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| Obadiah: The Return |
16 Years Later...
The courtyard of King David’s palace was just as Obadiah remembered it—serene, golden, and untouched by time. The low hum of a harp echoed faintly from somewhere deeper inside, blending with the gentle rustle of olive trees in the breeze. The light was soft, almost dreamlike, painting everything in warm tones, but for all its beauty, Obadiah felt restless.
He waited by the stone steps leading into the courtyard until the king himself appeared, walking with an easy stride. David’s dark hair was threaded with silver now, but his piercing eyes carried the same fire Obadiah had seen on battlefields long ago.
“Obadiah,” David said, his voice rich and warm as he spread his arms in greeting. “It’s been too long, old friend.”
Obadiah offered a faint smile. “I wasn’t sure you’d remember me after all these years.”
David laughed, the sound echoing against the stone walls. “How could I forget you? You stood beside me in my darkest hours. Come, walk with me. Tell me what brings you back after so much time.”
They walked the palace grounds in silence for a moment, their footsteps crunching on the sandy stone paths. Obadiah glanced at the familiar olive trees, the distant fountains, the open blue sky above. It was all so peaceful—so unlike the chaos of his life on Earth.
“I came because I needed to think,” Obadiah admitted finally. “Lately, I feel... unsteady. Like I’m out of place in the world. Sixteen years ago, I gave up my wings. I thought it was what I needed—to leave all of that behind. But now... I don’t know.”
David’s gaze lingered on him, thoughtful but sharp. “The loss of your sister weighs on you still.”
“It does,” Obadiah said, his voice quiet. “Kristiel and I were always together, in every battle, every mission. And now, it’s just me. I thought stepping away from Heaven’s war would bring me peace, but it hasn’t. Not really.”
David nodded slowly, his hands clasped behind his back. “Perhaps peace is not what you were meant to find.”
Obadiah frowned, turning to him. “What do you mean?”
“You were not created for peace, Obadiah. You are a protector. A guide. You have tried to live as mortals do, but your nature calls to you still. You cannot deny it forever.”
Before Obadiah could respond, the air shifted around them. A low, resonant hum filled the courtyard, and the soft golden light deepened into something sharper, brighter. Obadiah’s heart sank. He knew what was coming.
Two figures stepped through the light—Gabriel and Michael, their forms tall and imposing, their presence unmistakable. Gabriel’s face was calm, his silver hair glinting in the light, while Michael’s stern expression made it clear this was no casual visit.
David stepped aside, bowing his head slightly. “It seems your path has found you once again, Obadiah. I will leave you to speak with your brethren.”
As David disappeared into the palace, Obadiah turned to the archangels, his jaw tight. “Sixteen years,” he said. “Sixteen years without a word, and now you show up. Why?”
Gabriel’s expression was unreadable. “There is a situation. A soldier who has gone missing."
Obadiah folded his arms. “And this has to do with me... how?”
Michael’s voice was low and firm. “The soldier is tied to the Chosen Ones. He carries knowledge of a greater battle—one that affects both Heaven and Earth. He must be saved."
“Then send someone else,” Obadiah said flatly. “I’m done with this. I’ve been done for years.”
Gabriel stepped forward, his tone sharp. “You may have clipped your wings, but you are still part of this world. You cannot ignore what you are, Obadiah. You were not sent to Earth simply to hide and grieve. There is work yet to be done.”
Obadiah’s eyes narrowed. “And what if I don’t want to do it? What if I’m tired of cleaning up after Heaven and Hell? I’ve done my part.”
Michael’s gaze softened, though his voice remained steady. “And yet you are still here. You’ve felt it, haven’t you? The restlessness, the emptiness. It’s not because of grief. It’s because you’ve been denying your purpose.”
Obadiah turned away, his fists clenched. He wanted to argue, to tell them they were wrong, but the truth was gnawing at him. They were right. The emptiness he’d felt wasn’t just grief—it was the absence of something he couldn’t name.
“Fine,” he said at last, his voice tight. “I’ll look into it. But don’t think for a second that this means I’m coming back.”
Michael smirked faintly. “We’ll see.”
With a flash of light, the archangels vanished, leaving Obadiah alone in the courtyard.
He let out a long breath, running a hand through his hair. He wanted to believe he could go back to his quiet life at the museum, raising Laric, keeping his past buried. But deep down, he knew the choice had already been made.
“You’ve always been stubborn,” came David’s voice from behind him.
Obadiah turned to see the king leaning casually against a stone pillar, watching him with a faint smile.
“They didn’t tell me much,” Obadiah muttered. “A ghost. A soldier. Something about the Chosen Ones. It’s always cryptic.”
David chuckled, walking closer. “It’s their way. They give just enough to nudge you forward, but the rest? That’s for you to figure out.”
“I don’t want to go back to this,” Obadiah said, his voice low. “The battles, the loss, the weight of it all... I don’t want it anymore.”
David studied him for a moment, then said quietly, “Do you think you’ll find peace in hiding? You are a protector, Obadiah. A warrior. And whether you want to admit it or not, the world still needs you.”
Obadiah sat heavily on the stone bench, staring at the horizon. The breeze carried the faint scent of olive trees and myrrh, but it did little to calm his thoughts. “I’m not sure I can do it again.”
“You can,” David said firmly. “And you will. Because that restlessness inside you? It won’t leave until you accept what you are.”
Obadiah let the words sink in, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. He didn’t feel ready—not yet—but perhaps readiness wasn’t the point.
David smiled knowingly. “You’ll find your way, old friend. You always do.”