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| The Fire and The Fear: Part 2 |
At the Arklow Museum – Restricted Archives
Obadiah stood before an open scroll in the low-lit archives, the air heavy with the scent of aged parchment and burning oil. His jaw tightened as Luk-el laid a leather-bound tome on the desk beside him.
“It’s started,” Luk-el said. “The fire. Laric texted me. He saw it.”
Obadiah didn’t flinch. “And Alex?”
“He was there. Just watching. Pendant glowing like a brand.”
Obadiah ran a hand down the brittle scroll. “Then we’re out of time.”
Luk-el opened the book and flipped through its pages, stopping at an illustration of a bird—black feathers splayed, wings carved into obsidian. A raven.
“This symbol keeps coming up,” he said. “Ancient Judah. Late reign of King Manasseh.”
Obadiah looked closer.
In the margin, written in Aramaic, was a phrase Luk-el translated aloud.
“He who wears the bird of ash calls down fire from the gods.”
Obadiah’s brow furrowed. “That’s not a metaphor.”
“No,” Luk-el said. “It’s a curse. Rav’ach. The shadow raven god.”
Obadiah’s voice dropped low. “I thought that worship was wiped out.”
“So did Heaven,” Luk-el replied grimly. “But Naamah was once his high priestess. Before she turned to sorcery, before Antioch pulled her back from the pit… this was her first altar.”
“And now she’s found her vessel,” Obadiah said. “A boy angry enough to burn the world down.”
Outside the Community Center – The Morning After
Yellow tape wrapped around the ruins like a noose. Firefighters sifted through blackened beams, the air still thick with the tang of smoke and melted insulation.
Laric stood off to the side, his bike leaning against a light pole. He hadn’t slept. Allen sat on the curb nearby, hugging his knees.
Neither of them said much.
“I saw him,” Laric said finally. “He wasn’t scared. Just… empty. Like he wanted it.”
Allen rubbed his hands over his face. “We should’ve told someone sooner.”
“We’re telling them now.”
Laric pulled out his phone and dialed his uncle.
At Obadiah’s Study
Obadiah listened in silence as Laric spoke, his tone low but urgent. Luk-el paced in the background, tense.
“He was just standing there,” Laric said. “And the fire—Uncle, it felt wrong. It didn’t look… natural.”
Obadiah’s voice was calm. “You did the right thing.”
“Do you think he meant to do it?”
Obadiah didn’t answer right away.
“I think,” he said carefully, “he’s being changed. And if we don’t act quickly, the change will become permanent.”
Later That Day – Obadiah and Luk-el in the War Room
Obadiah stood before the glowing table in the museum’s sub-basement. The war room. Few even knew it existed.
On its surface, old maps of Judah shimmered alongside digital overlays of Baylor City.
“We need to jump,” Luk-el said.
Obadiah nodded slowly. “Manasseh’s reign. When Rav’ach was last worshipped openly. If we can understand how the faithful fought this spirit back then…”
“We might save Alex now.”
They both turned toward the ancient artifact embedded in the center of the table—a bronze seal shaped like a wheel, inscribed with sacred runes.
Obadiah placed his palm over it.
The metal responded instantly, pulsing with golden light.
“Guide us to truth,” he whispered.
In a breath of wind and light, the war room vanished.
Ancient Judah – Temple of Rav’ach
Smoke filled the courtyard. Incense. Sacrifice. Despair.
Obadiah and Luk-el stood cloaked in the garments of local merchants, blending into the crowd as a woman with long black braids stepped onto the altar platform.
Naamah.
But not the withered, witch-formed sorceress of modern days.
Here, she was young. Regal. Deadly.
And around her neck, a pendant glowed—a perfect match to Alex’s.
“You give your fear,” she proclaimed, “and Rav’ach gives you strength. Through this emblem, you are remade.”
People knelt. Some wept. Others clutched their own raven pendants like lifelines.
Luk-el leaned in. “She’s binding them through fear.”
“And rage,” Obadiah added. “They offer emotion like a burnt offering.”
Naamah held up a scroll—burned around the edges, inscribed in red.
“Every curse has a mirror,” Obadiah said. “We need that scroll.”
Luk-el scanned the courtyard. “Then we’ll steal it.”
At the Thompson House
Alex lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The pendant pulsed faintly against his chest. The world outside was bright, loud, too alive.
He didn’t want to go back to school.
He didn’t want to face the stares.
The whispers.
The guilt.
But… was it guilt?
Or something else?
The fire had made him feel… powerful. Untouchable.
Naamah’s voice echoed in his mind.
“This is just the beginning, Alex. You’re shedding their shame.”
He closed his eyes. And smiled.
Back in Ancient Judah – Escape from the Temple
Night had fallen. Obadiah’s fingers tightened around the stolen scroll as he and Luk-el darted through the narrow back alleys of Jerusalem.
“We’ll study it in the morning,” Luk-el whispered.
Obadiah nodded. “We need to find the counter-ritual. There has to be a way to break the pendant’s hold.”
From behind them, distant shouts rose.
They’d been seen.
Obadiah turned. “Run.”
TO BE CONTINUED…
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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