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| The Call of Shadows: Part 1 |
“Thank you, Kat. I’m happy to be here,” Brian replied with a calm, easy smile.
“So tell us,” Kat began, leaning into the mic, “what’s so special about these new artifacts?”
“These pieces offer an incredible glimpse into one of the Bible’s most resilient figures,” Brian explained. “From ancient tools to inscriptions tied to the rebuilding of Jerusalem, they highlight Nehemiah’s unwavering faith and leadership during one of the most challenging times in Israel’s history.”
“That sounds amazing,” Kat said. “This isn’t just for Christians, right? Anyone can enjoy this exhibit?”
“Absolutely,” Brian assured her. “These artifacts are not just relics of faith but of history. They’re meant to inspire curiosity in anyone who seeks to understand the past.”
Kat nodded thoughtfully. “It must take a village to uncover and preserve treasures like these. I hear Mr. Jonathan Harrington, one of Baylor City’s most prominent philanthropists, has been a big supporter of the museum.”
Brian hesitated briefly, his expression shifting to a more somber tone. “Jonathan’s generosity has been vital to our efforts. He truly understands the importance of preserving history.”
Kat smiled. “Mr. Harrington is a great man. We need more people like him to support the arts.”
Brian return her smile with one of his own, saying. “I couldn’t agree more.”
The next morning, Brian strolled through Serenity Park, the crisp autumn air carrying the earthy scent of damp leaves. He stopped at Ricky’s fruit stand, selecting a few apples for Laric, when a familiar voice called out.
“Stocking up for your nephew?”
Brian turned to see Dr. Cassandra Gregory approaching, her light blue jacket catching the morning sunlight.
“Good morning, Cassandra,” he said, smiling. “It’s Laric’s favorite snack.”
They wandered through the bustling market, the hum of conversations and laughter blending with the rustle of leaves overhead. Cassandra gestured toward a bench under an old oak tree, and they sat.
“You know,” Cassandra began, her gaze lingering on him, “I’ve been meaning to ask you something about Daniel.”
Brian’s expression softened. “Your brother—how’s he doing?”
“He’s doing well,” she said, her voice tinged with relief. Then she hesitated. “But I still don’t understand how you did it.”
Brian tilted his head slightly, his expression calm but unreadable.
“I tried everything,” she continued. “The State Department, my senator, every avenue I could think of—and nothing. Then I came to you, and somehow, within a week, Daniel was home.” Her voice lowered, curiosity mingling with awe. “You cut through the kind of red tape that stops governments in their tracks. How?”
Brian leaned back, his gaze drifting toward the fountain where children played. “Sometimes, when the path seems blocked, you have to look higher for answers. Like I told you, I know people.”
Cassandra studied him, her lips curving into a faint smile. “You always have a way of avoiding direct answers, Brian.”
Before he could reply, Principal Marilynn Cross bustled toward them, waving a clipboard.
“Professor Sessions! Dr. Gregory! Just the people I need!”
“Good morning, Marilynn,” Cassandra said, amused. “What’s the emergency?”
“We need more chaperones for prom,” Marilynn said breathlessly. “You two are perfect. Please say yes!”
Brian chuckled. “Well, Laric’s going, so I suppose I can keep an eye on him.”
Cassandra sighed. “Fine. But only because I’m terrible at dancing, and no one will expect me to try.”
The Harrington estate stood eerily still under the moonlight, the soft glow of flickering lights giving it an almost spectral air.
In his study, Jonathan Harrington sat alone, his desk cluttered with papers—bank statements, legal notices, and the appraisal report that had shaken him to his core.
The words stared back at him like a curse, unraveling the legacy he had worked so hard to build. His hand trembled as he traced the appraisal with his fingers, his chest tightening with shame.
The fire in the hearth suddenly dimmed, a chill sweeping through the room. Jonathan stiffened, his eyes darting toward the shadows in the corner.
“Who’s there?” he called, his voice shaking.
The shadows coalesced, forming into a dark, cloaked figure. Its presence sucked the warmth from the air, its gnarled fingers extending as it stepped closer.
Jonathan stumbled back, clutching his chest as pain rushed through him. “No... please...”
The figure’s twisted face loomed closer, its eyes gleaming with malicious delight.
Jonathan’s vision blurred as he fell to his knees, gasping for breath. The last thing he heard was the creature’s low, guttural laugh as darkness consumed him.
Later that night, Brian sat in his living room sipping tea, the soft light of a desk lamp casting long shadows across the walls. He stared at the museum plans in front of him, the words blurring as his thoughts drifted.
The air grew lighter, carrying with it a faint warmth, as though the room itself had begun to glow. The scent of lilies wafted faintly, subtle yet unmistakable.
“Obadiah,” a familiar voice called.
Brian looked up as Gabriel and Michael stepped through the far wall, their forms radiant with divine energy.
“Good to see you, my friend,” Gabriel said warmly.
Brian set down his tea, smiling faintly despite himself. He strolled around the desk. “If you’re here, it must mean trouble.”
Michael’s stern expression softened—barely. “Trouble is an understatement.”
Gabriel stepped forward. “Jonathan Harrington is dead. A demon took his soul, and his wife will soon seek your help.”
Brian’s jaw tightened. “Antioch?”
Gabriel nodded gravely. “One of his underlings.”
Michael crossed his arms. “The enemy is moving fast, and Raguel’s doubts about you remain. But Heaven believes in your purpose.”
Brian sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Raguel never trusted me. And you’re asking me to deal with Antioch again?”
“You’re the only one who can,” Gabriel said. “You have all the help you’ll ever need.”
The faint hum of celestial energy filled the room as a golden staircase materialized. Gabriel placed a hand on Brian’s shoulder.
“Jonathan’s soul isn’t the only one at stake. Stay vigilant, Obadiah.”
The angels ascended the staircase, their glowing forms dissolving into the light. Moments later, the staircase faded, leaving Brian alone in the quiet room.
For a long moment, he sat in the silence, the warmth lingering in the air. Finally, he murmured, “Antioch again. This is far from over.”
Note: The story above is a work of fiction created for inspirational purposes. Any resemblance to actual individuals or events is purely coincidental.
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