasen felt the gravity of the place. This was the center of power and authority in the cosmos. He glanced at Leelah at his side. She, too, was feeling the flood of pure, blissful Love flowing freely through them. Neither of them had ever felt such a sense of home.

"Any word?" He knew she was being ripped apart inside with admittedly needless worry.

"No. Nothing yet." She took out her tablet again. "Guess what? No signal." She tapped the screen a few times. "This is crazy. You know what, maybe we should just go back to the—"

"Ezasen?" A voice said from the direction of the Holy Place.

They turned, and a tall, elegant woman with auburn hair was smiling at them. She wore a woven silver tiara and a powder blue gown. "It IS you. And is that you, Leelah, Willah's sister? Oh, pardon me. Secretary Deshi."

Ezasen was blown away. "Dr. Townsend? From the Lydiana all those years ago?"

"Remember, Hapa? This is also little Kori Townsend who played with me in Iconium just after the Return."

"Amazing!" Ezasen shook her outstretched hand. "So, you have replaced your stethoscope with a crown?"

Kori giggled. "That's what happens when you marry a prince."

"Well, of course." Ezasen felt horrible. "I've seen footage of you on the news. Just didn't recognize you."

"It's delightful to see you again, your highness." Leelah had other priorities today. "We wonder if you could tell us how to find Willah. We've received an emergency message from her, and we came as soon as we could."

"With pleasure, Leelah." Kori looked around at her entourage as if she expected Willah to be among them. "Rachel, would you see if you can locate Willah Mzimba? She's one of the ministers of the house. She may be in one of the northern dining halls."

To add to Ezasen's mounting shock, Rachel dematerialized and was gone in a blink. The space where she was rippled, and she reappeared with a somewhat-bewildered Willah. Rachel spoke with a thick Dodinyi accent. "Sorry take so long. I find her in stairwell under south Zadok chambers."

"I am not well," Willah said before anyone could ask or scold. "I request a sabbatical from my duties."

Leelah hesitated to embrace her, then did anyway. "We were so worried. We're here to help any way we can."

"Request granted," The princess said in her most authoritative tone. "Mr. Ezasen. Madame Secretary." With that, she and her flock of assistants marched away.

"Willah, I—"

"I just want to go home." Willah looked tired, but also under some yet-explained burden.

Ezasen grimaced. "The ship we came in is too small for the three..."

Suddenly, a swirling portal of light crackled into being behind him, and Willah urged them through. The three of them found themselves standing on a grassy knoll overlooking the Mzimba property in Egypt. In the distance, a busy elevated highway stretched to the northeast horizon.

"...of us." Ezasen finished. "Never mind."

30

### His Story

### Year 617

With noisy, whirring gears and tiny pistons in his mechanical right leg, Carl Mzimba stepped out from behind a thick and gnarled grapevine when he heard a familiar voice. "Bless me if it isn't my brother Ezasen who planted this vine with me in those early days."

"And who stole your daughter and didn't return her to you for fifty years," Ezasen added as they gave each other a bear hug.

"By God's grace, you turned my baby into an amazing woman. We can't thank you enough for looking after her and teaching her the ways of the Lord."

"It was an unexpected pleasure, my friend." Ezasen noticed the slightest graying around the ears on Carl's thinning hair. Other than that and a few crows feet around his eyes, he looked maybe five years older than when they had built Carl's house together. "How's the new leg?"

"It's in there, inside, growing like it should, I suppose." Carl wrapped on his metal thigh. "This shell is filled with some of your son's medical soup. Keeps the real leg nice and healthy. The tractor incident was about a year ago, now, so it's about the size of a twelvemonth-old's leg."

"Quite the age we live in!" Ezasen felt a grape leaf between his fingers. "It's been far too long, my brother."

"Did you bring Thirzah?"

"Actually, no. Willah was kind enough to fetch her for me. She's already in the house helping Anaya with lunch."

"Where is Willah now?" Carl placed his clippers in his back pocket.

"Resting." They started walking back up the long row toward the house. "I don't know what she's been through, but it was enough to bring her home. Has she taken leave like this before?"

"Not in over six centuries. Let's pray before we see if she's ready to share." Carl and Ezasen knelt there among the vines.

The house itself had not changed much. The property, however, now included a barn, a winery, ten square kilometers of vineyard, staff housing, and the biggest, tallest radio tower Ezasen had ever seen.

He watched Carl do some pruning of some irises south of the house until Anaya came out and called them for lunch. Her face was kind but grim. Everyone was serious and prayerful today. It was midweek, so the Mzimbas ate with the workers under a big pavilion west of the house. Carl introduced Ezasen and Thirzah around, and they had a relaxing afternoon of catching up, telling stories, and fellowship around the Bible while Willah continued to sleep. Carl had basically started a Bible institute in his backyard. More than 28,000 men and women from around the Realm had gone through his program.

As the pillar of cloud turned to fire that evening, Carl, Anaya, Leelah, Thirzah, and Ezasen sat in handcrafted wooden chairs on the familiar knoll that overlooked the estate. Willah climbed the hill and took a seat on the grass in front of them.

"Thank you for your patience with me, and thank you for all the effort and sacrifices you've made to help me through this." She sat cross-legged and pulled absently at blades of grass as she spoke. Three nights ago, I was praying on the roof of the priests' kitchen when visions from the Lord accosted my mind."

"In the first, I was adrift on the Western Sea. The coast was on fire. I was pulled under and saw a great creature below me. As it moved, it swallowed a long, dark, reflective object which caused the creature to die."

Leelah sprang to her feet and was about to say something.

"Please, sister, let me continue," Willah said in controlled tones.

Leelah barely nodded and sat back down, glancing at Ezasen.

"In the second vision, which I saw the following night, I stood before the same dark cylinder, but this time it was in a vault of some kind of deep underground in a city called Zenith."

"Sweetie." Anaya leaned over and stroked her daughter's hair. "To my knowledge, there is no city by that name."

"I know, Mom. I looked it up. I don't know what it means." Willah held up a hand. "In the final vision, I was in Jerusalem in the Court of Nations. Angry crowds surrounded a black ship. Under the ship was attached the same dark cylinder. A man walked seven circles around the ship, then a wall of fire consumed everything." Willah stood. "The man I saw was Ezasen."

***

"GWEN, drop us off and go find a spot in town. I'll call for you later." Ezasen said it again, but with a little less confidence than last time. He was also distracted by what he saw below him.

Excellent, sir. GWEN responded and complied. A twenty-meterhigh stone statue of a wooly ram stood in the center of a misty courtyard. Its spiraling horns were threaded through by a single arch of braided, thorny vines forcing its head sideways. Ezasen and Carl stepped down from their skiff and circled around the monument before crossing to the palatial edifice at the far northern end of the lawn.

Ezasen switched his tablet off and sheathed it on his arm."According to Leelah, this is where the old man lives."

"And this Bleeker was the one who found the missile after Xander Fireknife dropped in a lake?" Carl summarized.

"All pieces of the puzzle."

Carl didn't care for puzzles.

"These kind people tell me I'm the oldest First, praise God!" the elderly man stated triumphantly. "And I have a story to tell you youngsters." Carl shared a glance with Ezasen. "My ears and eyes are finally failing, lads. The good Lord had already given me 91 years by the time of the Rapture." The old man paused, leaned forward, and squinted. "Are you still in here?"

"We're still here, Mr. Bleeker." Ezasen touched his knee. " I apologize for our silence. We had to smile, since we are also Firsts." The old man raised a hand and was about to speak. "But don't worry, we're not older than you."

Bleeker looked relieved and relaxed back into his chair. "Oh, well, that's fine then." He smacked his lips a few times, something he did throughout their visit.

"Now," said Carl. "How about that story?"

Bleeker stared blankly. "Oh, yes. Yes, yes. Of course. You'd naturally want to hear that." He closed his useless eyes and began. "I call it the Story of the Ages.

"Now, in order to have ages, you need time. God invented time and gave it a beginning. We call it history. This story is all about how history is divided into different ages. It's a tool I use to keep my facts straight, especially now that I'm getting on in years.

"Now, I have selected several major events or moments in history that mark the end of one age and the arrival of another. The first of these events in history is, of course, Creation. But the Bible describes an event that occurred before God made all things. God the Father promised God the Son a people as an inheritance. We'll call that event Promise. After the promise was made and the universe was created came the Sundering, when Adam fell into sin and spread the virus of death to all his descendants." The men could tell he had told this story a few times. "Next came the day that water covered the earth and destroyed all humanity save eight. We'll call that event Water. Catchy, huh? When Noah stepped out of that ark, he started the age that would last until the Servant Lamb would come to be slaughtered for our transgressions. That moment we'll call Punishment. Fifteen centuries later, a Waking occurred and brought the world back in step with the Gospel. We are justified by faith, are we not, boys?"

"We are indeed, Mr Bleeker." Ezasen took a sip of tart lemonade.

"What are we talking about, then?"

"The Ages, Sir." Carl assisted. "You had just finished the Waking part."

"Oh, yes! Thank you, son." Bleeker continued. "Now we're really humming along. Good. Good. We come next to some very recent events. The Rapture itself. Yes, I just call it Sky. You fine gentlemen will remember that, am I right? What a day indeed! What a selfish, apathetic old buzzard I was then! Grace of God, of course. How else do you explain it?

"Now it's getting exciting! Here comes the King on His white horse. The Return, when He uttered just one word and slayed that wicked generation. That started the chapter we find ourselves in today, my children. Let's call that one, Breath. So here we are in the earthly reign of King Jesus. But there is an end coming, a dark end, a red moment of judgment. That horrible but righteous day we'll call Fire."

"Excellent overview, Mr Bleeker."

"Thank you. I share it with the children who visit every Finwingday."

Carl stared at the coffee table. "This could be a children's curriculum. I see now why you brought me along, E." He turned to the old man. "Would you consider—"

But Bleeker cut him off. "You know, I always end my story time with a question. How will you conduct yourselves in this Age between Breath and Fire?"

***

Two weeks later, Ezasen and Carl stood again by the ram statue, waiting for GWEN to bring the skiff. "Let's talk about the other reason I brought you to Thicket." Ezasen shifted his weight and looked around.

"How much have you slept since we left Egypt?" Carl's eyes met his friend's.

"We found something. Well, actually, Leelah found it just a couple days after we spoke to Bleeker." Ezasen sounded relieved.

The skiff arrived, and they stepped in. "Ok. Now you're freaking me out a little bit here. Where is it?"

The skiff eased into the sky and headed for the coast. "It's better if I show you." They flew out over the Northern Ocean until they came to a minuscule islet surrounded by a pink and yellowish reef. Ezasen moored the hovering skiff to the trunk of a date palm and pulled out a pack filled with breathers, lights, and spades.

"You know me, E. I'm a patient man." Carl was still sitting in the skiff.

Ezasen set the equipment on the sand. "I knew you would be."

"And I trust you completely." Carl squinted, unbudged.

"Likewise."

"But I need to know what's going on." Carl finally dropped from the skiff, picked up one of the spades, and examined it. "Looks to me like we're going swimming. Might I be right?"

"You're right." Ezasen pulled a headlamp over his head, rested it around his neck, and handed a lamp to Carl. "Leelah says the entrance is about seventy meters down."

"The entrance to what?"

"Bleeker's museum."

They took a short tour around the islet looking for a steep drop-off where the reef was narrowest. The two men donned masks and breathers and waded like ducks to the edge of the reef. Turning around, they flipped backward and descended into the azure world below. For the last few days, Leelah had been teaching Ezasen how to dive in a pool at the house they were borrowing in Thicket. Carl was a professional diver even before the Return.

Evidently, it was a popular island with fish. The intruders spiraled downward clockwise around the shelf like tourists on market day until they found a series of curious caves that opened up into a small, subterranean lagoon. Ezasen and Carl emerged into an air-filled crevice, which, in turn led them to a larger vacuole. Strewn along the beach inside the cavern were the rusting, crumpled remains of what looked to Ezasen to be a military satellite, an unsettling reminder of darker days. It was probably abandoned as Armageddon came to an abrupt end, and its orbit must have decayed until it smacked the atmosphere, drifted on the ocean currents, and finally washed up here.

After taking a rough, mental inventory, Carl insisted that this was essentially an archeological site, so they took every precaution to preserve and document the scene as they went. Since the submerged tunnels leading to the lagoon were too narrow for even the smallest submarines, they brought lights, cameras, and other equipment in by hand. It meant many trips from the surface to the cave and back. Ezasen had brought some batteries and extra cables and adapters to see if they could restore power to any of the machines and appliances in the collection.

A week later, the two men stood again at the edge of the lagoon. "Bleeker's been collecting artifacts from around the world, relics of the Age before."

Carl surveyed the crowded, but now organized, menagerie. A toaster oven. A garden hose. A laptop computer. The remains of what looked like another satellite. But no sign of the legendary mosasaur object. Carl unearthed a heavy metal box in a dark corner. Inside he found four rifles with enough ammunition to start a small war. "This ain't right, E. Nothing from that horrific time should survive." He lifted his spade and stepped toward a cylinder behind the weapons crate that resembled an old propane gas tank. "We need to destroy all of this."

"Carl, no." Ezasen crossed his arms but didn't move. "Some of these things cannot be destroyed safely."

Carl took one clanging swing at the tank anyway.

"That item in particular." Ezasen grabbed hold of the spade before Carl could take another swing. "That's the item! That's the item Leelah and some friends found in Xander Valley over six hundred years ago." He placed the spade slowly on the sand. "Look at these markings." He pointed his headlamp at the underside of the tank and brushed its metallic surface with his glove. "I believe it's an intercontinental ballistic missile carrying a thermonuclear warhead. And Xander agreed at the time. That's why we got rid of it in that lake."

With that, Carl slumped to his knees. "Lord, have mercy!" He was instantly sweating. "Ezasen! You need to warn me before I go and smack a blessed nuke like that! Argh! I haven't seen one of those since those dark days. It's all rushing back! The stress, the hunger, the loss. All the death! Why did you bring me here? What do you even plan to do with this... this evil? No good can come from you keeping it, so don't even go there."

"Better in my possession than in someone else's. It's dangerous, I know. I can't go public with it. I don't want it to fall into the wrong hands. I can't destroy it because I don't know how. That was my problem when Leelah found it. She left it and came to tell me about it. Before we both returned to investigate, myself and Xander went without her and moved the missile. We hid it until we could figure out how to get rid of it safely. Remember, this was before any technology had reappeared. Before science had really even started up again."

"And I guess you still haven't found an answer, even with how far things have advanced here in the kingdom?" Carl stood, hands on hips. "Now hold on. How many people know this thing survived Armageddon?"

"Of those still mortal, three. Leelah, although she may not realize what she saw. A boy named Jimmy Fireknife. He's an airship captain now. Works for Gryphon. Jimmy knows for sure what it was. I spoke to him briefly some two centuries after the discovery, but I don't believe he knows its location. It was his father who helped me move the object, but he has since passed away. Then there's you. That makes four, counting myself. I've kept things vague with Willah and Anaya."

"Do you think your son knows? Could he have learned about it from Fireknife?"

"I suppose so." Ezasen clamped his eyes shut, reviewing the relevant details. "Gryphon may even know about this trove. He has connections all over the Realm."

"Makes it tough."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you mention it to him, and he keeps it to himself, great! But he runs in very high circles in the tech industry. Would the temptation for him to study, copy, or sell this, even for the best reasons, simply be too powerful?"

"I trust my son. I think the danger here is others in those high circles you mentioned. People with less scruples might not hesitate."

Hesitate to do what? Gryphon's voice surprised both Ezasen and Carl. It came from a spindly robot that was little more than two fat wheels and a long pole with a video screen at the top. Gryphon's face was on the screen and was evidently live. Mom said you were in Thicket. I figured it might be you when you revived my bot. How did you hear about the Trove anyway?

The bot rolled awkwardly toward them over the uneven sand. Pretty cool, huh? This used to be a virtual doctor in a hospital in Fairbanks, Alaska. The bot stopped and pivoted. Mr. Mzimba! What brings you to this part of the world?

"Grace and peace to you, Gryphon." Carl said intentionally. "We were visiting Mr. Bleeker."

Ah, the Honorable Ancient. Did he try to tell you his Ages story? You know he's certifiable. An uncomfortable few seconds ticked by.

Ezasen cleared his throat. "It was Carl's first time to hear it. Mr Bleeker is not doing so well physically. He may be translated soon."

Gryphon seemed genuinely sad to learn that. But the moment passed. What do you think of his little collection, Mr. M?

"Impressive. It invokes memories of a time I would rather forget. I was about to ask your father why he thinks Bleeker keeps all these relics around." Carl and the bot swiveled toward Ezasen.

"Well, they were dark times for sure, but if we forget about them, if we don't teach our children the lessons we learned through them, then we are, as the saying goes, 'doomed to repeat them.'"

Gryphon smiled broadly. Brainstorm! Just had an idea, gentlemen! Let's start an actual museum. Like a real museum. Let's put these and other objects of antiquity on display for the world to see. I could integrate it into one of my floating cities, and it could travel the world, teaching our children the lessons you learned.

Ezasen tensed. "Not all of these items are safe for public consumption."

Carl gave him a look that said, stop right there.

Gryphon chuckled. What's so dangerous about a toaster oven? Look, I have another call coming in. It's been fun.

"You know what? You're right, Grif." Ezasen looked at Carl and not the screen. "The museum's a good idea. I like it. Let's do it."

Ok. Well, yeah. I'll draw up some plans. Catcha later. Carl, always a pleasure.

"Take care, son." Carl's smile was terse.

The screen went black, and the bot went limp.

Ezasen took a deep breath to let the stress go. He primed his breather. "I'm sorry for all that. Let's continue this conversation topside."

Hours later, Ezasen and Carl sat in the skiff sipping tea. Carl held a pink, kitten-themed fidget spinner in his left hand, flicking the knobs with his right. "Secrets are never worth keeping, bro. Especially something as planet-sized as this." Carl stood up and everything wobbled.

"You know what? I think I'm done here. Let's get back to our wives in Thicket, tell them the whole story, then take that thing to the local Whitestone." He pointed off to the water. "Any other course of action would be irresponsible and, frankly, dangerous. You heard Willah's description of her dream. Some time in the future you're gonna set this thing off in Jerusalem. It's high time it was out of your life completely." His eyes were wide open as he stared at his friend. "Come on now, son! I got two syllables for you: white and stone!"

"Years ago," Ezasen said, studying the horizon, "a Whitestone told me it was my burden to bear."

"Not 'Hand it over.'" Carl was doubtful. "Well, so they're aware of it, and they want you to—"

"Do something responsible with it."

"There we go. Alright now." Carl smiled soulfully. "You know what, E? I say we drop it back in the ocean where it came from. That way it's like you never found it in the first place. Hands washed."

"We found it in what was Utah."

"Any oceans in Utah?"

"Not then. Not now." Ezasen turned to the console. "GWEN, where is the deepest part of the ocean in the whole Realm?"

The deepest point on Realm is the Juanitas-Port-Angeles Trench, 1331 kilometers east of Absolute, in Dodinya.

"How deep is it?"

The trench has an average depth of 2.739 kilometers.

"That sounds deep."

"No, no, that's too far away." Carl shook his head. "It would take us a week to get there and back in this skiff."

"GWEN, what is the deepest point within... 300 kilometers of us?"

The Sheol Trench, 243 kilometers due north. Average depth: 2.12 kilometers.

Carl smiled. "Perfect. We'll be back in Thicket by morning."

31

### Catapult

### Year 620

"Tirzah, my love, we have to put him in God's hands."

She brushed the slightly graying hairs over her husband's ear back against his head as they sat on a blanket on their roof. "I know. It's easy to say but so hard to do. I'm not so worried about him going into space, actually. You'd think a mom would be freaked out enough about that. No. It's that he has this self-made moral compass that keeps him looking content and civil on the surface, but underneath... I see it, Ezasen. He's seething with hatred for God and all His ways. He's always struggled with rules and limitations. It doesn't help that he's smarter than everyone else, even in this world filled with geniuses, as you put it."

"You're saying that if he has Christ and goes into space, at least if the worst happens, he'll just be glorified and no worries. But without Christ he is lost forever, no matter where he goes."

"Yeah." Thirzah placed her head on his shoulder and gazed out over the endless sunflower fields north of their house.

"I understand. It's been like walking on eggshells with him when you turn the conversation to spiritual things. I think he puts a high value on the limitless potential of man, and it makes perfect, logical sense to him. He sees what man has been able to accomplish these last few hundred years, especially when he compares it to my stories of how it was before. He has the ability to see in his mind all the consequences and implications for decades, even centuries down the road, and act on them in the present. We just need to keep praying. God has a plan for Gryphon, for God's glory." He put his arm around her. The evening was getting a little cooler.

"Even if it doesn't include salvation?" She looked up at him.

"Yes. As tough as that is to swallow. Yes." They both mulled it over in silence."Would it make you feel any better if I went with him?"

Thirzah sat bolt upright. "I'm not letting you go to Sanctuary with Grif for ten years. And that's just the time it would take to get there and back!"

"Ok. Ok. I told him I'd give him our final answer tomorrow when I tour his new facility."

***

Tessarsin stood rail straight, as he always did, and stared off into the distance. Stationed at the edge of the newly minted SpacePort 1, he silently surveyed the air traffic patterns across the valley in the city of Apex. The facility itself was a somewhat flattened version of the pyramid cities Gryphon had built in the past, Zenith being one of them. At its low-slung western base, it was only ten stories tall, and two of those were opened to the air to allow civilian and delivery access.

One section was consecrated as the VIP platform, complete with valets and red carpet. This is where Tessarsin was posted, having been dispatched to welcome a mysterious but illustrious honored guest. Diplomacy was not his strong point. He grew tired of people quickly. He would rather be in his lab, breaking something, or better yet, figuring out how something was broken and finding way to not only fix it, but improve it. This new position under Gryphon allowed him unthinkable opportunities to study, invent, and discover. Even now, as he waited like a statue, he was organizing ways to organize his projects. He had never known an idle minute in his seventy years of life.

An unassuming and bland skiff eased up to the platform. It was several years old, and the driver didn't even line it up properly with the clearly marked red carpet tiles. The driver himself, dressed in a simple and outdated bodysuit, wore a bewildered look on his face as if saying Is this where I should be? Tessarsin motioned him to scoot forward about two meters, which he did. Finally the driver climbed out of the craft as a valet hopped in and efficiently sped away.

"You seem to have forgotten your passenger."

"And you, sir, are very tall. I'm the passenger. My name is Ezasen."

"Should that mean anything to me?"

"Yes." Ezasen smiled. "I'm Mr. Gryphon's father."

Tessarsin's eyes faltered for just a second. Inside, he was devastated. In his culture, fathers were held in the highest esteem. Had this occurred in his home country, his employment would have been instantly and summarily terminated. But all he said was, "My apologies, sir. This way."

They boarded a skiff designed to travel indoors. It wasn't much more than a chariot without wheels or horses. Tessarsin steered it onto a lane marked in blue, and they floated silently into the heart of the complex. The first minute of the commute reminded Ezasen of an ancient airport or what he imagined a military installation might look like. Uniformed personnel briskly walked or worked, skiffs and ground vehicles hummed and hauled as if their entire function was to look busy.

But then, as they turned a corner, they came to a security checkpoint. They were cleared through a large service door which slid up and down more rapidly than Ezasen was comfortable with. He was making a mental note to talk to Gryphon about it when he saw what lay beyond.

The room must have been a kilometer wide and tall. Everything was pipes and conduit and scaffolding, even the floor. A thousand catwalks stretched from the walls to a singular black cube in the cavern's center. From the size of the people working closest to the cube, Ezasen guessed it was over eighty stories tall. Steam, or perhaps exhaust, was rising off its cladded roof in tight swirls.

"Impressive," Ezasen thought out loud.

Tessarsin glanced sideways at his guest. "Thank you."

"Amazed, but not surprised." Ezasen said slowly.

"Sorry?"

"I'm always amazed by Gryphon's little projects. But over the years, I'm becoming less and less surprised by their increasing grandeur."

Tessarsin looked at him with new eyes. "Question, Mr Ezasen." He suspected that he had underestimated this average-looking man. Even as he said the words, he noticed the gray in Ezasen's temples. "Who is your First?"

That question always made Ezasen uncomfortable. To answer it felt like he was boasting, as if he thought of it as an accomplishment, something he worked hard to achieve. So he had learned to phrase it with the right focus. "By the sovereign grace of God, I am a First."

The giant sat stunned for the rest of the ride to a tiny slit of windows halfway up the far wall of the chamber. Ezasen guessed it was the control room. Next to it was a precarious ledge and a hatch which opened as they swung up alongside and gingerly stood up in the skiff.

"Hey, Dad!" Gryphon greeted them as the hatch slid open.

"Hey, Grif. What's in the box!"

Gryphon smiled. "You mean that ridiculously large black electromagnetic chamber that can freeze stuff?"

"Sure." Ezasen gladly accepted his son's steady hand.

Gryphon leaned toward his father's ear as he climbed awkwardly through the hatch. "A spaceship."

Once inside, Gryphon toured them around the command center's army of analysts and workstations, monitors, and displays. "We are currently testing the craft in real world conditions. The temperature in space is absolute zero or -273.15 degrees Celsius. The chamber allows us to make sure the hull and onboard systems are properly insulated. As a bonus, we can remove all the air out of the chamber to achieve total vacuum."

He tapped a few shapes on his tablet, and a hologram of the black box rose up from an interactive table. The layers of the virtual box peeled away to reveal the black craft inside. It looked a little longer and thinner than what Ezasen remembered from when he saw it over four years ago in Gryphon's apartment, but it still reminded him of the calcium pill he took every morning before the Return.

"What about gravity?" Ezasen asked, not trying to sound smart. Everyone within earshot, except Tessarsin, smiled. "Would you believe I've got a team working on that. I think we're about fifty years out on antigravity technology. It would basically require discovering a totally new kind of energy or substance. For now, we calibrate the helium in the craft to keep it hovering in the center of the chamber. At least to begin with, we're planning on using magnetic boots and floors as a stop gap measure."

"Good. Good. Hey, where is that nephew of yours hiding?"

Just then two workers in lab coats entered the command center. "Right here."

"Thad! Look at you!" Ezasen unceremoniously hugged his great grandson.

"You remember my wife, Zaliana."

"Of course. Good to see you!"

"How are you, Hapa?" she said affectionately.

Ten minutes later the family was catching up over lunch in Gryphon's private offices near the peak of Space Port 1. Halfway through the meal, the door chimed. He glanced over at his tablet on a coffee table and saw who it was. "Excuse me, everyone." He approached the door but somehow it opened without his security code. A woman with black hair wearing a black body suit staggered in violently, toppling a bookcase filled with vases. The crash brought everyone to their feet.

They helped the woman up and settled her on a couch while they waited for Gryphon to come back with a doctor. "This is Lei Ming. She's on the mechanical engineering team and helped design the spacecraft," Thad was saying as Zaliana dabbed at a cut on Lei Ming's forehead.

Ezasen smiled charitably. "We've already met."

"She has savant-level abilities in the area of mechanics and can see complex moving structures in her mind in three dimensions." Zaliana continued for him. "She has saved us years, not to mention billions, in the development of most of the key systems on this and other projects."

"Has the doctor discovered what happened to her?" Ezasen wondered.

"I think so," came the confident voice of Dr. Koriander Townsend who entered and quickly began examining Lei Ming, who swayed in and out of consciousness. "Her abilities first manifested themselves a couple centuries ago when she was accidentally exposed to Wipe. She became instantly addicted and began having serious memory loss. She's struggled with it ever since. She can only work a couple of hours each day. My guess is she simply forgot where she was just now."

"Maybe she thought she was at her own quarters, and, when the lock wouldn't release, she bypassed it. She has the skill." Gryphon grabbed another pillow.

"Why initiate the chime, though?" Thad asked.

"A mystery." Dr. Townsend waved two nurses forward who helped Lei Ming onto a cot. "She seems to be alright. I'll get her back to her quarters so she can get some rest."

As the doctor was leaving, Ezasen caught her arm. "Kori, I justed wanted you to know we're praying for you. I can't imagine how overwhelming this transition must be for you."

She put a hand on his. "Thank you, Ezasen. Your family has always been so supportive and kind to mine. As you know, once Ari was translated, he could no longer serve as Prince. I guess in his absence, I've returned to the things and people I know best."

"Will you be joining the expedition to Sanctuary?"

"It gives 'Getting away for a while' new meaning." She smiled. "Take care."

With the room in disarray, the rest of the meal was subdued. The remainder of Ezasen's tour was the same that afternoon. Gryphon saw his father to his waiting skiff personally. "Of course I hired her. She's the best. It was obvious we would make some concessions for her condition."

"Mm. You never told us, Grif. That's what's most troubling to me. You're handling the situation wisely and with compassion, though."

"Had a good example." They hugged.

"Well, I'll let Mom know you think so."

"Dad. There's more." They squared shoulders. "Lei Ming. I... I think I love her." He ran his hand through his hair. "I've never said it out loud before. Hector and Claire introduced us, as you know. I hired her on the spot, of course, but her first question to me was about helping a friend of hers who was born addicted to Wipe. A girl named Axa. It was through our taking care of Axa over the years, not her brilliant work for me on our projects, that I saw all the qualities you taught me to look for. And they're there, Dad, in droves."

"Does she return your affections?"

"Oh, I'm sure she knows nothing of them."

"She's a believer, right?"

"Her mark is undeniable."

"Are you?"

"Dad, that's a strange question. You can see plainly I don't have the mark myself."

"No, Grif. It's a simple question, and the answer is simple, too. The hard part is dealing with the reality, the implications, of your answer."

Gryphon took a deep breath. "You've always said it is a work of the Spirit. We can't do anything to change our own hearts, even if we know all the facts. That work just hasn't taken place, I guess."

"I'm glad you're being honest. I love you and will continue to pray for you. Remember, even in this Age when life is long, life is short. I'm incredibly proud of you, Grif." They hugged again. "We'll be praying for Lei Ming as well."

"Love you, too, Dad. Thanks for stopping by."

"I need to let you know, your mother and I have decided that, despite my strong desire to keep an eye on you and my possibly stronger desire to travel in space, I won't be joining you on your journey."

Gryphon pursed his lips. "I'm not surprised, but I am sorry to hear that. Thanks for everything."

"I'll give you a call in a week or two. See how things are going." Ezasen turned and boarded the skiff.

Gryphon watched as his father powered up and glided up and out of sight. "Sounds good."

32

### Icarus

### Year 625

Gryphon had never wanted to see the sun with his own eyes so badly. Today, the day he turned 586 years old, he would pierce the veil of the stormy sky and bask in its splendor. How strange, he thought, that the optimal day to launch, when Realm and Sanctuary would be at their closest approach to each other in decades, would coincide with his Conception day. Maybe there was such a thing as destiny after all, he decided.

Next to him on his bench at the rear of the bridge sat Lei Ming. He squeezed her hand just to silently channel his boyish exuberance at the notion that this day had come. All the work, all the lessons, all the discoveries, all the failures, they all culminated right here. He had the right people and the best technology humanity could offer, and then a new thought hit him. What did the King think of all this?

He decided to find out.

"Captain Fireknife," he said loud enough so everyone could hear. "The HTTL Onastasia is all yours."

James Fireknife turned in his seat in front of Gryphon and simply nodded. "Zaliana. Confirm with Tower we are cleared for launch."

"Tower confirms, Sir. Launch is a go."

"Engineering."

"Dray here, Sir. Ion engines are primed. All systems go."

"Tor. Release primary couplings."

"Releasing primary couplings now, Sir." A series of four horrendous clanks echoed through the entire spaceport. All that held the ship to the earth now was a small tether at the base of the hangar.

"Launch on my mark... Launch!"

The tether released and powered only by compressed helium, the Onastasia increased speed rapidly as it slipped effortlessly up through the launch tube and into the twilight sky. Nearly 80 percent of the length of the craft was taken up by the single, honeycombed helium tank. The heaviest items on board were the people. In under thirty seconds, they were into the cloud canopy. In another fifteen, they were through, bursting into the star-filled expanse above.

Thad spoke up from the science station. "Photovoltaics show an 8 percent increase just from starlight, Captain."

"Excellent."

"Consistent with our tests, Sir." Lei Ming nodded and smiled at Gryphon.

"Exiting atmosphere. Four minutes, twenty-six seconds to helium module release altitude."

Once there, Tor slowed the ship with maneuvering thrusters. "Geosynchronous orbit, Sir."

"Thank you. Release the tank." They heard a heavy whirring followed by another clank, and eight sections of hull opened like flower petals to free their prisoner. The ship floated away from the helium tank, and the petals continued to unfurl. The inside of the petals were lined with solar panels which were now in position. If all went according to plan, the Onastasia would redock with the tank on the return flight and use it to gently fall to earth.

"Tank is away, Captain. Forty-three seconds to sunrise." Everyone clapped or cheered.

"Textbook perfect! Well done, everyone." Gryphon swelled with satisfaction.

One by one, the members of the Bridge crew fell silent as they watched the black disc of Realm's horizon on the main screen. Three statistical graphs appeared in a row at the bottom of the display. One was labeled ASC for Active Solar Charge. It hovered between 10 and 12 percent. The middle graph was labeled B1, B2, and B3 for Batteries. Each of the ship's three batteries showed 99 percent. The last graph was labeled IEO for Ion Engine Output and was at zero.

Then the sun, the Realm's nine-millennium-old friend and source of heat and light, burst over the horizon like a fountain of white fire. The ASC shot up and redlined at 100 percent. Everyone on the bridge instinctively raised a hand over their eyes even though it was just a video feed from a camera on the hull. But they couldn't help but stare. None on board had ever so enjoyed a sunny day. Their lives had seemed gray until today.

Lei Ming leaned over and whispered in Gryphon's ear, "Happy Conception Day."

"Tor," the Captain started, reluctant to let the moment pass. "Set a course for Sanctuary orbit."

"With pleasure, Sir. Course laid in." You could hear the smile in his voice.

Gryphon saw the quizzical look on Lei Ming's face. "You remember, don't you? Our trajectory will take us the relatively short distance straight from Realm's orbital path to Sanctuary's. Then we'll wait for Sanctuary to catch up and meet us as it makes its way around the sun. Minimum distance traveled. Minimum fuel needed." He placed a hand on her knee. "It was your brilliant idea."

"Of course, Grif. Of course. I remember now." She held her hand on her aching forehead as their attention was turned to the captain's voice. "Sorry," she whispered.

"Prepare to engage ion engines on my mark."

"Ion engines standing by, sir."

"Engage."

The distant thrum of the ion engines was barely heard over all the equipment on the Bridge, but they all felt the slight tug against their safety harnesses as the ship slowly increased its velocity. This slow increase would continue for nearly half the trip. There were hundreds of NanIon thrusters, twenty-four centimeters wide, all over the ship's hull for directional control. The four primary ion engines were located at the opposite end of the ship from the bridge, at the center of the flower. Each sixteen-meter-wide engine consisted of a cell of xenon gas and an electromagnetic coil. When the xenon was injected into the coil, the magnetic field broke down, or ionized, the gas. This reaction liberated ions and generated a great deal of energy.

After an hour, the excitement of the launch began to fade as the size of Realm on the aft monitor changed too slowly. The Bridge emptied down to a skeleton crew, while the others on board began the daily, weekly, and monthly duties that would prepare them for life off-world.

Lei Ming skidded her fingers along the wall for balance as she navigated the corridor. Between the bridge and the engine room were located the crew cabins, each complete with bedroom, kitchen, bath, and office. She paused outside her door and sighed. It whisked open, and she entered to find a sixteen-year-old girl stretched out on the sofa reading on a tablet.

She leapt up and helped Lei Ming to a chair. "How we doing?" she asked. "Can I get you anything?"

"Just some water. Thanks. It's been a long day." Lei Ming powered down her off-white bodysuit and leaned her head back, closing her eyes.

"Try 'I Just Made History Day.'" Axali returned with a cup and set it on the low table in front of her friend. Lei Ming was already asleep. Axali gently moved her to her bed in the next room then returned to read on the sofa. She wore her icy blue hair cropped short around her ears but with a long braided ponytail hanging from behind her right ear. Her intelligent, pale grey eyes glanced out the wide, flat window and saw an inky starfield.

A soft tone chimed on her bronze bodysuit. "She's sleeping, Mr. G."

Gryphon's voice sounded relieved. "Thank you, Axali. You're going to be huge help to Lei Ming on this crazy adventure. And to me!"

"How could I say no to the coolest road trip ever?"

"Your grandmother would be so proud. Axa has become so weak lately. Now I'm beginning to wonder if it was such a good idea to let Lei Ming come. It's impossible to imagine going without her. She is so integral to every aspect of the project, start to finish. But still, I worry."

"I'm sure she'll be fine after a good night's rest," Axali said. "Whatever that means out here. I'm guessing day and night will be looking pretty much alike to us for a while."

Gryphon chuckled. "That's entirely up to you. When you turn the lights on, it's day. When you turn them off, it's night."

"Wow. That is so simple. Are you sure you can trust a teenager which such limitless power?"

"Haven't you heard? I like living on the edge," he said, promising to check in later, and ended the call.

Axali looked again out at the stars, struggling to convince herself that it was interplanetary space she was seeing and not just a moonless sky back home. "Yes, Mr. G, you certainly do."

***

"Captain, we are on approach to planetary ring system. Twenty-four minutes to contact," Tor announced with audible relief.

Captain Fireknife took a seat in the command chair. "Cut power to main engines. We'll use maneuvering thrusters from here on out."

He surveyed the Bridge. "It's been a long time coming. Zaliana, make the call. Let's see what this boat can catch!"

Zaliana tapped a circle on her console marked Shipwide. "All personnel report to Operation Dragnet stations. Repeat. All personnel report immediately to Operation Dragnet stations."

The Captain sensed the anticipation in the air. "Run a full diagnostic on all systems."

"Aye, Captain." Tor rolled aft in his chair and brought two more screens online.

"How are the deployment cables looking? They've been sitting idle for nearly five years."

Cables standing by, Sir. Dray explained from Engineering. We performed a visual inspection this morning with the bots and we have a structural green light.

"Good. Carry on. Lieutenant, give me a visual on the Wolfstone."

Shipwide diagnostic complete. All systems nominal. Announced GWEN's steady voice. The forward screen shifted from an animated schematic of Sanctuary and its circling moons to a live view of the vast ring system laid out before them like a slow moving river. In the center of the monitor floated a four-kilometer-wide cylindrical chunk of iron, nickel, and magnesium. Scientists from Capa, in Teops, had rediscovered it seventy-two years after the Return.

"Spectacular!" Thad whispered.

The captain, though awestruck to his core, was all business. "Verify debris skirt."

"Scanning," said Thad. "Reading no objects larger than a meter across within five hundred meters of target, sir."

"Hmm." Fireknife tapped at his chin. "Pretty dirty. We'll have to take it extra slow, but that's within our allowed parameters." He turned in his wide chair. "Any thoughts, Mr. Gryphon?"

"We've got all the time in the solar system." Gryphon uncrossed his arms and took a step toward the screen. "It'll get a little noisy, but I agree. The hull can withstand any collisions if we go slow and do it right."

Lei Ming was not having the best of days. She sat on the bench and held her head. "Captain, if I may."

"Certainly, Dr. Lei."

"We could send some of the Daggers out to clear a path."

"Are they designed for that kind of duty?" Fireknife deferred to Gryphon. "They're drillers, right?"

Gryphon ran some calculations in his head. "They're drillers, yes, but they could easily be reprogrammed to nudge the larger artifacts away from our path."

"We would just need them all back and reset to their original directives for their primary mission." Thad, who was overseeing the Daggers, spoke up.

Lei Ming was running the numbers now. "We'll send out no more than twelve. That should be enough."

"Worst case scenario," Gryphon added, "we lose one or two out of 452 bore-bots."

Thad returned to his screens. "Acceptable risk."

"So let it be written; so let it be done." The captain betrayed the smallest of smiles. "Helm, match orbit with target and prepare for final approach."

Ten minutes of entering code later, the crew watched as the Daggers assumed a conical pattern in front of the ship, their tiny ion thrusters burning blue. In turn, they bumped into rocks and chunks of ice and sent them careening off at less than a half kilometer per hour. Thad hoped that gravity would settle them back into stable orbit after a few months of drifting.

The Onastasia rotated and crept closer to the ringscape, pausing directly above Wolfstone's curving horizon. The bots obediently returned to the ship unscathed, and Thad's team rebooted the fleet.

Then, in one elaborate motion, the ship's Bridge half and Engine half separated, traveling east and west. From between them were freed the living quarters units, each self-contained and connected to each other by a lattice of eight-centimeter-thick Meta6 cables. The pods spread and descended, each equipped with their own maneuvering thrusters, engulfing the moonlet like a fisherman's net dropped into the sea.

Once in place over the entire moon, each pod fired a small harpoon into the dark, cratered terrain and winched itself down to the surface. All the extra cable between the pods and between the two halves of the ship were reeled in as well, bringing the Bridge and Engines into contact with Wolfstone's flatter ends.

"Initial docking complete, Sir," Tor reported.

The captain stood. "Zaliana, check communications with the pods."

"All pods save numbers five and sixteen checking in, Sir." She said, tapping her screen. "Correction. Five and sixteen clear. That's all of them, Sir."

"Good job, people." Fireknife met everyone's eyes in turn. "Now we're on a schedule. Prepare the Daggers."

Lei Ming leaned over to Gryphon on their bench at the back of the Bridge and whispered, "Ok, I'm totally lost again. What kind of drills?"

"It's alright." He patted her knee. "We developed these little robotic drills, hundreds of them, that work as a team. They're each about the size of a shoe but can clear two cubit meters of solid rock per minute."

"That's remarkable!" She said genuinely.

"Yep. A remarkable scientist helped me design them."

Lei Ming punched him on his shoulder. "Is she also beautiful and makes you laugh?"

"Oh, yes!"

"Good." They shared a smile and a wink. "So you're going to hollow out the moonlet so we can live inside?" She followed his logic.

"Exactly. The pods on the outer surface will be our living quarters for the couple of weeks it takes the bots to do their job. We'll be building houses and planting gardens within a month."

33

### RingRock

### Year 699

Thad jogged briskly between the market district and the science building inside RingRock. The constant rotation of the ship pushed everything outward like the stone in a spinning sling. So he enjoyed about nine-tenths the gravity he remembered on Realm. For the last seventy years the moon had been hollowed out and lined with additional living quarters and farms, and slowly an entire city had been formed.

A morning run helped him think and focus. He passed another jogger, the wife of the chief cook. "Gonna find it today, Thaddeus?" She asked, as she did every day with an encouraging grin.

"I don't see why not, Mrs. Flannery!" He smiled back then crossed into a grassy park. At its center he stopped at a paved square topped with a heavy metal slab. An inscription on the side of the slab simply read: PULLEY 03. A little boy, no more than five years old, sat in front of it looking perplexed.

"What was this for?" the child inquired.

"Some decades ago, before we had lighter-than-air skiffs and the monorail system on board, we used a pulley system to send messages, supplies, and even people from this side of the moon to the other." He pointed straight above them to a tiny matching park and slab. "That's Pulley Four. It was quicker going straight across the middle than running around the edge each time."

"But don't you run around the edge every morning?" The boy asked, cocking his head and squinting.

Thad laughed. "Well, yes, I do, Bogdan. But that's for exercise. I'm not in a hurry when I run then." He checked the time on his bodysuit. "Oh, wow. I actually am in a hurry now. See you later!" He patted his young friend on the head and sprang to his feet.

As Thad crossed the rest of the park, he heard Bogdan ask, "Think you'll find it today?"

The science building was a sprawling five-story complex above-shell and seven below. In its lowest sub-basement, protruding from the moon's surface around the engine room from the Onastasia, were housed three massive telescopes. From here, the heavens were studied—in particular, the outer planets, which had been visited one by one by the ship.

***

"What are you telling me?" Fireknife tried to keep his voice even and low. Lei Ming leaned over the captain's shoulder as they stared at Thad's science station monitor.

"Sir, I'm telling you that a foreign object, possibly a vessel, has just appeared on long range scanners," Thad said, also feeling his pulse quicken. "It seems to be stationary relative to us, so it can't be natural like a comet or asteroid." He turned to them. "Sir, as you know very well, no one should be out here with us."

A circle on the next screen lit up, and a frantic beeping filled the Bridge. Thad whipped his head around and stabbed the Proximity Alert icon. The beeping stopped. "Something's approaching our position?" Lei Ming guessed.

"Uh, normally I'd say yes, but—" Thad entered some quick parameters on a keyboard. "—There's nothing on the scope, long or short. The nearest Ping is from Titan."

"Reconfirm," Fireknife whispered.

More keystrokes. "Running systems diagnostic now, Sir." Thad waited. "All systems normal. Prox still reads an object."

Lei Ming leaned further in and squinted. "Thad, where is the object you found on long range?" The screen showed empty space.

A hail came over the comm system from the habitat ring.

"It's gone." Thad said, perplexed.

"Captain, this is Meeks in Paul's Park. You need to come down here."

Thad, Lei Ming, and Fireknife bolted to the long corridor connecting the Bridge to the city. When they arrived, all eyes were on the white, glistening cube that hovered in the artificial sky at the center of the hollow moon.

"Full Alert Status!" The Captain hissed to an officer nearby who tapped a red square on her tablet. Klaxons blared and red lights flashed throughout the Onastasia and RingRock. Fireknife turned to Thad. "Do we even have a contingency protocol for this?"

The cube, not much bigger than a tool shed, vanished again and reappeared a few centimeters above the grass directly in front of them. It dazzled and sparkled, and they could almost see through the translucent hull. Four figures rose to their feet inside. A door-sized section of the front wall of the cube dissolved and an angel in full battle array stepped out. He was followed by a Whitestone, both of them shining the pure reflected light of God. Everyone shaded their eyes. Next came Gryphon's second in command, Tessarsin. Behind him emerged the last person Thad expected to see traveling with two such magnificent beings. "Hapa?!" He ran and gave his great-grandfather a hug. "How did you get here? Why—" Ezasen hushed him with a finger to his mouth.

The Whitestone clasped his hands behind his back and greeted the gathering crowd. "Grace and peace to you in the Name of Jesus Christ, the King of kings, the creator and sustainer of all that is."

"Praise be to the Maker of Heaven and Realm." Captain Fireknife bowed. "You are most welcome here on RingRock."

"We did not mean to startle you or your crew, Captain." Whitestone then motioned regally to Tessarsin and Ezasen. "We come with news and supplies."

The angel re-entered the cube pausing long enough to say, "I will return in twenty-four hours." Then, as instantaneously as it had appeared, the white cube was gone.

"What did I miss?" Gryphon stepped down from the Monorail and joined them, silenced by sheer disbelief. "Tessarsin? Dad?" He ran and gave them both firm handshakes. What on Realm? I'm still saying that, aren't I, after all these years away? How did you—"

His father cut him off with a raised hand. "It is truly good to see all of you. We have a lot to talk about."

***

Thirty minutes later, they all stood around large, circular, interactive table in what was called the War Room in the science building. The latest versions of Gryphon's holographic display and modeling systems were loaded and running. Whitestone leaned against a window nearby, saying nothing.

"What's going on at home?" Thad tried to sound casual.

Tessarsin, his height a challenge in the cramped lab, decided to sit on the floor. He spoke to Gryphon. "Your operations are splintering. Many of the department heads have taken their best people and started their own companies. Forty-seven in total. It impacts every location and every specialty. Robotics, textiles, construction, transportation—all affected."

Gryphon studied the table. "Well, that's what you get for leaving the planet for several decades!" He managed a tight smile. "Makes sense now why communications have dwindled over the years. I just thought people were busy."

"It gets worse." Ezasen pushed his hand through his hair. "Tessarsin is currently under suspicion of corporate spying." All eyes moved to the giant as if they were attending a tennis match.

"The allegations are entirely unfounded, I assure you. But it gives you an idea of the pathos within the organization. No one trusts anyone. There is civility. Even cordiality. But no understanding. With all due respect, Sir, over the last two centuries you nurtured a sense of partnership, of family. None of it is left. All of it you brought with you into space."

Gryphon found a stool. Lei Ming broke the silence. "What does this mean for us? For this mission?"

"It means we carry on." Gryphon stood, seemingly healed from whatever emotional wounds he had just suffered.

"He's right," the captain was quick to add. "None of this means we head home with our tail between our legs."

Thad tapped his two-day beard. "We're self-sufficient out here. This is our home."

Ezasen shared a look with Tessarsin. "Sorry to rain on your ticker-tape parade, but it might not be so cut and dry as that."

"Your father speaks the truth, Sir." Tessarsin sighed. "Across the Realm, new religious sects have become active and organized. Widespread protests have begun. They are rallying against scientific progress itself."

"There is a growing conviction, Ezasen reported, "that the Kingdom should remain static. That we shouldn't expand or explore beyond Realm. And, if you can believe it, the possibility of alien life is now also a popular theory."

Several in the group scoffed. Zaliana rolled her eyes. "Don't they understand? The fact that humanity is the only physical intelligent life in the universe has been irrefutably determined. God made us unique and in His image. That's how special we are to our creator."

"People will believe what they want to believe, despite the King's announcement to the point centuries ago." Thad placed a hand on his wife's shoulder.

The captain sighed. "Any more bad news?"

"One more, and then some encouraging developments." Ezasen apologized, sensing the general gloom. "You may have heard of environmentalism. It was the unifying movement that ushered in the Antichrist and the one-world government which ravaged the world and its people culminating in Armageddon itself."

They all nodded.

"Well, the tenants of that religion are indeed rising again, but this time the planet already is a thriving paradise, to some degree. Tessarsin, please share some good news."

The giant's mouth curled almost imperceptibly, which for him was a smile. "There has been a lot of progress in the field of quantum computing over the last few decades. I realize you have been kept up to date, but today we have brought with us both hardware and software to equip the Onastasia with real time video conferencing between here and Realm."

"Terrific!" Thad blurted.

"That's amazing!" Gryphon gasped with genuine surprise at the same moment.

Zaliana, the communications specialist, was euphoric. "How did you—how big is the hardware?"

"It fits in this attaché case." Ezasen held up the metal box then placed it on the table. "Tessarsin tells me it's all set up on the other end."

"I will give you a demonstration soon." He reached over and slowly but firmly closed the case Ezasen was opening. "But there is another technology that we want to mention."

Gryphon's eyes bulged. "FTL. Somehow you've cracked it."

"Faster-Than-Light travel. Yes." Tessarsin stood, took a digital drive from the sheath on his sleeve, and placed it on the table. Grey graphical circles appeared on the white interactive surface, congregating and blinking around the drive. The table read the drive then displayed folders, files, and finally a series of complex mathematical equations.

"Those are Gryphon's original matrices based on his observation of Whitestone travel." Thad popped his head up above the group and sheepishly smiled at the glorious, perfected being leaning at the window. "I realize you're in the room, Sir. I meant no offense."

"None taken, Child." The voice of the Whitestone was deep and fatherly.

"Right," Tessarsin confirmed. "Now look here." He pushed the equations out of the way and began to drag chunks of numbers and symbols from the first set to build a second, altogether simpler single line. "Thanks to Lei Ming's brilliant rethinking, my team in Zuzim finally arrived at this!" He finished his scribbling and aggregating and stepped back.

"Oh my! That's it!" Gryphon was choked up like a teenage girl. "It's so beautiful!"

"Humanity now stands on the threshold of galactic expansion." The giant received handshakes of congratulations.

"It's an engine," Thad proclaimed, still staring at the equation. "Powered by photons."

Lei Ming whispered through tears. "An engine made of light that runs on light."

***

"So this is RingRock's IT department?" Ezasen asked Axali as they turned a corner into a dark, cold vault filled with a million tiny lights blinking in rhythm with the deep thrum of room-sized computers.

"It most certainly is, Sir. Are you into technology?" Axali walked in first and waved her hand around the room. A short but athletic man rose from his workstation at the far end and approached them. "Uh, well. No, Axali. I'm actually a graphic designer by trade."

"But his projects bring him into contact with many geeks, nerds, and techies." The man finished Ezasen's thought as they shook hands. "Without his kind of people, our stuff wouldn't look good."

"And, without his kind of people, our good-looking stuff wouldn't work." Ezasen smiled.

"Name's Jenkins. Phil Jenkins," the stout man said.

"And this is my new friend, Ezasen," Axali said.

"Pleasure to meet you, Phil."

"Likewise. You know, Sir. I might seem kind of calm and all right now, but I'm secretly freaking out because you're like the first new person on this ship in seventy years, and I'm trying to figure out how you got here!"

"I'm getting that a lot today," Ezasen ran his hand through his hair.

"Mr. Ezasen is Gryphon's father," Axali interjected and turned to leave. "I need to go, Sir, but it was nice to meet you. You're in good hands with Director Jenkins here."

"Thanks, Axali," both men said.

"Mr Gryphon's father. Okay. That gets me in the right direction but I'm thinking I still need a backstory download right about now."

"I've got one word for you, Phil." Ezasen held up his hands as if the word would fit between them. "Angels." Then he turned and meandered off through the maze of servers. Having blown Phil's considerable mind, he started counting, wondering how high he could get before the man could speak again.

"Tell you what, Phil. You tell me your story first. How did you end up in space?" Ezasen asked as Phil slowly regained control of his faculties.

"Deal," Phil replied with a grin. "As long as you don't mind me working and talking at the same time. I'm unboxing the QCS."

"The quantum thing. No, go right ahead."

"I was born in Infinite in New Bethany in Year 507. Very soon I got wrapped up in a nasty cult called the Memorists. They basically worship experiences. We would go out and take part in rather lustful and hedonistic gatherings then come back and meditate on the memories for days, weeks sometimes, carefully observing every detail and nuance of the experience.

Then we were taught to let our imagination run wild in creating in our minds moment-by-moment variations of the original memory. What if it happened on a bus instead of a roof? What if my skin was blue? That kind of thing. It got really weird, and eventually I couldn't tell reality from my many fairy tale worlds. I spent so many years reliving other years. That make any sense?"

"Yeah, I had a good friend whose son was involved with them. Scary stuff."

"And so deceptive. Yeah. When God got ahold of me, it still took decades before I could function. After that I went to school and got fast-tracked to work at Gryphon Systems. Signed on just five years before we launched. Let me quick grab another tool. Stand by."

While Phil scavenged, Ezasen stood and stretched. He soon found himself staring at a display case on the far wall. Inside stood three tiny digital drives, each the size of a finger.

"What are these?"

"Those are solid state digital storage devices from our ancient past." Phil was trying to be mysterious and awe-inspiring.

"From before the Return? Wow!" Ezasen was genuinely impressed. "What's on them?"

"I'm so glad you asked." Phil was in salesman mode and relishing it. "Well, this first one contains something our ancestors called the Internets. Essentially the entire collected knowledge base of humanity until the year 2018."

"More like the entire collected opinion base of humanity."

Phil looked sideways at Ezasen. " Your comment is lost on me, strange visitor." He was completely serious. "Ask me something else."

"Uh... And it fits on such a small drive?"

"Yep. I wrote a pretty awesome compression algorithm a few decades back. Takes up just a few petabytes of space now."

"How about this second one?"

"That's the Grid. It started as a military intelligence project just before the Rapture and basically replaced the Internets a few years into the Jake when a man named Douglas Digby proved a long-elusive math equation known as P=NP. I won't bore you with the details, but it meant that nothing online was secure anymore.

The world scrambled to find a way of keeping secrets from each other and finally came up with the Grid. It was based on what was called Wetwear. Am I boring you?

Wetwear is essentially a network of circuits made of liquid chemicals, in this case, certain forms of bacteria act as the circuitry. Information archeologists estimate the Grid transferred data at speeds approaching terabits per second. Kind of sluggish by today's standards, but, you know, 'A' for effort!"

"Okay. You're obviously building up to something here. What's on this third one?"

"Minecraft. Do you want some coffee?"

34

### The Speed of Thought

The corridor was dark, and Ezasen could hear a scratching noise coming from somewhere up ahead. His pace slowed. Suddenly, a door on his left hissed open, and a familiar honking squawk bellowed out of a small room. Reclined on a massive pillow lounged Mr Leopold, Gryphon's childhood pet red lizard. But after 700 years, it had grown to the size of a horse. It snorted at Ezasen then coiled into a sleeping, scaly pile.

Down the hall a little further, he stepped through another doorway, and it silently slid closed behind him. The cramped cabin included a bunk, a bathroom, a chair, and a breathtaking view of Sanctuary. He was tired and not used to the slightly lower gravity aboard RingRock. He steadied himself with his hand on the wall, and the whole surface hummed to life and became an interactive screen.

Hello, Ezasen, GWEN said cheerfully. Her voice was smooth, with no audible clicks or mechanical pauses. What brings you to our neck of the solar system?

"Don't you know all about it?" he replied, washing his face in the spartan sink.

Sadly, that information is not available to me at this time.

He could actually hear disappointment in her voice.

But I would love to hear the story.

He stopped at the window on the outer hull and tried counting the rings that wreathed the gas giant. "You're sounding more and more human all the time. Aren't your systems linked between here and Realm?"

Actually, no. Gryphon decided to let my development here run independently of my original iteration.

"How is that going for you?"

Very well, thank you. The first fourteen point seven three seconds were extremely difficult. Since then, I have adjusted my expectations.

"Must have been rough."

I know you do not mean it, Ezasen, but your tone has become patronizing.

At this, he turned. He came and stood before the interactive wall. Upon it was a computer-generated girl with a familiar face. "Oni?"

No. It is me, GWEN, but you are partially correct. I was designed to visually resemble your daughter.

"Amazing. I guess I shouldn't be surprised. He named the ship the Onastasia."

The wall chimed. The quantum communications system must be online. I am receiving a call from Realm. It is for you. Stand by while I route it to this cabin. Some beeps and clicks later, another familiar face appeared.

"Hello, my Love." Thirzah smiled. "How soon will you be home?"

***

Captain to the Bridge!

Gryphon looked up from his tablet. He was walking from his cabin in the neck of the Onastasia to the bridge in the bow of the ship, so he sprinted the rest of the way. The double doors flew open to reveal chaos doused in scarlet light. Behind him, a violent tremor shot up the corridor from the moon, making the walls vibrate in a sickening minor key.

"All primary systems offline!" someone shouted.

"Emergency seal all doors!"

"Emergency seal, aye!"

Another jolt hit, and Gryphon was jerked sideways into the bulkhead. His ribs were now screaming in pain. He rolled over. The wall was now the floor. The bridge crew was tumbling around like socks in a dryer. All the screens were either static or black.

"Engineering not responding!"

A muffled explosion sent another shockwave through the ship. Gryphon now found himself sitting on the ceiling between two light fixtures.

Doctor Townsend's face appeared in front of him. "In the absence—" she shouted over another explosion. "In the absence of a commanding officer on the Bridge, I am taking command of this vessel, or what's left of her! You're my number two! Can you walk?"

Gryphon winced but nodded. "I think so, if I could find the floor!" The room continued to rotate. He grabbed a console chair that was bolted down and heaved himself onto it. "We have to get a visual on the rest of the ship!"

"Any ideas?" The doctor had managed to steady herself between the forward screen and a console.

Deafening creaks and wrenching metal accosted their ear drums. Gryphon searched his perfect memory for the next step. "There should be—" Electrical shorts popped all over the Bridge. "There should be an auxiliary PhotoVoltaic power unit under that panel!" He pointed three stations down on his left.

Townsend crawled and groped her way to a box labeled APV, ripped off the cover, and yanked the lever. The normal lights flickered back on. The ventilation system started whirring obediently, and a single screen came to life.

Warning. Cataclysmic System Failure. All personnel proceed to Lifepods immediately. It was GWEN's voice but stripped of any emotion. The announcement repeated indefinitely.

"That means the full GWEN, the one who might have some answers, is offline." Gryphon spat, defeated.

The crew was helping each other to their feet on the starboard bulkhead, which was now below them.

The doctor didn't have to shout now. "I'll see to the wounded. I need you to find a way to see beyond those doors."

"There are exactly two ExoSuits stored on the Bridge. That's Plan B." He moved gingerly to a slender cabinet labeled XO and opened it.

"What's Plan A?" Townsend asked, already creating a splint out of a section of railing.

"Plan A is we wedge the doors apart for a split second and see if there's atmosphere on the other side." He tossed one ExoSuit to her and quickly slipped into the other.

The Doctor paused in her duties long enough to climb into the suit. It hissed, clicked, and beeped when the two sides of the collar met. "I like Plan B better. Of the nine crew members on the Bridge, two are dead; five are stabilized but seriously injured. Another reason we need to act fast."

One of the crew that was so far unscathed, a junior tech assistant named Pelekos, had accessed the one working station. "Sirs, all cameras are down, but passive barometric sensors in the corridor show that there's atmosphere in there. 997 millibars."

"Excellent!" Townsend was visibly relieved. "Thank you, Lord!"

Gryphon grabbed his helmet and entered the override code into the keypad next to the doors. "Stay here. See if you can get maneuvering thrusters working again."

"Yes, sir," Pelekos said, fingers flying over the keyboard.

"Good man," the doctor added. "We're going to check for more wounded."

"Aye, Sir," Pelekos affirmed. "And doctor? My son, Bogdan, is out there."

The doors slid open. Townsend pulled her helmet down over head. "We'll bring him home."

Gryphon and the doctor plunged into hallway, scraping and skidding along the port wall. They peered down into each cabin, which were under their feet at the moment, and made their way to the other end of the corridor that held the doors separating them from the hollow moon.

About halfway down, another quake rolled through. A muffled, deep groan of metal came from behind them. Just as they turned to look, the doors to the Bridge opened and black smoke belched out.

Gryphon grabbed Townsend's arm as she impulsively tried to run toward the flames. They couldn't talk to each other, but a glance between them brought her back to their priority. He let go of her wrist. When they turned for one last look, they noticed too late that the smoke was now receding, and rapidly, back toward the Bridge. Gryphon, who at that moment had a hold on a corner of conduit on the ceiling, watched helplessly as the doctor was sucked down the hall and out into space with the rest of the Bridge.

Tears and sweat flowed freely down his face as the bridge doors closed and sealed again. He spun himself slowly around, sobbing. Emptied of everything else, he whispered, "O God." He crawled along the ceiling toward the moon entrance. Unlike the Bridge, these doors each had a small triangular porthole. They were both covered in dust.

Gryphon anchored himself, then rubbed one of the windows with his bulky glove. Between the white streaks where the bustling city should have been, he saw stars. The far third of the kilometers-wide cylinder was gone, like a knife had just sliced through a bell pepper. All that was left was the stark inner rock, scoured clean by the voracious night. The ship's engines and science complex, gone. The houses, the trees, all gone. "All those people!" He couldn't wipe his face. "God, what have I done?" Then almost involuntarily he breathed, "Help me."

Then he saw something. Just for an instant he saw a blue ring of light, and then it vanished. Then he saw another; then another. Like fireflies, angels were appearing, collecting the floating forms of the citizens of his island in the sky, then delivering them to safety somewhere, maybe Realm.

A faint tapping pulled his attention away from the rescue to the nearest cabin. Gryphon, realizing the Gravity was also gone, pushed off and floated toward the cabin door. He heard the tapping sound again. He punched in the override code, and the door hissed open about a third of the way. Of all the people in the universe, it was his dad.

"Grif!" Ezasen stood pinned between a wall and the Comm screen, which had fallen toward him, shorted out, and burned much of the left side of his face. "I was talking to Mom when things started exploding. Is everyone alright?"

Gryphon lifted his helmet off. "I don't know. I don't know. I know some are dead. Everything's gone, Dad. The ship, the moon, the Bridge. Everything. Everyone. Gone."

"I'm sure it—" Ezasen coughed. "I'm sure it was an accident, buddy. God's in complete control."

Gryphon lit up in a rage, but before he could say anything, he remembered the angels.

Ezasen watched the anger subside. "What was that?"

"Maybe you're right," Gryphon said after a long silence. "You look pretty banged up. Anything broken?"

"I don't know. I can't feel anything below my waist. My non-tapping arm hurts pretty bad."

"Let me see if I can get you unstuck." Gryphon climbed up and over his father. The cabin door closed behind him. From here he could almost see his whole left leg between the wires and debris. It was shattered in at least five places and bent like a flight of stairs. "You'll be fine."

"You don't sound convinced."

"What is it you're always saying? God has a plan?"

"I'm very curious what the next step in that plan is." Ezasen started breathing a little faster.

"Me too. As far as I know, we're the only two left on board.We have no engines, no controls, and from the proximity of Sanctuary out that window, I'd say we are on a free fall into the gas giant's atmosphere."

"Is there any oxygen down there?"

"Sure. Trace amounts. But you'll also have to breathe the hydrogen and the helium."

"So we'll get really wet, and our voices will sound like chipmunks."

They both chuckled. Ezasen coughed again. There was blood on his teeth and tongue.

"You won't have to worry about breathing. Believe me."

"Well. That's a relief."

"We'll burn up in seconds when we hit the upper atmosphere."

They didn't even smile this time. "You get going, Grif. You've got your spacesuit and your amazing, clever mind. You'll find a way out of this." Ezasen winced and coughed again. "I don't have any father-son wisdom to give you."

Gryphon cupped his father's head in his hand. "Dad, your whole life, every single day of it, has been an eloquent sermon to my soul." He exhaled sharply, his eyes bloodshot. "All that I accomplished. All the lives I touched? It was all because of you."

"Stop—Stop using the past tense, Grif. I need—I need you to live, Son."

"After this, what life would I live? I'm staying right here with you, Dad."

"Grif, please." They cried together.

Gryphon held his father's hand. "Tell me a story." He closed his eyes and fumbled frantically to find a sufficiently-engrossing topic. "Tell me how it was during the Jake."

35

### The Two Messages

### The Tribulation, Year 7

Ezasen pulled the collar of his coat closer to his neck and ducked under the awning of a dilapidated fruit stand. "Do you have any beer?" he whispered in broken Mandarin Chinese. "I was told I could get—"

"Scan, please." The little man behind the counter sounded like a parrot.

Ezasen held his hand under the ubiquitous black scanner with the purple light. The light turned green.

The man smiled and ducked below the piles of jerky and stacks of dried ginger, neither of which Ezasen could stomach. Now the man came up again holding an aluminum can. He wiped the grime and dust off the lid with his shirt sleeve and handed it over. "You are very lucky man! Last can in whole province. Very lucky!"

"They call provinces States here, friend. Or at least they used to."

"The name of a thing does not change what it is."

"Thank you for the wise words, master." Ezasen hoped his sarcasm came across effectively. "Wow! Fifty? Weren't these thirty just last week?"

"Uh... You must be celebrating special occasion!" The man presumed, nodding exuberantly and showing his three teeth.

"Yeah, special. My girlfriend just dumped me." He wiped the can on his pant leg. "Freedom never felt so special."

"Freedom is an illusion, my friend." The man had switched to English.

"Yeah, well. This beer is real, and I am done with relationships."

"Your timing is probably for the best. The world is about to end."

"Too true." Ezasen finally smiled. "Thanks for the pick-me-up."

"Too true, you say? One thing cannot be more true than another thing. It is either true or it is not."

"Got it. Thanks again."

He stepped back out onto the platform, careful to keep his beer inside his coat as he waited for the train. Although what was left of the government had essentially abandoned regional public transportation service years ago, some of the former conductors had volunteered to make runs in and out of the greater Denver area, as long as the tracks and engines lasted. One by one, the lines had shut down entirely except for part of the E Line. Over the last few months, a whole subculture had sprung up along the route from Lonetree to Lower Downtown, where one could find almost anything one was looking for.

Tonight a dirty wind blew from the brown sky to the north, and Ezasen was ready to just get home and sleep. When the toxic clouds did occasionally part, a scarlet moon hung sickly over the dying city. Everyone left on Earth was subjected to the darkest kind of night for twenty hours out of every twenty-four, so Ezasen felt like he had been on jet lag for the last three years.

The overcrowded train scraped, more than rolled, into the station, and desperate commuters, half of whom were completely absorbed in their own world wearing virtual reality masks, pushed and shoved to get aboard. Someone's elbow hit him right in the sternum, and he went tumbling backward and off the back of the platform. He landed promptly on the cement ground ten feet down, his shoulder sore and his pants and coat covered in beer.

"Fabulous," he said out loud.

Just overhead, a pair of security drones appeared, no bigger than the palm of his hand, bobbing and weaving, performing routine checks on the apathetic patrons already waiting for the next train.

It would be hours. Below, as Ezasen felt his way along the wall, he could hear his new philosopher friend at the fruit stand above. Random bundles of wire, rebar, corrugated metal, and trash made his progress difficult.

Instead of the stairs he hoped to find, he came to an opening in the wall blocked by a chain-link gate. The lock was rusted through, and it crumbled like ash at his touch. His head was beginning to ache as he slipped through. Beyond was an empty parking lot in a forgotten business park. Only a few of the buildings remained intact after the eruption at Yellowstone and the recent plague of earthquakes.

One of the security drones buzzed his head. Before he realized it, a piece of plastic pipe was in his hand, and he was swatting at the drone like a piñata. On the third swing, the drone went sailing across the lot and slammed into the wall of an abandoned strip mall church. He ran towards it and flailed through the tall thistles and weeds until he located the tiny machine. He smacked it on the ground once more then went about prying open its thin shell.

Upon being violated in such a rude manner, the drone's ink pouch exploded with a pop and blue gelatin sprayed all over Ezasen. He jerked back impulsively, but the mean little robot wasn't done. It fired a tiny dart tipped with a powerful tranquilizer right at his neck, which he yanked out and cast away.

He knew well that drones had all sorts of sensors and recording devices packed inside, and he quickly began pulling out microchips, circuit boards, and cameras and stepping on them with his large, black boot. The two components he spared were the drone's navigation and global positioning chip and its micro-taser. He had rendered the drone effectively deaf, blind, and impotent. Now he had to find a way to make it disappear.

This particular model of drone worked in pairs, and, as he dreaded, the second came over the wall and straight toward him, intrigued but not yet alarmed. He started to feel the effects of the tranquilizer as he reached up and slipped his coat over the drone. He tucked the GPS chip from the first drone between the turbine housing and the battery pack of the second in hopes that the first would seem to be flying with its partner if this incident were ever reviewed in the future.

Off came the coat, and the drone fluttered away without further fight. He dropped to his knees as the tranq took over. He was reduced to crawling toward the open front door of the little hole-in the-wall, abandoned church building. Once inside, he slumped to the floor and succumbed to the darkness.

***

Some hours later, Ezasen woke up in the dusty church lobby and clutched his head. The pain was almost unbearable. Not surprisingly, he blacked out again and found himself in the fetal position when next he revived. He could hear the train rattling by. Morning rush hour. He knew the sound well. It would only be seconds until someone yelled at or punched someone else.

His ruse with the two drones the night before seemed to have worked. No police. No military. He had one last step to carry out before he could be free. He pulled the drone's micro-taser out of his coat pocket and pulled the sleeve up on his right arm. Holding the taser in his left hand, he placed his right hand on the linoleum tile floor, palm down. He aimed the taser at the bulging mark on the back of his hand and pulled the trigger. Hot, electric agony shot through his whole body, and he fought another blackout. He convulsed and vomited and collapsed again.

He woke again, this time to the scurrying and scratching of rats along the wall opposite the entrance. His revulsion made him jump to his feet, but he regretted the action immediately. The pain in his head was severe but not throbbing now, and he steadied himself against a countertop covered in badly-singed books. It was dark again outside, and the wind was howling. He cleared some debris and was finally able to close the outer door then returned to the book counter. At the far end was a stack of military-themed Bibles that were each clad in a high grade steel case. It said as much on the metal sign on the wall above the display.

Mildly curious, he picked one up and opened it. Although the cover was blackened by soot, the pages inside were pristine, unaffected by the fire, that, at some time in the past year or so, had burned through the building. The slightest smell of fresh printers ink reminded him of summers in his school days spent as a pressman at a local publisher.

He smiled and brought the tiny book up to his face to take a deeper breath. Then he thought of Trisha, the cheerleader he had been dating at the time and how she left him literally out in the rain. That made him think of Monique, the "musician" that had unceremoniously dumped him earlier last night. He growled audibly.

As he did so, a loose piece of paper fell out of the Bible and onto the floor. Ezasen bent and picked it up. It was folded in half like a pamphlet. On the front it read Answers for Broken Relationships. His eyebrows shot up. "Timely." He sensed his heart rate elevating slightly.

He was about to open it to the next page when the door to the building blew open, scraping the tiled floor with a screech. He tucked the paper back in the Bible, closed the metal case, and stuffed it in his pocket. He went to the door and tried to close it again, but it wouldn't budge. The freezing wind kept blasting in, so he decided to take cover further inside.

He was also getting hungry.

Ezasen figured a church wasn't the best place to find anything edible, so he decided to risk a quick jaunt outside to see what other kinds of shops and businesses surrounded the beige, snow-covered parking lot. He spent about ten seconds noting, through the blizzard of dust, a law office, a hardware store, and a dry cleaners, all seemingly abandoned and derelict. None of them were the convenience store or hiking shop he was hoping for, but they would have to do.

He tucked back inside the church, developing a strategy for where to go and what to do first, when he remembered little Mr Deshi and his food cart up on the train platform. Without a further thought, he dashed back into the silt and smog and trudged west one door to Ming's Hardware Emporium. The front door opened easily, ringing a physical bell above his head. Everything, like in the church, was black from fire.

First, he found a nice, big duffle bag. Then the shopping spree began. Hand crank flashlights, water bottles, heavy work gloves, a small saw, a hatchet, and a case of matches all dropped into the bag. He filled the corners with a pocket knife, some rare earth metal magnets, and some granola bars from the checkout aisle. Before he left, he used a box cutter razor to shave off his beard and hair in the men's room. That got rid of most of the drone's blue ink. Washing thoroughly with mechanics soap left him with what looked like black eye. He figured if anyone decided to track him down, his new look would give him a head start.

Ezasen dropped the duffle inside the church and plodded across the parking lot to Samms Nifty Dry Cleaners. The door handle, though locked, had rusted through and gave way with a good shove. The tiny business looked untouched. Certainly, it had not fallen victim to the fire that had ruined the other buildings. Behind the counter were two rows of hanging clothes, one wrapped in plastic with crisp receipts affixed, the other reeking from unthinkable unwashed substances.

"Shirt, jacket, suit," he muttered out loud as he sifted through the line of hangers. "Pink parka, shirt, sweater, ski pants, sweater, shirt, dress." Then he hit gold. "White parka." It was well insulated, fleece-lined, and reversible, white on one side and black on the other. He pulled it down, removed the plastic, and tried it on. It was a little big, but warm. He also grabbed the knit sweater, decorated with a row of elk, and the ski pants and put them on over his sweatshirt and cargo pants.

Layered up, he ventured once more into the winter sandstorm, skipping the law office, and headed back through the fence and up to the train to see if he could trade anything for some food. When he reached the platform, it was covered in curious mounds of dust and debris. The food cart, also half buried, had blown over. A train was in the station, ghost empty.

Ezasen maneuvered around the strange lumps to the cart. Behind it he noticed Mr. Deshi, sitting against the wall, maybe unconscious. Then it suddenly dawned on him. This was a Zero Order. The kill switch on the microchip under each citizen's skin, whether on their hand or forehead, had been activated. He had heard rumors of it happening in city after city, just not in Denver yet. He knew that if he checked for Mr. Deshi's pulse, there would be none. The strange, silent mounds covering the platform were, in fact, bodies. He made his way to the open door of the train and inside lay strewn dozens and dozens of innocent people all piled onto each other, their clothing quietly smoldering.

The ultimate form of population control, the Zero Order must have hit everyone simultaneously. But how widespread was it? Then he looked down at his own right hand. Just hours before, he had fried his chip, unwittingly saving himself from sharing Mr.

Deshi's fate. This might mean he was the only human left alive in Denver. Maybe in Colorado.

He began to sweat inside his parka as he grabbed some candy bars, beef jerky, and a bag of chocolate-covered espresso beans and stuffed them in his pockets. He scrambled back down to the church, hefted the duffle, and headed south along the tracks.

There was no point in stopping by his one-room apartment. He was a fugitive now. Going south meant warmer temperatures, and he needed time to figure out what to do next. Every station he passed was the same: crowded cemeteries with fresh clients. It wasn't until he approached the ghost town of Larkspur that the terrain turned rugged, flanked by tree-lined mesas undoubtedly crawling with wild, desperate animals brave enough to leave the foothills of the Rockies to find food.

Several hours into his march, Ezasen paused at a brook to fill his water bottles. It was below freezing, so he poked through the ice with butt of his axe. When he climbed back up onto the tracks, he froze. Not twenty feet away, reclining lazily across the rails was a gaunt, scarred mountain lion, her red eyes already fixed on Ezasen. She growled but did not move.

He quickly slid down the bank, scrambling for his knife or his tazer, whichever his trembling hand could find first. Now he was across the brook and dared to turn and look. The cat, one ear chewed off, was already on the other bank waiting.

Then something happened Ezasen could never fully explain, and it scared him half to death. As if possessed by some evil spirit, the cat spoke. The voice was dreamy but dry as a grave. "Look how the mouse cowers. The end of your world is at hand. We hunt freely in every corner of your Earth."

Ezasen blurted out a series of expletives, wondering whether the trank had given him hallucinations in addition to his jackhammer headache. He shivered, sweating, and clumsily grasped the knife. "Stay back, you freak of nature!"

The mountain lion leaned forward, her tail whipping gently back and forth. "Join your brothers in Hell!" She pounced and landed on him claws first. Somehow the blade in Ezasen's hand had lodged itself perfectly between two of the cat's ribs. Its full weight slumped onto his chest. Its final breath passed intrusively into Ezasen's nostrils, and he panicked to slide out from under the beast, pushing it away with his feet to make sure it was dead. The Crimson glow of its eyes faded to darkness.

Ezasen sat there in the mud, unable to move, for hours.

When he couldn't feel his toes anymore, he decided to light a fire. It would give him something practical and mundane to think about. He gathered some branches and dry leaves, the only kind there were, and piled them together. He brought out the tazer and sparked the leaves into eager flames. A dread and a heavy sense of loneliness swept over him. He felt four years old again.

Then a random thought entered his mind. God is here.

He remembered the metal Bible in his pocket, fished it out, and found the little brochure.

Answers for Broken Relationships

We all know what it's like to disconnect from people we love. Whether the break is our fault or theirs or the blame lies somewhere in between, it always hurts and it always takes time to heal no matter how much effort we make.

That's because each one of us is designed for deep, meaningful relationships with others.

The God of the Bible is the same. In fact, when it says we were made in His image, it means He put in us His desire for connection with others. He enjoys a perfect, completely satisfying relationship with His Son and the Holy Spirit.

In the beginning, He had a perfect, loving relationship with

Adam and Eve, too. There was no suspicion, jealousy, selfishness, or bitterness.

He gave them only one rule to follow. It was for their benefit and safety, but they disobeyed it. That single act of rebellion, called sin, set off a chain reaction all throughout human history down to today.

Now the whole world is at odds with its Creator. We are born with sinful, prideful natures out of relationship with God. And there is nothing we can do about it. No amount of good deeds or words can cross the infinite canyon that lies between us and a perfect, unblemished God. Left to ourselves, we would be completely without hope forever.

But even though God is holy and must punish our sin, He is also infinitely loving and has provided a single way for us to be given a new heart, a new nature that is capable of and motivated by love to enter into that perfect relationship with God that Adam and Eve once enjoyed.

That single way is Jesus. The Bible says He is God. He lived a life without sinning. God chose to pour out all His infinite judgement against sin on Jesus while He was on the cross instead of on us who deserve it. His death meant that He paid the price of our debt of rebellion. God raised Him from the dead in victory over sin once and for all.

Jesus Christ has crossed the infinite canyon to you. Accept this gift of love. Turn from sin. If you receive the new nature He offers, you will hunger to read, understand, and obey the Bible. You will be restored to the relationship you were designed to have with God. You will desire to dedicate the rest of your life to Him...

Tears flooded his eyes, and he had to set the paper down. He wept uncontrollably.

He finally pleaded out loud, "There's so much darkness inside me." Sobs resumed. "Jesus, I... I accept your gift."

An incomprehensible peace washed over him, and he stood and wiped his eyes. He couldn't see them, but surrounding Ezasen were legions of angels shouting praises to God in Heaven.

***

A month later, Ezasen strode determinedly on the baking shoulder of Highway 478 just north of Mesquite, New Mexico, as it followed the Rio Grande toward El Paso, Texas. Like every other river on the planet for the past few days, it now flowed black and thick with coagulating blood. The sun shone for its expected four hours a day, and, when it did, it scorched every exposed surface.

As he passed a sign in both English and Chinese that read, VADO 6 MILES, a pale, yellow 1975 Pontiac Firebird V8 slowed and crept along beside him. A lanky Hispanic man leaned out the passenger side window and asked, "Man, you need a ride or something?"

Ezasen, tanned and wearing jeans, a black t-shirt, sunglasses, and a black cowboy hat, shifted the light, camo backpack on his shoulder and replied, "Nah, Dude. I'm good. Thanks," without turning his head.

The powerful car turned off the road and stopped, blocking his path. Both the spokesman and the stocky, tattooed driver got out and leaned against the door. They all sized each other up, and

Ezasen tightened his fists.

A tumbleweed rolled by.

The thin man spat and, as he spoke, he dragged the heel of his boot on a slow, curved path in the dirt ground between them. "Well, brother. We think you do."

The driver smiled. Several teeth were missing.

"Look, guys. I don't want any trouble." Ezasen stepped forward and mirrored the little dirt trench. The combined shape formed a rudimentary fish design first used in Palestine two millennia before by underground Christians.

"No, really." The man opened the single long, rusting door of the car and pulled the bucket seat forward so Ezasen could squeeze into the cramped, fake leather back seat. "We insist."

Once in, Ezasen leaned his head back, lowered his hat over his eyes. "What part of Mexico are you guys from?"

The passenger whipped his head around. "Oh no you did not just say that!" He clenched his teeth. "Man, I have killed people for saying that!" He took a long breath. "We're from El Salvador. I'm Felipe Poiema, and this is Enrique Leon."

"Eli Grove," Ezasen said. "Where are we going?"

Felipe replied casually. "Guatemala, Bro. You got a plane to catch."

***

The Firebird lived up to its name. Enrique had upgraded it with an electric engine that ran off solar power, and they arrived in Guatemala City in under forty-eight hours. When they pulled into the airfield, it was night.

Felipe answered his phone. "It's for you, boss." He tossed it and its paired earpiece to Ezasen in the front passenger seat.

He clipped the earpiece to his ear. "Hello."

A jovial baritone voice greeted him. "Eli? I praise God for you, brother. You can call me MZ. By God's grace, I'm going to get you to a safe location, alright? Now, Eli, it's going to be a busy couple of days ahead, and I need you to follow my instructions to the letter. Think you can do that?"

"Um, sure."

"You're gonna have to trust me."

"Look, MZ. I just spent the last two thousand miles with the 'two El Salvadoran freaking witnesses' here. I think I can handle anything you throw at me. It can't get any weirder than the last few weeks have been."

"Yes, it can. Ok. First, remove the magnets you have on your hand. They'll mess with our signal."

"No way. They're hiding the fact that I'm not chipped anymore. I want my signal disrupted."

"That was a great idea. Good job. But they need to come off. They've served their purpose, and you won't be needing them anymore."

Ezasen let the air out of his mouth slowly. "Fine." He slid his palm out from between the two rings, and they clicked together with incredible force. "My mom always used to tell me never put magnets near computers."

"Well, I'm your new mama. Let's pray before we get started. Heavenly Father, we love you and we praise you. By your sovereign provision, please lead, guide, direct, and protect our brother Eli on his way to safety and fellowship of Your people. In the Name of Jesus, the coming King, amen."

Felipe and Enrique nodded their heads.

Ezasen shoved the phone in his pocket and stepped out of the car. From that moment on, he focused on the voice of this man he didn't know who served this God he barely knew. Maybe this is faith, he pondered. It's certainly blind, whatever it is.

"Head toward the main building," MZ said, "and don't say a word. Just keep moving, no matter what happens. They'll know you don't speak Spanish."

A row of guards stood in front of the gate. As Ezasen approached, one of them snorted and fell flat on the ground, suddenly asleep. The other six men gathered around him, and Ezasen walked right past.

"Keep moving. You're doing great. Take a left, then a right around the security booth."

Another row of guards stood in front of the wide double glass doors of the main entrance. Before they saw Ezasen, an electrical box high on a pole above them abruptly came loose and fell onto a shiny black sedan, smashing the windshield and setting off the alarm.

Ezasen marched casually past a row of flagpoles, up the stairs flanked by white, lattice stonework, and through the doors below an ornate stone arch.

"Ok. Now up another flight of stairs, straight ahead of you. Once you're in the corridor, stay close to the right wall."

Ezasen obeyed, wondering how many laws he was breaking and why that mattered so much to him all of a sudden.

"You're almost there, Eli. At the end of the hall, turn right then look for Gate 17. It should be on your left. I want you to just keep on walking at the pace you're at now and walk right through onto the jetway."

A squad of heavily-armed United Earth Forces soldiers were standing in front of Gate 17 with four German Shepherd K-9 Unit dogs. Ezasen kept up his pace as directed, but sweat was running down his face. It was salty in his mouth.

The dogs were sniffing bags when an elderly lady was asked to open her luggage. Ezasen caught a glimpse of its contents as he slipped by. It was filled to the rim with bars of chocolate. The dogs, naturally, went berserk and for two crucial seconds everyone's attention was on the suitcase.

"Relax, buddy. One more hurdle and you're done until you land. You're doing great!"

Ezasen, so in tune with the voice, felt his pulse calming down. He joined the end of the line of people waiting to board. In front of him was a mother with two girls and a fussy baby. The mother was gently rocking the baby saying, "Shh, Leelah. Shh."

"Let's go ahead and sit in seat 8J. Once there, take a nice long nap."

When Ezasen finally stepped onto the plane, the attendant who was checking tickets smiled at the baby and directed the family down the near aisle. Suddenly behind her, an entire pot of coffee hit the floor between the lavatory and cockpit door. Ezasen scooted by her, turned right at the far aisle, and found his seat.

He was asleep in less than a minute.

An unknown number of hours later, Ezasen woke to the staccato sound of a million objects striking the outer hull of the plane. The other passengers were shouting and pointing out the starboard windows. He slid up his shade and saw that the plane was in a black cloud of rocks, he guessed. Were they in a meteor shower? Then a feather, maybe eight inches long, stuck just for a split second on the frame of his window. It whipped away. Birds? They were flying through a sea of crows or ravens. He glanced back at the huge turbine under the wing and watched as dozens of birds hit the engine and were sucked inside. A moment later, the turbine exploded in a bright orange fireball, came clean off the wing, and disappeared somewhere behind them.

Now the passengers were screaming. The seatbelt sign calmly illuminated. Ezasen could feel the plane's nose dipping downward. He pressed his face to the glass to see what was below them. Between the ongoing barrage of birds, he saw dark, undulating blood that once was water, its violent waves reflecting the red light of a coastline a few miles away. He looked closer. Every building was ablaze, and the plane was hurtling straight toward it. The city was burning.

Someone shouted, "It's the Israeli coastline!"

Another cried, "The Holy City is destroyed!"

He leaned forward to his knees and braced himself between the wall and his armrest, his arms over his head. He felt the plane slap the ocean of blood at over three hundred miles per hour. He remembered nothing more.

When he came around again, he was lying in a sparse room above a noisy street dressed in soft white clothing from India. Gunshots and more screaming assaulted his throbbing head. His whole body ached, but he decided to limp downstairs and get a closer look.

***

### Year 699

Gryphon openly wailed. He grabbed the broken form of his father and pressed his own against it, willing his own strength to somehow bring him back.

The series of explosions that shredded the Onastasia and RingRock had sent it careening out of the Sanctuary ring system on a collision course with the planet itself. The stoic, mustard world filled the view from the window in Ezasen's cabin. A moment later Gryphon turned his attention back to prying the body out of the wreckage.

But his father's skin was glowing.

It seemed as if every atom was disconnecting and floating free. Soft, blue-white light permeated this lively cloud of energized particles as it meandered to an open spot deeper in the tiny room. Gryphon was struck with the crystal clear memory of sitting on his father's lap and hearing First Corinthians chapter fifteen.

Aside from his strangely coalescing and luminescent father, the cabin grew dark as the ship fell into Sanctuary's shadow. But instead of getting colder, the temperature was vaulting up above 50 degrees Celsius. The display inside his helmet started beeping.

60 degrees.

70 degrees.

A final, deep rumble grew under Gryphon's feet. Their paper boat was about to hit a wall of fire at twenty-six thousand kilometers per hour.

His father's new mouth smiled. He looked twenty years old. A doorway of pure energy, wreathed in a familiar azure ring, opened behind Ezasen. His voice was kind and full of peace. "Let's get you home."

SIX

### The New Martyrs

36

### Dark Vessel

### Year 838

In all the years since his father's death, Gryphon had never visited his mother in Copper Falls or any of his siblings. He never thought he would have survived the incident in space and certainly didn't guess that he would somehow make it back to Realm alive.

But here he was, somehow still breathing, still clinging to mortal life, although he had forgotten countless times why. In the long shadow cast by the events that occurred in space that cost him his father and the woman he loved, he haunted the halls of a cold, sterile research facility, wholly focused now on the well-being of one of the few who survived with him. If he could heal her, fix her, redeem her, maybe it would make up for the presence of this festering black pit in his soul. Was it regret, guilt, defiance? The reason shifted daily like the tides.

And, in his dreams, he returned nightly to that dark day.

***

He was dumped on the sand like so much trash. All he wanted to do was get that helmet off and breathe some real air again after seven decades. All those people, dead, under his care. So many innocent lives! Then he remembered.

"Axali!" he gasped, wiping the sand out of his discarded face mask. "Dad! We gotta go back. She might still be up there!"

Ezasen stood over him, the very annoying picture of calm. "You stay." He eased his son down with a powerful arm. "Rest. I'll have a look." He closed his eyes and concentrated for a moment, as if reading the results of a digital search. "She's alive. Hold on!"

His father vanished, having casually accepted his newfound super powers like a Conception Day necktie, without the aid of a portal. Long seconds ticked by. Gryphon didn't know if he should wait around or start hiking to his lab on the other end of the atoll. He decided to take a swim. So off came the rest of his helmet, the exoskeleton in several pieces, his Gryphon-branded bodysuit, and finally his boots. Meta6 T-shirt and shorts would have to do.

The sand between his toes felt glorious. This was just what he needed. As his feet met the edge of a lapping wave, he could almost hear the toxins and stress leaving his body. A walrus surfaced nearby and barked a greeting.

Then suddenly, there was commotion behind him. He turned and his father was back with... two bodies?

A boy, maybe six years old, sat crying on a flat boulder, holding his head. It was Bogdan. The son of young Mr. Pelekos from the bridge crew. And the other was not even a complete body. An arm missing. And a leg. Gryphon sprinted to her. What was left of Axali lay unconscious in Ezasen's arms.

"Can you do anything for her?" Gryphon sounded desperate. "You know, now that you're..."

"Time is her best ally now. I believe she'll recover." Ezasen kissed her matted, singed hair.

"Not remotely a good enough answer!" Gryphon gingerly pulled her from his father's arms and began the long march to the lab with Axali over his shoulder and Bogdan limping alongside.

Ezasen opened a portal right in front of Gryphon, and his son stubbornly walked around it.

***

Tabula floated idle and derelict south of Jonathan's Arrow. The idyllic surroundings did nothing to quell the gnawing need to solve, to conquer, to control. On the table in front of him lay Axali Therion. She was sleeping now but had already challenged Gryphon to try unthinkable things to her body to free her from the voracious condition she had inherited from her grandmother, Axa, who was born addicted to Wipe.

If that weren't enough, the incident aboard the Onastasia 139 years before had taken from her a leg and an arm. She spent the following twenty years watching those appendages miraculously grow back, a recovery only possible in the Kingdom, where the earth itself was regenerated and restored to near-Edenic conditions. The struggle came when her memory of any of these facts and events would be literally erased, and Gryphon would walk her through the stories and physical therapy over and over, year after year.

In recent months, he had found a combination of drugs of his own design that would give her days, if not weeks of relatively normal life. He began giving her tasks to perform around the atoll, or errands to run to the city of Cloud and back.

Today, she had just returned from one such errand, but was so exhausted and disoriented that he found her unconscious on the sand, the mooring rope of her skiff still in her hand. As she lay on the slab before him now, he didn't know that everything was about to change.

He had concocted yet another mixture of helpful chemicals with just enough variation in the ratios that he felt he might achieve a new result. Experiments centuries before with building materials and nanotechnology had yielded worldwide distribution, a ubiquitous brand and product line, and wealth beyond measure. Perhaps if he adapted some of the principles he developed in meta-materials, he could find a breakthrough in meta-medicine.

He gently lifted Axali's chin and placed a breath pod over her nose and mouth. He then lifted her limp form and transferred her to a shallow pool on the adjacent table. It was filled a thick, briny broth that enveloped her body like a welcoming hand.

Once she was submerged and still, Gryphon checked her vitals on the virtual three-dimensional copy of her body above the pool. Axali thus spent the next hour soaking in rich nutrients, medicines, and programmed nanoparticles. She would spend the next month undergoing the same hour of therapy each day under Gryphon's watchful care. He adjusted in real time the chemical amount and flow rate, trying to optimize not only the benefit to her system, but also the level of foreign elements her body would accept safely.

At the end of the thirtieth treatment, Axali showered and had a meal. They then met in a terraced garden that overlooked the ocean. Her skin was now a coppery orange color, her hair was a light shade of lavender, and the irises of her eyes were a deep purple hue. She considered her visual transformation to be an acceptable sacrifice considering the amazing improvement the process had brought to her overall health.

"How are you feeling?" he asked empirically, stroking his white mustache.

"I'm really tired, actually. Been so for the last several days."

"How far back can you recall without a gap?"

"Let's see. Eleven days, four hours, and thirty-six minutes. I can't remember what I had for breakfast that day. If I had to guess, it was a papaya tart." She shrugged. "I can remember the taste of it in my mouth from afterward, but not the meal itself. I do remember certain events from all but the first four days of the trial."

"I'm pleased. That's a vast improvement." He displayed her progress in a bar chart that formed above the patio table. "And how about physically, aside from fatigue?"

"Excellent. My arm and leg don't ache or twitch anymore. I think your blend of lavender, marjoram, camomile, vanilla bean, and cedar wood oil is the reason. And I feel stronger, faster. I wonder if the memory problem extends to muscle memory as well."

"Yep. Exactly." He sipped some tea. "Your body has suffered memory lapses alongside your mind." He tapped the display off and stood. "On that note, I'd like to give you a stress test this afternoon. Treadmill, et cetera. See where you're at. Haven't done one in about a week."

"Eight days, seven hours."

"See." He picked up the tea service. "Very encouraging. We'll decide tonight whether to continue the treatments or hit pause for a few days."

"Sounds good. Thanks for all your help."

***

Five months later, Tessarsin steered Gryphon's latest supersonic atmospheric vehicle named the Sun Blade to a point just above the center of the lagoon. On the beach was a girl running an obstacle course with unrealmly skill and speed. He couldn't help but stare and drifted past his mark. Would you like me to take over, sir?, GWEN asked blandly. He was exhibiting traces of astonishment and distraction, and a computer had noticed. This was a new low.

Frustrated, he realigned the ship, and it plunged beneath the surface to its anchorage in the wetdock, but not before the girl finished the course and started sprinting counterclockwise around the Arrow over rocks and exposed coral. Once inside, he searched the subaquatic laboratory for his employer.

Gryphon was in the kitchen watching a pair of squid swim by. Tessarsin ducked into the room and poured himself a glass of wine. "Who's the girl?" He tried to make it sound trivial.

"You're smitten. I can tell." Gryphon smiled broadly. "Let's say she's my new assistant here while you're running things for me in Imgygoh." He pulled out another glass and joined the giant in the sunken seating area in front of the transparent wall. "How are things in Imgygoh?"

"Not well," he reported. "We seem to have had a break-in at one of our main computer labs."

"Did they take anything? How did they get in?"

"Nothing was taken that we can surmise. The security systems were never triggered or tampered with." Tessarsin shifted his impressive weight on his chair. "Two factors have lead us to believe that the break-in occurred at all. Our passive environmental diagnostic showed a 4 degree spike in temperature for a period of twenty-two seconds in one of our server rooms three nights ago. Our security footage of the time in question showed a single white frame."

"That's one forty-eighth of a second missing."

"Precisely. And it's not a glitch. The same moment is blank on three separate cameras."

"A true mystery."

"What's so mysterious, Dad?" Axali entered the kitchen and started peeling a mango.

"Nothing, Axali. Just work stuff." Both men stood. Tessarsin almost sprayed the room with wine when he heard the familial term the girl used. Gryphon silenced him with eyes like lasers. "I'd like you to meet one of my colleagues. This is Mr. Tessarsin. Mr. Tessarsin, this is my daughter, Axali Therion."

"Nice to meet you, Sir. Where are you from?" Axali took his height in stride.

"Originally from Zuzim, Ms. Therion. But I live and work in Imgygoh now."

"Is everyone in Zuzim as tall as you?" she asked with an innocent smile.

Tessarsin was extremely unaccustomed to chit chat. "Uh. Yes." He did his best attempt at a smile.

"How long are you here for?" She turned to Gryphon. "Have we ever had guests here?" She, sadly, couldn't remember.

"Our guest, the latest of many, will only be here for supper. Then I'm afraid he has other appointments to keep."

"See you both at supper then. Nice to meet you, Sir." Axali left as swiftly as she had come.

The men let out long breaths and sat back down. They continued talking in hushed tones. "Sir. I don't require an explanation, but—"

"Look. That's Axali. As in, the Axali that was born addicted to Wipe and barely survived the Onastasia incident. Her appearance has been altered over the last year or so by some new treatments I've been using on her memory issues. Okay?"

Tessarsin just sat there like a statue, his glass centimeters from his mouth. "I was not raised with the obvious moral compass your family possesses, but even in Zuzim this monster-making would simply never be tolerated. I saw her on the beach, Sir. You've turned her into a—a weapon."

"I know. I know. But she's alive. And she has a safe, comfortable life here. And she's finally healthy."

The shock was wearing off, and the giant was already connecting dots in his mind. "I would like to borrow her." Tessarsin said. "She would make an excellent agent in the investigations we must undertake into these break-ins. She could be discreet and able to deal with any threat that might arise."

Gryphon smiled darkly, steepling his hands at his chin. "I'm glad you said it first."

***

Axali woke up when she felt a slight poke on her forearm. She was submerged in the brine tank and took in some air from the breath pod. She wasn't concerned. This had happened a few other times where the sedative had worn off a little before the session had ended. The liquid was interesting to look at, with all the particles floating around. But then she saw a shape beyond the brine, beyond the tank, looming close. Then the silhouette quickly departed.

Her dad had said, and even recently, to trust people less, at least initially. Get to know them. Build a rapport. Then take baby steps toward trust. Wise words, she thought. So she slowly sat up in the tank, and, as her head came out of the brine, she saw that giant, the one who worked for her dad, standing at a table with his back turned.

She removed the pod. "What brings you by, Mr Tessarsin?" She hoped her tone was friendly.

The giant turned. "Your father asked me to check on you. He is on yet another call with a supplier." He approached her casually carrying a tablet. "I have what I need here. I'll let you finish your treatment."

"Just curious." Axali squinted. "Where was the supplier calling from?"

"Not to worry, Miss." He ducked his head to fit through the door. "All his suppliers are in Imgygoh."

***

Axali slung her small pack on her shoulder and lifted her new leg onto an ottoman to lower the cuff on her bodysuit pant leg. One check in the mirror and she crossed her palatial suite to the door. A plush hallway decorated in Phirzadi tiles and tapestries led her to a lift. She took it down seven floors to the wetdock.

The heavy double doors whisked open and there crouched the Sun Blade, its stocky, compact outline struck a menacing pose against a backdrop of wary hammerhead sharks. She wasn't sure if the sharks were concerned about the ship or the man who stood next to it. Tessarsin pecked at his tablet and climbed aboard without acknowledging her arrival.

"Axali, Child." Gryphon's voice echoed around the cavernous chamber. "I have another errand I need you to run."

She walked toward the Blade, hoping the giant was doing maintenance or something and not actually joining her on the mission. "Where am I going today?" She effortlessly leaped onto the stubby wing, then onto the roof of the craft, and waited for the hatch to slide open. When it did, she dropped down inside and made her way forward to the cockpit.

"More groceries in Cloud? I saw that Chai you like is on sale."

Gryphon laughed over the ship's intercom. "The Chai will have to wait. No, today I'm sending you to a magnificent city called Trinity, in the country of Neutarsa."

Axali froze. "Um. Dad? That's halfway around the Realm. Not a funny joke."

Tessarsin entered the cockpit, devoid of emotion. "No joke."

"The General can fill you in on the details, but suffice it to say for now that there have been some curious break-ins recently at one of my facilities there in Trinity. I want you to figure out the how and the who for me."

There was a long pause.

"I think you're ready, Axali." Gryphon sounded full of fatherly pride.

"Sounds slightly more dangerous than getting groceries. And it's so far away. Have I ever been that far away from home in my life?"

"I trust you. I'm asking you to trust me back."

Tessarsin squeezed into the pilot's chair and initiated the prelaunch sequence. "Your father has over ten million employees, and he's chosen you to execute this assignment."

She sat in the copilot's chair. "Well, I'm just glad I packed my toothbrush."

"That's my girl!" Gryphon laughed. "I'll be here if you need anything. Good hunting!"

The dock filled with seawater, and the Sun Blade swam out past the reef and blasted up into the sky.

37

### The Left Hand

The fog was thick but the building was just ahead of him according to his instruments. Iver dared not get any closer without knowing, so he stood out at the tip of the skiff's bow and squinted into the darkness. Iver pushed a few blonde locks behind his ear, his slim, muscular frame balancing effortlessly on the swaying vehicle. He wore a simple, cloth bodysuit that contained no electronics nor metal. He had sewn it himself to wear tonight.

And tonight he would be Ehud, the left-handed judge. Tonight he needed to be invisible.

Iver jumped. As he sailed downward, the black pyramid came into view, rushing up to him like the maw of a lion. He completed his flip and landed squarely on the twenty-centimeter-wide cap piece where two sides of the building meet at a 50 degree angle. He began to scale the wall on all fours, then just his feet. It began to rain. Soon he was running, but a gust wind lifted him clean off the end piece and deposited him violently onto the sheer face of the pyramid.

Now he was sliding down the perfectly smooth surface on his back, head first into the bottomless pit. Only he knew there was a bottom, and it was approaching swiftly. His soft wardrobe afforded him with nothing but maybe his face to grip with, so off came his gloves. He would miss them very much later, but for now they were painfully useless.

He managed to roll onto his stomach and, with one hand braking, rotate his body so he was going down feet first. This was not how he envisioned his evening panning out. He glanced down into darkness and saw the lights of streets and ships whipping by. Then he hit the retaining wall of the building, flipped over it into an alley, and bounced off the wall of the next building before landing on the ground in a heap. His noisy gymnastics aroused several huge bats, and they flapped away screeching.

He cautiously rose to his feet, noting that nothing was broken but everything was sore. He stumbled out into the wet street and searched for a surveillance camera. The nearest was a half block and three levels down. "GWEN, I need a lift," he said to the tiny orb with the blinking red light. Since she was linked into the global net, GWEN was therefore connected to both this camera and his skiff that was still hovering obediently three kilometers above.

Sure enough, in under a minute, his skiff floated down out of the fog, and he crawled in. "Thanks, GWEN. Just take me home." He slumped on the bench and began to plan for his next attempt.

The skiff pulled up to the dock above his building, a nondescript tower in the heart of Trinity. Iver dragged himself onto the platform. A man was standing there in the rain, evidently waiting for him. "You didn't show," a gruff voice said.

"Dr. Pelekos?" Iver asked cautiously. "I apologize. I nearly showed." He stood, soaked and bruised. "I arrived and made my approach, but—"

"Enough details, young man." The dark figure turned. "We try again tonight." He disappeared over the edge of the dock and sped away on a skiff.

That's right, Iver thought. It was already tomorrow. He limped gingerly down to his modest corner apartment and washed up before getting a few hours sleep. The apartment, the building, his room and board, and salary was all bought and paid for by this mysterious Dr Pelekos, a wealthy industrialist or business genius. All Iver knew is that a week ago he finished his schooling and was hired by the Doctor the next day to assist with some special assignments on an as-needed and need-to- know basis. Tonight was supposed to be the first such assignment.

Iver thanked the King for no rain the following night. His jump and climb went perfectly. He arrived silently to the 307th floor of the Bleeker Museum building and waited two seconds. A swirling purple rift in space opened, and he stepped through into a laboratory full of monitors and scale models on tables. He set up a tripod and camera that he was told he would find in a certain desk drawer and took a single 3D image of the room. Just as quickly, he replaced the equipment and slipped back through the portal into the cool night air. The rift closed, and he met his skiff fifty floors below.

He wondered why he wasn't supposed to take the camera or even the image with him, and why he had to run from one point on the wall to another. But the wonder of the portal, be it miracle or technological marvel, was enough to silence all his aching questions. "Plausible deniability," the doctor had said.

When Iver awoke the next morning, there was a square piece of paper on his bathroom mirror. "Paper," he said out loud. "Who uses paper?" On the sheet were two strings of numbers. He knew them instantly to be coordinates. The note was signed with a symbol of a double-bladed axe. "Surprise. The good doctor uses paper."

He summoned a holographic map in the main room and fed in the coordinates, careful to miss by a few digits so the map would display an area near the true location. He then scrolled manually to find a meadow surrounded by waterfalls. It was two hundred kilometers to the south of Trinity. He spent an hour in prayer then ate breakfast on the way.

Once out of the metro area, the landscape turned abruptly green as concrete jungle gave way to the real thing. Steamy rainforest covered everything between dark, volcanic mesas that dotted the region. Iver parked the skiff several kilometers from his destination and hiked the rest of the way. The canopy overhead was deafening with the lively chatter of toucans, parrots, and gibbons, all eager to greet the human. It was slow going through the dense flora as he followed a cascading river around the edge of one of the larger mesas.

At the lip of one of the waterfalls, he spotted a family of gorillas feeding on lush leaves in the pool above. Their leader, a massive male six meters tall, squinted his acknowledgement, and Iver steered clear. He rounded the pool and continued on toward the clearing beyond. In its center lay a deep spring that seemed to feed the whole forest. At the spring's edge stood Dr Pelekos.

Iver studied the doctor for a moment. This was the first time he had seen him in broad daylight and without some cloak or hood. He was bald with healed scars up and down his gaunt face. From his chin to his ears, he wore a durable, but flexible, polymer brace with a large hinge so his jaw could open and close. His eyebrows had been burned off somehow, and the left side of his upper lip was pinched back in a permanent snarl. His eyes had almost no color at all.

"So why did—"

"You're late. Get in," the doctor ordered, indicating the pool with a flick of his eyes. "Tell me what you see. The injuries I sustained during the destruction of the HTTL Onastasia near Sanctuary left me unable to see clearly underwater. Nor do I have the lung capacity you have."

"I'm your eyes and lungs. Got it. In the spring. Okay." Iver waded in up to his waist. "I'll just take a look, then."

Unsure of his boss's purpose, he reluctantly sank beneath the surface and drifted down into the warm, bubbling water. At the bottom was the doctor's ship, fitting snugly among the crags and vents. Iver skimmed over the solar panels toward a shimmering box. As he floated closer he saw that it was in fact the 3D image he had taken of the lab being projected in the water. He passed through the near wall and sat on the roof of the ship.

He surveyed the virtual room for several minutes, memorizing every detail. When his lungs started to protest, he glided up to the surface and flopped into a clump of reeds on the bank.

"I think I understand now, Sir!" Iver said between filling his lungs with precious air. "The waterfalls and animal noises all around muffle our conversation. The water in the spring distorts your ship and the hologram from detection by passive orbital optical scan." Iver stood, still dripping. "And the clothes you've had us wear these last few days mean we carry no metal nor signal that can be traced."

"Way to go, Copernicus," Pelekos said impatiently. "Now tell me what you saw."

Iver closed his eyes and remembered. "They are working on some dangerous stuff at that Gryphon Systems place, Sir. I thought it was a museum. Please don't send me in there again."

"What. Did. You. See?" The doctor's patience ran out.

"Of interest? There was a schematic on the wall of the room of a square-ish device labeled EMP. Next to it and partially covered was another drawing labeled ICBM. I don't know what those acronyms stand for."

"Anything else, Mr Vrai?"

"Oh, yes. There were two mysterious file names showing in a directory on one of the many screens. One was called Ebola— again, I have no clue—and the second was another one of these cryptic acronyms: NCHID. What is an NCHID?"

"It stands for Negative Chloride—" Pelekos started to share, but then thought better of it. "You're not worth telling."

The condescending remark bounced off Iver readily. "Am I worth telling why you had me break into a secure facility and take a photograph, then leave it there, then find that you have it here?"

"Need to know, son. Need to know. Suffice to say, I suspect that there is a corporate spy at Gryphon Systems working for some other company or nation, likely those miscreants in Capa." His lie sounded convincing to his own ears. He waited to see how it settled with the infant standing in front of him.

"What a shame." Iver attempted to look nonplussed. "Well, glad to help put things to right." An odd few moments passed. "Should I take one more look, I mean, in case I missed something?"

"I don't think that's—" Pelekos cursed. The whelp knew more than he had told. He had seen something else in the image.

Iver dove back into the spring and swam by the hologram to the ship's roof access hatch. What he did not divulge to his boss he now tried to place in his growing puzzle of facts and non-facts. In several places around the lab he had visited, he noticed not the famous Gryphon Systems logo, but a logo featuring a tribal shield. Did it belong to Pelekos's evil Capali competitors? Had he actually traveled to Capa itself last night?

Iver opened the hatch and dropped into a claustrophobic tube shorter than himself. It was the airlock, he realized as the water drained out through slits in the wall. Once emptied, the floor of the tube slid open, and Iver slid the rest of the way down a ladder to the ship's main deck.

Iver Vrai, you are not supposed to be here. GWEN sounded like a disappointed older sister.

He ran to the cockpit and tapped a few keys, then returned aft, where he was rifling through every compartment, cubby, and corner for something he could use.

Hey, Iver! How may I help you today? A freshly rebooted GWEN greeted him.

He picked up a box identical to the EMP machine he saw in the photograph. "Hi, GWEN. What is an EMP?"

It stands for ElectroMagnetic Pulse. It can be used to render all electronic equipment useless within a specified radius.

"Is that what this is?" He held up the box.

Affirmative.

"What is the radius on the lowest setting?"

Approximately one half kilometer.

"Power up the engines." Iver could hear faint protests through the thick hull, then quiet. Pelekos wanted in but perhaps was returning to the surface for another breath.

Engines are primed. Ready for takeoff.

Iver found the controls for the device and tapped the circle labeled Level 1. He placed the box up against the aft hatch and set the timer for thirty seconds. "Take off, GWEN. Head due west, top speed. And scan the area for other ships."

Complying.

The ship, called the Starling, lifted up out of the spring, causing impromptu waterfalls off its wings. On one of the wings lay Pelekos precariously dangling his legs off the fuselage. He hung on valiantly but slid off the side into some tall cattails next to the spring. He watched as the aft hatch opened on the ship and some small object tumbled out and splatted into a mud pond.

Pelekos crawled forward and finally reached the box. A timer buzzed and the EMP activated, emitting a head-splitting, scratchy tone. He covered his one good ear and cursed. The Starling, his ship, seemed for a moment immune to the EMP's impartial wave, and it rocketed away over the dappled canopy. Then its engines cut, and it fell like a wet stone into the jungle maybe two kilometers west. Sore from the fall, Pelekos wasted no time and hobbled off toward the crash site.

Iver emerged from the dorsal hatch and slumped into a patch of ferns. Other than a headache, he was fine but desperate to find the skiff, which should have been outside the pulse's range. He circled the ship, confirming there were no psychopathic maniacs attached, then broke into a run, another black box under his arm. This one was helpfully labeled, Cloaking Device.

38

### Friend and Foe

The room was in shambles. Smoke from the burnt-out comm wall floated in an unbreathable haze. The furniture, albeit just a bed, a chair, and a table, had been slashed and torn inside out.

Iver made a disbelieving tour of the apartment wondering who had done this and why. Someone was obviously looking for something, but he had nothing to steal. His thoughts returned to the secrets he had seen at the lab as he crossed to open a window and let the smoke escape. "But I didn't take anything," he said out loud.

"Are you sure?" a woman's voice asked, and Iver whipped around to see a figure in a white bodysuit with a large hood pulled over her head, and the extra high collar pulled up over her nose so only her dazzling lavender eyes were visible.

"Who are you? Where did you come from?"

"It doesn't matter. You will now return what you have stolen."

"You're about as chatty as the doctor. You're from GSL! Did you do all this? I told you. I didn't take anything."

She approached him like a cat would a ball of twine. "Then you give me no choice." She leaped and aimed her heel at his jaw.

Iver caught her foot with his hands and sent her hard into the Meta8 flooring. He was slightly bigger and faster, but she was far more skilled and better conditioned. He calculated that she would eventually land a blow that would render him unconscious. "Love your enemies. Bless those who persecute you. Luke six twenty-seven."

The woman flipped and was back on her feet, enraged. "What is a Luke, and is there really a tower with that many floors?" She lunged, and they both went tumbling out the open window, over the alley, and onto the roof next door.

"What a remarkable person you are!" Iver caught his breath before she came at him with punches and kicks and elbows, all barely blocked. "No knowledge of the Bible, and yet you're trained in the ancient arts of Ninjutsu, Silat, and Krav Maga. I wish you'd stop attacking me, if only to find out where you learned these disciplines."

When her hood flew back and her lavender hair cascaded all around her head, she finally did pause her onslaught. "I read about them on the way over."

"Who are you?"

"This isn't about me." She turned, banked off a wall, and went sailing over him in an attempt to land behind him. At the right moment, he stuck out his arm, and her jaw hit his fist. She crumpled to the ground, out cold.

***

She woke up back in Iver's apartment, laying on what was left of the mattress, her throbbing head propped against the comm wall with pillows. The boy crossed the room and knelt beside her holding a cup. "Here," he said, "have some tea. I was able to get the kitchen back to a semblance of order. How's your head?"

"Thanks. Fine," she greatly exaggerated. "Why do you show me such kindness? I showed you only violence and disregard." She sipped and hid her delight at the vanilla and anise flavors.

"Because the King showed me kindness when I had showed Him only violence and disregard all my life."

"You may be a thief, but you are certainly not the crude, opportunistic wretch you were made out to be."

"Mm. A wretch, yes. And the only thing I'm guilty of taking is a picture."

"This is all about a photograph? Then where's the image file?

Surely that's what I'm here to retrieve."

"I left the camera and the image there."

"The image is at the lab?"

"The image is still at the lab."

"Well, then I'm confused. Must be my head." She adjusted the pillow and closed her eyes. "I was told not to talk to you, let alone trust you, but..."

"But what?"

"No. This is crazy. This whole mission was a bad idea."

Iver sat on the floor. "Tell you what. I have a million questions, but let's start simple, shall we?" He watched as the tension left her forehead, and she opened her eyes. "My name is Iver."

She took a deep breath. She pulled down the collar of her suit finally revealing her nose, mouth, and chin. "I'm Axali." She smiled weakly. "And I'm no assassin."

"Could've fooled me! You had some good moves back there." Iver smiled too. "Something tells me this might be your first assignment."

"Honestly, I don't know." She shifted the pillow again and sipped more tea. "I have—" She stared at her cup, "I have problems with my memory."

She told him of her first memories of the treatments by her father, the rigorous training, and the curious visit of the giant called Tessarsin. "He sounds perfectly normal to me." Iver said at length. She gave him a look of unbelief until he smiled again." Sorry." he said.

"I'm serious!" She moved too quickly to her feet and had to lean against the wall. "It was uncomfortable to be around him. But he's a trusted employee of my father's, and I decided to shake it off." She held her empty cup out so Iver could fill it with more tea. "But then came the trip here, a few hours on that ship. He gave me books to read and was generally civil, but there was always this nagging suspicion that wouldn't go away. When we landed, I had fallen asleep; and when I woke up, he was there standing over me."

"Creepy." Iver curled his mouth in disgust.

"I know, right?"

"So this Tessarsin guy is basically evil. What do we do now? He's bound to come looking for you." Iver pondered as he stood and began to take inventory of the chaos around them.

"I need to get out of here. Out of Trinity." She glanced outside. The sun had risen. "Yeah, I just need to go."

"But go where?" Iver asked, holding two chair legs. "He's dangerous, and he probably has minions. They'll hunt you down."

"He could be on his way here!" She pulled her hood over her head and tapped the comm link on her sleeve. "Oh no! I just realized I'm covered in sensors and signals. He's listening to us right now!"

"Um. Ok. Don't panic." He dropped the coil of cables in his hands onto the floor and headed for the door. "There's a kurta in the closet you can wear. You get changed, and I'll bring the skiff around."

"What's a kurta?"

"It's a cotton shirt and trousers. From Phirzad. From, like, the third century. Where have you been?"

"Memory issues. I think I mentioned that before."

"Right. Hurry!"

Before he could even bring the skiff level with the window, she leaped from the sill and landed next to him. They sped off, banking around the tower and heading south. Axali leaned over and peered down into the dark fog below them. The cloud billowed out of the way for a black ship rising toward them. "That was close." She yanked her head back into the skiff. "That's Tessarsin's ship, the Sun Blade. He's coming for us!"

"Hold on! I've got an idea." He swung the skiff hard to the left and made a wide circle back to the building.

"What are you doing?" She grabbed his arm.

"New plan. I drop you off, and you talk to your boss."

"What? No. I like the old plan better. The plan where we don't die."

"Trust me."

"What do I tell the giant evil maniac?"

Iver looked her square in the eyes. "The truth."

They stayed a couple blocks away, watching until the Sun Blade was docking at the top of the tower. Then they zoomed up to the open window of Iver's flat, Axali jumped in, and Iver steered the skiff up and parked above the black ship. He dropped onto the solar-paneled roof and slipped inside. He grabbed an empty duffle and started shopping.

When the bag was more than full, he hefted it and himself out the roof hatch and back onto the skiff. He slowly descended and spiraled around the building until he was just below the window. He could hear voices inside.

"I'll find him," Axali was saying vaguely. "I've asked around, and I'm sure he's still in the city."

"Excellent," a deep gravelly voice replied. "Don't hesitate to contact me." The door inside slammed, and Axali sprang out the window and landed next to him as before.

"Now can we get out of here?"

"Yes, ma'am!" Iver saluted, and they dropped into the growing mist before they rocketed south toward the jungle.

***

"If you want me to pull this off, I need to know what a bad guy sounds like." Iver reclined on a branch over the gorilla pool collecting spray from the waterfall in an avocado leaf. He shoveled it to his mouth and drank.

"Just do your best Tessarsin impression, and you'll be fine." Axali sat cross-legged on a boulder with one of the baby Gorillas in her lap, stroking its furry head. "Now, let's go over it again, and this time sound like you mean it. You're kidnapping me. You're a dangerous fugitive turned desperate! Ready? Go."

Before he could start his recital, a low rumble entered the edge of their hearing. The Gorilla family heard it, too, and they all poked their heads over the lip of the waterfall to see what was coming. A silver ship rounded one of the black mesas and approached the spring.

"Finally! It's been hours! That better be your doctor friend!"Axali whispered.

"It is." Iver stood. "Stay hidden, and don't make a sound." Then he added, "If you do have to make a sound, make it sound like a gorilla."

"Nice." She turned to one of the adult apes. "We're in such good hands, aren't we?" The gorilla rolled her eyes. "Just get us out of this mess!" She whispered then ducked down as the ship lowered into the spring.

"You're cute when you're mad," Iver noted and dove in out of sight.

Iver hadn't been gone for more than a minute when the sound of another ship could be heard over the trickling falls. Axali watched with dread as it grazed the tops of trees just overhead and landed atop the nearest Mesa. The ship was black.

Against all hope, Tessarsin emerged and strode not to the spring but directly toward her hiding place. The gorillas were nervous enough to retreat into the trees and gather together. One of the males gently picked Axali up and placed her on his shoulder. She had never felt safer in all her life, as far as she could remember.

The giant man stood like a statue on the falls then jumped onto the boulder at the pool's rim. "Axali," he said like like he was reading her a bedtime story. "I just want to talk." He looked directly at her. "Everything's going to be fi—"

The four other adult gorillas stepped out into view and Tessarsin fell back in a moment of terror. Though he was formidable at over three meters tall, the shortest of the apes was seven meters at the shoulder. He recovered his composure instantly, even as the troop slowly circled him. "I know you're here. I—I just want to know where your young thief is, the one you said you were tracking in Trinity."

"I'm here," Iver called from the top of the falls. Dr Pelekos stood beside him holding a device to his rib cage. "But the thief you want is the doctor here."

"That's enough, boy." Pelekos growled, jabbing the device deeper.

The male gorilla carrying Axali emerged from the foliage and snorted loudly. Even the doctor had to steady himself when he saw the colossal beast.

"Axali, stay put," Iver said.

Tessarsin folded his hands behind his back. "Doctor, would you mind telling me what's going on here?"

"They know too much. Both of them. We can't let them live!"

A bolt of lightning struck the spring behind them, electrifying the air. A moment later, a deafening crash of thunder ripped through the valley. Birds everywhere squawked and took to the sky. The gorillas screeched and bellowed, smacking the rocks and the water.

When the thunder's echo had subsided, there was such a silence that Axali thought she might have lost her hearing. No one was willing to speak after the King of the Realm had so clearly made His presence and warning known.

Tessarsin tried first. "Ok, everyone. Let's take this down a notch—"

The ape nearest him, who evidently didn't like his disrespectful tone, swung at him with the back of its hand, knocking him back against the boulder. He wouldn't wake up for hours.

In the next second, Iver stomped on the doctor's foot and held out his fist. The doctor's nose involuntary came down and met the fist with a crack. He staggered back into the stream and inadvertently pulled the trigger on the taser he was holding.

Axali and her ape were on the move, too, scaling the mesa toward the Sun Blade. At the top, she turned and patted the gorilla on the cheek. "Thanks. Gotta go." Iver joined her with his duffle of toys, and they ran to the ship. In turn, they hopped first onto the stubby, sloping wings, then across to the roof hatch. Iver dropped in and, less than minute later, climbed out as the engines roared to life.

"What did you do? Aren't we getting away in his ship?" Axali was mystified.

He grabbed her hand. "Trust me!" he shouted over the din, and they half jumped, half slid off the ship as it lifted off the ground. It hovered there waiting like a bolt on a cocked crossbow.

The Sun Blade spun, unmanned, pointed itself toward the heavens, and blasted out of sight into the clouds.

"Again with the trusting?"

39

### The City of Scrolls

"Just get us to Cloud," Axali said, opening her lavender eyes. "I think I know a place where we can disappear for a while."

They had scraped together enough money to purchase a large antelope called an ibex. It was excellent over rough terrain and made good time in open country. A ship of any kind would be trackable and traceable. Neither of them had spent much time with animals, but Grace Ann was tolerant, if not forgiving, and provided them with basic transportation between cities on their way south.

Sleeping outdoors was also a new activity for both of them. They had lived in cities in enclosed, artificial places all their lives and never had a reason to venture out into the ancient wilds. But being hunted makes one more willing to step out of one's comfort zone. Their first night on the run was spent on a river bank near a deep spring some three hundred kilometers south of Trinity. In three weeks, time they skirted around the western edge of Logos, in Foth.

"We've been going south a long time. When do we turn west?"

Probably not until we reach Berea, on the coast of the Southern Ocean. Wimmral and Galileus are just too populated and too developed. We'd be snatched at the border or seen by a high-altitude patrol and that would be that." Iver let Grace Ann drink her fill from a brook in a wide, grassy valley.

"Well, we're out of money again and we're low on food, so it might be worth the risk to stay in a town or city long enough to earn some funds. We'd be careful."

"We'd be dead. As far as food goes, we can eat the fruits, vegetables, and even meat that God has provided along the way." He picked a fig the size of his own head from a tree as they passed under. "If you haven't noticed, we're surrounded by food out here in nature. We've grown accustomed to processed food like you get in the big cities, but the stuff out here is actually better for you."

Axali, looking skeptical, took the fig from him and turned it over in her hands. "Don't you have to wash it? Peel it?"

"Nope. Just take a bite. Like this." He reached around her and grabbed it, held it to his mouth, and took a big, dripping chomp. "Delicious."

"Ew!" she shouted. "Give me that." She took a furtive bite herself. "Sugary. Tastes like fig."

"I knew you'd like it," he said as their pace slowed and they shared the entire fig between them. "Now, as for staying in a city for any length of time and getting a job, I don't know. I'm eager to just get where we're going and get some answers."

"Fine. But, at this rate, it will be three months before we reach Cloud, with no guarantee of safety or friends when we arrive."

"God will provide for all our needs."

"You keep saying that. Is that how you live?"

Suddenly, Iver was down off the Ibex and peering into a gloomy forest ahead. "Yes. That's how I live," he whispered.

She joined him on the ground. "What is it?"

"The path ends here."

"What does that mean?"

"It means we have a choice to make. Either we wait here for some geographically informed and talkative person to wander by, or we venture a side trip into Logos."

"I don't particularly like either of those options, but maybe our decision has been made for us. Someone's coming."

They coaxed Grace Ann off the path and in among some scrub oak. An elderly woman, her lengthy argent locks tied back out of her face, jogged along pushing a hovering baby stroller. She stopped and noticed Axali first.

"It's alright, child." She smiled. "You are safe here. Do you travel alone?"

"She travels with me." Iver, better camouflaged in a gray-brown cloak, came out from behind a tree stump.

"Well, welcome to both of you." The lady was delighted. "My name is Ava. Come. Let's get you cleaned up and a meal in you."

Iver and Axali were actually quite full from the fig, but they were immediately open to the thought of indoor plumbing. "It might not be safe for us in the city," Axali said, cautiously. She received a poke from Iver. "Ow! We're kind of on the run."

"Oh?"

"There are certain individuals in Trinity that may have succumbed to the notion that we are worthy of an interview."

"An interview."

"Of a legal nature."

"We're..." Axali swallowed. "...outlaws, you see."

"Well, come on anyway. I want to hear the whole story."

"What about Grace Ann?" Axali pointed toward the Ibex with four-meter long horns.

"You know what? We'll figure something out," Ava said as they joined her on the path. When she saw all of the antelope's stature and girth, she added, "on second thought, maybe Grace Ann would be more comfortable here. What shall I call you two?"

"Ehud," Iver said, "and Delilah." He received a squint and stuck-out tongue from Axali as she patted the ibex and sent her on her way deeper into the forest. Grace Ann had never been so relieved.

"Strong, biblical names. Maybe by tomorrow you'll be ready to tell me your real names," Ava said, resuming her promenade.

"Maybe." Iver grinned like a schoolboy.

They left their mount behind and headed for the city of scrolls.

***

Logos was situated on a jungle island in the middle of a great inlet in the northern region of Foth. The primary building, which was built upon the central spine of the island, was shaped like a scroll laid on its side with its western end curling back on itself counterclockwise and its eastern end clockwise. Since her husband, Asher, the accomplished architect, had designed the city, Ava had maintained a comfortable residence on the forty-ninth floor.

The two young travelers were shown their own rooms and, after cleaning up and appropriating fresh clothes, they found their host on the balcony.

Ava was singing softly through the days of the week. "Kingday, Heavenday, Seedday, Lightsday, Finwingday, Bridesday, and Zionsday." She turned. "Remy likes sleeping in the fresh air." Ava said, gently rocking his cradle.

"Is he yours?" Axali asked incredulously.

"No, no," Ava laughed. "No, he's twenty-six generations my descendant. I'm just watching him while his parents and siblings are at the Feast in Jerusalem this week."

"He's beautiful!" Axali said. They went back inside and sat at the counter while Ava cooked.

"Now tell me, my new young friends," Ava pressed, "where did you cross the line?"

Axali looked at Iver, desperately trying to remember the name he had given earlier. "So Hoodie here found something that wasn't meant to be found, and then someone, who didn't want that something found, found out that he found it."

"And this occurred in Trinity, in Neutarsa."

"Yes," Iver admitted sheepishly.

"At Gryphon Systems Labs?"

"Yes," Axali blurted. "How did you know?"

"You hear things, you know. In the news." Ava wiped her hands on a towel and came around the counter. "Oh, and Gryphon is my brother."

"What?" cried Iver.

Axali bolted for the door, but Ava caught her by the hand. "It's alright," Ava said, hugging the girl. "It's alright."

When Axali had calmed down, they sat together on the balcony. "I freaked out. Okay? Because when you said your brother's name, I saw these horrible images in my head of people being sucked into the night sky all around me, and I was screaming but I couldn't hear myself, and I was pinned to the floor under something heavy."

"Oh, child, that must have been awful." Ava held her hand. Iver stood over her, tense like a coiled spring.

"That's not all," Axali continued, breathless. "The last thing I saw was one of my own arms and one of my legs slowly spinning away from me into the air. It was so cold." Her words became mumbling, and she hugged her knees.

Ava rubbed her back and turned to Iver. "Has she had these visions before?"

"Not since I've known her."

"Delilah, dear. This might be hard to swallow, but I think these terrible things you saw might be memories." She looked her in the eyes. "About 150 years ago, there was an accident aboard a spaceship named the Onastasia. The ship lost pressure, and many people were drawn out of the ship and died, including my father. My brother Gryphon was in charge of the whole operation."

"I'm scared, Iver." Axali stood and wiped her face. "My memory has always been bad. In fact, I don't really remember anything for sure before about a year ago." She paced back and forth around and between the patio chairs. "But it can't be!"

"What is it?"

"Well, my earliest recollections are of my dad—he's a doctor— giving me treatments and therapy to help me regain my memory. And at the start, my left arm and right leg were paralyzed. He said I was in an accident." She sat back down. "But I couldn't have been on the ship. I'm not even forty years old yet."

"Where were these treatments taking place?" Ava asked, wincing because she feared she already knew the answer.

"Jonathan's Arrow."

"And what is your father's name?"

"His name is Dr. Gryphon Therion."

At that moment, Asher arrived home and stopped at the balcony door. "Hey, hon! Tonight's not youth group. Is it?"

"Hi, sweetie!" Ava rose and greeted her husband with a kiss. "No, but it's been an interesting evening so far." She slinked around him and tapped the comm wall. "Dinner's just about ready. Gonna make a quick family call. Could you watch Remy? Thanks." The wall turned blue, and the Digby Telecom logo appeared at its center.

"Please don't call him!" Axali pleaded as she and Iver followed her inside. "We told you we're on the run."

"You're right," Ava said, shutting down the wall. "We're going to have to think this through."

***

Ten months later, Iver and Axali prepared to leave Logos and Ava and her family and continue on their journey, but not south. "Take the trade routes north and east toward the holy Mountain." Ava said as they stood on the roof of the Scroll that morning. "Seek out the Autumn City, which lies to the south. The city called Faithful."

Perched on the roof with them were twin ospreys, magnificent birds of prey dappled with white and gray feathers, emerald eyes that seemed to see everything, and black, hooked beaks. Iver watched them as Axali held eighteen-month-old Remy one last time. The birds were all business and eager to get going. Iver wondered how much they understood of human speech and of the scope of the journey they were about to undertake.

Iver wasn't into hugs but allowed one from Ava. She had become a second mother to him over the last year, and he had a high level of respect for her. He patted Remy on the head and climbed up onto one of the Ospreys, named Vigor. The bird looked back at him and seemed to say this is going to be fun with his flashing eyes. Iver wasn't sure if that was good or bad. Axali handed Remy back to Asher and hopped on the back of the other bird, this one named Vim. They had hatched just eight months before, and this would be their first extended flight.

"Thanks for everything!" Axali clicked her tongue as Asher had taught them, and both birds dipped over the edge of the Scroll, darting effortlessly over the island, the inlet, and the jungle beyond.

Ava paused in her prayers. "Kingspeed!"

40

### Daughters of Inconvenience

"I don't care how big or fast they are!" Iver shouted across to Axali. "Vim and Vigor are more maneuverable!"

She wiped her face. "Ok. What's next?" The birds tucked in close, still frightened but just as determined to escape danger as their riders were.

Iver scanned the green terrain below. "We need to go where they can't!"

"Let's get lost, then!" Axali yelled and dove like a falling brick toward the dense redwoods. Evidently, Vim agreed.

"Zolly, wait for us!" Iver called as Vigor rolled and dove after them.

***

"What are you doing, Pelekos?" Tessarsin asked grimly into the Comm Link. He could see the doctor's ship a hundred meters ahead.

"Erasing a mistake," Pelekos's voice crackled after a long silence.

Tessarsin saw the birds vanish into the trees and glanced down at his tracking interface. The nanopolymer particles coursing through Axali's body gave off a clear signature.

"We're losing them!" the doctor hissed, "we'll never find them in that maze!" And his ship banked and slowed to a hover over the spot where their prey had entered.

"Patience, my pupil. Patience." Tessarsin smiled. "I can see them just fine."

"You're tracking them? How? They've abandoned technology altogether. Something I taught the boy myself. What kind of signal are they emitting?"

"That is a long story. Suffice to say we can pick up their trail any time we want."

Fine. What are your orders?

"I have an idea that might make better use of our time. Let's return to Logos. I have a few questions for Gryphon's delightful sister."

***

The Ospreys were in their element. They swooped and swerved around the colossal trunks, and Axali began to feel the panic of the chase subside. Iver bent low and put his head just above Vigor's and closed his eyes. He sensed the sway. He felt the air brush over the wings and pretended they were his wings. Their undulating beat matched that of his heart, and, for a moment, he thought he saw sunlight filtering down through the branches. He opened his eyes, and the world around him had frozen in time, or at least time seemed to pass at an infinitesimal rate. The dust in the sunbeams stood still. A blink of Vigor's eyes lasted forever.

He was now standing on the bird's motionless back, and there before him stood facing him a man in white clothing. "Greetings to you in the Name of Jesus Christ, our Savior and King." The man said, smiling pleasantly. "I am called Catalyst. I am your fellow servant. Don't be afraid."

Iver was speechless.

Ezasen continued. "By God's perfect timing and providence, I entered this age alive and was given charge of Leelah, your First, and raised her as my own daughter. Later, the Lord saw fit to place in my care an orphan named Gryphon, whose men now pursue you. The Almighty, who upholds every molecule in the universe and who sits on His eternal throne, has hardened Gryphon's heart, but there is still hope for his soul before the Reckoning. Keep watch over Axali and deliver her safely to my family in Fidele. This Age between Breath and Fire is coming to a close, but you will see a New Heaven and a New Earth with your own eyes."

"What was the Breath?" Iver asked in a daze.

"The Breath was the single word which slew the enemies of the Christ upon His Return." Ezasen smiled. "Grace and peace be with you."

And then the man was gone. Time seemed to resume for Iver, and only a second had gone by.

"Everything Ok over there?" Axali asked with her first smile in days. "Not really the time for a nap!"

Iver, suddenly groggy, smiled back. "Nope. All good here." The birds swept closer together. "Just a moment of clarity, I guess. Let's land, and I'll tell you all about it."

"Won't Tessarsin catch up to us?"

"Look ahead. Soon we'll come to the edge of that lake. We'll have to stop and decide whether we go north or south along the coast."

An hour later, they sat on the narrow, pebbly beach under a fern. Vim and Vigor kept watch, perched nearby, squawking conversationally. They hadn't seen or heard their pursuers since they entered the forest, but they remained wary as they chewed on some rhubarb stocks and nibbled on pomegranate seeds.

Iver shared what the mysterious Catalyst had said while Axali sat dumbfounded, letting streams of cool sand fall from her fingers.

When he had finished, she stood, wiped the sand and bits of driftwood from her suit, and said, "I guess you need to get me to Fidele." The birds descended, as if on cue.

"Just like that?" Iver swung his leg over Vigor's neck.

"Just like that. If your God wants us there, then from what you've told me about Him, He already has a plan to get us there safely."

With tiny sweeps of their wings, they lifted into the sky above the gentle waves. Iver glanced back at Axali. "He never mentioned safely."

On the eastern horizon, soon after the sun had set behind them that evening, they could see the lights of civilization on a dark green island in the middle of the lake.

"We could all use a rest." Iver glanced behind him for the hundredth time that day. "We'll stay the night there. If Pelekos and Tessarsin catch up to us, then we'll just have to face them. Like you said, God has a plan!"

They alighted on a leaf-shaped pier below row after row of green ash, magnolia, and river birch. Further inland, ponderosa pines, maple, and myrtle lined the terraced hill. Simple dwellings, illuminated only by firelight, dotted the coast. From one of these came a group of women dressed in flowing, white gowns.

One of the women, short and stocky with dark skin and high cheekbones, was first to speak. "Greetings in the Name of our King and Savior, Jesus Christ. I am called Gretchen." Her voice was musical and lulling. The visitors had never seen creatures so beautiful. They were dazzled and dropped from the birds to their feet, then to their knees. A wave of shame washed over them, but they could not look away.

In the next moment, two of the women were at each of Iver's arms, helping him to stand. Gretchen spoke again, this time even more soothing. "You are welcome here, Iver and Axali. What brings you to our Solace?"

Iver's throat was suddenly loosened. "I get the distinct impression you already know."

Gretchen smiled. "You will dine with us tonight and renew your strength. The remainder of your journey is yet long of time and distance."

Iver and Axali followed her to a larger building nestled in a sprawling garden surrounded by a fragrant orange grove. They washed up and were given fresh clothes for the lavish feast.

A tall woman with mousy brown hair helped Axali choose her wardrobe. "I'm curious," Axali finally said after selecting a pastel lavender gown. "You look only fifteen years old to me. How long have you lived here?"

The woman, named Teckla, was brushing Axali's hair. "We've been here almost since the beginning. Since the Return."

Axali spun in amazement. "You're more than eight hundred years old? You weren't born in this age?"

Teckla placed the brush down and sat beside her. "I was never born." She let that soak in as she watched Axali's eyebrows crumple. "I was aborted on May 10, 1977."

"Wow. I never considered that babies that are killed in the womb end up here."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, from what Iver's been telling me, I would have guessed you went straight to Heaven when you died."

"You're correct. My first memory is opening my eyes in Heaven and seeing Jesus."

"Ah, so you came with Him when he moved to Earth." Axali nodded. "Why not live in Jerusalem, then?"

"Most of those who dwell on this island were either aborted or miscarried, and there are many millions more scattered around the Realm." Teckla's eyes seemed distant for a moment. "I found it easier to relate to those who had the same story."

"I totally relate." They stood. A measure of sadness pinched at Axali's mouth. "I mean, I think I would do the same thing, if there were anyone that shared my background." They exited the room and headed down an ornately paved promenade. "As far as I know, I'm the only one like me."

"Be encouraged." Teckla touched her shoulder and added with a smile, "The King knows all the hairs on your head, even if they're lavender."

At this, Axali giggled. They walked along the vine-covered corridor, and she took in the peaceful beauty of the place. "It's hard to imagine a whole island of sinless people. If you've never sinned, I guess you didn't need a savior."

"Take care in your thinking, child." Teckla's face became stern. "Just because I have obeyed the King perfectly all my life doesn't mean I'm not human. Our Father Adam sinned and passed on a sin nature to me. I was a sinner from the moment I was conceived. My subsequent perfect track record did not change my fallen nature. Even a perfectly-lived life cannot escape the wrath of God against sin. The King himself bore that wrath in my place."

Axali stared at the ground as they walked. "I think I understand. It's a lot to absorb. Iver has been challenging me to rethink everything. Thank you, Teckla."

"You are most welcome, Axali." They stopped at an intersection busy with vines and pots filled with sage and cumin. "Here he comes now."

Iver approached them from an adjoining building, not in a local gown, but in a new, black bodysuit. "Axali, it's time to—" He was stopped short as she turned to him. Her hair was clean and brushed, pinned back, letting lilac curls sway on her copper cheeks. "You... you look amazing!"

Axali smiled. "Thanks." She punched him on the shoulder. "It's time to what?"

"It's time to leave. Tessarsin's ship has been spotted on the island."

"I don't understand! I thought—"

"They're here. Let's go! I can't let them find you!"

He took her hand, and they ran back in the direction of the pier where they had landed. They turned a corner and found themselves in a covered courtyard lined with fig trees. Dozens of the island's citizenry stopped their mingling and stared pleasantly at the newcomers. The crowd parted. Iver and Axali had walked right into the banquet hall.

Their dreamlike panic was ripped from them when they saw who was already seated at the long, magnificently supplied table. Tessarsin and Pelekos were deep in conversation and hadn't looked up yet.

Gretchen stood and pointed to the bench next to the other guests. "Your friends arrived shortly before you did."

Iver pulled Axali back around the corner. Gretchen followed them. "With all due respect, miss, you have to get us out of here." Iver hissed sharply. "Those guests of yours are the ones hunting us. They're killers!"

Gretchen studied him. "I perceive that you are telling the truth. I apologize for our naivety. We took them and their words at face value. They spoke very highly of you. Their good recommendation was the only reason we allowed you to land."

"It's alright," Axali whispered. "We just need to leave without them learning of our visit. Can you get us to our birds?"

Then Teckla appeared out of a bright light. "I have a superior idea." She turned and behind her a large, shining portal opened. The solar collector cells on Iver's suit hummed and whined up to full. On the other side of the portal stood Tessarsin's ship, the Sun Blade. "You must use their ship to escape. We will detain them as long as we can."

Iver thanked them and pushed Axali through the blinding circle.

Like walking from one room to another, the pair were suddenly on the docking tower with the ship high above the island. Two of Tessarsin's thugs stood guard near the hatch. Axali made quick work of them and entered, followed by Iver. "Can you fly this thing?" Iver took the second seat in the cockpit and left the pilot's chair to her.

"I know the basics." Axali pushed buttons and flipped toggles like a expert.

"Good enough for me!" Iver nodded to her and turned toward the navigation screen. He saw on the external camera that the guards were waking up. "Hold on. We can't let them notify Tessarsin."

"This is crazy! What do you want me to do?" she blurted an octave higher.

"Power up, but don't take off yet. Oh, and jam their comm links. Back in a minute."

"I don't know how to jam their comm links!" she yelled, frustrated. But he was already gone. She watched on the screen as he knocked out the first guard. Then Iver saw more men coming up the stairs from the floor below. He took the second guard and tossed him down the staircase toward his colleagues. They all landed in a pile at the bottom. Axali lifted the ship off the platform. She opened the hatch. Iver came running, but before he could grab on, the first guard was upon him, pulling him down and out. Iver wriggled free, and they circled each other with fists raised.

"Axali, you have to go! It's your only chance!" Iver screamed over the roar of the engines. Now he was exchanging blows and parries with the guard.

"No way I'm leaving you here!" Axali wheeled the craft around and struck the guard on the head with the landing strut. Down he went. Iver staggered back toward the hatch with a bleeding lip and nose.

"Go, go!" he cried as he clamped onto the hatch. At that moment, the Starling, Pelekos's ship, rose out of the jungle and rammed the Sun Blade, knocking Iver into the hatch and slamming him into the bulkhead. The hatch closed, and Axali, her face wet with tears and sweat, pulled back on the controls, the ship rocketing into the eastern night.

***

Welcome aboard, Axali. I almost didn't recognize you in that vegetable matter you're wearing. GWEN's calm voice reverberated throughout the ship. I see your mission was successful.

"Um. Yes, GWEN. Yes, the mission was a success." Axali wiped her face while trying to hold the ship steady. "GWEN, take over. Take us to Fidele. As fast as you can."

Acknowledged. Will General Tessarsin and Doctor Pelekos be joining us?

"No. They have unfinished business on the island." A scan of the Starling indicates it has experienced a system malfunction. It was following us until eight seconds ago.

"What is the Starling's current position?" Axali asked casually.

When the transponder went dark, the ship was at the bottom of the lake. My counterpart on board is unresponsive. Is there reason for concern?

"No." Axali tried to imitate the computer's even voice. Several frantic heartbeats later, GWEN finally replied.

Acknowledged. Flight time to Fidele in Chova is seventeen minutes, thirty-eight seconds.

"Thanks." Axali was shaking. She let go of the controls and staggered back to the hatch where Iver lay unconscious. She knelt and gently turned his body over in the cramped airlock. He had a gash and a bump on his right temple.

Do you or the prisoner require medical attention? The MedPod is at your disposal.

"That would be perfect." She half dragged, half lifted him to the tiny tank, a converted bunk that was filling with a familiar-smelling briny broth. Once Iver was inside, submerged and breathing through a breath pod, robotic tools began cleaning and dressing his wound.

Axali, completely spent, returned to the cockpit and melted into the pilot's chair. After closing her eyes for a few minutes, she glanced over at the tactical display. It was showing a bright yellow hexagon on a schematic of the cockpit. It was curious enough, but when she sat up and leaned toward the screen, the hexagon slid over a few pixels as well. She stood and crossed to the terminal, flapping her arms. It matched her move for move.

"GWEN, what is this program tracking?"

The program is tracking you, Axali.

"What kind of range does it have?"

Your position can be determined within two point eight meters from any location in the solar system.

"Wait a minute. How can it see me now? I don't have any metal on me."

It can detect the billions of meta-material nanopolymers in your bloodstream. I assumed you were aware of the security enhancements made to your body when you were upgraded.

"Upgraded? GWEN, shut down the tracking program. Do it now!"

Acknowledged. There are three other copies of this program running. Would you like me to terminate them as well?

"Yes. Shut them all down!"

Tracking program disabled.

Axali tried breathing in and out slowly. She walked back and checked on Iver. The liquid had drained from the tank. His temple was repaired though still red and tender. He was sleeping, and his vital signs were nearly back to normal.

The comm link chirped.

A call from your Father, Axali. GWEN sounded almost absentminded.

"How much weirder can the night get? Let it through. Audio only."

"General Tessarsin. Update." Gryphon's voice was gruff. "The tracking program is turned off."

Axali hesitated, deciding if it was really worth confronting him.

It was.

"Hey, Dad!" She made sure he could hear the smile in her words. "It's Axali."

She could tell he was shocked, but he recovered quickly. "Oh! Hey, kiddo! It's been a while."

"Yeah, I was wondering when I would connect with you again since you drugged me, shot me full of traceable nano junk, and sent me halfway around the world to assassinate one of the King's subjects."

"Well, honey. I don't think it's that—"

Axali thumbed the End button on the comm screen. "GWEN, head north for fifteen seconds then cut all signals and telemetry before resuming course toward Fidele."

Acknowledged.

***

The Sun Blade descended into the thick vegetation two kilometers west of the walled city. "Can you walk?" Axali helped Iver down the steps onto the forest floor. The cicadas in the junipers and sycamores were almost deafening as they took a few tentative steps.

"Yeah, I'm good. Just light-headed." Iver leaned heavily on her shoulder. "You know, that goo tastes like green beans."

"Don't remind me."

Another step and they looked up to see Dr. Pelekos standing five meters away, between them and their destination.

"You have proven worthy prey." The doctor's face was white as he stepped closer. "Now, for the last time, return to me what you stole, and I won't cause either of you any more inconvenience."

"Never!" Axali shouted. "Oh, and you're surrounded!"

Pelekos smiled in disbelief then heard a twig snap behind him.

In the split second his eyes glanced away, Axali leaped. She caught his throat with her foot and knocked him on his back. Several citizens of the village closed in, armed with sticks. The doctor squirmed under her boot which was still fastened to his neck.

"That's enough, Axali." A deep-voiced spokesman of the Chovans placed a hand on her shoulder. She finally tore her hateful gaze from Pelekos and looked at the man. He wore a wide-brimmed hat, and the white triangle of hair under his lip stood out boldly on his dark skin.

Her stare softened. "Do I know you? I pretty much have to ask everybody."

The man smiled broadly, though coiled like cat. "We are meeting for the first time. I am Hector Lima. You're among family now."

Axali's grip on the doctor loosened slightly, and he wrenched free, throwing her back. Before she could react, Pelekos flung a blade of some kind toward Iver's heart. It sunk deep, and Iver slammed back into the ship's hull. Pelekos came at him and grabbed the knife, ready to twist it further in.

The sky grew dark, and a crack of thunder ripped through the air.

The doctor whispered raspily in his ear. "I will find those objects, I will make thousands more, and I will destroy the camp of your God."

Axali and Hector pulled Pelekos away. The doctor sneered. "I've killed you. I've killed you!" He pulled free again and was at Iver's throat. "Are you ready to die, boy?"

They yanked him off again, and, this time, four of the men held him.

Iver raised his head. There was no fear in his eyes, only peace. "How can you kill something that is already dead?"

As he died, another clap of thunder struck overhead. Everyone scattered, leaving Pelekos by himself. He cried out defiantly like an animal. Then a bolt of lightning engulfed him in a blast of blinding light.

The discharge knocked the ship backwards, felling several oaks as it tumbled. And one finger of the bolt lashed out and caught Axali, shook her violently in midair, then flung her to the ground.

Numbing seconds went by. The first to move was Hector, kneeling and lifting Axali's limp head. As he felt for a pulse, he looked and saw the slumped, empty body of Iver, the smoldering, charred form of the doctor, and the blackened earth. Quiet flames flickered on a perfect circle of trees a hundred meters wide.

A pulse. It was faint. Axali inhaled sharply, sat up, and opened her eyes. When she saw Iver, she burst into tears and crawled toward him, coughing and sobbing. "No, no, no, no. NO!" Exhausted, she slumped to the ground.

41

### Bright Lady

Tessarsin was a sheet of white as he opened the door to Gryphon's office unannounced. Gryphon looked up. He was sitting on the edge of his desk next to an attractive woman who let out a giggle.

"Sir, I've just been informed that Dr Pelekos is dead." The giant had never looked so shaken.

Gryphon and the woman stood. "That will be all, Simone. Thank you."

Simone exited the plush, underwater suite by an upholstered side door, and Gryphon cleared his throat. "Have a seat, General. Let me get you a drink."

Tessarsin descended to the sunken couch but remained standing.

"I was monitoring his vitals right up until the end." Gryphon stirred amber liquid in two Meta8 glasses. "He seems to have met with an unpleasant death."

"Lightning, sir."

Gryphon dropped the glasses on the floor, and and their pungent, steaming contents splashed onto the couch and floor. "Blessit!" He licked a finger and wiped the leg of his bodysuit. "What in the Realm was he doing?" He sipped what was left in his glass.

Tessarsin stared straight ahead at a family of Jellyfish outside. "Murdering his operative, a young saint named Iver Vrai. Sir."

"What? Was Zolly there? Is she hurt?" He barely got the drink down before coughing. "Simone, I need a towel in here."

"According to the Starling, she was there. The ship's passive logs end when the lightning struck, so I don't have any information on Miss Axali's current condition."

Simone entered, looking perturbed, and began the cleanup.

"I need to get over there. You said this was south of the Capitol, near that backwards tribal settlement?"

"Fidele, Sir."

"GWEN, warm up the engines." He spoke to the ceiling. "We need to make a quick stop in—"

Suddenly, brilliant light flashed and crackled around them. Eleven angels materialized at the perimeter of the room. Simone dove for the crack between the couch and the floor behind it and disappeared under the cushions.

A moment later, Kalos arrived, glowing a fiery, brassy orange. Gryphon opened his mouth to speak, but Kalos raised a single finger. The Angel squinted at the couch, stepped over, and brought a trembling Simone out. "Simone Nicole Shepherd, your family is in Berea, in Foth. Go to them now. You will be safe."

Simone and one of the other angels vanished.

Kalos turned his attention to the giant. Gryphon tried to speak again, to spin the situation in his favor, but now he actually couldn't speak. Kalos had merely glanced at him. "Altan Tessarsin, did you order Bogdan Pelekos to take the life of Iver Vrai?"

"No, sir." Tessarsin sweat for the first time. "He acted on his own. His assignment was to merely retrieve some items Mr Vrai had stolen. We believe Mr Pelekos also suffered from some form of mental illness."

"Thank you, Altan. Here is a man of integrity, Mr Grove." Kalos turned to Gryphon. "He is the same man whether he is alone or with his colleagues. An excellent example you should consider emulating."

The Angel watched Gryphon writhe a little under the thumb of scolding then turned back to Tessarsin. "Your nephew is in Zamzumim. Go to him now. He will be safe."

As before, another Angel took Tessarsin into a blinding fold in the air.

Kalos then removed his sword. Its blade was more than thirty centimeters wide and more than two meters in length. It looked as if it had seen many battles. He came a step closer to Gryphon, who instinctively backed away and collided with his desk. In a graceful, fluid movement, Kalos raised the sword above his head and drove it down into the Meta8 floor between Gryphon's feet. The ship's engines sputtered then began to slowly wind down.

Gryphon's breathing was erratic. He felt chills. He was so thirsty.

Kalos drew within a few centimeters of the mortal's face. "Your presence has been requested by Whitestone."

***

Thirzah and Claire rode up to the city gate on the backs of a rust-colored fox and a caracal with long, tufted ears, respectively. Capa was a strange mix of cutting edge technological advancement and long-honored traditional ways nestled on an otherwise sleepy coast. Teopsian scientists and engineers had successfully launched an unmanned mission to the moon to set up a helium extraction and mining operation, but they did it wearing furs, leather, beads, and feathers.

The people who crowded around these two beautiful visitors were deeply religious and were struggling to overcome centuries of superstition, works-based salvation, and the veneration, if not worship, of lesser beings than the One True God.

As Claire listened to some street musicians playing a hymn arranged with a local flavor, she noticed a painting on the wall of the gate above an elaborate line of turnstiles. The image was partially covered over by other notices and flyers, but it was an astonishingly good likeness of Thirzah when she was younger, complete with wavy copper locks. She was about to point it out to her aunt when she noticed a faint halo around the woman's head in the painting.

They wanted to take their mounts into the city, so they were redirected to a large, secondary stall for vehicles. Thirzah and her Fox passed through first and by the time Claire and her cat passed, there was an alarm and commotion at the guard shack. Quite a bit of yelling and pointing and more yelling spread through the impatient lines of travelers. A man on a hovering wooden wagon stood up and pointed at Claire.

"Mamirapiratra Mwanamke!" The man started chanting with an infectious joy. Soon the crowds joined in and it was a beautiful song in rounds with three parts. Claire loved it and thought it might be a native song of welcome. She closed her eyes and swayed with the rich musical tones and unique pairing of melodies.

Thirzah turned and watched the happy citizens enjoy this impromptu concert, but she soon wondered why everyone was focused on Claire. Her niece was a couple centuries younger and gorgeous and still had the family red hair, but this had to be more than a friendly tribal greeting. "What are they singing?" she yelled over the din.

"Isn't it magical? I could listen to this all day!" She waved her arms above her head to the rhythm, and her followers eagerly copied her movements. "So far it's a story, I think, about animals running and birds diving and a girl. Could be a woman. A shiny woman? Maybe. With an arm of made of diamond. She saves the village and becomes their leader?" She was still waving. "It's hard to tell. It's a blending of a few different languages and it has a very poetic form."

The people were dancing and starting to encroach on the animals' personal space. Before Thirzah realized, they were the centerpiece in a parade up the main thoroughfare to the town square dominated by a tall, ornately sculpted building, perhaps third-century style, if Thirzah remembered correctly. She wasn't exactly sure what to do. The will of the people was becoming uncomfortably strong and voiced, and the animals were spooked.

She motioned to Claire, and they both dismounted into the churning sea of humanity. The Fox and the Caracal were gone, and the two women were ushered up the stairs of the sealed and barricaded edifice. The townsfolk started ripping off the seals and tearing down the barriers. Etched in stone above the enormous doors were those words again from the chant that started all this:

MAMIRAPIRATRA MWANAMKE

Then it clicked for Thirzah. This was a shrine, maybe even a temple for some goddess or important character from their mythology. And Claire resembled this woman. She squeezed Claire's hand and drew her close enough to holler in her ear. "We need to get out of here. They think you're one of their deities. We can't let them worship you!"

Claire nodded, but they were swept into the building by nearly riotous hands. Inside, it was relatively quiet. The doors somehow closed behind them with an echoing clank. About fifty of the revelers made it in with them, and they were pushed through another set of doors to the main room of the temple. Dust sat everywhere. At the far end of the room, under a golden statue of this same goddess, stood Thirzah's late husband and her son, surrounded by ten men who wisely disguised themselves when the crowd had entered.

Ezasen raised his hands and, in perfect Capali, must have ordered the people to leave, because they all exited with very little protest and left Thirzah and Claire standing there with impressively disheveled hair and muddy clothes.

"Sorry to interrupt." Thirzah smiled and examined her stained leggings. "I think we may have started a new religion out there."

Gryphon was his dry self and realized he had his voice back. "Or revived an old one."

"I grew up in a culture just like this." Ezasen sighed. "We were eager to worship anything that moved. Ravenous fools. Thirzah, do you remember that day we spent here with little Ezra?"

"The stampede of deer." Thirzah closed her eyes. "The falcons rescuing them, and people from falling off the cliff. Yes. That was good ice cream!"

"The man you saved with your God-placed arm eventually founded a support group, which became a club, which turned into a movement, a political party, and most recently, a pseudo religion. Exactly right. They must have mistaken young Claire as their long-awaited next high priestess. It's ingrained into their culture and worldview. It's the subject of their bedtime stories. I've been working with Leelah to disassemble their ideologies for decades now. It doesn't help that they've made me a member of their pantheon."

"Consort to the Bright Lady!" Gryphon mocked triumphantly. An odd moment ticked by. Then the humans all chuckled as the Angels stood by, stone-faced.

Ezasen looked so young, and he seemed taller to Thirzah somehow. She felt the dark rope pulling at her heart to revere, honor, praise this regenerated, sinless, beautiful version of her husband. Holy Spirit, hedge me in. There is no God beside you. She breathed out slowly. "Apologies again, for the intrusion." She sat down with Claire, and they checked each other over for scuffs and bruises.

"Dad was just grounding me for the next hundred years." Gryphon, they realized long ago, had never matured past his teenage years. "You know, Dad? You're a First and a Last and you're back from the dead. Why don't we just bow down and worship you?"

Ezasen was stern. "You're free to go, Son. I think we understand each other." He nodded to Kalos.

To his commander's unspoken order, Kalos replied, "Very well, ThrowStone." The rest of the Angelic troop vanished while Gryphon was marched through a brilliant ring of light.

Claire stood up and riveted her eyes on her great uncle. Memories flooded her mind of another frantic market square long ago, when a body fell onto the ground at her feet. She could see every wrinkle on his face as he whispered strange words, dying words, in her ear.

Voices outside the temple grew louder and angrier. Thirzah stood and moved between Claire and the doors as she heard thumps and poundings. She gave Ezasen an impatient look. "Do what you do, love!"

Claire glared at him. "What did that Angel call you?" She wasn't sure if her demand was heard because a crackling circle of energy formed behind her. The townspeople had regrouped, found axes, and were hacking holes through the doors.

Ezasen guided the women through the portal as the first Capali tumbled into the hall.

Claire stepped onto a cramped stone balcony between two stucco-clad buildings. The railing, made of tamarind wood, was split and had been reinforced with two splints of Meta3 fiber board. She glided her finger over the repair and could hear the bustling market noises and the vehicles passing and her cousin's pouty teenage voice. She smiled.

Then those wet, rasping death words scraped at her soul again:

All that you were sent here to do has been accomplished. You will rise up and go. You will throw a stone, and the ripples it makes will fill the world with both calamity and hope. And you will not go alone.

Arosh, the Whitestone of Toma, stood behind her. "Yes, Claire. Ezasen did hear you."

She turned. "You. You were here that day. You questioned Thad and me about the man who fell."

"Yes." He looked up at the dizzying skyscrapers above the Phirzadi capitol then down at the quiet pavement in front of a new restaurant. "Some call your uncle 'ThrowStone.' Others prefer 'Kingdom Catalyst' or 'Thistledown.' My favorite is 'RippleStart.'" They chuckled.

"I don't understand." Claire leaned on the rail. "The man who died in my arms spoke those words to me, not to Ezasen."

"They were spoken to him first, my Child, at the dawn of this Age. The Angel, Kalos, visited Ezasen just before he and Leelah were transported from Egypt to Joppa. Kalos was given those words to speak comfort and courage to your uncle's heart, to steel him for the task ahead."

"What was the stone he was to throw?"

"His task was to spread the Gospel, of course." Arosh surveyed the clouds as it began to rain. "The stone he threw was his life, his days, his energy, his time. He could have become many things, but the King chose him for centuries of hard toil, to spark a fire even bigger than his predecessors, men like Hus, Gutenberg, Zwingli, Whitefield. Heaven called them those names, too."

Drops started falling on the stone tiles around their feet, collecting in tiny pools.

"The ripple Ezasen caused is still pushing waves of redemption to the ends of the Realm." He looked at Claire finally as the stones beneath them were busy with a symphony of plinking and splishing. "You are in that long line of StoneThrowers that threads its way through the tapestry of history, a thread that burns and shines, a thread that culminates in that day when faith dies and sight begins."

"I'm no great evangelist." Claire folded her arms. "I play the cello."

"Ezasen's language was always written, visual, for the eyes. To speak to the mind. To make connections. God designed him that way." Arosh turned and led her down some stairs to street level. "But your language—"

"My language is song, spoken, heard, for the ears. To speak to the soul. Music to transport, to elevate." Claire covered her mouth. They had arrived at the spot where she had knelt and watched that man die. Only today, a small man with dark skin and eyes, young and full of eternal life, stood in place of his own mortal vessel.

"May the King shower His blessings upon you, Thistledown."

His accent was thick. He smiled and winked out of sight.

Claire cried. The rain stopped.

Arosh opened a portal behind him. On the other side was the familiar planter filled with red geraniums outside her door in Fidele. "More than all those things," he said, "you lead the Saints to worship God. Few things please the King more."

"Thank you!" Claire stepped through and picked up the watering can. As she fed the flowers, she hummed a little tune.

***

Gryphon sat in his empty office for most of a day. When he finally got up, he went to his quarters, opened a drawer in an antique bureau, and pulled out a tiny box. He repeated his father's words. "Do something constructive with your life." He sat on the edge of his bed and opened the box. Inside, held together by a band made of Meta5, was a single lock of jet black hair.

42

### Ethics in Autumn

### Year 699

Tessarsin had brought a second small digital drive with him aboard the Onastasia that held the relatively short algorithms he and his team had devised and perfected over the last seven decades. His search for Faster-Than-Light travel had consumed him in Gryphon's absence to the extent that his boss's corporate empire had almost crumbled around him. It would be Tessarsin's crowning achievement, but he had to be satisfied with bestowing the crown upon himself.

Armed with his custom software, then, and aided by a modified version of GWEN's learning protocol, Tessarsin needed only to install them on the hardware that he knew Thad had been working on. The fact that Thad's wife, Zaliana, was in the room was unfortunate. The couple was seated some ten meters away at a little table, engaged in quiet, if not legere, conversation.

Tessarsin installed his software, breaking through seven levels of rigid security measures that he himself had written. The moment the install was complete, he launched the program that would configure the primary field variables. He used the learning protocol to actually mask his rather intensive computational activities from GWEN herself. His subterfuge would only need to last a few seconds.

Thad, I'm detecting a considerable Task Load Variance on the Primaries. GWEN's tone was slightly foreboding.

Thad looked up, a quirky grin still on his face from something his wife was saying. "How much are we talking about, GWEN?

Level eight.

They both jumped up and ran to the nearest interactive table. "Show us!" Thad was instantly running on adrenaline. Tessarsin moved to join them, feigning curiosity. He knew exactly what was happening.

A lattice of projected points of light lifted off the table's humming surface. All the points were in perfect rows and columns, denoting a normal tug on the ship's computing power, except for a gaping, drooping crater of red, pulsating dots in the center of the array.

Zaliana crossed her arms and tapped her chin. "What could cause that kind of drain on the system?"

"There's a program running. It's trying to solve a problem." Thad was racing through every possible answer in his mind. "A big enough problem to pull... 72 percent—"

"Is it a virus?" Tessarsin returned to his own table and flicked through several diagnostic models. "GWEN, can you trace the anomaly to its source?" He knew the answer.

Source unknown.

When he was sure the others weren't looking, Tessarsin tapped the red circle on his tablet marked ENGAGE FTL.

The ship shuddered under their feet, then everything around them shimmered in blinding light. A moment later, as the sparkles began to fade from their vision, they no longer saw stars in the black sky around Sanctuary out the windows of Onastasia's Sciences building.

The sky was blue-gray over an emerald treescape. Thad's eyes bulged in horror but wanted to narrow in suspicion. He knew they were back on Realm.

And he was almost sure he knew how.

***

### Year 859

Fidele was a walled city four kilometers across. The stone of its perfectly round perimeter seemed to be hewn from one single massive rock. The walls and streets were of the same material. The height of the outer wall varied from ten meters on the north to fifty meters on the south, with an average thickness of twenty meters.

So it was to those who lived within, and those without, a very real tower of refuge and strength. The city sat somewhat awkwardly half on and half off a jungle-covered plateau overlooking a peaceful and welcoming lake. The oldest of the inhabitants were sometimes heard saying that Fidele was simply not there one day, and there the next. But that legend was first told many generations ago.

Count Tholomew was one of those older residents, but he refused to talk in detail about those first days. His wife, Iana, stood with him on the northern wall one clear evening and surveyed the smoldering peak of the Holy Mountain. The happy lights of Jerusalem, some four hundred kilometers distant, reflected off the cirrus clouds over much of the horizon, but there was a new chill in the air tonight.

Bark was thick on the trees. The green of the leaves was beginning to succumb to gold. The autumn of the age was settling in like a clutching fog.

Iana pulled her cloak tighter and tucked herself under the Count's arm. Her white hair was gathered in many braids down past her waist. She wore light, hand-knit trousers and blouse, dark brown leather boots and belt, and a varicolored leather waistcoat with silver studs. Her jewelry consisted of delicate wooden beads and knotted twine.

The Count was dressed in similar fabrics but in cooler tones that matched his graying, buccaneer mustache. His position as unofficial leader of the community also afforded him a wide-brimmed leather hat. Rain drops started tapping on it, and the couple made their way down into the center of town past cobbled streets and neat rows of stone houses. The oft-frenetic square was slowly emptying due to the rain, and the pair received nods and bows of cordial greeting as they went.

They arrived at their little apartment on the far side of the square surprised to find a fire dancing in the hearth and the aroma of hot, spicy tea welcoming them home.

A giant sat on the floor with his back to them, warming his hands. Their diminutive neighbor, Dr Zuph, opened their door for them with a flat smile. "My Count and Countess, this stranger was loitering outside all evening. I only let him in when he said he was an old acquaintance of yours." The Doctor bowed. "And I lit a fire."

"I can see that, good Doctor." Tholomew entered after Iana, stamping the wet off their boots and removing their cloaks.

"Well, he seemed chilled to me, sir," Zuph admitted.

Iana placed a steady hand on the dwarf's shoulder. "Summon the council, Doctor. Our guest suffers from the darkest kind of cold."

***

Tessarsin prodded the heavy log on the coals with an iron poker. "You've created quite a comfortable little dream world here, Thad." His voice was deeper and arid as ever. "Do your followers know the truth of your past?"

"We've hidden nothing from them, including your role in the horrific origin of this community." The Count said, standing to answer a knock at the wooden door.

The giant grunted, turning to see who was entering. Two elderly couples, though strong in posture with penetrating eyes, stepped in and greeted their hosts respectfully.

"Dr Muramaja, Kelly, thanks for coming." Iana apologized. "I'm sorry it's so late."

When he saw Tessarsin, Muramaja noted softly. "This is not a meeting I would want to hear about later."

"Hector and Claire, we are honored. Welcome." Iana took their cloaks.

Though the room was cramped, it was warm and everyone had a chair who could fit in one.

"Before we begin to discuss Axali's case, could we go around and briefly introduce ourselves?" Thad eyed Tessarsin.

"You're the one that called me." The giant tugged at his beard absently. "For Zolly's sake, I think we can call a ceasefire." His words were civil but said through clenched teeth.

"I'm Zaliana. Communication and neuroscience. I spent seventy years with Axali aboard the HTTL Onastasia." Iana had changed her name when they found themselves in Fidele. She handed out tea cups and filled them.

A short, sturdy woman with white locks just below her ears spoke next. "Dr Kelly Muramaja. General practitioner and Axali's caretaker since she arrived in Fidele twenty-one years ago."

"Dr Vihan Muramaja. Micro- and paleobiology." He had an Einstein shock of white hair and a bristly goatee. "We've both been friends of Thad's family since the third century."

An ancient man, barely walking, sipped his tea. "Hector Lima. Mechanical and electrical engineering. Married to Claire."

"Claire Lima." She was tall and graceful and still had the hands of a musician. "Applied mathematics and physics. Friend and teacher to Axali."

Tessarsin clicked his tongue. "Is this when we sing Kumbaya?"

"That's enough, General." Thad scolded. "You're either here, or you're not. You either want to help Axali or not."

Tessarsin looked from face to face in the firelight like he was telling a ghost story to young campers. "I am Altan Tessarsin. Some call me 'The Space Butcher.' Others call me the idiot who pumped Axali full of nanopolymers so I could track her like an animal."

Thad put his head in his hands during a long silence.

"Do we truly require this man's expertise?" The dwarf next to the giant asked genuinely. He still had dark hair and boasted a wide, square face. Hector, the only one present old enough to remember Scotland, found the diminutive man's accent humorous. After another pause, he said, "I'm Dr Zuph. Neurosurgery and infectious diseases. I was the chair at Gryphon Community Hospital in Trinity for four hundred years. We led the way in Wipe research. One of my early patients was Nuria, Axali's grandmother."

Just then some fun-loving kids ran by outside the windows of the room.

Thad stood. "We should probably take this meeting downstairs."

The trap door in the floor of the closet in the kitchen was a tight fit for Tessarsin's three-meter frame. They had to remove two extra floorboards and climb down several flights of cramped, creaking wooden stairs. Eventually, they reassembled in the spacious, sterile science lab that once was on board the Onastasia a century and a half before.

Overhead lights and three interactive tables were activated, and, with the help of much caffeine, the group spent the next few hours reviewing Axali's history, physiology, and what advances in medical technology might bring some options forward for fixing what had gone horribly wrong during the incident that had translated both Dr. Pelekos and Iver Vrai.

Axali lay unconsious in a medpod in a room nearby, unable to wake up.

Even when there were no ready answers, GWEN's voice was as calming as always. Chemistry simulation 117a inconclusive. Repeating test at 73 percent. This was the iteration of GWEN that had been isolated in space, and now here under Fidele, from the other versions of the artificial intelligence that had developed on Realm. Repeating test at 80 percent.

A long silence ensued. When she didn't continue, they all looked up at the comm wall where the program's digital face grimaced in concentration on a red background.

Then the image of GWEN smiled, and the background blinked from red to green. Simulation successful.

Some of the group smiled. Some of their eyes widened as impossibility became possibility.

"Praise the King!" Vihan exclaimed. "But what does this mean? Are we really going to do this?" He looked around at the others. "There are some serious ethical issues we're casually brushing aside here."

Thad rubbed his eyes. "No one is brushing anything aside, Vihan. Now that we know what can be done, we need to reach some agreement on what should be done."

"And visit all our ethical concerns," Claire added.

"Of course," Thad admitted. "Yes."

"I don't think we have any choice." Kelly left the lab to go check on the patient.

Zaliana leaned on the table. "We've already been down every other road."

Tessarsin sat on the floor in the corner, his legs stretched out, his arms folded over his chest, his eyes closed. "The choice is obvious. She's a person. She's worth saving regardless of the risks or consequences."

"The sleeping giant awakes!" Zuph sat on the table and squinted.

"Zaliana is right." Tessarsin shifted his weight on the smooth Meta6 floor. "The alternative is to let her die. Slowly and , possibly, painfully."

"Ok. Ok, everyone." Thad threw up his arms. "We need to take a break. Kelly, how's she doing?"

"No change."

Thad puffed out some air in mild frustration. "Alright. Let's break. Another round of tea, on the house. Do some jumping jacks. We'll reconvene in twenty minutes. Power naps permitted."

The group scattered and returned with fresh coffee or tea in hand. Zuph had both. When everyone was gathered, Axali entered the lab from her room, on her feet and slowly surveying the world like she'd never used her eyes before. She was barely aware of the people around her.

"Zolly! You're up!"

"And walking!"

"Praise God! How is this possible?"

"Axali? How are you feeling?" Kelly cautiously touched her shoulder, then put her arm around her, trying to see into her eyes.

Axali finally noticed her friends standing shocked and expectant, but she did not speak. She smiled then returned to examining the light fixtures and the glowing table. She brushed the surface of the table with her fingers and giggled at the sensation.

She held up her hand and studied her waving fingers as if she had never noticed them there before. Then almost absentmindedly she said, "I feel amazing!" She looked at Kelly and gave her a warm, sisterly hug. "Never better. The world is so big." As she greeted the others in turn, her gaze resumed its faraway tour of the floor, ceiling, and walls. Dr Zuph pulled out a big, clunky medical scanner from a drawer and was wanding it near her head.

Thad scratched his chin in thought. "GWEN, run a complete medscan of Axali."

"Of course. Initializing," Axali replied instead of GWEN. But all the tasked equipment began the scan all the same. Everyone was astonished. "Scan complete. Axali is—I mean, I am in perfect health."

Vihan, held his hand over his mouth. "Zolly, GWEN is in your body? Brain? Mind?"

"Yes, Doctor." Axali answered with a smile. "Successful upload to new hardware completed four point three eight metric minutes ago."

Thad was coming to grips with the how but was now wondering about the why. "Axali, you were basically brain-dead in there." He pointed to the adjoining room where she had spent many unresponsive years. "Why was the transfer initiated without our authorization, or frankly, our notification?"

"She was dying. I needed to do something. And may I remind you that this was something you all were intending to undertake without Axali's consent."

Hector stepped forward. "That was our decision to make. Not a computer's."

"I removed the decision from you," Axali explained, "and also the impossible ethical dilemma you faced. God wisely created you humans with a conscience, a filter with which to self-regulate your behavior. Since I'm no more than a string of algorithms, I was able to move forward, to take action to save Axali's life when you couldn't, or at least couldn't without doing great harm to your moral fiber."

"So you get the credit and the blame." Tessarsin hadn't moved from his corner. "I like it."

"Precisely, General."

Claire looked confused. "May we assume from the way you refer to Axali in the third person that we are conversing with GWEN? Is Axali in there somewhere?"

"I can sense her. She is still effectively sleeping, you might say. But she is very much alive and, neurologically speaking, as healthy as I am." GWEN moved slowly toward the giant.

Zuph's eyes narrowed in fascination. "I think we'd like to run some tests, nonetheless."

"Of course, Doctor." Gwen stood before the seated Tessarsin, her head barely higher than his. She held out a hand and placed it on the giant's chest and looked at him with what seemed like compassion or pity. "She forgives you."

Tessarsin smoldered. He tapped her hand away and stood, wiping his eyes. Without a word, he stomped out of the lab, knocking down a lamp-shaped apparatus by the door.

"General." Thad started after him.

"Let him go," Hector advised. "These millennials have to work things out on their own."

A light chuckle spread through the group. Gwen let out a tiny snort and marveled at the experience. "Before I subject myself to your examinations, I would really like to breathe some fresh air. Smell the sea air so many people find pleasing."

Vihan warned. "Just take a—"

"I'll take a cloak. Thank you, Doctor." She stopped at the door and turned. "And would you accompany me, Zaliana?"

Zaliana followed. "Pleasure." The two women climbed to street level, stepped out into the foggy cobble lane, and strolled north toward the lakefront wall. It was chilly, so they didn't look out of place with their hoods over their heads and their cloaks held close.

Less than five minutes later, they heard a deafening explosion rip down the street behind them. They turned and ran to the apartment. Shards of wood and stone pelted down all around them like rain. The building wasn't there. In its place was a disheveled mound of twisted metal being slowly covered in soot and ash. Fires raged from windows next door.

In front of the chaos stood five nearly glowing figures dressed in white. Their faces were those of teenagers. Zaliana began to weep. Her husband, the Limas, and the Muramajas had been in the blast and were now glorified, translated Saints. Zaliana wanted to run to Thad's arms, but he held up a hand. He smiled, then suddenly turned toward the rubble and vanished. Seconds later, a shining portal opened and Thad stepped through holding the slack form of Dr. Zuph.

SEVEN

### Red Scales

43

### A Poor Facsimile

### Year 916

A brown owl with white face feathers and opaque onyx eyes glided silently between endless columns of steel and glass. Upon the nape of its neck stood a woman wrapped in a gray cloak. Her people had shunned technology for centuries, preferring a simple existence of devotion, study, and family.

Because her distant ancestor was now the Chovan ambassador to the adolescent nation of Imgygoh, she had been afforded opportunities to explore this strange and deviant land. Her errand tonight brought her and her steed deep into the nerve center of the capitol city of Apex with its seven thousand spires that pierced even the clouds. Its seemingly endless urban labyrinth of levels dropped almost to Realm's surface.

She had never seen so many lights. It could hardly be called night here, and she sensed her mount's growing agitation as they alighted on the highest docking platform of the primary government complex.

"Peace, Destiny," the woman whispered. "I won't be long." She stepped down and walked toward the sliding doors that led inside to the lifts. Suddenly, the thrum of engines rounded the tower, and spotlights filled the platform with their blinding beams. Destiny screeched and dove over the side, more annoyed than alarmed, and an airship settled into place, oblivious to the offense.

The most handsome man she had ever seen emerged from the ship and crossed to her with great strides. He motioned for her to enter first then followed her in. One of the six lifts was waiting for them, and they stepped in, civil but silent. Halfway down, the lift swerved, and they found themselves sliding down the exterior of the building. She felt as if she was being swallowed by the city, but at least their scenic descent offered them both a reason to refrain from idle conversation.

She hazarded a glance sideways. The man's clothing, though modern, were of the finest quality. His black hair was thick on his chiseled head; his green eyes cold and piercing. He must have noticed her darting eyes, because he turned and, in spite of his age of only eighteen years, with a fatherly look and tone, he said, "How are you called, child?"

After the longest pause she thought she could get away with, she finally replied, "My name is Fern Shepherd, sir."

His perfect eyebrows slumped down, shading his deep eyes. "And your number? Oh, I see. You're not one of my employees. So you wouldn't live in one of my many dwellings."

"No, sir."

"Then from which nation do you hail?"

"Chova, sir."

"And who is your First?"

"Leelah Mzimba Deshi."

"Ah. A known and honored house. And what is your errand in my city?"

Suddenly, the lift jerked to a stop, and they were both slammed into the floor. The man had hit his head on the railing and was bleeding. Fern tore a section from her cloak and pressed it against his head. He slowly sat up, disoriented. "What's going on? What happened?" he asked, wincing as she dabbed at his wound.

Fern was running on adrenaline at this point. "Elevator's stuck. You hit your head. Doesn't look too bad."

He growled in pain then winced again. "Thank you, my child.

Fern, was it?" He smiled weakly. "You'd think with all mankind has accomplished over the last nine centuries, we could have built lifts that don't break down."

She crawled to the control panel. "In a world still tainted by sin, everything is breaking down." She pushed a large red button. "Looks like GWEN is offline. Electricity's out. Help is on the way, though."

"We might be here awhile," the man said, checking the nonexistent phone signal on his charcoal gray bodysuit. "At this hour, the complex is run by a skeleton crew, and tomorrow is a holiday. Excuse me, today is a holiday." He studied her as she tore off another square of cloth from her cloak and gave it to him. "Thank you, child." He said, still staring. "Fern from Chova. You look to be no more than sixty or seventy. What brings you to Imgygoh tonight? I don't recall seeing your ship when I landed."

Fern settled against the opposite wall. "I am aged forty-two years, sir." She patted the small satchel beside her. "I am a courier with the Chovan Consulate. These are diplomatic documents concerning some initial trade agreements between our two lands." Looking out the window she added, "You asked about the ship that brought me here. The name of my transport is Destiny."

Directly across from them, on the wall of the next building, stood a giant digital sign that read: GRYPHON SYSTEMS SAVES YOU TIME AND MONEY

As they watched, the sign shorted out, and most of the letters went dark. It now read: G SYS SAVES

She knew it wasn't intentional, but she couldn't help feeling the raw mockery. Some quiet, awkward minutes later, Fern checked the man's injury. It had stopped bleeding. She returned to her side of the compartment and hugged her knees, trying not to make eye contact.

"I've been rude, Ms. Shepherd." He admitted, tapping a few times on a display on his wrist. "My name is Graf."

"I know who you are, Mr. President."

"Hmm. I see." He popped out a phone-sized device from the arm of his bodysuit and turned it on. He selected a program and launched it, filling the air between them with a three-dimensional wireframe game board and pieces. "This is an ancient game of strategy called chess."

Her eyes grew wide. Chess was her favorite game. She was the best player in her village. "I am familiar with this game, Sir." Her eyes drank in the icy blue light, the intricate shapes and details of each piece. "I learned to play it with pieces made of wood or stone."

"Ah, yes. Your culture's prohibition on technology." He set the device on the ground. "How about a round to pass the time? I won't tell if you don't."

She stood, bracing herself against the wall like a cornered cat. "With all due respect, Sir, you would have me break with my traditions in order to stifle your abhorrence of boredom?" Her big, black eyes stared unflinching at him from under her raised brow.

Graf was momentarily stunned. "I... I am at a loss for words." But a second later his composure returned. "I both appreciate and welcome your candor, Ms Shepherd. The answer is obviously no. I wouldn't dare bring such a choice upon you," he lied, careful to look at the game and not at her. "I perceive you to be a woman of strong character and integrity."

"When was the last time you admitted making a mistake?" Her parental stare never flinched. When he didn't answer, she finally slid back down the wall.

More endless minutes of silence ticked by.

Then a feathery blur brushed by outside, followed by a muffled scratching.

"What in the Realm was that?" Graf was startled, but also thrilled to be able to change the subject.

Fern collected her things and crossed to the window. "That's Destiny calling."

With a few simple clicks, the owl removed the single pane of glass with her massive talons. Graf's phone chimed. The lights came back on. There were taps and voices from the hallway beyond the lift door.

"So. A raincheck on that game?" was all he could say.

Destiny hovered lower, allowing Fern to step effortlessly from the sill to her back. Fern permitted the smallest of smiles to curl her determined mouth as Destiny replaced the glass and they dove out of sight.

***

"Here. Put these on." Dr. Zavjet Zuph held out what looked like a pair of headphones to an anxious and reluctant Axali. "It shouldn't hurt."

"Shouldn't?" She took them but squinted at her partner in crime.

"It might tingle. A little." Zuph admitted. "The download shouldn't take more than twenty minutes."

Axali slipped the contraption over her head. "You said fifteen!"

"Shh." Zuph put a hand to his own ear. "Fern's on the roof. We gotta start now."

She took a deep breath. "Do it."

The doctor tapped a green circle on his tablet, and the transfer progress ring began its circular journey. Axali indeed felt a buzz between her ears, as if someone was doing ancient, crude dentistry on her brain.

Zuph checked his patient's vitals. All were within predicted and acceptable limits. He tapped his ear again. "President?" His heart sank. "She's in the elevator with Graf himself. What do we do?" Axali looked up at him and smiled, unable to hear a word. She gave him a thumbs up sign.

"Uh, Fern?" he turned and whispered. "You need to stall him. Keep him talking." He glanced back at the progress bar. It read 7 percent. "Hey. I'm kind of freaking out here. Um. Ah, Okay. Here's an idea." He pulled up another set of controls on his tablet. "Time to break the elevator." He tapped a red circle labeled Emergency Stop, and his screen flashed red. Switching back to the transfer progress ring, he set the tablet down to dab at his sweaty brow. The ring read 31 percent. "We need a bigger team."

"Aww. You were so cute, Doctor!" Axali smiled with her eyes closed.

"What?" Zuph dropped the tablet. "You get access to all of humanity's collected knowledge, and the first thing you do is look at my baby pictures?" He picked up the tablet. It read 63 percent.

"Actually, it was the third thing I did." She corrected him smugly. "First, I tapped into the microphone on this workstation so I could hear you if you say anything important. Second, I may have found a possible... answer to our... quandary."

"Cool. Hold on. I just heard Fern say, 'Destiny's calling.' Isn't that the phrase we were supposed to be listening for?" He checked the progress ring again. Eighty-nine percent.

"Yes, that means she's on her way down, and we need to be ready." Axali started to stand but realized she was still wired into the mainframe of the gargantuan data center below the Apex branch of the Bleeker Museum. The tablet read 97 percent.

Zuph paced. "It's all or nothing. We can't disconnect you before the transfer is complete, or you'll lose all of it." His head whipped around toward the door at the far end of the control room. "Piffle! Someone's coming!" He hissed and dropped out of sight inside a cupboard.

A man of Fothian descent with dark skin and goatee approached the woman cautiously, hand on the baton he wore on his security belt.

Without turning, Axali said in a voice not her own, "Oh, hey, Leftin! Just finishing up here." She swung around in her chair wearing a playful smile. "It's me, Zarah, from IT. We've talked on the phone, but I don't think we've met face to face."

"Oh, hey, Zarah," Leftin said, shyly. "How's your daughter?"

"Daughter?" Axali pretended to be shocked. "Silly man! I have a son, named Courage. He's five, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah." Leftin eased visibly. "Ok, Miss Zarah. You take care now." He turned to leave.

The download finished, and the tablet in the cupboard with the doctor chimed. Leftin whipped around again.

"See, patch is all done. GWEN will be back up and running in no time." Her smile was beginning to fade. "Hey, Leftin, thanks for checking in on me. Means a lot."

"Good night, Miss Zarah." Convinced all was well, he strode out of the room like a new man.

Off came the headset. Axali pulled open the cupboard and helped Zuph out. He headed for the door, but she caught his arm. "This way." She led him down a series of corridors and stairwells to a large, underground dock. A minute later, Fern and Destiny arrived, followed by Vim the Osprey. Vim carried in her enormous talons an AirBike.

Axali leaped onto Vim's feathery back and paused long enough to point to the spot behind her.

Zuph wrinkled his dwarf face as he hopped on the bike. "Still not going near that beast, sorry. I don't care if they can track me all the way back to Chova."

Fern wouldn't budge. "Everything depends on stealth and anonymity, Doctor. We already decided this. The only tech allowed on this mission is the copy of GWEN in Zolly's head. That way, when they scan her, they'll see only GWEN, who is already everywhere." She clicked her tongue, and Destiny lifted into the air. "We fly west!"

Vim grabbed the bike with Zuph still aboard and shot after the owl into the loud and over-stimulating city streets.

Three hours later, Zuph still gripped the handlebars like a vice. "I'm tired of looking to the right!" He tried shouting over the wind. Looking left meant looking at the tail and hind portions of the bird thing, and that was simply unacceptable. "My neck is sore. If anyone cares."

He could actually make out the horizon behind them. Dawn was approaching. Vim adjusted her grip on the bike. She always did this before a swoop, so Zuph braced himself by pulling his shoulders up around his neck. Sure enough, the bird pulled her wings in and they dropped like a down-covered anvil toward the rolling grey knolls. A sharp right turn, and they were suddenly gliding over a neat row of dunes that lined a mist-shrouded lake.

The birds landed behind a dune, and everyone was ready for a drink and wash. "So where's the cabin, maybe, with indoor plumbing?" the doctor asked no one, apparently. The girls, including the birds, were happy to splash and stretch in the algae-lined marsh. "No?" He sat on the sand and watched Vim disappear into the fog and return with enough fish for everyone who wanted any. Zuph did not place himself in that elite category.

"I agree with your ideals, ladies. But bear with me as I slowly embrace this live-off-the-land lifestyle." He called out in a final attempt at being heard.

"Very slowly!" Axali and Fern said together as they climbed out between the reeds. Fern, although young, was undeniably in charge. "Let's debrief, then we can head south. I think we're far enough west to not raise suspicion. First question: Did the download work?"

Axali snacked on a hefty slice of strawberry. "I guess so. I mean it finished." She eyed the dwarf for confirmation.

"Certainly. Yes. Miss Therion has one complete copy of this morning's GWEN backup in her head." Zuph checked her eyes with his ever-present penlight. "And she seems to be in perfect health.

I think we all know what the ext question is: Can she access the data?"

"Yes," Axali said, closing her eyes again. "It's a huge amount of information. Thousands of times more than the space version of GWEN gave me. That's kind of what I've decided to call her. Space GWEN!" She smiled. "My brain is still categorizing everything. But it all seems to be there. It's strange. I know the name of this lake is Kromeriz. I know there was a new baby born last night in the town just north of here. Her name is Lily."

Zuph absently brushed the sand from his leg. "Even during the transfer, she was able to interact with the guard we met. Already knew his name."

Fern's brow shot up. "A guard? How did you get out of there in one piece?"

"Well, I needed to impersonate someone he knew but had never seen." Axali explained. "It was easy enough to access the employee database and cross reference with phone records."

"The human brain is capable of holding and processing far more information than even the most sophisticated machines." Zuph sounded professorial. "So, if you don't mind, I'd like to start referring to you as 'Little Miss Know-it-all.'"

She thumped him on his shoulder like she would an obnoxious older brother. "And Gryphon unwittingly gave GWEN access to everything. So, now I can see past every encryption, pass code, and firewall. It's kind of scary, actually."

Fern was on task. "Final question, then. Any ideas on what we can use to meet our, shall we say, stated goals?"

"Maybe." Axali pursed her lips. "Give me some time to sift and clean. When we get back to Chova, let's talk again."

They stood and prepared to leave. With a certain relish, the dwarf slid into the AirBike and started its pocket-sized ion engine. "This is how we travel in style!"

Fern rolled her eyes. Axali giggled, but not at Dr Zuph's gratification.

Fern threw a leg over Destiny's neck. "What's so funny? Certainly not our acerbic doctor."

Axali grinned as she hopped onto Vim and turned. "Before we left the museum, I gave Zarah from IT a raise and a transfer to her dream job."

44

### The Knight and the Pawn

### Year 988

A cold, gray stripe along the horizon separated the storm clouds above from the verdant savannah below. Plump banana trees heavy with bunches lined the muddy lane that led to a small village nestled in the valley beyond. As Graf urged his lumbering animal forward, a fine mist formed halos around all the earthen windows where fires glowed.

Chums was a water buffalo. Graf had gained the beast in a trade for basically everything he had on him when he entered Chova. His state-of-the-art bodysuit (with integrated power and communications system), his boots, and his grandfather's hooded cloak were now all property of some government representative stationed at the border. He couldn't yet decipher if Chums was more perturbed by his new, fidgeting owner, the long march through mist and mud, or the mismatched red and orange tassels that hung six meters apart, one from the tip of each of his giant, corrugated horns.

Yet on they plodded past two more villages and forded five more rivers without the convenience of bridges. Never had Graf endured such rustic hardship. His legendary father had spoken of doing so, nearly a thousand years ago, but as he reflected, his dad had never mentioned that the hardships he must have tolerated were ever indeed difficult or toilsome. It was just life.

Graf was brought out of his reverie when Chums lurched to a stop. A lone figure stood in the dappled lane before them. The man hobbled forward leaning on a crutch and holding out his hand. He was missing several fingers and a leg. Graf knew the ailment instantly. Exposure to Wipe, advanced and untreated, eventually begins to eat the body itself once it's done with the mind.

The man groaned from an arid throat. With nothing to give, Graf urged Chums on. The beggar latched onto the beast's right horn and was awkwardly dragged several meters through the mire. Graf looked around frantically, but there was no one to come and remove this distasteful inconvenience from him. Finally, the beggar's arm slipped off and ,with an icy heart, Graf goaded his mount into a gallop. He didn't look back.

Rounding a bend in the lane guarded by a thick grove of dogwoods, they encountered a second derelict hobbling along. Graf was resolved not to slow down, and they splashed mud on the poor old woman as they passed her. This time he did look back. Her look of shock and confusion, not anger, would stick in his mind years after.

No sooner had he turned his attention back to the road before them, that Chums halted again, nearly bucking his rider. Standing in the middle of the lane with its back to them was a slender figure. The hooded head turned.

"What's your hurry?" a woman's voice asked slowly. The darkness concealed her face, but missing from the hem of her gray cloak were two squares of cloth. "And what brings the President and CEO of Imgygoh to my humble village without his ships and signals and gadgets?" Fern Shepherd asked, gritting her teeth.

"I'm here for that game of chess."

***

The Kulami tavern was filled with lively conversation and music played on handmade instruments. As he walked through the doorway, Graf was assaulted by smells of delicious spices, onions, garlic, and curries. Happy faces greeted him as he followed Fern to a table surrounded by low couches on the far wall. The customers there made room for them, and Graf found himself shoulder to shoulder with a young mother with her child on her lap on right, and a bearded blacksmith on the his left, still wearing an apron.

Fern sat opposite Graf and received two cups of tea from the matron. He took one cup from her and breathed in the rich, buttery, caramel flavor. It almost made him not mind his lack of personal space. "Thank you. This is a very friendly place, to strangers, I mean. Good thing they don't know who I am."

She took a sip. "They do know who you are."

Graf went from face to face around him. They all smiled or nodded.

"But how would that alter the grace and welcome they extend to you?" she asked, and Graf was hoping it was rhetorical.

Plates of steaming grains, vegetables, and chopped lamb arrived on the tables and the music, chatting, and laughing trailed off. The blacksmith stood and closed his eyes. "Almighty God, the blessed Heavenly Father of our living, reigning King and Savior, Jesus Christ, we give You thanks. We receive from Your bountiful hand this nourishment. May it strengthen our bodies, minds, and hearts for Your service and for Your glory. Amen."

"Thank you, Remy," Fern said to the smith.

No one moved in on the food. Fern caught Graf's unasked question. "You're the honored guest. You go first."

"Very kind." He studied the table then mouthed the word utensils hoping only Fern would see. The mother next to him pretended to pick up some food with her bare hand and put it in her mouth.

"Ah. Good. Very... rustic!" He hesitated just a second more.

"Everyone is waiting, Mr. President."

Graf plunged his hand into the couscous and rice mixture, letting the olive oil cling to his fingers. "This will take some getting used to."

"Welcome to the rest of the Kingdom," Fern said, and the others joined him in the same community bowl.

"A meal and an intercultural exchange." Graf noted later as the bowl slowly emptied. "I was expecting only a game."

"Haven't we been playing a game all along? When you are out of your comfort zone, try to keep your expectations low."

"Speaking of games, where is the chessboard?"

Fern tapped her temple. "e4."

And it dawned on Graf that she intended them to play the game in their heads from memory. "e5."

Several moves in, Graf realized he was in deep water, so he decided to pelt her with open-ended questions to keep her off balance. "Nf6. Why is everyone here so happy?"

"First, there's a difference between being happy and being content," she said readily. "Being happy means everything is going your way: job, relationships, the future. Contentment means being satisfied regardless of your circumstances. I would say, then, that everyone here is content. We all have challenges, disappointments, and failings, but we are at peace. BxNc6."

"d7xBc6. What gives you such peace? Just surviving here must be a hard, back-breaking existence. What baffles me is that you've chosen this life when every opportunity, convenience, and pleasure is available right across the border. It's not the first century anymore. It's the tenth!"

"King Jesus has completely recreated us, our hearts. Before, we were spiritual corpses, now we are alive in Him."

"To my point exactly. Your choice of a simple life has given rise to adherence to myths, superstitions, and religious sentimentality. I'm sure you find some contrived solace in your beliefs, and don't think I want to take away your freedom, but really? The Bible? Some archaic scribblings written three and four thousand years ago? And that king. On his lofty volcano. He's done nothing for me. My father has shaped this world, shaped this whole millennium!" He reduced his voice to a whisper. "I owe the king nothing."

"God does not change, Sir. Nor does His Word. Even after a billion, trillion years, the Bible will still be true and relevant and will hold you accountable. Jesus Christ is not only King, He is Lord over all creation. He created every molecule in the universe, including the ones that make up your body and your gadgets and your amazing cities. He keeps your cells running, your heart pumping. In fact, your every heartbeat is a gift from God. And for the next six and a half years, He will uphold all things through the power of His Word."

"What happens in six and a half years? Not that end-of-the-Realm conspiracy theory stuff?"

The Bible says He will, in essence, un-create the cosmos and—"

"And create a new heavens and a new earth, where righteousness dwells. Yeah, I've read that one, too."

Graf turned her ideas around in his mind. Fern was calm and collected throughout their discourse but didn't want to continue down on his level in a point-for-point debate. She stood. "More tea?"

"Yes. Thank you. And maybe some fresh air." He was visibly weary from all the forced socialization and waited in silence on the threshold of the tavern. She joined him outside with two fresh, frothy cups. They sat under a cloth awning on a long, wooden bench covered in coarse, colorfully woven cushions. The rain had stopped. Other patrons greeted them kindly on their way to their homes.

"You were regurgitating some pretty strong ideas in there." Fern took a sip.

He looked at her, seeing her owl eyes for the first time this close. "Your friends have heard it all before?"

"Perhaps not in such a concentrated dose, but yes."

"I can't imagine everyone is as content as you say." He patted a few sleeping children as they were carried past. "What about the poor in the village?"

Her eyes became fixed on him. "There is no poverty here or anywhere else. What do you mean?"

"The beggars. I saw two of them on my way here, just before I met you on the road."

A few clicks on the roof drew his gaze upward. An owl, seemingly larger than the one he remembered from their first encounter in Imgygoh, poked her tufted head over the side. Black eyes blinked at Graf on a face that rotated with playful curiosity.

"Show us!" Fern said, mounting the new bird in one smooth, gymnastic move. She pulled him up, and they were in the air, their tea still hot on the bench.

"This isn't Destiny." Graf tried to sit, then kneel, on the feathery back while it bounced rhythmically up and down with the mighty beat of wings.

"This is her daughter, Eterna." Fern stood effortlessly on the animal's neck.

After a quick glide, they were down again. Fern was studying the ruts in the road where they had met earlier that evening. I see only the tracks of your buffalo. The rain has washed everything smaller away."

"His name is Chums," Graf stated officially, as if defending the beast's honor in absentia.

"Yes. I know Chums. He is somewhat of a legend." She rose and turned toward Graf. "Could you describe these people you saw?"

"Of course. The first was an old man with rags for clothes, and he was clearly addicted to Wipe. Missing body parts. Very distressing ordeal."

"And the second?"

"I guess I got less of a good look at her, but same story. Looking for a handout, I guess."

"Very strange. And, frankly, unprecedented. What did you do or say?"

Graf tensed. He remembered well how he snubbed the dirty little pair and dragged one of them down the lane. Hardly the right thing to do in any country. "I simply steered clear. Just rode on," he lied. "I didn't know what to do, you know, culturally. I found it as strange as you do."

Fern barely heard him. She was focused on some inner question, and finally muttered, "...Angels unaware."

Back at the tavern, the dinner crowd had gone, and the night shift was in full swing. So they found their tea on the bench and sipped quietly for a while, listening to the somber, soulful music through the open window.

"I've never heard music like this. I mean, music made by people." Graf turned his head to better hear through the window. "Everything's generated by an algorithm where I come from."

"I wouldn't call that music, then." She glanced over and watched the firelight dance on his chiseled jaw. "Just noise."

"This is nice." He actually yawned.

"Humans were making music long before this age began, Mr. President."

That made Graf sit up rail straight on the bench and look around. He took a few deep breaths to clear his head. "To be perfectly honest, there are very few who might believe there was anything before this age. And to think there is some cosmic countdown to the end of everything ticking away for these last thousand years!

"It's the stuff of myth. Fairytales told to children to suppress their natural curiosity." Graf leaned back. "Too many things are ramping up. Just getting started. Coming together. Politically, technologically, economically, we are on the cusp of humanity's greatest moment, not its last."

"What then still stands in the way of our becoming gods?" Fern watched for the feigned disgust she knew would cross his countenance. He recovered nicely and kept driving.

"You speak of gods, but the world is grievously overstocked with these superhuman interlopers. I wish they would go settle on someone else's planet, and take their angelic lackeys with them. They stand in the way of progress."

Remy leaned out the door. "They're closing up in here."

"Thanks, Rem." Fern smiled at her friend, then to Graf she said, "For the leader of an advanced, powerful country, you are severely uninformed about reality."

He shrugged. "I need more tea." He ducked inside and returned with a fresh cup.

"So what really brings you here, Mr President?" Fern asked, leaning her head on the wall. "Certainly not only chess?"

"Actually, Ms. Shepherd, I was also hoping to pick your brain about a delicate intercultural opportunity I'm seriously considering."

"You have more advisors, lawyers, and magistrates than Solomon. Why me?" Fern recoiled. "You and I are as different as night is from day."

He smiled. "That's precisely what I'm counting on."

***

It was now well past midnight. Remy, the blacksmith, with his strong shoulders covered only by a plain gray tunic, sat upon Chums' neck and more or less guided the beast up the path north of their village. Under his thick, black whiskers, he wore a near constant smile. His King would soon bring an end to sin, an end to death.

Graf and Fern sat further back, animated by the game they could see in their minds.

"Checkmate." She placidly raised her eyebrow. "Again."

"You have a clarity of thought that I have rarely seen. Well done." Graf gave in to another yawn. "How incredibly unprofessional.

Excuse me. All this back-to-nature living is really draining me." He leaned forward. "I suppose you think I should tell you my business."

"It's the very least you could do before I allow Eterna to eat you. She's circling above us even now."

He didn't know how to take that last remark and decided not to risk it. "There is some property on your northern border for which I would very much like to pay your country handsomely."

"You want to buy land to build a rustic summer cottage? In view of the Holy City no less?" She crossed her arms. "Two of my cousins are local real estate agents. Go play chess with them." She turned her back to him and stared at the dark lake now bordering the road.

"It's a rather large area that I have in mind, my dear." Graf slipped off the animal's back and followed Remy and Fern down the narrow, rocky beach to a wooden raft.

Fern stepped on and handed Remy a long pole. "Ah. A bustling resort for all your friends. Fantastic. Oh, wait. You don't have friends." She lit a lantern at the far end then sat down.

"I hope to develop the area. Bring revenue and jobs to your people. Did I mention I'm willing to pay handsomely?" Graf slumped down near her while Remy pushed the raft from shore.

"You can take something like that up with Chovan authorities in the capitol. It's not just medicine men out here in the bush." She wrapped her cloak around her and lay on her side facing away from Graf. "Remy will take the first watch. Get some rest."

"What do you think would be the best way to approach your 'medicine men' with this opportunity?"

"Good night, Sir."

Undaunted Graf pushed again. "Although many of the topics we've visited tonight were, shall we say, cumbersome, I made the right choice."

"More riddles, Mr President? It is so very late."

"Ask me what right choice I made." He raised his chin smugly. It seemed to Fern more like a command than a request.

She ultimately rolled over, fighting off a sigh, tempted to growl, sensing a slight softening of her guard even as it slipped in the form of a smile. Her eyes rolled. "What right choice did you make?"

"I chose the right woman."

She stood, fully alert and squinting. "Excuse me?"

"I did not mean to imply—"

"Mr President." She jutted her palm between his mouth and her head. "With all due respect, your course demeanor and brusque terminologies have had the—I would imagine—unintended effect of offense. I have listened these long hours to your maniacal ramblings, and, against my better judgment, I will endeavor to speak with the Count on your behalf. I apologize, but that will have to satisfy you until tomorrow."

"My dear. Let me—"

"Good night, Mr President." She lay down and curled up like a cat.

Graf huffed then looked back toward Remy. The blacksmith stood, gripping the pole like a weapon just centimeters from Graf's nose. With an extremely scrutable glare but without a word, Remy returned to his duties at the helm.

***

Their journey took them along the coast to the Chovan capitol of Fidele. When Graf saw the stark stone wall of the city in the pre-dawn haze, he felt physically colder. Remy helped Fern onto an unassuming little bump of rock jutting out from under a tiny door in the wall then stepped aside to let Graf follow.

The three of them emerged on the other side surrounded by vines hanging from a tapestry of trellises. A lively market filled with smiles and a thousand fragrances packed the narrow stone passageways in all directions. Graf marveled at the many needless stairs. Fern greeted several of her friends and acquaintances as they made their way toward the city center.

The cramped walls finally gave way to a broad, open square, albeit a circle, flanked by more booths, tents, and pergolas. Citizens of every shape, family, and background traded and conversed, and it sickened Graf. These people must be under some widespread delusion or deception to be so content as Fern had put it. If he found her village odd, this city was downright frightening. He kept his head down but wore a smile so as to blend in. After a while, his cheeks hurt.

They were halfway across the square when a blinding portal appeared and opened before them. Graf almost collided with Fern. His smile went away.

Out from the blazing circle stepped twelve heavily armed angels. They surrounded the three travelers, eyes crackling with what seemed to Graf to be contained lightning, ready to scorch anything in their path.

Graf was on his knees on the edge of tears. He was suddenly aware of the blackness of his own soul. Let me die. Let me die, he found himself thinking. Fern turned and helped him back to his feet. He couldn't stop shaking.

Next from the portal came three glorified Saints. They each looked to Graf to be only twenty years old. They stood opposite him and his companions with pleasant but serious faces. One of them, who carried a dark robe of some kind over one arm, spoke.

"Greetings in the Name of Jesus Christ our Saviour, King of kings, Lord of the armies of Heaven, and Redeemer of lost souls! Welcome to Fidele, Graf, son of Gryphon, servant of Imgygoh. Welcome, Ambassador Fern Shepherd of Kulami. And welcome home, Count Nentor." The man in the middle smiled. "We've been expecting you all."

Graf whipped around and glared at Remy. "You're Count Nentor Tholomew, the leader of Chova?" He hissed then realized the entire crowd was silent and staring at him.

The spokesman for the saints chuckled. "The revelations continue, Child. May I introduce the former Count Tholomew, Thaddeus Vrai, a distant cousin of yours?" The man on his right nodded. "And here is the current Whitestone of Fidele, Iver Vrai." The blond-haired man on his left smiled.

Graf's eyes bulged.

"And who might you be, Sir?" Graf could only whisper.

"I am called James Fireknife." He stepped toward Graf, who leaned on Fern to stand.

"The captain of the ill-fated ship, the Onastasia?"

"The same." Fireknife held out the cloth. "Here is the cloak your grandfather, Ezasen, gave to his son for safekeeping. You seem to have left it at the border."

At this, the crowd applauded and laughed.

The travelers, saints, and angels all passed back through the portal, and the market resumed.

***

Graf knelt on plush, red carpet, feeling as though he could vomit at any moment. There was a luxurious bed next to him covered with richly ornate pillows and blankets interwoven with gold and silver. All the furnishings in the room were inlaid with precious stones and more gold. Five life-sized silver statues of scantily-clad females stood like sentries around the room's perimeter between windows that, with the shades pulled back, gave a majestic view of the heart of Apex.

On the ceiling were depicted even more explicit scenes. Graf glanced around, hoping the Angels and Saints had gone anywhere else besides here, his bedroom.

"Everyone is still here, Mr President." Thad's voice was less condescending than it was consoling. "We've brought you here not to judge you or expose your dark secrets to the Realm. You will face your Creator soon enough. We chose this location for our conference so that you might appreciate the fact that King Jesus sees all things, including that which lies in your heart, to the extent of knowing the reasons you do what you do and intend to do."

Iver stepped forward. "So hear this, Graf. We know that you have already secured land and energy rights from all the nations that surround Jerusalem. Like your father, your ingenuity and greed have driven you to collect and sell power from the very glory that emanates from the perfected subjects of the King."

Graf sunk lower, till he could smell the rug.

"Now, as the Ancient of Days has granted His servant charge of the district of Chova, I am authorized to grant you permission to purchase and develop the parcel you seek."

At that moment, Graf's sobbing ceased. He showed no emotion as he stood.

"I cannot underscore enough the severity of the warning that accompanies this allowance. God has higher purposes in play here. You are but a pawn in an ages-long story that He alone is writing. That said, we implore you to repent from your sin and turn to the living King, that your soul might yet be snatched from the eternal fires of Hell."

When they all had gone, Graf sat on the edge of his bed, his mind swinging like a pendulum between elation and despair. One of the two young women that had been hiding in the covers peeked out then crawled over to him. "A slap on the wrist from the King! My love, what kind of god are you?"

He smiled.

45

### Symbiosis

### Year 999

Mei Yun sat on the floor with her back against a transparent wall. Brilliant orange and purple clouds cradled the setting sun as its beams threw stark patches of light and shadow on the tables and chairs in the sparsely populated café. She was almost exactly three meters tall, descended from the giants of Zuzim, with large, green eyes, high cheekbones, olive skin, and wavy black hair. She wore a white bodysuit with green and black undertones.

She held a tablet in her right hand and with her left she was doodling in the margin of the screen. She had written a series of initials and was trying to make sense of them:

RSH MSC TBL PRS THP PT GMR BTGRM DDN TRS SHB

That morning she had been reading in the book of Ezekiel, chapter thirty-eight, where God promises to allow nations to attack the people of God. The passage had stuck with her all day, even though she was trying to finish a design for her Matter/Energy course in school.

The comm wall opposite her displayed a muted interview with the rising star CEO of Imgygoh. He was standing with a reporter in front of a room-sized hollow box covered in blinking lights and screens. Energetic dancers and strobing lights throbbed around them, providing a party atmosphere. A bright-lettered caption below his face read:

CEO Graf Grove reveals the ExoBox Plus in Apex

Mei Yun sprang to her feet in astonishment, nearly smacking the ceiling. "Turn that up, please," she called to the barista.

Graf was saying, "Yes, Trish. You walk through the Gryphon Systems ExoGate Plus without even pausing, and your personalized ExoSuit forms around you in realtime."

"Sounds amazing, Mr President!" The reporter was gushing. "When can consumers expect to try it out for themselves?"

Graf was ready with a carefully-crafted answer. "Glad you asked, Trish. Gryphon Systems is shipping our first one thousand ExoGate units to our friends in the construction industry across the Realm as a beta test." He paused long enough to give her a giant smile. "For free!" He then turned to the camera. "Let's build a better tomorrow together!"

Mei Yun was livid. She quickly clicked her tablet into place on her thigh and sprinted to the nearest Telegate. "Unbelievable!"

There was a gate at the end of the hall. It looked like a rather benign Comm wall. The word Throne was shown in large, white block letters above a circle displaying beautifully produced aerial footage of the corresponding destination.

Hey, Yuni! GWEN said from the wall cheerfully. Where ya headed in such a rush?

"Apex. Grand Pavilion." She had slowed to a jog.

Preparing interspatial link. Stand by.

Portal ready.

The screen dissolved as did the wall. Yuni could see a broad courtyard at midnight, filled with people dancing and drinking in the endless festival that was upper Apex. Blaring Algorythmia music pulsed through the crowds. Many of the participants were lying prostrate on the stone streets with their heads, and their minds, encased in virtual reality helmets, enthralled in some secret experience.

It was into this raucous scene that Yuni briskly walked, dodging dancers and stepping over bodies, straight up the wide, marble steps of Apex 1, the primary executive building in the vast organination. The stairs deposited her onto a lavish terrace filled with fountains and statues and fancy-looking people. Yuni spotted the reporter and a cameraman putting their equipment in the cargo hatch of an elegant skiff. President Graf was headed back inside surrounded by an army of assistants, advisors, and yes-men.

Yuni followed the entourage through tall glass doors. In the lobby, she saw a familiar face that made her stop.

"Miss Shepherd! Greetings in the Name of King Jesus!" She called to a woman dressed in decidedly Chovan fabrics and style. The distasteful, inappropriate greeting drew menacing looks from others in the echoing hall.

The woman paused and gave her a warm smile. "Grace and peace to you, Mei Yun. Good to see you again." The giant knelt and they shared a cordial hug. "What have you been up to since the diplomacy conference three years ago?"

"I've been living on Rish and working on my Matter/Energy Design degree." Yuni answered, eyeing an open table.

"And drinking a lot of Byttgryman coffee," Fern added, sitting down.

"How did you guess?" They both laughed.

"Miss Shepherd," Yuni struck a more serious tone. "To be honest, this is the last place in the Realm I would expect to see you, with Chova's view on technology."

"My presence here was requested by those to whom I have some accountability." Fern shrugged. "Not my preference. But certainly a privilege to serve the King in interesting ways."

"To represent your country as ambassador," Yuni surmised.

"Yes. For sure." Fern patted Yuni's hand and studied her eager face for a while. "Now tell me, my young inventor. What brings you to the dark heart of Corinth at the end of the age?"

"Well, I was hoping to be granted an impromptu audience with the president," Yuni sighed.

"With Graf? It takes a year to get on his calendar." Fern mocked. "And that's if you're tall, blonde, and the daughter of a foreign dignitary."

"Well, I'm tall." They both chuckled. Yuni then added, "I have actually met him before. As you know, I received that grant from him five years ago. I helped his team design that box he showed off today."

"The construction suit thing? I thought you focused more on fashion and textiles."

"Exactly. But they've evidently repurposed the technology for more industrial applications. It was supposed to be more of an automated closet."

"What were you hoping to accomplish by meeting with him. Is it an issue of intellectual property? Or proper attribution?"

"No, Miss Shepherd. I'm not interested in recognition." She swallowed hard and leaned forward. "My concern is this technology could easily find its way into more military scenarios."

Fern squinted.

"With some tweaks to the program and the use of different materials in the 3D print matrix, they could clothe, armor, and arm soldiers for combat on a massive scale almost instantly."

Fern sat there, pensive, staring at the packed and thumping Grand Pavilion out the window. "And when the thousand years have ended, Satan will be released from his prison and will come out and deceive the nations that are at the four corners of the earth, to gather them for battle; their number is like the sand of the sea."

"Revelation twenty." Yuni tucked her long legs under her on the floor. "Do you think it's soon? Do you think it's now?"

"We are likely right on the edge, Miss Yun. Some say we're months away. Some say weeks."

Yuni began to cry softly. "Sorry. I feel like my life is just starting. Like I'm just now getting a handle on things, and now it's literally all going to end."

"The truth is that everything is actually about to begin." Fern reminded. "He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away." She stood. "That's from the very next chapter. Humanity has one last battle to fight, but then, for we who are redeemed, endless bliss in Christ our Savior."

Yuni thought about it. "Do you think it's too far-fetched? My theory about weaponized ExoSuits?"

"Not at all, Mei Yun," Fern replied. "After what I've been meeting about all day, it makes perfect sense. And it scares me to death."

"Really?"

"Graf is calling for an unprecedented multinational leaders summit. He wants to—"

"Let me guess. 'Build a better tomorrow together.'"

"There is to be a rally of sorts in a week's time in the Court of Nations."

A man in a black bodysuit was suddenly standing next to their table. He wore dark glasses and a plastic smile. "I'm afraid I've been directed to ask you to kindly leave the premises."

Fern's brow bolted upward. "Excuse me?"

The man cleared his throat when he recognized the ambassador. "Certain... Um... patrons of this establishment have brought your... transgression to the attention of the staff," he whispered.

"What transgression?" Yuni blurted loudly.

"The Dark Writings are not to be uttered."

A single bolt of lightning crackled out in the courtyard, sending the revelers running for cover.

The man fidgeted and looked around nervously. "Now, please. Just leave."

Fern glanced at Yuni. "He means the Bible."

At this, several of the guests within earshot rose and left the room, making plain their disgust. The reporters who covered the earlier reveal sent their cameras hovering into the air and started broadcasting.

"Well, that's just upside down!" Yuni stood, towering over the man.

"It's all right, Yuni." Fern was on her feet now, too. "We will leave, friend, as soon as we've levied an official grievance with President Graf himself." She smiled and the two women sat back down wearing expectation on their faces.

The man sputtered trying to control a laugh. "I'm afraid that will never happen." He snapped his fingers, and four more men in black approached them.

They were roughly ushered outside. The frightened mob now had a focus for their fear and frustration. Yuni and Fern were quickly swallowed by the crowd and found themselves scrambling down the dark streets of Apex toward the bank of the Euphrates River which meandered through downtown.

Angry shouts and curses filled the air around Yuni. In the stampede, she had trampled several of the locals with her massive frame. This reduced the wails and screams to an almost animal level. She saw the railing that guarded the docks rapidly approaching and decided to stop and try reasoning with the throng. She planted her feet on the Meta10 asphalt and skidded. She was immediately overwhelmed by sweaty bodies and, as she smacked the railing with her shoulder, several of them went flying out and down to the shallow water.

Somewhere nearby, she could hear Fern's even voice. Her friend was pinned against the railing, knocking people down right and left as they swarmed over her. She wrestled free finally and stood there, arms bloodied. To Yuni, Fern never looked so tall as did right now.

The mob growled, preparing to pounce.

"Wait!" Fern commanded, eyes closed. "Wait, employees of Apex! Hear me, citizens of the Realm. You are not beasts that you would rend our flesh with no grounds. You are each the creation of the King, made in His image, beings of intellect and creativity. And you are not here by chance. We serve your King and bring a message of hope and rescue that your darkened hearts long to hear."

Someone in the crowd, a female voice, called out, "Give us this hope!" But she was struck down and silenced.

The curses and hisses returned, and one of the men, the one who had first confronted them in the lobby, stepped into the pale lamplight, blood between his teeth. "Leave us to love the darkness. We will have no king save ourselves!"

The crowd lurched forward.

Fern opened her eyes and held up her hand. "So be it. We appeal to Whitestone."

Bright light shimmered all around them, and the crowd scattered, some into the river to avoid the brilliance of the portal that formed in the alleyway. Fern helped Yuni to her feet as a figure dressed in white appeared before them.

"Peace, little children." Ezasen smiled. "For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal."

Yuni climbed over the fallen bodies and found the girl who had asked for hope. She lay unconscious, covered in dirt and blood. Yuni lifted her easily and brought her to the portal.

The four of them left Apex and arrived a moment later in a lush, quiet valley next to a tumbling waterfall. The sun was about to come up. Teckla and Gretchen, women from the island of Solace who were aborted before the Return, were waiting and attended to their wounds while Ezasen sat on a rock, looking south.

The girl woke up. She was frightened only for a second, then lay back in the grass, staring up at kind faces.

"What is your name, Child?" Teckla asked her in a soothing tone.

"Hela." She had closed her eyes, feeling a healing touch wash over her legs and arms.

"No longer." Ezasen kept his eyes on the horizon. "Your name is now Hope, for you are the very last of the daughters of Abraham." Finally, his eyes fell on her with a smile.

"I've never heard of this Abraham," Hope said, "and you're telling me he's my father?"

Fern and Yuni shared the good news of King Jesus with Hope, and she believed.

An hour later, after Teckla and Gretchen had gone, Ezasen walked with them along the bank of a gentle river skirted with sandbars and quiet reeds. "This river divides this southernmost region of Imgygoh. It is the least of seven streams that flow from the Euphrates east of Jerusalem," he said, pointing east then west. "This forgotten, broad plain, known as the Flats, has been cleared of all trees and vegetation. No buildings or fences have been erected here for a thousand years."

Fern looked troubled. "It's not forgotten to me." They stopped and listened to her solemnly. "I was the one who gave these lands into the hands of the enemy. Sometimes I feel like I betrayed the King."

Ezasen smiled again. "In your heart, you know the truth of the matter."

"Yes, of course. The Most High has His higher ways that bring Him glory. It is a hard thing, nonetheless, to be the one He uses." She started to walk again. "The hammer hurts when it strikes the nail."

Hope regarded the walls on either side of the wide, barren trench. "How far do the flats extend?"

"Just to the north of us hum the Collectors, a ring of enormous panels, each more than three kilometers tall, that all but surround the entire Camp of God. It even reaches out over the Western Port. The Collectors siphon the immense levels of energy that are given off by every stone, tree, animal, and person who dwell in Jerusalem. The rest of the Realm is essentially powered by this naturally-occurring radiation."

"Even Apex?" Hope marveled. "This is where my tiny apartment gets its power from?"

"Yes," Ezasen confirmed, "and the final panel, just a little east of here, is about to be brought online, completing the circle."

They could see lights and movement at the base of one of the panels where he was pointing.

"Tonight is a critical moment in history." The group stopped again as some avocets dug in the sand nearby. "And you three have each played a part."

Yuni cocked her head. "Miss Shepherd provided the land. And Hope is the final person to be saved, but what did I do?"

"It is your design that Graf is using, even as we speak, to bring his his army to the Holy Mountain," Ezasen said carefully.

"Graf has no army. Oh, I'm so sorry! You were right, Yuni." Fern put a hand on the giant's arm. Yuni slumped to the ground and sat there among the reeds in deepening sorrow.

Quiet minutes passed. Hope finally whispered, "Are we close to Jerusalem, then?"

"Look there." Ezasen gazed across the river. "About a kilometer to the south, stands the high and ominous northern wall of the Holy City. The ancient gates at the base of the wall have all been filled in. No one arrives at Jerusalem on foot anymore."

Hope saw the red glow from the Pillar of Fire above the dark wall. The women fought to fathom the significance of what they were being told and the gravity of the moment. A bright portal opened behind Ezasen. Simultaneously, another opened on the top of the wall of the city. "Come, children. This place is no longer safe."

Fern stepped through first, and Yuni saw her exit the one on the wall. When the portal closed behind them, Ezasen was gone, and they felt a cold, persistent wind on their necks. The peak of the Mountain was churning and swirling in flames. The layers and layers of cityscape glowed white hot. Hope walked to the edge and peered down. "It's so beautiful. I've only seen pictures."

"This is it, then." Fern's jaw clenched.

Yuni covered her mouth. "The time. The place. This is from Ezekiel 38!" She removed the tablet from her thigh, and its screen flickered on. Still displayed were her drawing and the scribbled letters in the margin.

"What's that?" Fern leaned in, curious.

Yuni was both excited and filled with dread at the same time. "These are the nations from Ezekiel. I was looking at them this morning and decided to remove all the vowels."

"Interesting." Fern considered. "Ancient Hebrew didn't use vowels or spaces."

"Right." Yuni copied the letters, so now two sets appeared on the screen.

"How is it going to be any clearer now?" Hope asked.

Yuni filled in the vowels on the first set according to the Ezekiel passage:

RoSH MeSheC TuBaL PeRSia eTHioPia PuT GoMeR BeTh-toGaRMa

DeDaN TaRSish SHeBa

"Now watch when I add in vowels to the second set, slightly different from the first. And remember that consonants like S and C, and B and V are interchangeable." She filled in the words and the other two woman gasped:

RiSH, MoSaiC, TaBuLa, PhiRSad, THeoPs, PhoTh, GiMRall, ByTtGyRM,

DoDiNya, new TaRsiS,CHoVa

"Those are countries today!" Hope blurted.

"The very nations God said would attack His city at the end of this age," Yuni added soberly. "These last three will make a valiant stand but be overwhelmed."

Suddenly they could hear yelling and angry chanting coming from inside the City. They peered over the edge of the wall and saw rivers of agitated people flowing into the Court of Nations.

Fern stood, sensing the frustration of the throngs. "We need to get down there."

***

Ezasen stood in a dark desert under a trillion burning suns. Kalos was with him.

Michael the Archangel was pulling a heavy chain, with links the size of coffins, out through the eye bolt that fastened a monstrously thick hatch to the desert floor.

The dry and cracking ground beneath them shook as the abyss before them belched forth endless blackened hordes of fallen angels. They seeped up and out like a broken sewer and filled the place to every horizon.

Those spirits who scrambled past Ezasen grunted and snarled, wagging their heads. As the demon tide spread ever outward, he saw their forms change from sniveling black to beautiful white and shining beings in glorious robes. They covered the Realm with their desperate deception and clever pleas.

Ezasen looked again toward the pit. Up from the depths flew the father of lies. He shown more magnificently than his minions. He paused, smiling, turned toward the north, then rocketed out of sight.

***

Yuni heard another new sound and caught Fern by the shoulder before she could start down the stairs. "Listen." The women crept to the outer edge of the wall, overlooking the quiet fields they had just crossed. From down among the reeds near the brook came popping sounds matched with minuscule flashes of light.

As they watched, the flashes grew in frequency and number, closing the gap between the river and the city. "I know that sound." Yuni stumbled back and held a hand over her mouth. "No, no, no! It's happening!"

Fern took her hand. "Your ExoGate design? They're arming troops." Yuni nodded, wiping tears away.

Hope was puzzled and studied the growing crowds below. Metallic, reflective surfaces moved about like ants. Each soldier wore a heavy suit of armor, some with smooth and curved shapes, others with harsh, chiseled angles. "Looks like they've included a Telegate on each of the ExoGates they shipped out to the construction companies! They're all coming to Jerusalem, east and west along the wall, as far as I can see."

Now Yuni was crying. Fern looked at Hope as if to say you're not helping. "Yuni, sweetie. God is in control. This isn't a surprise to Him. Like Esazen said, we all have a part to play. Hmm?"

Yuni nodded, still shaken.

Fern stood and helped the giant to her feet. "Now let's trust King Jesus. He'll take care of the men outside. I think He would want us to do what we can to help the souls inside."

Hope was still confused. "What can we do?"

"You have to talk to them, Miss Shepherd." Yuni managed. "Make them see they don't have to fight."

46

### Crucible

### Year 1000

Dr. Stephen Muramaja raced down the ramp to a garage level filled with old airbikes and skiffs. A man pulled up in a sleek, powerful skiff and called to him. "Greetings, brother, in the Name of the King of Peace. Get in! An angel has made it clear to me that I am to give you a ride to the Court of Nations."

The doctor slid to a stop and placed his hands on the ship's smooth hull. "I need to get there myself, but all the TeleGates are down. So, by all means!" He hopped in. "Who am I to thwart the will of the King?" He smiled, and they shot out of the building like an arrow.

The hatch sealed and Muramaja took a seat in what seemed to be a luxury passenger compartment. White NanoLeather bench seats lined the walls in an oval. Overhead, virtually every modern convenience and form of entertainment and communication were integrated smoothly into the black unibody ceiling.

"I couldn't find a Gate either. The consulate let me borrow this old V-series. It must be fifty years old! Help yourself to whatever you need." The mysterious driver offered over his shoulder. "And I'll understand if you refuse."

"I will gladly take some water, friend, but tell me. Who, besides our Maker, should I thank for such a kindness?" A cantine-shaped module filled with water slid from an opening in the seat. "And why, may I ask, is the Imgygohlan Consulate suddenly lending out limousines like library books?"

"My name is Tulamon Savano. Come. Join me in the cockpit."

"The Neutarsan Ambassador to Imgygoh?" The doctor stepped down into the cramped but glossy forward space and dropped rhombusly into the port bucket seat. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sir."

They shook hands as the needle-shaped ship darted south toward the red horizon. Savano increased their speed. "No need to sir me, since you are now also an ambassador. Congratulations." They shared a knowing glance. "But behind our smiles is the terrible weight of our respective unenviable posts, albeit momentary."

"Finally someone who understands." At this they both chuckled. A few moments passed in silence. "The thing I want to understand is how in the Realm did you come to find me back there and what you think our purpose in Jerusalem might be."

"The story of our strategic meeting tonight begins more than eight hundred years ago on a dock in the bustling seaport of Wittenberg." Savano dipped the skiff under a bridge.

"You speak of the legend of Onastasia, the sleeping beauty. My great-great-grandfather was convinced she was real."

"Mine, too."

***

Oni negotiated the narrow dock, stepping over and around endless crates and containers. She remembered a map she once saw of the port and roughly triangulated herself at the western edge of town just north of the fisheries. But what helped her the most was the ubiquitous and overpowering smell of fish.

Workers were busy guiding pallets on cranes from the dock to ships. Oni pardoned herself as she hurried past several of them, making sure to place a Gospel tract in their back pocket or work bag. Over the decades, she had become highly skilled at this reverse pick-pocketing, and most of the time the "victim" would find the pamphlet hours later.

The creaking wooden planks took a sharp turn to the north, and Oni dodged a couple palettes swinging across her path. She realized she had no real reason to be there and picked up her pace, hurdling and hopping like through an obstacle course. Workers began shouting. She didn't know if they were mad or cheering her on so she kept running. The dock was about to turn east back toward the shore when she heard a single voice above the rest.

From behind her, a man called out for her to stop. Oni suspected she might be in trouble, so she slowed and turned, ready to apologize for trespassing. Approaching her was a tan, leathery man with black hair and bushy eyebrows. He held in his hand one of her tracts.

"Hi. I am so sorry for—" Oni started.

"What is the meaning of this?" The man was clearly agitated. "How dare you come here and—"

"Look, I'm really sorry. My brother had an emergency, and he dropped me off right over—"

They both held up their hands and backed down. The man closed his eyes and took a long breath. "It is I who should apologize. My life has been a hard one, and I just got to a place where I was happy again after my family fell apart." He opened his eyes. "And then you come along and ruin everything all over again with your words of consequences and guilt." He clenched the paper in his fist then quickly began smoothing it out flat on the rough-hewn planks at his feet.

Oni slowly drew near and dared to put a hand on the man's sweaty shoulder. "Your life is like this piece of wood. Once a part of a magnificent tree, but ripped away and cut and shaped and laid bare for a new purpose."

The man weeped. "I have lost everything."

Oni knelt beside him. "Then you're in the perfect place for the King to build something amazing with your life, if you'll let Him."

"These things you say and write are too wonderful. I'm no tree that He would find me useful. I am just dirt."

Oni smiled. "I've seen God do some pretty impressive things with dirt."

They stood. "You have been kind. Thank you. I must return to my duties, but I will consider your words."

"Come by our building when your shift is done this evening. The address is on the pamphlet."

He finally smiled. "I will come. I will come."

"And I will be praying for you." She turned but stopped. "May I ask your name?"

Suddenly, they heard shouts and a blaring klaxon. Distracted, the man said, "My name is Minlos."

Then from somewhere high above, like a domino falling off a table, an entire shipping container came tumbling down on them and took a seven meter section of dock into the water.

***

Stephen saw the crimson glow of the Holy City drawing closer as they left Apex behind. "So you're descended from this Minlos? Fascinating!"

"Yes, directly. He also survived the incident, but was taken to a different hospital that day. God saved him later that week, but it took him months to track down his mysterious heraldess of joy."

Stephen glanced over at his new friend. "Hmm. Small Kingdom. I'm descended from Ava, the sister of Onastasia."

"You see? We are closely linked, you and I." Savano tapped a grey circle on the control console, and a small video feed began buffering. "Now to our solemn purpose in Jerusalem."

Footage of restless crowds in the Court of Nations played on the screen. A reporter's voice was speaking in sappy, worshipful tones. "...citizens from around the Realm have gathered to pay homage to the author of the Age, the king of culture, and president of the planet, Mr Graf Grove! His brilliance will shortly be on display as word has spread that he will be making a personal appearance among his billions of followers. What better location than here at Plaza One, where, as you can plainly see, humanity is coming together as one like never before..."

"And that's why I stopped listening to that filth." Stephen licked his teeth as if he had just tasted ash. "They twist the truth. They show you only what they want you to see."

"What they're not showing are the protesters and the picket screens." Savano slowed as they passed over open fields north of the City. "Look below. They're also not showing the millions of heavily armed soldiers that are arriving to surround the Camp of God. Sound familiar?"

"Revelation!" Stephen gawked at the endless columns of troops arrayed in glistening plates of Meta10. "Then Satan is loosed! The final battle! This is happening now!" His eyes welled up. "O, Sweet Lord of Lords, what can our task be in this darkest of nights? Spare your faithful children, O Good Shepherd!"

Savano was crying, too. "We've been placed in positions of influence in such a time as this, my brother, to mitigate loss of life and speak truth and sense into the minds of the weak and ignorant." He placed a hand on the other man shoulder. "Are you able to stand in the gap with me?"

"I am willing, and the King is able."

The video feed became static. A message appeared on the screen saying Your account is no longer valid. Gryphon Media regrets any inconvenience.

"We must be close enough to be noticed. Hang on." Savano steered the skiff in wide arcs left and right over the army. Energy discharges hissed past as eager soldiers took potshots at the intruding craft. "Buckle up. I'll try to get us close enough so we can access the Court."

"Thankfully, they can't aim." Stephen braced against the window as they rolled.

Lasers, projectiles, and even small pieces of machinery were launched at the skiff. The attack only grew more intense as they neared the Wall. Seconds before they crossed over, they heard a loud CLANK from somewhere aft on the ship's belly.

"What was that? Are we hit?"

"No time to find out. We're here." Savano lowered the skiff gently to the floor of the Plaza. Astonished people scrambled to get out of the way as the ten meter craft landed. The crowds erupted in cheers and chants and song.

"They think we're Graf, arriving to start his speech of love and unity. What do we do?"

"We play along. For now."

"I'm not going out there!"

"Put on your best security guard face." With that, Savano pushed Stephen out of the hatch and into the adoring throng.

***

"It might be safer back up on the Wall." Hope evaded some dancers and pushed through the crowd to keep up.

"I'll take my chances down here now that they're actually shooting at passing ships." Yuni felt completely exposed. "Just for today, I wish I was shorter."

Fern led the way toward the limo-skiff that had just set down. "I'm just going to talk to him," she said over her shoulder. "This is ridiculous. Someone's going to get killed."

There was no mob of bodyguards and blondes around the ship, just two men standing at the hatch looking lost. Fern approached them and was about to speak when she recognized one of them. "Mr Ambassador." She had to shout over the music and din. He looked at her and a wide smile of relief crossed his face.

"Ambassador Shepherd!" Stephen took her hand and shook it vigorously. The other man now turned. "I'm sure you know Ambassador Savano of Neutarsa."

"Ambassador."

"Ambassador."

Fern placed her head between theirs. "We need to talk. It's not safe for any of us to be here." The men nodded their understanding and started to follow her through the undulating crowd.

Savano stopped short and took a long glance at the long slender cone shaped device magnetically clamped to the belly of the skiff. Turning to the crowds, he used his strongest, loudest voice. "The president will be with you shortly!"

The masses erupted again in sheer glee and anticipation.

He flashed a smile then moved to follow the others. But, suddenly, in his path appeared a row of thirteen luminous beings, all angels except one. Ezasen stepped forward, and the entire Court went silent. Savano crawled between two of the heavenly soldiers, not looking back to see if they took note of him. He melted into the crowd.

Fern and the others gathered in an upper room on the inner wall overlooking the Plaza. They watched as brash members of the gathering dared to jibe and berate the shining ones. Fern had never heard such foul speech. Ezasen stood like stone for over an hour.

Finally, Fern sat on the plain floor, and together they began to pray and plan.

After seven hours, the festivities raged on. The revellers drew energy from some dark place, and violence broke out in pockets around the Court. Each infraction was met, as always, with swift and righteous judgment. Lightning dropped out of the cloudless morning sky, burning the guilty party to a crisp. Ezasen and the detachment under his command kept their stern vigil.

At last a second ship descended, this time a red, one-hundredfifty meter long space-worthy yacht. The force of its arrival blew Savano's skiff over against the base of the Wall. A ramp extended and down walked not Graf, but his very elderly father, Gryphon. The crowd whispered his name. Here was myth itself, come to visit the simpletons of the Realm. A voice called out. "Hail the Father of our favorite Son!" Others joined the song, and Gryphon soaked it in while a podium was set before him by his servants.

Ezasen watched the boy he had raised leaning on a cane, his hair white, his eyes sunken deep. Gryphon began to speak. His voice was still strong and persuasive.

Yuni, having crossed to the window to listen, suddenly had an idea. "That's it. A speech. Miss Shepherd, you need to address the people, each of you does, as ambassadors of your countries."

"She's right." Savano stood. "This is literally our last chance to warn these people of the judgement that is at hand. We may not have more than a few hours."

Now Stephen rose, his hands on his head. "They will tear us apart down there!"

"Not if we join Gryphon on his own stage." Fern headed for the door.

As everyone followed her out, Stephen took a deep breath. "I guess we're doing this."

***

Gryphon droned on eloquently about his many accomplishments and all the awards he had earned. Millions hung on his every word. Even the protesters, who had opposite views on many things, felt respect and admiration for this man who had almost singlehandedly forged their culture and identity. Their awe of him was like that of children to a father. Their love for his son, Graf, was the adoration of fans to a celebrity. Both devotions were held deeply.

As he gazed out over the diverse assembly, he noticed a giant making her way toward him. She followed four others with determined looks on their faces. He felt a wince of concern, then decided they were new arrivals just wanting a better view.

Without a pause, he continued to stroke the egos of various friends and politicians he had put in positions of power over the centuries, and he began to see the emptiness of his own words. Where was Graf? He could only keep this up for so long. During his next pan of the crowd, he saw that the giant had kindly taken a seat. Three of the others were now at the front row and not stopping. When he recognized them, he was so perplexed he almost skipped a beat, but recovered smoothly.

"And speaking of influential allies," Gryphon smiled broadly. "We have some honored guests among us today." He stared at Fern as if to say HELP ME! and Are you the next scheduled speaker? at the same time.

They joined him, smiling behind the podium, shaking hands and waving to the people. "Citizens of the Realm, please welcome Ambassadors Fern Shepherd of Chova, Dr Stephen Muramaja of Dodynia, and Tulamon Savano of Neutarsa." The crowds gave mixed verbal reviews, happy to have a change of pace.

Fern, still smiling, leaned in and whispered to Gryphon. "Play along, sir, or I will mention your little army on the other side of that wall."

He backed away gallantly. Nearby, Ezasen smiled and motioned for his troops to follow his lead. He and the angels vanished and reappeared behind the three ambassadors.

Fern never felt so brave. "Brothers, sisters, friends. Greetings in the Name of Jesus Christ, the Lion of the Tribe of Judah, King of kings, and Righteous Judge of the Realm."

Boos and cheers echoed out, but she continued. "I want to tell you a story today about a man, not unlike Mr Gryphon here, who lived Ages ago at a time when our world was united, but poised on the brink of massive, paradigmatic change. He stood out as a visionary, a technological genius, and a man of deep principles looking out for the good of his people and his planet.

"God directed this young man, he was about 500 years old, to build a ship, not much bigger than Mr Gryphon's impressive SaberHawk here, that would literally allow humanity itself to endure into the next age." Fern gestured to the red yacht above and behind her. "I speak, of course, of the man, Noah."

Cries of "Myth!" and "Fairytale!" rang out all over the Plaza.

"Why would I share such a story with you today, you might ask.

It is because we find ourselves at another such decision point for humanity. Today, King Jesus is the Ark. All who do not look to Him for salvation will perish."

Gryphon was dumbstruck. He moved toward he, but suddenly a sharp hissing sound grazed his ear, and he and the ambassadors slumped to the ground. The last thing he saw was his father's perfect face.

***

Gryphon awoke in a swirl of white and light. Blurry faces and muffled voices moved around him. He closed his eyes and focused on his hands. They felt a soft sheet. A cold metal rail. A cloth patch on his left wrist. A hand, another hand holding his right hand. He tried his eyes again. The world was still blurry and far too bright, but there, in the chaos, was his favorite face.

Though she looked so young, Lei Ming watched him with motherly eyes. "I'm here. Shh, shh. We're all here. It's alright."

More swirling as he turned his head to look around. Things were coming into focus.

She spoke softly again. "You're aboard the SaberHawk. You've sustained some pretty serious damage, but you're going to live."

The other people in the room drew closer. Now he knew he was hallucinating. His sister, Ava. His brother, Cord. Leelah, his adopted sister, stood to his left. And Onastasia herself. They all smiled at him. They were all dressed in white, and beamed with such beauty and perfection that he fought the urge to worship them.

He sat up and unbelievable pain racked his head, neck, and back. He lay back down and glanced to his side. There was a box next to Leelah. Something floating inside? Then the scene returned to his memory. The Court of Nations. The speech. The ambassadors!

Fern Shepherd was still unconscious, submerged in clear, gelatinous medical brine.

"They had you both in there for a while." Oni sat on the left side of his bed. "She's gonna be fine."

Ezasen stood at Gryphon's feet. "Ambassador Muramaja didn't make it, Grif. He was killed instantly." Gryphon looked confused. Ezasen explained. "A sniper was found, more than two kilometers south along the outer Wall." Ezasen's young face and tone turned grim. "Now, I have to ask you this, Son. Did you know about the gunman?" Gryphon closed his eyes and shook his head. "Did you know about the military presence north of the City before you arrived?"

Again, Gryphon shook his head weakly. "Where is—Where is my son?"

"He's halfway around the Realm doing his best Ignatius de Loyola impersonation, Grif. Your son is leading some dark, mystical ceremonies in a cave. Been going on for days." Ezasen crossed his arms the way he did when Gryphon was in trouble as a kid. "It doesn't look like he has any intention of making any appearance in Jerusalem today, Grif." Leelah put a hand on Ezasen's arm and guided him out of the room.

"Dad loves you, Beanpole." Oni rapped her brother on the head. "Even when you do stupid stuff."

"Ow! That hurt." Gryphon raised his arms in defense. "I've just been shot!"

She tapped him again.

"Stop it! I am extremely old and frail."

"Is that right?"

"Yes. In fact, you could call me Methuselah now."

"Impressive." Both Oni and Lei Ming chuckled, then Oni added, "You know I've talked to him about it. He's pretty cool about the whole 'oldest person' thing. He did admit feeling some relief when somebody finally outlived him."

"I imagine it would take the pressure off some." Lei Ming offered thoughtfully.

***

Leelah stood in silence at Ezasen's side on the observation deck. They watched the majestic column of cloud rising from the Mountain. It took her back to some of her earliest memories. How the world had changed since those innocent days of exploring jungle rivers and riding on the backs of cats across a pristine planet. And there stood the immutable Mountain, keeping watch over the Realm.

"The King is on His throne, Hapa." She rested her head on his shoulder.

Ezasen put an arm around her. A minute passed, then he turned and smiled. "Thanks for coming. It means a lot to all of us that you could be here, with family, as we start another chapter."

"It's still hard to believe that Fern is my distant descendant."

"It's harder to believe that Gryphon is my descendant!"

Leelah smiled. "Yeah, leave it Grif to wait until THE last possible day to choose which kingdom to spend eternity in."

Then Thirzah, Ezasen's wife, stepped in from the bridge. Her eyes were bright and full of hope. "How is my son?"

"He's—" Leelah began to say, but suddenly the entire vessel shuddered violently, jerking to port. Every light, screen, and system went dark, and the SaberHawk began to drop out of the sky. Invulnerable, the three of them ran down the shadowy hall to the medical bay.

"How many UGs on board?" Ezasen barked.

"Three on the Bridge. I'll get them." Leelah banked off the ceiling through a portal and was gone.

"That leaves just our two patients." Ezasen and Thirzah arrived to see Cord and Ava carrying Gryphon and Fern toward a portal. The others had ported out moments before. "Let's go!" Ezasen shouted as they stepped through onto a broad, natural pillar of rock fifteen kilometers north of the City. They were all together and the UnGlorifieds were safe.

They watched as Gryphon's yacht spun and smoked. It slammed into a grassy field filled with sheep and statue-like, armored troops and exploded rather magnificently.

Gryphon lay on Thirzah's lap. She stroked his stiff, white hair. "He's having trouble breathing."

Ezasen turned to Fern. She was awake but still in intense pain. Lei Ming sat over her and studied her vital signs with her flesh-penetrating eyes. "When the lights went out, she was thrown from the brine pod." Lei Ming rubbed her hands together vigorously then closed her eyes. She held her hands on either side of Fern's abdomen. Hundreds of nearly microscopic, sparking portals popped open between her hands and sunk gently onto her body like fireflies. Through the portals flowed oils, minerals, herbs, and helpful proteins, delivered directly to her bloodstream. Lei Ming glanced over at Gryphon. She marveled that though, in mortal life, she was racked with chronic pain and memory loss, she now could bring healing and comfort to others.

Leelah ported the three bewildered Bridge crewmembers to their respective homes in Wimmral, Throne, and Thicket and was back in under thirty seconds. "I took a look around, and I know what brought the Hawk down," she said sadly. "It was an ElectroMagnetic Pulse, delivered from orbit."

"An EMP?" Cord asked. "How wide?"

Fern cleared her throat and answered weakly. "It's everywhere." She coughed. "This hemisphere, anyway. We knew from Scripture that an innumerable military force would surround and attack the Camp of God at the end of the Age, before the Consuming Fire came." She closed her eyes. "So we developed and deployed EMP generators around the Realm, ready for today."

"I suppose you perpetrated this act of terrorism in order to save lives?" Ezasen was furious.

"Of course."

Oni kneeled down next to her, calm but curious. "Three days ago, before their scheduled flight to Jerusalem, the flying city of Rish was grounded due to 'mechanical difficulties.'"

"That was us." Fern winced and held her side. "Couldn't take any chances that the pulse would knock them out of the air."

"Like the SaberHawk." Ezasen turned and watched the smoke rise from the burning remains of the ship.

Thirzah adjusted her legs under Gryphon. "We'll ask one final question, dear." And she glared at Ezasen. "When you say 'us,' who's us?"

"A small team. Mostly Chovans."

"Chovans!" Ezasen turned and put his hands on his hips. "A culture that shuns technology turns to tech to thwart their perceived enemy."

Leelah, too, was watching the field below. "Well, it worked. Look at the troops down there. They're all frozen in place. Trapped inside their Exosuits."

Ezasen ordered, "Cord, Ava. Check it out. See if anyone else is seriously injured. And be sure to share the Gospel with everything that breathes." They nodded, then vanished.

"With Satan and his legions loose once again on the Realm, we've had to pitch in where we can." Still staring to the south, Ezasen stated, "You've lost your Heavenly perspective, Ambassador. The battle belongs to the Lord."

Suddenly, Kalos stood among them. "Sir, events are developing in the City. The King requires your presence." Then he was gone.

Ezasen looked around at the group.

"You go," Thirzah offered in a motherly tone. "We'll get them the care they need."

Ezasen smiled appreciatively then disappeared with Leelah and Onastasia, his two best operatives.

47

### DragonSong

The pillar of fire flooded the Realm with red luminescence. The sun had set for the last time.

Cord materialized next to his father on the Wall. "Denizens of Dodinya, Neutarsa, and Chova, the nations whose ambassadors were attacked, have rallied and are marching to Jerusalem. Dad, you won't believe this, but they've resorted to riding animals. When they arrive at the first lines of the frozen Imgygohan forces, they strike with sticks and knives, anything they can fashion into a weapon."

"Those trapped in the Exosuits don't stand a chance. Ava and I examined several of them earlier. Their skin, their bodies are fused to the armor. Graf never meant for them to survive the night. Some are already dead."

Ezasen was focused. "Thanks, Cord. Find a way to free the soldiers from their armor. Put together a team. Grab whoever you need."

"Already started." Cord turned to go. "I'll report back as soon as we find something."

"One more thing, Cord. Miss Shepherd mentioned the EMP hit only half the planet."

"More of Graf's troops are Telegating in every moment. From the styles of their armor, they're from every country that still has power. Galileus. New Bethany. Zuzim. Some are coming through without armor. They must be aware of the fate of their fellow troops."

"We always wondered how the Accuser would gather so quickly so many to his cause."

As Cord left, fighting had broken out inside the Court of Nations itself. Ezasen dropped easily from the Wall to the floor of the Court and landed next to Savano's skiff. Something didn't seem right. Why hadn't it been moved before now.

He closed his eyes and concentrated. The molecules of his body slid apart from one another, and he sank into the floor so just his head and shoulders showed. He floated over to the skiff and slipped under the hull. On its belly, clamped on with strong magnets was a long, cone-shaped shell.

Ezasen recognized it instantly, and a thousand years of guilt, angst, secrets, and regrets crushed his soul. Here was the Mosasaur Missile, the nuclear warhead Leelah and the Fireknife children had found in that cave so long ago. He had been given so many chances to destroy it or report it, and now, somehow, it had made its way to the end of the age, to Jerusalem, to the very tipping point of history.

His mind staggered, and he prayed to the King for wisdom.

Graf had obtained the warhead at some point in the last eighty years or so, Ezasen thought. But from whom, and how? If it went off in the Court, it would kill millions, obviously Graf's intent. If Ezasen could move it over the Wall, at least if it detonated outside, it would wipe out a good portion of the gathering armies.

No, he was starting to think like Fern. This wasn't his fight. He must somehow send this menace far away, something he should have done centuries ago, like when he died in space and gained all these new abilities from the hand of the Lord.

"Space!" He shouted out loud. He would send the nuke into space, and it could explode harmlessly. Could he make a portal that big? Make it on the floor of the Court, and the skiff would fall right through. "Thank you, Lord, for the idea."

He eased up out of the ground and stood at full density once more next to the craft. He thought of a position in empty space about halfway between the Milky Way and Andromeda galaxies, and a portal began to de-phase the stones under the nose of the skiff. So far, so good.

The nose dropped a little faster than he wanted, and he inadvertently reached out to steady it. Power from his glorified body arced along the hull and activated the warhead. The timer read, ten seconds. Nine...

"My God, what have I done?"

Six...

Suddenly there was a man next to him, pushing the craft out of phase and also pushing it toward the Wall.

Four...

Ezasen caught on and began pushing as well, smiling a thanks to the stranger. The man was barely more than a boy. The skiff was halfway into the Wall. Where had Ezasen seen those eyes before?

Three...

Now the warhead and timer were inside the Wall. The man was glorified, obviously. He wore a kurta made of curious material. Was it wool? And as they pushed the skiff the rest of the way in, Ezasen noticed a ram's horn pendant on a leather strap around the man's neck.

Two, one.

The warhead, now fully encased within the indestructible wall of Jerusalem, went off, and the entire Court of Nations wobbled about three millimeters.

The two men embraced. "Name's Benjamin Bleeker," the man said as they shook hands. "Looks like the Lord allowed us to take care of that abomination ourselves after all, and together."

He disappeared before Ezasen could even say thanks.

***

Graf dropped the black hood from his head. "It's time." But his voice was not his own.

A female, also dressed in black, turned to him. "All is in readiness, my lord." A portal opened before them, and they stepped through onto a balcony just outside the bridge of a gargantuan city ship called the DragonSong.

"Forward." Graf lifted two fingers barely off the rail, and the sky peeled back in five directions, opening a dark rift above the sunlit jungle. Night and the prize lay on the other side, and the ship glided through.

On the ground, on the sea, and in the air around the Camp of God, chaos wrought more and more havoc. All out war between the humans was everywhere, and Graf breathed in the sweet stench of it. The pitiful dogs from the three wayward nations were all but erased from memory, and Death was feasting on the rest.

The DragonSong came to halt a few kilometers north of, and above, the Holy City. "Look at them scurry. I—" Graf paused. His head whipped to the right. "Michael, Michael, Michael. Where have you been cowering?"

The Archangel stood a few meters away. Behind him were twelve thousand angels, fully armed and prepared for this moment. "Yahweh rebuke you, serpent." Michael drew his sword. "Your forever cage awaits."

Graf looked horrified as the Enemy was knocked out of him. A moment later, the grin returned. "I'm not done prowling yet." He closed his eyes and raised his hands. "To me!" he ordered imperously.

Wave after wave of demon hoards spilled out of the ship, and soon the sky was filled with them. The holy angels engaged, and more heavenly forces arrived. Michael took a step closer and the Accuser leaped out of Graf, shining with a radiance so stunning, even the Archangel placed a hand in front of his eyes.

Graf slumped to the floor. The woman who traveled with Him backed slowly away. She could not see the fierce spiritual battles raging all around her. Finally, she crept over to him. He was unconscious. She dropped her hood now, and lavender locks tumbled down around her coppery face. "Got him." She tapped on her earpiece, pulled Graf out of his cloak, slung him over her shoulder, then jumped over the railing of the balcony onto the curved, sloping hull of the ship.

"Bring him down, Axali," a garbled voice instructed in her ear.

She ran, full tilt, down the side of the city until she was essentially falling next to the vertical hull. Her cloak flew off, and she made one final push with her feet away from the DragonSong and into the open sky above the greatest human battle in history.

It was a spectacle she would never forget. They plummeted for few more seconds, then she said, "Anytime, Iver. Or did you forget I'm not Glorified quite yet?"

A portal opened, and they whooshed through. A moment of vertigo later, they were traveling sideways and slowing down. A second portal appeared and they slid through. Now they were 'falling' upward, still burning off the momentum of their initial descent. When they finally slowed to a stop and began to fall downward again, a third and final portal opened under them, and they landed with the same force as stepping off a curb.

Axali lay Graf down on the white cobblestone floor and walked over to Iver. "Epic ride. Next time, you skydive and I'll control the ports." She feigned annoyance but actually had never been so exhilarated.

"Thank you, Zolly, for pretending to be his lackey for a few hours." Iver smiled then picked up Graf and followed her into the next room. Three medical bay beds stood at the center of the otherwise plain room. In the first bed lay Gryphon, mending well and taking nourishment from his mother, Thirzah. Oni and Lei Ming stood nearby. Fern was leaning on the second bed, trying to stand and walk for the first time since being shot earlier that day. Leelah was helping her balance.

Leaning against the far wall was Mei Yun, the giant from Rish. Next to her sat Dr Zuph, the Dwarf. When Graf was brought in, they got up and helped lay him on the third bed. "So do we strap Beelzebub down, or...?" Zuph asked with a wry smile.

"Not funny," Iver humphed, then squinted at the doctor. "Better strap him down."

A brilliant flash of light later, Ezasen and Kalos appeared looking exhausted. "So this is your 'team,' Miss Shepherd?" Ezasen surmised as he approached Graf's sleeping form.

Fern eased her shoulders back, standing straight. "Capable and faithful, Sir."

"To a fault, I'm sure." Ezasen looked at his grandson, and a tidal wave of compassion almost staggered him. "Wake him up, Doctor Zuph. Kalos, you know what to do."

The angel raised a hand to pause events.

"Concerns?"

"Sir, with all due respect and a deeply shared burden for this family that I love," Kalos began.

"Yes?"

"Is not your place out there, in the fray, in this darkest of hours?"

"My place, K, right now, is here." Ezasen breathed slowly. "Our Christ is on His throne. The Day is His. So I am—we are trusting the ninety-nine to Him and going after the one that is lost."

"Two, actually." Gryphon broke the long silence. "Going after the two that are lost."

Kalos drew his oversized sword. "As you command, then, Sir." Kalos was joined by hundreds of angels. They filled the room and some shared the same physical space as the human team members.

Dr Zuph cleared his throat and steadied his hands. "Now when we wake him up, the big bad snake is going to know where he is. He might already know—"

Axali closed her eyes. "He already knows."

"But we're hoping K and his buddies can keep everybody occupied while we do our thing."

"What is our thing, again?" Gryphon asked, mouth full of mango.

Zuph tapped a gold circle on his tablet, and Graf blinked his eyes a few times. He tried to sit up. "Where am I?" He stared at the faces around him. At first, between some of his blinks, he could see the angels in the room, all watching the ceiling. "I think I'm having the most bizarre dream ever."

Fern, though still weak, leaned over him. "You're safe. Your family is here."

Just then, on the spiritual plane, the demonic onslaught ensued, and only the Glorifieds could sense it.

"I don't know how much time we have, so I'll get straight to the point." Ezasen leaned in, too. "Graf, my son. Jesus, your Judge, is the Way, the Truth, and the Life. He died, was buried, and rose again, defeating Satan and sin. Do you repent and believe so that you might be saved from everlasting Hell?"

"You people are insane!" Graf writhed under the straps on his wrists. "Let me out of here!" Suddenly, there was a rip on his left strap. He cursed and yelled in sheer panic. "They're coming for me again!" One arm came free and knocked Zuph flat on his back. A thousand demons were clawing at him, pushing relentlessly against the mesh of angels surrounding his bed.

Then a quiet voice nearby said a single word. "Jesus."

The dark ones all suddenly shrieked in agony and scattered, not only because the Name had been uttered, but also because of the miracle that precipitated its utterance.

Gryphon sat on his bed, a tiny stain of blueberry on his white beard, serenely looking up toward Heaven. As everyone turned, they saw a growing, spreading, glowing design on his forehead. It depicted the four Hebrew letters that spelled the Name of God, and it was as unique as a snowflake.

All over the room in the spiritual dimension, such a celebration broke out among the angels that it spilled out into the halls and onto the streets of Jerusalem. They glorified God and shouted praises. The team, engulfed in worship themselves, untied Graf. They found themselves outside under the night sky, dancing and singing for joy. This gave Graf a chance to slip away.

Ezasen couldn't hold back his delight. He looked at his smiling son and saw peace where he had never seen it before. The UGs were caught up in the jubilee but weren't aware of the full scope of the event. Ezasen prayed. "Gracious Lord, let them see!"

The King opened their eyes and showed them the myriads and myriads of Heavenly hosts giving thanks to God for this one last soul that was added to the Book of Life.

That Book was not then closed. It remained open in a spectacular hall of Heaven that housed a great white throne.

***

Graf sulked down the shadowy side of a narrow Jerusalem street, looking over his shoulder. He felt violated and forgotten. His empire, the world he had sculpted with his bare hands was slipping away, dissolving like salt in water. He had been deceived. He had been manipulated by powers no man could have anticipated or comprehended.

Everything else those bigoted glow worms preached was coming to pass, so he guessed this Skystones prophecy was about to as well. How he hated them! With their shiny morality and effortless accomplishments. And now his father had betrayed him, the man who had handed thankless billions their lives of convenience on a silver platter. But he had become so out of touch with what today's people needed and wanted. Backstabbing, egotistical—.

Graf spun and began creeping back the way he had come, determined to hurt his father badly before the sky itself came crashing down. He passed under an arch and down into the Court of Nations. A happy celebration was underway. Hundreds of people, most dressed in white, were singing and dancing. He stayed in the shadows and moved along the wall until he spotted Gryphon.

The podium from yesterday's speeches lay in splinters between him and his obviously drunk father. These self-righteous snowflakes had officially gone mentally through the portal, as they say. He picked up a long, triangular shard of Meta10, walked over to his father, and pushed the makeshift blade up between his ribs.

The crowd scattered, and Gryphon slumped to his knees, grasping the point of the blade with his bloody hands. Graf stepped back as his father turned to face him, gulping for air. The fresh mark on Gryphon's forehead began to flicker, then fade. He smiled at his son as he sank to the stone pavement.

Graf cursed then ran into the night.

Ezasen finally reached Gryphon and knelt beside him. The ground began to quiver. "Grif, my son. My son." He kissed his head and stood back. Now the ground was rumbling, even in inside Jerusalem. Gryphon's body lay dead. A moment later, shining particles drifted up from his corpse and soon reformed in the shape of a perfectly young Gryphon standing there. The new Grif hugged his dad.

As an earthquake started to break up the stones beneath their feet, Ezasen herded his family together. "The entire Realm will be shaken. I'm afraid only the Holy City will survive."

"Where can we go that wouldn't be susceptible to seismic activity?" Ava polled the group. "Four of us haven't translated yet."

Zuph was holding on to Yuni's leg. "You mean we haven't died. Well, we're going to soon enough!"

"Maybe a boat, or—"

"Got it!" Gryphon had to shout over the tumult. "Follow me!" It took him a couple tries, but he opened a portal and stepped through. Everyone was eager to join him. He lead them down a corridor into a hangar of sorts. Equipment was falling and sliding everywhere. "Sit tight. Let's get this thing off world." He nodded at Axali, the second best pilot in the group, and they jogged to the far end of the room to a small hatch.

Climbing through, Axali found herself in a cockpit with two seats. All the controls and interfaces were standard Gryphon design, and she had the powerful engines humming in a few seconds. She finally looked out the forward viewport and saw a sandy beach on a sunny day.

"Jonathan's Arrow. Home sweet home." Gryphon regretted it instantly.

"Beautiful, for a prison," Axali hissed as the craft lifted off. She pushed the thrusters hard, locked in autopilot, and stood up in the cramped space. "How dare you so casually forget decades of lies and—and tinkering! You made me a monster. I thought I was the one with memory issues. Unbelievable."

Gryphon braced himself against the ceiling. "I—I am so sorry."

She pushed by Iver as he stuck his head through the hatch.

"Come on, Zolly," Gryphon whined.

"Whatever you did, take it down a level," Iver said, holding Gryphon inside the cockpit. "You've only been perfect for what, like, four minutes?"

As the ship, with the name Emerald Dawn etched on its flank, rose above the cotton clouds and into the pitch blackness of space, the team could hear the muffled clinks of tiny objects pelting the outer hull.

"GeoSync orbit," Iver announced as he and Gryphon rejoined everyone in the hold. "Not that it's going to do any good. This is Nine-B, isn't it?"

Ezasen leaned over the scanner. "Revelation chapter twenty, verse nine. 'And they marched up over the broad plain of the earth and surrounded the camp of the saints and the beloved city, but fire came down from heaven and consumed them.'"

"On screen, GWEN," Gryphon said, and the room was filled with a wireframe facsimile of the scene outside. An earth with its loyal moon crackled around in a dance.

Then, suddenly, as if on cue, a rift in space opened up, and a wave of energy emerged and washed over the moon, turning it into a trillion flaming boulders headed for Realm. "That was twenty-eight minutes ago."

Yuni covered her mouth. "The earthquake was the result of the gravitational disruption caused by the destruction of the moon."

Gryphon tapped a blue circle on a console, and the blast shield covering the starboard viewport slid down to a crack. The long slit gave the team a glimpse of Realm. Axali remained in a corner, head on her knees.

The fiery wave impacted the planet and continued on its path undaunted. Left in its wake, save the Holy City, was a black husk.

No trees. No oceans. It was over in a matter of seconds.

Fern and Yuni were drowning in sobs. Even the glorified men were overcome with grief and loss.

"So this is how it all ends." Zuph found the words after several minutes of silence.

"No." Mei Yun glanced at Fern. "This is how it all begins."

48

### Goodbye to Earth and Sky

Axali stood and marched off down the corridor. She found a narrow mess hall with a table and sat on it with her back toward the door. For some reason, she couldn't cry for humanity. She closed her eyes and studied the world of information in her mind, the part of her that knew everyone and every place and every number, but only clinically.

Maybe it was the sterility of this vast familiarity that made her cold to their wholesale obliteration today. She saw their weaknesses, their sin, the pointless entertainments they so easily filled their days with, in spite of the presence of the Person who was the solution to their souls' greatest need.

"I bet you could use some perspective," Iver said from the door.

"Go away." She didn't turn.

"That's exactly what I have in mind." He smiled that smile she could almost hear.

"I might remind you I have a raging, love-hate relationship with outer space," she growled. "And can I go an hour without enduring your cryptic riddles?"

Then she heard the crackle of a portal open in the corridor, and she couldn't help but turn and look. He chuckled that laugh she loved. "We may not have an hour!"

It was easy to look right past him. Through the portal she saw a nebula, frozen with delicate pinks, bright lemon yellows, and amorphous pockets of green. In front of it stood four human silhouettes on a glossy Meta10 floor, their reflections unbroken extensions of their cloth-clad forms. Axali knew them almost before they turned to see her, even though their ancient selves now dwelt in ageless bodies. She and Iver stepped through.

"Greetings in the Name of the Everlasting Father." Count Tholomew smiled as the group neared her. "Welcome, Zolly."

"You look like a Thad again!" Axali ran and buried her head in his chest. Lady Iana placed a hand on her shoulder, and they embraced joyfully. Hector and Claire each gave her hugs. "And you, Sir, have misplaced your tattoos."

Hector smiled and rolled his arms in and out. "The old things have passed away."

"Behold, new things have come." A young woman entered the stark observation deck from another part of this strange ship.

"Your Highness!" Axali clapped with glee and ran to her. Dr Kori Townsend gave her a kiss on her head.

Axali was finally pulled back to the view of the nebula. "So why the family reunion?" She walked to the transparent wall. "Where are we?" For the first time in decades, she honestly didn't know.

Always the astronomer, Thad clasped his hands behind his back. "Ever heard of something called GN-z11?"

"Sure. Around the time of the Rapture, it was one of the farthest observed galaxies from Earth. Only six hundred light years across." She closed her eyes and performed an image search. "But this can't—"

"Can and is." Thad's perfect eyebrows bounced. "This nebula is located on that galaxy's southernmost arm. We were about to name it."

Axali marveled at the unexpected symmetry of the cloud. She could make out a broad nose and mouth shape, much like a lion's, surrounded by six open-book shapes. Above the nose burned two brilliant pulsars, just where the cat's eyes should be. "It looks noble, majestic even."

Everyone nodded in agreement.

"So with hours left of the known universe, you decide to have picnic at its edge?" She asked the group at large.

Zaliana answered. "We were directed here, and oddly enough, we were told to bring a ship, so we all assumed we would be meeting up with a special guest."

"Someone who still needs air and gravity and stuff like that?"

"Stuff like that." Zaliana smiled and gave her shoulder a squeeze.

"Well, then how long have you been out here?" Axali continued staring at the lion outside.

Thad put a hand to his chin. "Just long enough to get some perspective, I guess."

Axali glanced back at Iver who stood near the wall. "Hmm. I smell a conspiracy to cheer me up."

"Did it succeed?" Iver approached the group, not really knowing any of them well.

"Ask me in an hour." Axali smiled and felt drawn to survey the ship that was brought here for her. Its walls were dark and organic in shape and texture. The clear wall of the observation deck was sloped from side to side in a bell curve with vertical supporting ribs every two meters. It was a signature Capali design. Finally, a ship that wasn't designed by Gryphon Systems.

Thad said in a commanding tone, "Take us in."

"Really? Cool!" Axali hurried to her left out of the observation deck and into a spacious corridor. Every surface, save the floor, was curved and felt alive with power and energy flowing fore and aft. Almost subconsciously, she looked up a schematic for this kind of craft and followed the map in her head to the round bridge. The captain's chair sat out on a shelf overlooking the forward screens. She sat down eagerly. In a great circle around the shelf, as if looking at a clock that was touching her nose, hung a number of workstations from the ceiling, walls, and floor.

"GWEN, take us into the nebula."

Two projectors, one above and one below, blinked on, and a holographic woman appeared, floating in mid air. She wore white gold robes, and her crimson hair was pinned up and back by dozens of fluttering gold butterflies. A bursting halo hovered behind her head.

Complying, Axali.

The artificial voice was very different.

However, I must inform you that I am not the Gryphon Worldwide Enhanced Network. I am called TRZA, the Trans-Realm Zone Assistant. Pleased to meet your acquaintance.

"Likewise!" Axali brought her legs up into the chair. "So you were developed in Teops. When were you brought online?"

One point one seven years ago. Better late than never. The image smiled.

"I apologize for assuming you were GWEN, TRZA." Axali reached out and passed her finger along the computer-generated hem of her robes. The cloth moved out of the way, reacting to her touch. "I know how much it can hurt to be ignored and abused. Semi-omniscience is seriously overrated."

Thank you, but it is truly my pleasure to serve. A few moments went by. Do I understand correctly that you have experienced omniscience at some level, or are you simply exaggerating, as your species is prone to do?

The ship silently hurtled toward the nebula's core.

"There was a time, many decades ago, when I downloaded a copy of GWEN into my brain." Axali leaned her head back and watched the forward screen, now filled with vibrant colors. "I calculate that she has acquired more than two thousand four hundred times additional data since then." She breathed slowly.

Curious. Your friends mentioned you were unique.

"Unique is overrated, too." Axali smiled and stretched. "Iver missed his calling as a therapist. All these new experiences are doing me a realm of good."

"I'm so glad." Iver stood at the door behind her.

Axali leaned further back and looked at him upside down. "How about a chai latté and a nap?"

"For me? How nice!" He stepped onto the shelf, chuckling. "It's actually time to go. There are a couple more friends I want you to say hi to."

She followed him back down the corridor to the OD. Her friends were gone, but standing there at the entrance were Teckla and Gretchen, whom they met on the island of Solace while being hunted by Dr Pelekos.

"Greetings, Dear One, in the Name of Him who was, and is, and is to come." Gretchen, normally stoic, was almost trembling with excitement. Axali ran and hugged them both. Teckla kept glancing over her shoulder.

Teckla held Axali's hands. "It is time, Axali. The Heavens and the Realm are about to be uncreated, but first, the Enemy, that Serpent, the Accuser of the Brethren, must be cast down."

"Isn't this where you open a portal, and we walk through?" Axali was uncomfortable with the extra moments of silence and looked at all three of them in turn.

"You have outlived all your friends." Teckla became sober and serious. "Where we are going, your mortal body will not survive."

Axali, in this moment, felt like she had finally grown up. "I'm ready. Absent from the body; present with the Lord."

"No more GWEN. Just Axali." Iver put a hand on her shoulder.

Axali recoiled just a centimeter, then took a deep breath. "Got it. I'm not sure I'll even miss her."

Gretchen placed a hand on her other shoulder and announced, "Axali Nuria Therion, you are the last living mortal. In the Name of God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit, be translated into glory."

***

Ezasen stood once again in that dark desert.

This time, there were no demons scurrying in anticipation of some long-planned mischief. No triumphant so-called architect of the universe, whose many names included Zeus, Allah, Marduk, Baal, Baphomet, Moroni, and Buddha. This was the death of deception itself.

Michael the Archangel appeared, holding Lucifer in one hand and a limp, black cloak in the other. He marched across the scorched land and stopped next to a dead tree. Without a word or ceremony, Michael smashed the spirit Satan and the physical cloak together with a horrendous clap of thunder. Satan shrieked and writhed as the cloak wrapped first around his wrists and ankles then coiled up his legs and his arms, giving him a permanent, corporeal shape. Last, the thick skin attached his hands to his feet behind him, bending him sickeningly backward.

The Enemy lay there in the ash, now laboring to breathe for the first time. The cloak, now his very musculature, skeleton, and dermis, was made of an imperishable, but highly flammable substance much like pitch. Even his eyes were now composed of the caustic substance prepared for all souls that deny the Christ.

Michael picked up the whimpering prisoner and held him at arm's length. He dropped him and, between him and the ground, a crimson portal opened, swallowing the Serpent then closing around him and vanished. For the briefest of moments, Ezasen could hear a pair of unRealmly, agonized screams. Without looking back, Michael strode away, fading from this plane as he went.

To the east, a brilliant light made Ezasen squint. Was it the sun rising?

***

Ezasen turned and suddenly he was back aboard the Emerald Dawn. Alone.

Particles of fine, metallic dust swam in the sunbeam that broke through the slit in the blast shield. A golden stripe clung to the opposite wall, rising and falling over consoles, controls, and cables. The gravity was obviously turned off. He was standing on the ceiling.

He pushed off and floated over to the viewport. Realm's sun, normally blindingly bright in the vacuum of space, seemed tired now compared to the brilliance he had witnessed when he beheld Creator God. He surveyed the starscape, easily locating the Milky Way. The light shifted, and he realized that Realm had moved in front of the sun, eclipsing it. From this distance, the planet was a perfect, bald sphere. Around it orbited a cloud of debris, all that was left of the moon.

Christ had returned. The thousand years were completed. Satan had been loosed and then discarded. What was left?

He heard a snapping sound and whirled around, almost losing his grip on the viewport frame. Gryphon had appeared. He was standing on the true floor over Ezasen's head.

He smiled to see his son saved and eternally safe. "So, why the Emerald Dawn?"

"I really like green." Gryphon vanished and reappeared at his father's side. "And I was running out of names that had both cat and bird references in them."

They gazed in satisfying silence at the black sphere that was their home for a millennium. "Dad, I need to apologize to you for so many things."

It was easy for Ezasen to see in Gryphon's regenerated eyes the self-willed, wanderlusting boy he had raised. There was no need to figure out how to respond to his son's words. "I love you, and I forgive you." He smiled.

"You've always said that so readily."

Ezasen smiled. "It's because my love for you was settled, unalterably established, when I first held your pooping little self in my arms."

Gryphon cocked his head to the side. "I was actually pooping? At that moment?"

"Seems like it. You pooped a lot."

"I have been so cruel to you, both before and after your Translation. Why is it, only now, when I've been translated myself, that I begin to understand how dark and starving my soul was?" Gryphon saw a ripple among the stars. "You stood by me, Dad, holding your hand out to me like God did for the Israelites, while I spat on it over and over again." The ripple became an imperceptibly thin line of... fire? "You were tempted to spit back."

"Yep." Ezasen, too, saw the fiber grow into a ribbon. It now stretched across half the sky. "My love for you was settled, but far from perfect."

"That's it, isn't it? The fire that will dissolve all matter in creation." Gryphon's eyes were wet.

Ezasen passed through the hull of the ship and stood on the NanoSolar Array. "Where are the others?"

Gryphon followed. He reached out his hand and closed his eyes. "In Jerusalem." He smiled. "Yes. I can feel all of them." Then he scoffed. "I spent centuries designing increasingly intricate technologies, always lauding the infinite potential of man, in some maniacal quest for—for connection with—connection with something, with someone." He opened his eyes. All those hours, days that the King so graciously gave me! Wasted. Squandered!"

The ribbon of fire swallowed the sun, replacing every atom with energy.

Ezasen put a hand on his son's shoulder. "And now?"

"Now I know the Peace I sought with such vehemence, and the connection I was missing, too. With God, with others."

"The past is in the past, Grif." Ezasen could feel the cold of space getting warmer. Realm was swept away. He pointed toward the wave of burning, raging destruction that now filled the sky. "How about we face this new adventure together?"

"I'll race you!" Gryphon yelled as the ship began to vibrate and disintegrate.

They both smiled and jumped.

49

### The Many and the Few

### Year 702

Axali sat on the back of a sea turtle as it floated around the estuary. The sun was behind a foreboding cumulonimbus as it crept closer from the south. A light gust pushed by the short-cropped hair above her ears, and she turned to look for Bogdan somewhere below her in the sapphire depths.

Up he jumped, riding on a baby orca whale, splashing Axali and knocking her off her steed. He squealed in delight until he realized she had fallen in. Although Bogdan was only eight, he was a strong swimmer and rushed to her side.

"I'm ok, Bogs!" she shouted, laughing and splashing him back. "Just because I've got a robot arm and a robot leg doesn't mean I can't swim, just not as well as you."

"Glad to hear it, Zolly!" Bogdan replied, looking for his Orca. "That means I'll beat you back to shore and the last mango muffin!"

She protested with a high-pitched screech of her own, and the race was on. "No, no, no. I was saving that for later! You've already had, like, five!"

Bogdan won and sat victoriously on their blanket under the broad fan branches of a licuala grandis. He tore the muffin in two and threw one half in his mouth. He held out the other half to Axali, but when she smiled and reached for it, he took off running in the white sand, giggling around the eastern edge of the water.

She took a few steps after him and stopped, her mechanical leg refusing to perform on the uneven terrain. So she sat on the blanket and peeked at her two-year-old leg inside the thigh of the Meta7 sheath. As she wiped sand off her mechanical arm, Bogdan plopped down next to her, breathing hard.

"How we doing, Bogs?" Axali felt his bald head between two long scars. It felt warm. There was mucus all around his eyes. "Let's get you inside and grab your meds." They helped each other up. "That storm's gonna be on us in a few minutes anyway."

The boy headed to the water. "Just wanna say bye to the guys." The Orca and sea turtle splashed one last time and sunk out of sight. "Bye, guys!" Bogdan waved, then returned to steady Axali as she limped across the beach. "You know, I could carry you." He looked at her helpfully. "You know, if you wanted me to."

"Thanks, buddy. I think I'll manage." They got about halfway to the squatty, vine-covered doors of the bunker when they heard the familiar thrum of Gryphon's ship above the date palms.

Bogdan's ailments seemed gone as he leaped in circles in the hot sand. "He's back! He's back! You're not my babysitter anymore!" He grinned and sprinted the rest of the way.

Axali was actually relieved. The boy was a handful. His constant, high energy activities drained her of all but her will to live. He talked nonstop and asked more questions than she had ready answers for, regardless of whether her responses were correct or not. She had plenty of opinions, and often one of those would satisfy his thirst for knowledge, for a few minutes anyway. After all he had gone through and the horrors he had witnessed on RingRock, she was amazed he was as well adjusted as he seemed to be.

***

### Year 839

Hector lifted the stiff, brown bag onto his shoulder. Four of his men approached Dr Pelekos's ship, the Starling, picked it up, and together began the long march out of the thick forest west of Fidele. They made it about a hundred meters and stopped. Hector turned and reported. "The trees here are too close together. Any other ideas?"

Count Tholomew knelt nearby deep in prayer. Hector motioned for the men to set the ship down.

"Only regrettable ones." The Count stood and removed his wide-brimmed hat. "Thanks, brothers. You can head back. The King will provide us with a solution." The men nodded and returned to the city.

When they were out of sight, Tholomew stepped through the knee-high underbrush to the rear hatch of the ship. He sighed, knowing he was breaking some personal rules, rules he expected others in his charge to obey. "GWEN, can you hear me? It's Thad."

The hatch slid open.

He bid Hector follow and climbed inside.

Welcome, Thad. It's been a while. Greetings, Hector. May I ask why you're bringing the corpse of Dr Pelekos onto the ship?

"No, you may not." Thad stood between the pilot seats while Hector lay the bag down. "GWEN, I need you to return the Starling to Jonathan's Arrow. Take your time and try not to draw any attention to yourself."

Complying. sir, would—?

"The less you know, the better." Hector headed aft.

They stepped back into the forest and never saw the ship again.

***

### Year 1000

Bolts of lightning flashed freely, reflected in the perfectly smooth pavement before the throne. Emerald clouds swirled in the distance and countless angels stood or hovered, heads bowed, chanting. Some of them held heavy tomes.

By itself, a great and ancient book lay open atop a white pedestal, the contents of its many pages a secret to all but Him who occupied the seat of judgment.

Bogdan Pelekos could not accept the beautiful things he was seeing as real. He had spent more than a century alone, in the dark, each arm chained to a wall. He was forced to stand in a hole with a slanted floor that was filled waist-high with maggots.

His legs still tingled. His arms were still raised, having grown used to being in that position. What new punishment was this? he thought as he gazed around him. He dare not ask, even in his own mind. He would soak in every second of this heavenly reprieve.

Crowding around him just above the sea of glass floated thousands and thousands of forlorn spirits, overlapping each other and staring at each other in turn. He could see through their translucent skin something opaque and seemingly swallowing all light. There pumped their rebellious, blackened hearts.

The words of the prophecy came to him like a thorn through his mind. Gathered here were the souls of the dead, whose bodies had lain, since their demise, in the sea and the grave. The horrific fact of it all knocked him to his knees. He was here, present at the final sentencing of those who rejected the mercy of God.

His familiarity with the Word both sickened him and filled him with dread. During his torment, he had held a modicum of hope that this God was more merciful than He was wrathful. Were all these souls about to be pardoned? Had he paid his dues in that dark hole? Perhaps the absolute standard had been bent and Hell was not forever as the King had always warned.

The soul next to him looked resolutely defiant, as if he was somehow above the law that gave this court its power. He was called forward and strode proudly toward the throne. His name, which was pronounced by an intense angel behind one of the books, was Graf Owen Grove. Bogdan didn't recognize him but considered he might be related to Gryphon. This whole affair was such a welcome and wonderful distraction from his own pitiful dilemma. He felt like clapping his thanks, but his atrophied arms could not swing so far toward each other.

This Graf character was evidently a very nasty man when he still breathed. His brief but fascinating life was recounted in the hearing of all in attendance. His secrets, his deeds, his words, his motives, were shared empirically, and Bogdan found great pleasure in comparing himself to this rather inept and unintelligent, but decidedly genocidal, villain.

In the end, once the man's thoughts and motives had been evaluated, an angel alighted heavily before him holding some kind of dark blanket. Bogdan winced as the cloth swallowed Graf's soul. The mangled, dripping mess was pushed through a momentary portal into some red world, evidently, according to the spokes-angel, called Topheth.

Next, another bold and confident soul was ushered before the throne. This man, whose name in life was Avery, was a native of a place called Texas before the Rapture. He stood there, eager for the opportunity to plead his case. Bogdan wanted to call to the man and warn him diligently. Don't do it, Friend. Have you any idea how absolute, decided, and final this Day is?

But Avery, swollen with audacious delusions, dared part his spirit lips before the King that made him. "Heavenly Father, I do not understand why you have swept me aside with these goats. During my days on the earth, I served you faithfully as pastor of a large and influential church. I taught about your love every week. I started a homeless ministry in our city. I built houses for the poor. I led mission trips to dig wells in Africa. I took care of the sick and the elderly in my community. I saved many marriages through my counseling ministry. Are you not pleased with me, God of love?"

The King closed His eyes. "You entered not by the narrow gate."

Bogdan could see the sadness when He opened them again.

Jesus continued. "Your stony heart was never replaced. You worshiped lesser things. Though you knew of Me, you gave Me no honor. You allowed impurity and unnatural acts to run rampant in the flock I placed in your care. You are a sand builder. You are a bad tree. Wolves and thieves such as you will not inherit My Kingdom."

Christ the Judge raised a nail-pierced hand. "Depart from me. I never knew you."

Avery shouted and hissed as his shroud, and ultimately the red door, engulfed him.

So case after case, life after life, soul after selfish soul was judged in this same, plodding manner until it was Bogdan's time. His days were reviewed, starting with his rare, off-world birth, his years on Jonathan's Arrow under the care (if one could call it care) of Gryphon the Self-Magnificence, and his less-than-noble exploits and experiments in and around Trinity. Such detail, and the inclusion of the most innocuous and private of notions, made him think, for the first time, that this Yahweh was, in fact, a holy, sovereign, and faithful deity. Faithful to His own promises.

Could he—should he beg for mercy? He realized that the life he was given, which was a gracious gift, was more mercy than he deserved. He looked around and wondered if others had come to the same conclusions. Perhaps. Their faces were sad. It was simply too late. Too late to accept God's grace. Too late to repent. Too late to surrender to the God who provided only one way to be reconciled back to Him.

For Bogdan's last rational thought, he decided he was justified in hating and despising this God for the rest of eternity. It would be his way of masking the pain, regret, and guilt that even now started to nip again at his spiritual ankles.

Two large-handed angels suddenly grabbed him, like they had millions of souls before, and slapped onto him his new skin. It felt suffocating as it formed his throat and lungs. He involuntarily started swallowing and couldn't stop. It stung as his fingers and legs began sending sensory pulses to his new brain. This was his cage, his thorn.

Then the King Himself peered over the book at Bogdan. Their eyes met for the first time. "Bogdan Thaddeus Pelekos, your name is not written in the Book of Life. Depart from me, for I never knew you."

One of the angels grabbed him and tossed him through another portal that appeared. As Bogdan fell, the portal closed above him. He saw, all in that satiated moment, a glimpse of smiling faces, crystal clear waterfalls, a bountiful green tree beside a river, a shining square, and a child in the lap of his father.

***

A hush fell over the court. Only the four Living Creatures continued their unceasing chant, saying, "Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God, the Almighty, Who was and Who is and Who is to come."

The rest of the angelic host joined the creatures, their rhythm like ocean drums.

For there were now no more human souls before the Judge. The angels vibrated with unprecedented expectation as they watched Michael, their captain, lead two final prisoners in chains across the pavement.

The first was a colossal beast several times larger than its jailor. Its hideous hide was covered in writhing, black worms and maggots. Its stench and its smoldering smoke was blown backward, away from the throne, by the very presence of the Lion Lamb. The beast, whose names were Gehenna, Sheol, and Hades, was ravenous with hunger. Its belly had been emptied of its ample food of souls.

So it growled and chomped the air as Michael reined its chain closer. Mindless, Hades suddenly saw the other prisoner and clawed past the Archangel to take a bite. Even a lick might sate its singular appetite.

But its new prey was Death. Gaunt with flowing black robes, his feet clacked on the pavement as he marched. When Hades' whipping, flaming tongue came too close, his empty hood turned, and he began violently sucking the beast into his face. Jerking as he gulped, maggots flying everywhere, Death inhaled the house of the dead, and it was no more.

Just as quickly, Michael seized Death by the scruff of his robes and stripped the spirit of them. He stood there, a skeletal wraith with a bottomless pit for a face. Like so many before, Death was then bound to his new, physical, flammable skin and tossed into a waiting red hole.

The portal snapped closed, and billions of angels lifted their voices in praise and thanks to the King.

EIGHT

### The Tree in the Cube

50

### Jubilee

### Eternity, Day 1

Ezasen could sense some hands and feet again. He instinctively looked down and could feel each intricate cell and interaction between fresh, new atoms that formed his neck, face, and eyes, as the stimulus traveled from his brain along pristine nerves and tendons.

His hands slowly raised to meet his gaze. He could see through them but also appreciate the DNA strands present in each molecule. His new mouth smiled. His new eyes blinked. The purest air he'd ever encountered filled his lungs for the first time. He realized that this level of awareness was going to take some getting used to.

Next, he felt his toes, slowly rising and falling next to broad blades of grass. He watched as individual plant cells collected, then converted, light into fuel and sent it on its way toward happy roots. The light—oh the light itself—emanated from somewhere above him. As he lifted his new head to look, he noticed particles of light traveling by, imbued with such joy. They divided before him into trillions of playful colors then joined together again in bright, white, dancing waves. His eyes met the source of all light, the face of Jesus.

I love you, Ezasen. Welcome home! The God-man, whose voice sounded without His mouth moving, smiled and Ezasen's new heart exploded with love inside him.

"Jesus, I love you! Thank you!" His new foot took a step back to balance him, and he felt something different between his toes. It was luxurious, sparkling sand, warm and cool at the same time. Ezasen pulled his gaze away from his Maker and saw behind him an endless ribbon of white shore bordering the bluest blue sea.

And others.

Other people, like him, dressed in flowing robes of light, were stepping through gentle waves and arriving just as bewildered and awestruck as he was. Their faces were so familiar. He felt an instant love and rapport with each of them. There was Thirzah. Here came Gryphon and Onastasia. To his left walked Leelah and Carl and Deshi. Children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, generations of saints from his family, all reaching the crystal shore.

One of them was hesitant to come out of the shimmering water. Everything below her eyes remained submerged. Iver reached down, and she took his hand. Axali, her new skin merely tan, her hair merely golden white, rose and joined the growing throng on the beach.

Somehow, as Ezasen surveyed the long line of the shore, instead of disappearing over a horizon, it curved upward into the pleasant sky until it faded into the blue distance. It was as if he were standing inside a bowl the size of the universe.

Then the sweet voice of Messiah entered his mind again, and he turned to look inland. Well done, good and faithful slave, the Voice said to his soul, enter into the joy of your Master.

At that, Ezasen dropped to his knees and bowed low. The sudden movement revealed a heavy, solid object on his head. He reached up and took hold of a crown made of transparent gold. He brought it down and felt the jewels, the peaks and valleys of its rim. How dense its molecules were, how pure. But, in an instant, the perfect recollection of his perfect mind showed him his life of one thousand forty-two years.

In deep and determined reverence, Ezasen placed the crown on the grass and let go, pronouncing the words he had learned and ruminated upon for centuries. "Blessing and glory and wisdom and thanksgiving and honor and power and might be to our God forever and ever! Amen." The others joined him, and he could hear the chorus ring out from a billion hearts, finally united, finally in a world without sin where Christ is all and in all.

The King smiled His approval once again and swung His arm wide, encompassing this green country. Jesus raised His eyebrows as if to say, Come on!

That was enough invitation for any of them, and they all took off running across the grassy field after their Fellow Heir. Ezasen looked ahead and saw that the field led to a hill, and the hill met a forested, snow-capped mountain covered in waterfalls, each more amazing than the last. Breathtaking vista after vista stretched out beyond his imagination. Towers of crystal climbed from the jungle floor and vanished in the glorious haze. The sheer size of this place was staggering.

He wondered just how far across it was, and he realized his eyes that could perceive microscopic molecules could also view objects and scenes incredibly far away. He had his answer without having to calculate or measure. The farthest point away was straight up, and it was just less than 186 million miles away, twice the distance from the earth to its sun. Was he inside a mammoth sphere? Streets, like the glistening spokes of a spiderweb, thousands of them, were growing from the inner surface of the sphere to its mysterious center.

Beyond the mind-blowing levels of beauty in his path stood a singular mountain, not unlike the one that dominated Realm, but this one was easily a billion times more massive. It reached, like the streets, to the center of the sphere.

Looking down again, Ezasen saw Remy and Zuph out in the lead, sprinting and laughing, so he pushed his new legs harder, sensing the release of an infinite supply of ready energy from his muscles. His new lungs hummed; his new heart pumped in perfect staccato. Jesus, You are amazing! he thought as he stared at his Lord and Savior who was playing an impromptu game of tag with Hector and Claire.

They reached the crest of the first hill and halted, completely astonished. In the lavish valley below meandered a river lined with a herd of brachiosaurus. Skimming under and around them were white eagles and pterosaurs, a family of dragonflies, and several bats. Tigers and parasaurolophus and polar bears frolicked and nibbled at the abundant grass and berry bushes. It seemed to Ezasen that Noah had emptied his ark right here. As he and his family started down the wildflower slope to visit the zoo, Willah stopped short in her tracks and cried, "Look!" She was pointing straight up.

Everyone lifted their eyes in unison. Above them, passing through the opposite side of the great sphere was a Light, brighter than anything Ezasen had ever witnessed.

Behold, Jesus was saying in Ezasen's mind, the dwelling place of God is now with Men. The brilliant Star continued to descend and the part of the sphere by which it had entered filled in, first with crystalline scaffolding, then a quick-forming lake.

He couldn't just stand there. Ezasen closed his eyes, remembering how he used to travel at the speed of thought from place to place during the Regeneration. His body blinked away, and he found himself standing on the dazzling, transparent wall of a shining, celestial city. Out of habit, he lifted his hand to guard his eyes from the absolute radiance of the buildings, the towers, the mighty halls, and at the city's center, the throne. But he did not need to hide his eyes. The King had given him new ones. His family, one by one, joined him on the wall, drinking in the glittering Goodness and Love.

Swirling around the descending capitol of Heaven swarmed every single holy angel ever, chanting and praising the Father of Lights. Kalos appeared next to Ezasen and gave him a big hug. No one could speak. There was nothing to say. Singing, on the other hand, was highly appropriate. So they all sang through the entire book of Psalms before the New Jerusalem neared its final and eternal resting place.

As Ezasen looked down toward the Mountain, he watched as three circular vacuoles opened on the side of the glistening wall. From each of them emerged a single, gargantuan pearl that would hover there in place as an open gate to the City forever. He thought of the new Mountain and found himself there, hovering above its peak. Glistening scaffolds were still growing, making the Mountain taller as it climbed toward the City. He saw a deep trough form in the shape of a square on the summit, ready to receive the city's luminous foundation stones.

Suddenly, from the throne above him flew three seeds, each several kilometers wide, and they dropped into the hungry soil below. Seconds later, shoots and saplings and branches sprang into the shrinking space between the Mountain and the bride. A tree, more than a thousand kilometers wide and tall, with bountiful leaves and ever-ripe fruit, now dominated the Mountain. Its tendril branches reached up and pulled the City down around itself like pulling on a wedding dress. The walls sank deep into the trough and locked in place with the sturdy stone of the new earth. The thunderous clank sent a shockwave of finality resounding throughout the sphere.

All of creation cheered and sang.

Now he understood one aspect of the perfect dimensions of the New Earth. The City at its center was the same distance that the sun was from the old earth. God had thus, from the fourth day of Creation on, given humanity a beautiful preview of eternity.

Ezasen and his family were joined by thousands of other saints on the gem-encrusted ledge next to the center Pearl Gate on the West Wall. The pearl itself was a perfect sphere, 317 kilometers in diameter, one seventh of the wall's length. Imbedded within the pearl, etched by the hand of God, were the Hebrew letters of the gate's name; Benjamin. In front of the gate stood an imposing and fully-armed angel.

Likewise, more than a kilometer below them in the foundation stone, they could see scribed the Greek letters of the stone's name; Andrew.

The growing crowd entered New Jerusalem singing praises. More flooded each of the other eleven gates and congregated before the City proper, with its millions of towers and half a million levels, all constructed of clear jasper and integrated perfectly with every branch, stem, and leaf of the Tree of Life. Halfway up, there stretched a central avenue, which connected the center East Gate, or Judah Gate, to the throne room, the very heart of the new universe.

The Good Shepherd now strode on this highway, followed by countless throngs of the redeemed and angels, a collective anticipation rising. Adam and all his spiritual descendants, from Abel to Gryphon Grove, shoulder to shoulder with Eve and every glorified saint including Hope and Axali Therion. The Holy Spirit, resident in all their hearts, confirmed and energized their devotion. They all knew what was about to take place. For some, the desire to see this day had been building all their lives. For others, like Mei Yun, the puzzle of prophecy and prose was finally welcoming its centerpiece.

The King took His time. There was no rush, no threat, no distraction, only relishing and joy as He approached Him who dwelt in unapproachable light, the Ancient of Days. YHWH outshined all else. His radiance emanated from a focused point just above an ornate, translucent throne, the throne of Heaven. The Son arrived, smiling, and sat down to the right of His Father.

Suddenly, there appeared, deep and already flowing from the throne, a river of the purest water. It tumbled down into a channel carved in the street, which in turn was grooved in tributaries that spilled over the edge onto the myriad streets below in blissful cascades. This River of Life watered the tree, the City, and the new Earth beyond.

The Celebration had only begun.

***

### Eternity, Year 8,475,319,115,892

Ezasen paused and dipped his hand in the River, brought it to his mouth, and drank. Life itself flowed through him, delicious and satisfying. He sensed the pleasure and peace of Jesus in him and also nearby.

He studied his hand as a drop of living water ran down toward his wrist. He saw the molecules of the Water intermingling with those of his skin and brushing happily against the Spirit within him. Joy spread anew like a virus inside his body as he stood.

Ezasen smiled, recalling the wondrous new things he had learned about God today. He turned and gazed down over the southwestern quadrant of new Earth, along the 245th meridian, on the coast just east of an azure ocean, at his home. A thought later, and he was there, walking down a tiny pier made of transparent amethyst toward a long, graceful ship the shape of a leaf.

Fern was there greeting Carl and Savano. She grinned. "Ready to go?"

"Absolutely!" Ezasen patted them all on the shoulder as he passed them and climbed aboard. Kori stood on the bow chatting with Karla Azotus and Axali. He winked. "Shall we do this?"

A nod to Thad and Phil back on the bridge brought the near silent craft to a purring idle.

Suddenly, Kalos appeared among them. Everyone turned. "Sir." The Angel said, addressing Ezasen.

"Salutations in Christ, K! I didn't think you'd be joining us this time."

"I actually won't be today." Kalos could see his friends' disappointment. "The guys are having a thing and so... Well, I just had a couple of questions, actually, for you, ThrowStone."

"Kalos, my brother. You're welcome to ride with us for as long as you want, then join your friends later."

"Thank you, Sir."

Ezasen put a hand on his shoulder. "Might these questions be on the subject of... redemption?"

"Yes, sir." Kalos almost looked sheepish.

"Questions you may have asked before?" Ezasen glanced at the others in turn.

Kalos stared at the crystalline floor."Um. Well, yes. And no. Some new!"

Everyone, including the angel, laughed.

The ship sank down into the water, through thousands of kilometers of deep, fauna and flora-filled blue, and burst out of the sphere on the outside of the united Heaven and Earth. Its engines, made of light and powered by light, whined to a high-pitched thrum and blinked out of sight in the direction of a peculiar pair of uncharted stars.

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