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| The Anointed and the Fallen |
Episode 11| The Anointed and the Fallen|Arklow Bible Museum
Brian strolled into the foyer of the Arklow Museum, the familiar scent of polished wood and old parchment grounding him as he moved toward the central exhibit hall. The day had started early with the radio interview, now his mind was already shifting gears toward the night ahead, and Museum Fundraiser with Dr. Cassandra Gregory.
He adjusted the Bluetooth in his ear. “How did I sound?”
“Great. You didn’t come off preachy,” Cassandra giggled. “But she asked the same thing like five times — How do we know the artifacts are real? You should’ve seen Rachel roll her eyes.”
Brian chuckled, stepping past Nate the security guard with a nod. “You sound like her. The skepticism, the attitude… it’s uncanny.”
“Well, she was the one who bet you were making the whole sword thing up.”
“You defended me?”
“Do you have to ask?”
Brian stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor. The memory was still fresh: his fingers brushing the sword's hilt, and a pulse—a thrum of energy, almost like a heartbeat—shooting up his arm each time he went into battle.
“Thanks. What time should I pick you up?”
“No need. I’m riding with Rachel.”
“Rachel? I’m finally going to meet her.”
He nodded at Delia at the desk. Several high school interns-in-training were nervously leafing through museum brochures.
“Your one-fifteen and one-thirty are here,” Delia said.
“I’ll be with them shortly,” Brian replied.
“She’s looking forward to meeting you too,” Cassandra said. “If I’m running late, I’ll give you a call. Chat later.”
The call ended.
___
"The sword is a rare find," Brian said to the donors several hours later, as he stood in front of the glass display case. "My colleagues and I were excavating the ruins of Khirbet Qeiyafa, about twenty miles southwest of Jerusalem. It’s the location many scholars now associate with the battle where David defeated Goliath."
"So the area was what exactly?" a young man asked. "Some kind of military outpost?"
"Exactly," Brian answered. "A fortified military outpost for the House of David."
Murmurs rose across the room.
"The battle took place around 1012 BC," he continued. "David wasn’t even a soldier yet. His father had sent him to check on his older brothers who were in King Saul’s army."
"This is incredible," Cassandra whispered to her friend Rachel. "That could be the actual sword of King Saul."
"I still can’t believe I let you drag me to a Bible museum," Rachel muttered. "I had a date tonight."
"Hush," Cassandra teased. "You need some culture."
"Please. You’re only here because you’ve got it bad for Director Sessions. You’re practically floating every time he walks in the room."
Cassandra’s mouth opened, but no denial came. Rachel wasn’t wrong. She’d had a thing for him since he walked into her ER six months ago to check on an injured staff member. Calm under pressure, thoughtful, devastatingly handsome. She could still remember the way he had smiled at the frightened technician, and the way he’d ignored everyone else in the room except the person who needed him most.
"That’s not true," she mumbled.
"Sure it’s not. What is that suit? Armani?" Rachel said, sipping her champagne. "The man looks like God hand-crafted him for a romance novel."
Cassandra didn’t reply. Her eyes found him again, standing beneath the spotlight, explaining history with the quiet authority of someone who had been there. She shook off the thought.
"I’m here to support the museum," she insisted.
"If that’s your story, fine. I’m just glad to see you smile again. It’s been two years since you let anyone in."
Cassandra sighed. "I’m fine."
"You’re finally realizing there’s more to life than the hospital. That’s progress."
Brian’s voice carried across the room again.
"King Saul was nervous. He knew of the Philistines—and their giant from Gath. Forty days and nights, Goliath taunted the Israelites. ‘Why don’t you come out and fight?’ he shouted. ‘Am I not a Philistine, and you the Israelites, God’s chosen people?’ But no one stepped forward."
"They didn’t trust God!" someone shouted from the back.
Brian nodded. "That’s true. Saul had already lost his anointing due to disobedience at Gilgal. He offered sacrifices himself, impatient for Samuel to arrive. Later, when instructed to destroy everything of the Amalekites, he spared King Agag and kept their spoils. God sent Samuel to confront him again. That was when the kingdom was truly torn from Saul."
"So Saul feared the Philistines because he knew God wasn’t with him?" someone asked.
"Exactly," Brian said. "He couldn’t fight Goliath. Not without the anointing. But David—a young shepherd, already anointed by Samuel to be the next king—had no fear. One had lost divine favor. The other walked in it."
Thirty minutes later, as the crowd dispersed, Brian’s eyes found Cassandra’s. She smiled and nodded. He returned the smile, holding it a heartbeat too long. He felt the pull again—the unspoken affection in her gaze, the warmth in her presence. But he couldn’t allow it. Not now. Not ever.
He excused himself quietly and made his way upstairs.
___
“I had a good time too,” Brian said into his cellphone. He stepped into his office and laid the black case gently on the desk. “We’ll talk later.”
He ended the call and opened the blinds wider. Sunlight poured in, casting golden trails across the floor. Mirror Lake shimmered below.
Still, the anxious feeling inside him remained. Gabriel’s and Michael’s recent appearances weighed on his spirit. The assignments. The Tower was stirring. The signs were everywhere.
On cue, a ripple of light formed against the far wall.
Luk-el stepped through.
Obadiah—his true name—straightened.
“He must have spoken with Ragu-el,” he murmured.
Luk-el took in the office. “Kind of empty, isn’t it?”
“You know me. I keep things simple.”
“Am I keeping you from work?”
“Just interns. They’ll wait.”
“Director of the Arklow Museum,” Luk-el said. “Still serving mankind. In your way.”
Obadiah nodded. “It’s what I can live with.”
Luk-el stepped closer. “The Tower still has doubts.”
“They always did,” Obadiah replied. “Hard to trust a deserter.”
“You weren’t a deserter. You chose Earth. For Laric.”
“And I’d choose him again.”
“You’ve completed two assignments.”
“They still treat me like a broken sword.”
Luk-el paused. “Antioch has the List.”
Obadiah looked away. “I know.”
“You’re the only Warrior who’s faced him and lived.”
“And I paid the price.”
“They didn’t send me to pressure you,” Luk-el said. “They sent me because if Antioch moves on the Chosen, it won’t be theory. It will be war.”
Obadiah stared out over the lake. “Then they should’ve sent an army.”
“They sent me.”
Obadiah turned. The silence between them thickened.
“Did they send you to help me?”
“To stand with you. If you still remember how to stand.”
Obadiah closed his eyes. He did remember. Every blade. Every flame. Every scream.
“If Antioch comes for Laric,” he said at last, “I will burn Hades myself to stop him.”
“ Let’s pray it won’t come to that.”
Luk-el stepped backward, his form already fading into light. “We’ll speak again soon,” he said — and then he was gone.
TO BE CONTINUED…
