Beware & Behold

The Coterie Court

Derek felt like he had blacked out. There was a change in the way the wind caressed his face. It was as if he didn't even feel it.

He patted his uniform with soft, light strokes.

It was strange but nothing hurt. Not a bone. Not a wound was bleeding. The blood that stained his hands and jacket in Gettysburg faded away.

The echo of death and bullets raced through Derek's mind, shaped by the voice of the past, and he squeezed his eyes shut, willing it to go away. And it did.

The cannons of Gettysburg were silent for the first time, the skyline like silk folded behind them. The battlefield was empty. Only bronze barrels of artillery shined from the battlefield hills, drowning in the fading light of the day.

An acorn landed before Derek's feet and cracked, sliding on uneven ground. He looked up into the trees. A raven with shiny black feathers was perched on an oak branch, its blue, human-like eyes hooked on Derek's face. He thought he had heard it speak in a faint ghostly whisper:

I have waited more than a thousand years for you, Derek Cromwell.

Derek stiffened and jerked his head back. The raven raised its wings and croaked in a low gurgling manner, tiny legs pacing across the tree branch. He tried to shoo the bird away, shifting his weight from one foot to another, but the bird just stared down at him.

Derek shook his head and picked up a tiny rock to throw at the bird when a hanging bridge magically illuminated behind the dark blotches of the oak trees. Derek froze, lured by its light, and peered into the dark. The bridge opened into a narrow stone walkway of a tall gray tower with a pati- naed copper turret and a clock encased at its core.

Derek watched as the same bridge drew a greater slit in the surrounding scenery, pulling him in, and he slowly and curiously advanced into its foggy mists in the direction of the tower, feeling the bridge shudder below his feet.

The raven with blue eyes flew off the tree branch and followed, its charcoal beak pointed high, as if he was there to make sure Derek wouldn't veer off his path.

The Copse of Trees blinked iridescent green behind them, and soon the dark swallowed the last strip of light. Derek stopped for a moment, looking back, and realized that the gap back to Gettysburg had been sealed and now turned to a black dot. With his heart racing inside his chest, he approached the heavy oak tower doors and watched as they swung open in front of him. The candles on the sandy stone walls lit up as he walked into a room with narrow, patterned windows and a marble vanity covered by plant stems standing at its middle.

The light faded through the double-glass, revealing round symbols on the floor that looked like the face of a clock. The white and black shadows danced across the walls, their faceless silhouettes black as tar. Chains rattled behind them, and they slid along like prisoners merging with the growing dusk—drowning.

The raven released a deep rattle and flew over Derek's shoulder, making him tip his body to the side. A shimmer of gold blinked out of nowhere, and the darkness withered, a dying flower, kneeling its stem to the ground. Spooked, the shadows raced to the ceiling and hovered there. Derek's heart palpitated as he focused his eyes at the mysterious shimmering light that made them fearful. The lantern illu- minated above a round table, bringing the twelve cloaked creatures into its light. They stretched their skinny corpse- like fingers over the table glass, and it split from their ice- cold breathing.

The bird landed on the stained glass table in front of the creatures and sang in a soft ethereal timeless voice:

We've ruled the world from the start of time