Though it had taken them longer than it would have to enter the city through the northern gates as Allan had desired, John and the army of rebels skirted the city and entered from the abandoned underground network of tunnels.
“How much further, your Majesty?” Adonai asked in the dim light.
John held out the torch in front of him. “I believe we are almost there. It has been many years since I last navigated these tunnels, so I’m a little disoriented.”
“Pray tell, what is this place?”
“These tunnels compose the great machine that transported this land from Earth more than five thousand years ago.”
“Verily, my mother hath told me stories of this glorious machine,” Adonai said. “I thought the story ‘twas a mere fantasy.”
“Most fables are derived from true events.”
The walls began to tremble with a loud hum.
“The machine has been activated!” John shrieked over the noise. “We have to get out of here!”
They stumbled out into a chamber with multiple tunnel entrances. Making a quick judgment call, he chose one at random. As he turned a corner, the tunnel opened to the control room.
The room was filled with modern technology from Earth. Rows and rows of servers lined the walls, with a single computer terminal that was stationed in the middle of the room. But what really caught John’s attention was the blinding light emanating from the ominous swirling portal on the far wall.
What is Timur doing?!
On the other side of the room, a young woman in a white wedding gown lay crumpled on the ground. She groaned, struggling to rise. John approached cautiously and placed a hand on her back. She whipped around in alarm, and thrust a dagger in his chest. A look of horror crossed her face as she realized that John wasn’t her intended victim.
“I’m so sorry!” She cried, wiping her bloodshot eyes. “I thought you were Timur.”
John winced as he removed the blade. The aura of white light healed the wound instantaneously. The woman stared at him awe and confusion.
“You’re a Seraph,” she said. “Who are you?”
“My name is John.” He cocked a curious eyebrow. “You’re not from this world, are you?”
“No, I’m from Earth,” she said. “My name is Lily.”
“Ah. You’re Allan’s girlfriend. Have you seen him?”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
She lowered her head, her voice mournful. “He’s... he’s dead.”
“But that’s impossible.”
Lily met his gaze. As he stared into the depth of her soul, he watched the scene of Allan’s death as the memory replayed in her mind.
“This...” John stammered. “...this cannot be! He is the Final Seraph! He still has a destiny to fulfill!”
Lily slumped to the floor and covered her face with her hands. John stared at her in disbelief.
I must see this for myself.
Before John could turn away, Lily grabbed at his tunic.
“Please…” She pointed toward the open staircase. “…the people…”
He deciphered her expression, and read Timur’s last command to his priests from her eyes. He glanced again at the swirling portal, and made his decision.
The portal will have to wait.
He ran up the staircase and into the light, shielding himself from the blinding glare. A large commotion could be heard outside the walls of the Temple.
John’s army of rebels followed closely at his heels as he charged down the corridor. Two terrified guards stood at the massive front doors, cringing at the sight of the horde of rebel warriors barreling down on them. Finally, they found their courage, and charged.
John parried a blow from a larger of the two. They fought for a long minute, but the guard was no match for John’s prowess, having been trained as a protector and guardian during his reign in Zion. John parried another blow and drove the large guard back with several strikes of his own.
He heard the slight rasp of material ripping and felt the warm ooze of blood on his forearm. An aura of white light surrounded him and quickly healed the wound. The guard staggered backward in surprise. John seized the moment and plunged his sword through the guard’s chest.
The other guard had also fallen, and the doors had already been forced open. John retracted his sword and ran outside to join the fight, parrying a blow from a new assailant.
The scene in the courtyard was utter chaos. Peasants were being hacked down like cattle ready for slaughter by Timur’s wicked priests, while the rebel warriors tried their best to defend them. The battle all around him grew ever louder as his comrades joined the fight.
John went on the offense, cutting his opponent down. He attacked a priest who had been assailing an elderly woman, felling him with a slash to the stomach. The elderly woman cried in relief and praised John in gratitude.
An excruciating pain erupted from John’s chest. He staggered as his latest assailant retracted the blade, and John’s aura healed the wound within moments. John retaliated and the priest died, his face frozen in shock.
From the top of the stairs, John looked out across the courtyard, dread festering in his gut. He had been too preoccupied to determine who was winning the battle, but it looked like they were in for some trouble. Hundreds of priests were gathering from every corner of the city to join in the fight, and the rebel warriors’ numbers were dwindling quickly.
John prepared to rejoin the fray, but stopped cold as he recognized the body lying on the ground before him.
Allan?!
He dropped to his knees and felt for a pulse. The body was still warm yet completely lifeless.
John’s hands trembled.
This can’t be happening!
It was clear from the dried pool of blood that Allan had been mortally wounded, but it seemed his aura had already healed the wound. Apparently, it had been insufficient to save his life.
We’re doomed.
A piercing pain then erupted from his left shoulder. He staggered, dizzy. He then recognized the dart sticking out of his arm just as several members of the Creed of Nephilim surrounded him on all sides. His body fell limp and his sword clattered to the ground.
----------------------------------------
© Copyright 2022 R.M. Mulder. All rights reserved.