Chapter (A Prophecy to Come)
Angelo swung his head from side to side, taking in the bizarre ballet like an awe struck child. Angelo found that he could now read every word of the inscription as if it had been written just for him. Kneeling before the collective work he read aloud, hearing himself speak to be certain he was not wrapped in a dream.
“Abandon your fears all ye who enter here,” he read, mouthing the words as his lidded eyes danced across the prose, “for ahead lies the very Maw of The Beast, his Father's faithful servant, and protector of the Un-found Gate.”
“Let all ye come whose sight be of a spiritual nature and let ye seek the Truth within.”
“Let the son of the covenant hurry to us, and with our freedom find his place in the light. Pass on what he has learned.”
“But when spoken are the words of the three beware the wings of the betrayer. His chains seek to bind more than just the world of men.”
“Walk the halls of the Angels without fear through the blackness of the mountain's heart and ye shall stay untouched by the Keeper of Divine Winds.”
Angelo had no idea what to make of the reading, other than to beware of a betrayer and that the son of the covenant would have some significance. It was strange, more like a prophecy than a set of instructions. He didn't know what to make of it as a whole, though certain pieces seemed to have a clear significance.
The internal question that would rattle him for the rest of his adult life found its roots in that misunderstanding.
Was he the one it spoke of, the son of the covenant, or would his own son be one day be faced with a similar fate of his own? Is that why he’d not known his own father? Was he simply the most recent, and most powerful, member of a bloodline? The latest version of a weapon that had been cursed with these gifts?
Such questions would plague his subconscious for a long time still to come. But as it was even these would have to wait.
Angelo tried to flush the thoughts of the writing, and the questions that it posed, from his immediate thoughts. He tried to concentrate as best he could on that matter at hand. Opening his eyes, the writing faded as quickly as it had come, leaving a blurry after image in Angelo's vision.
Standing he listened as his knees popped, the sound resonating back off the surrounding stone. His legs were stiff and Angelo could not be sure of just how long he'd been sitting on them. It had seemed like only seconds, but such aspects of the current were difficult to be sure of.
He brushed the dust from his pants and looked around the chamber. The midday light was kind, giving Angelo a sense of his surroundings in the initial mouth of the cave. The shaft of light revealed the outline of a stone archway, bracing the girth of the mountain above it. Beyond that there was only darkness.
Midday or no, once Angelo was several paces into the stony bowels of the mountain, seeing beyond even the end of his nose became a chore. He needed something to guide his vision. Angelo drew the Tears form its sheath, nestled across his back.
In his hands the blade glowed, casting its silver-green radiance out before him. Shadows swallowed him on all sides, unable to consume his Holy blade. Angelo was a beacon, but in the all-consuming darkness he was not alone.
Any potential hazards that the cave held remained beyond the grasp of his luminescent sword. Angelo pursed his lips in thought. Several seconds ticked away, while he stood motionless, contemplating his next course of action.
Ultimately he returned the Tears to the darkness of their sheath, and his vision was instantly lost to the total darkness of the cave. There had to be a way. No problem was without a solution. His mind racked through potential resolutions. He could build a fire, but he hadn’t seen anything that would burn for hours. Angelo sighed as no obvious solution presented itself.
He walked back into the light, not wanting to be completely shrouded in darkness as he thought of a way to solve his vision problem. Exasperated, he placed his hands on his hips. Angelo mulled over his options, or rather his lack thereof.
It would be extremely dangerous to enter the cave blind, suicidal even. But he'd be disobeying the final request of his master if he failed to enter at all. And so it was that the divided portions of his mind tore at one another.
Angelo inhaled deeply, holding the stale air in his abdomen for several seconds before releasing the breath. Sitting down once more on the floor of the cave, he closed his eyes and slipped into a light meditation.
As they had before the symbols on the wall twisted and rearranged themselves into legible words. Bathing Angelo in a golden light, they presented their message. Unlike the first time, Angelo tried to ignore the formation of the words.
One sentence in particular presented itself brighter and more boldly than the others, insisting Angelo reconsider the message it conveyed.
'Let all ye come whose sight be of a spiritual nature…'
Angelo read the words again, saying them aloud to himself. The message they offered remained unclear. When conscious thought failed Angelo dipped into the current, allowing his mind to drift back into his lessons.
He poured over the countless hours he had spent in the training gardens, until he could almost smell the nectar of the flowers. All his memories seemed to be leading him in a singular direction. When he was done one phrase remained.
"Balance my son,” Gabriel's voice echoed in Angelo thoughts, “In the times of heavy snow even the mightiest Oak will break and crack while the Willow yields just enough for the snow to topple under its own weight. In nature you will find a great many answers, but only when you don't force them to come.
“To forfeit the path of strength is not a weakness, but the path of a wiser man. The truly enlightened Vicari has become such by giving up his hold everything to which he is attached.”
Angelo stood slowly. With his eyes still closed, he ran dirty fingers through his hair. The riddle of the etching began to grow clearer in his mind. Beaming a brilliant golden light the wall of words stood before him. His vision forfeit, Angelo moved forward. Pressing towards the center of the mountain he passed through the ominous words as though they were mist.
