The Only

The Phoenix and the Dragonfly

The Order's eldest living member pulled up to the address indicated on the sheet of paper. Simon Nilin left the instructions to his closest confidant as a failsafe for their plan. Father Isaac sat there staring at the front door of an old, nearly dilapidated building momentarily lost in thought. The man felt a sense of pride in his accomplishments, despite not succeeding with the final piece of their mission. His mind jumped to the little, black-haired girl he essentially raised, who became the first female bishop within his religious organization. She was dedicated, worked hard, and the young woman would have made her father proud if he were still alive. Isaac wasn't sure what all happened during the past few days, but he truthfully didn't care. The actions she chose were hers to make, and he had faith that God would lead the girl in the direction she needed to go.

Using all the energy he could muster, Father Isaac removed the machine from his vehicle and placed it on the rickety cart he brought with him. Without the assistance of the younger man who helped load the device earlier, Isaac struggled, but finally managed to unload it successfully.

He leaned against the trunk for a few seconds to catch his breath, thankfully not coughing as much as he suspected. He glanced back at the instructions which led him around back. Dragging the cart behind him, Isaac pushed through the tall weeds along the dwelling's north-facing side, getting hung up in the ruts in the soft dirt while tangles of blackberry vines grabbed and tore at his exposed ankles.

There was a cellar with an angled, wooden platform designed for easily bringing items in and out of the building, so the man didn't have to worry about going up or down stairs.

The elder wheeled it inside the abandoned building, through the unlatched cellar entrance, and down to the basement his mentor detailed in his letter. Once inside, he closed the heavy doors behind him then doubled over. Isaac whooped and hacked uncontrollably, gasping for air. He knew the end was growing near and his time in this reality was almost over.

When the coughing fit subsided, he located a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed the corners of his mouth. Drawing it away from his face, he noticed thick, scarlet liquid that had almost saturated the entire piece of cloth. It would have probably frightened the man if it had been his first time dealing with his condition. According to The Order's medics, he was lucky to have lived as long as he did.

He returned to his feet and carted the machine through the large doors that led to a dark, musty room, appearing to be some sort of study. He flipped the light switch and the ornate chandelier fixtures buzzed, shining a dim light through the room. There were no windows in this underground cellar, but the old lighting still worked enough for the man to clearly view the space.

Cobweb-ridden, floor-to-ceiling book shelves lined one of the larger walls, while the others held artwork and antiques. Father Isaac was surprised the items were still there and hadn't been stolen at some point. Most looked rather expensive. Simon left him the note many years prior; if the doors hadn't been secured since then, it was a miracle everything still remained. From what he could tell, it seemed like a scene in which, despite the layers of dust, time had stood still or forgotten.

Away from the walls, blanket-covered furniture crowded the interior of the room. He didn't have the energy to rearrange things, so he wheeled the cart into the nearest corner and left it. Looking up at the oversized portrait hung high above him in the darkened gloom, he noticed a name on a bronze faceplate near the bottom. The first name was too grimy to be read from his vantage point, but the last was clear: Prescott.

He didn't know why Simon chose this place nor who the portraits belonged to, but he could sense his concern for life slipping away. Father Isaac made his way to a piece of furniture in the shape of a couch. He pulled the sheet that was draped over it to the floor, causing a brief fog of dust to cloud the air. The man sat down and laid back. He genuinely felt comfortable as his thoughts drifted towards the romantic summer he and the love of his life spent together several years before Esther was born.