Winged: The Awakening

Winged

Book One

The Awakening

By: Vianca Eunice M. Martinez

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This is a work of fiction. All the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Winged: The Awakening

Copyright 2012 by Vianca Eunice M. Martinez

All rights reserved.

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This book is also available in print at most online retailers

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Winged

The Awakening

CONTENTS

Dedication

Prologue

When the Boy Meets the Girl

The Vision at the Summer Carnival

While Shopping at Harahel’s Bookstore

The Academy

The Sum of All Fears

And Humpty Dumpty Had a Great Fall

And So We Meet Again

While the Storm Rages On

Some Things Are Just Hard to Believe

A Showdown at the Cafeteria

Meeting Lucia

Lucia’s Story

The Unexpected Truth

The Instructor Arrives

Paki’s Words

Our Brief Respite

Welcome to Neptune’s Plate

Grounded

And Then We Were Caught

Exposed Power

The Promise

At the Day of the Festival

The Looming Shadow of Ruin

Freya’s Unexpected Gift

The Imminent Crisis

Fight, Transform, And...

The Ephemeral Dream

Returning From the World of Dreams

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

About the Author

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DEDICATION

To my parents Vin and Ana: Thank you for continuing to believe in my potential and for teaching me that there are just some things in life worth believing and fighting for.

To my sisters Mara and Abby, who love to dream crazy dreams with me and who work hard to make those dreams come true.

Thank you for the inspiration and love.

Dream on; Fly on!

***~~~***

Prologue

The wind howled furiously around them, beating the dilapidated house as if it wanted to truly destroy what little safe haven they had left. Rain poured down heavily from the dark, tumultuous, stormy sky as if the heavens were crying at their current predicament.

The young man pushed his wet, black hair back from his forehead and from his deep-blue eyes. He was so drenched from head to toe that he could have passed as someone who had fallen into a river, which wouldn’t have been too much of a surprise for him if it happened considering how their luck had been.

The clothes he wore—a pair of old converse, torn jeans, and a grey shirt under a dark-green hooded sweatshirt—were grimy and clung to his body, showing the muscles he had built over the years while practicing a number of sports.

The thought of sports sent a torrent of memories rushing back at him, memories of the life—the normal life—he had once lived.

A cold chill ran down his spine; it wasn’t just because of the wind and the weather—which was more than just a turbulent storm—but also because he had come to think of how much his world had changed dramatically.

He knew the dangers of letting his thoughts run and fly off into the past like that, especially under the current circumstance, but he could not help it. He may constantly deny it, but he missed and craved for the normal life he once had.

With a flash of lightning and ear-shattering thunder, he was able to catch a glimpse of what remained of their little sanctuary. It was a structure which could have once been a beautiful, one-room cottage with its rectangular massive body arranged picturesquely into asymmetrical blocks, imitating the sprawling look of a century-old small villa in Italy.

The low-pitched roof now had a large gaping hole. The heavy, support brackets under the eaves would have been beautiful with their pearly white paint and elaborate carvings, but these were now gnarled and bent, the paint slowly peeling. The windows, with their heavy hoods and swirling designs were already broken, some were carried off by the storm while others had their panes smashed by flying debris. The creaky wooden floor boards were now wet—some were loose and in danger of flying with the strong wind, maybe even smashing what remained of the windows.

The whole house groaned as if it was a living being, capable of feeling the pressure of the unnatural weather as its body was being dismantled and torn apart.

Lightning flashed in the sky and thunder roared not far behind, briefly illuminating the darkened world once again and allowing him to see the frightened expression on his companion’s face, the face of the person that he had been sworn to protect—no, the person that he was destined to protect.

He squeezed her soft, fragile, cold hand and felt her shiver beside him. They had been hiding here, hoping for the storm to pass along with the danger that it brought, not knowing how weak the foundations of the house were, until moments before when the storm began ripping it apart.

She was frightened. But he knew that it wasn’t just the storm that frightened her. It was the ones who caused the storm—the beings who had been trying to flush out and kill her and her kind.

She wasn’t a normal human being, although she may look like one. She was one of those beings who had come from a world filled with light. A world he had only heard stories about, a world that he had no right to set foot upon unless he has proven his worth.

Truth was, he wasn’t normal either, not by human standards.

She pulled her knees closer to her chest. Her jeans, her shoes, her long-sleeved black and white shirt, as well as her light-pink cardigan sweater, were wet with the rain and clung to her body, showing off her curves. Her eyes—a bright gold color hidden beneath long lashes, were focused on the hole in the ceiling where rain water poured relentlessly. Bluish-black circles hung under her eyes, proof of how many sleepless nights they have had to endure.

She was chewing on her lips, which were the color of Sweetbrier Rose. Her beautiful silvery hair which reached down to the small of her back was now disheveled. Her skin and her face, which had been ivory pale and almost translucent, were now matted with dirt, grime and scratches—a reminder of what a struggle it had been to get this far.

Anger flared within the young man as he saw her looking like a ghost of her former self, and it was all thanks to them.

His grip on her hand must have hardened as she looked at him with a worried expression etched on her heart-shaped face. She asked, What’s wrong?

The young man shook his head and smiled at her. He lessened his hold, hoping to make her feel better—like how she had told him that his smile always managed to do so during all those days that have long gone by.

Nothing, he told her, still smiling. His voice had matured long ago but had still managed to surprise him. Even now, when he spoke, I was just thinking.

He didn’t need to tell her more than that. She already knew what he meant.

She gave him a small smile, and he could feel the sadness as she said, I’m sorry...

He didn’t wait for her to finish what she was about to say. He already knew what it was she was apologizing for.

He had known her for a very long time and she had done that so many times in the past, believing that it was because of her that his life took an unexpected—and, in his opinion, quite an unbelievable—turn. She had said that if they had never met, then he wouldn’t be in this predicament with her. He would still be living the life that he had grown accustomed to. He would be living a normal life.

Please don’t start this again, Lucia. the young man told his companion as he brushed a loose strand of wet hair from her face with his free hand. We had been over this again and again, and now really isn’t the best time to start.

But—! she wanted to argue, just like how she always did. Somehow, the sense of déjà vu from this conversation made him grin.

Some things never change. He thought to himself.

Then he said, Even if things played out differently, you know that in the end you and I would still have met. It’s like what my grandfather said, remember? I was destined for you. Besides, I would have learned sooner or later that I was different, that I’m not as normal and ordinary as I thought I was.

He knew how sappy it sounded to her, but those words were the truth and he knew that, as always, she needed to hear them.

She gave him a smile. This time, it was a smile full of appreciation as she squeezed his hand. She then leaned in and brushed her lips against his. It was a short, soft, gentle kiss. She rested her head on his shoulder, their hands still intertwined.

At that moment, there was an air of peace around them, of hope that things will get better—that they would be able to live through the night despite the danger that was drawing near and that was sure to come.

He wanted that moment to last.

He turned to face her, tipping her head with his fingers so that his sapphire eyes stared intently into her golden ones. Three distinct words played on his mind. The words that he had long wanted to tell her but never had the opportunity to do so. There would always be someone or something that would interrupt just as he was about to utter them.

Lucia, I— he began, his voice shaking.

But the words never came, it never escaped his lips. As another flash of lightning and another roar of thunder gave light to the room, he saw a figure draped in darkness, standing by the door which had been torn apart by the storm.

He quickly scrambled to his feet and Lucia did the same. Instinctively, the young man moved in front of his companion. Like a knight, his body acted as a protector between her and the robed intruder—a Taken.

Seeing the intruder and knowing what it was, the young man knew that the others pursuing them were not far behind.

There is no escape now, came a shrill voice from the man before them.

The robe that clung to the man’s body was made of tendrils of smoky shadow, flexing and moving as if they had a life of their own. Ghostly apparitions appeared from each of them—moaning and wailing spirits that seemed to be trapped in his robe.

The skin that was visible through the man’s clothing was deathly pale. It wasn’t the same kind of paleness that Lucia’s skin had. It was sicklier, almost corpse-like.

The Taken stretched out his hand, inviting them closer, as he said, Hand her over and your life will be spared, Guardian.

The Taken spat the word Guardian like it left a bad aftertaste in his mouth—which it probably did. There was no question to the amount of animosity that raged between those of his kind and the Guardians.

The young man gritted his teeth and willed himself to draw upon the power within him. With it, he summoned a weapon which appeared in his hand with a brilliant flash of golden white light.

It was a one-handed sword with a hilt made of pure gold. On the sword’s pommel were two snakes whose bodies were coiled around each other, acting as the grip of the sword. The sword’s guard was shaped like unfolded wings.

The blade was made of celestial silver and it glowed faintly like a beating pulse, basking the room with a mixture of golden and silvery hues. On the flat-side of the blade was a group of Angelic Scripts made of golden lines and markings that no human would be able to decipher. The light from these markings was more vivid than the light from the sword’s blade. It was from these markings that the strength and power of the weapon lay.

I would rather die than betray her and the oath that I had given! the young man shouted over the beating sound of the rain and the howling of the wind.

His grip on his celestial weapon tightened even more as he readied himself for the assault that he knew was inevitable.

The Taken did not waste any more time. The young man knew that the Taken wanted to kill him before his brethren arrived so that he could boast of this accomplishment and then take Lucia away.

The Taken lunged at him with his own abominable weapon—a crimson-red blade with a hilt made of dried bones and a guard shaped like a human’s skull.

The young Guardian gently pushed Lucia away before he met the attack. With every strike he let out, and with every parry to the enemy’s blow, he gave it his all, knowing that there was no room for hesitation. Lucia’s life was at risk and he would do anything in his power to protect her and keep her safe. It was his duty. It was what he was born to do.

He was aware of his surroundings as he was trained. He knew that Lucia was stricken by the battle before her. He knew that she didn’t want to feel helpless and that she too wanted to fight.

She had once told the young man that she wasn’t any damsel in distress. She was an angel capable of fighting and wielding magic. But, as powerful as he knew she was, the young man couldn’t risk her joining the fray.

Unable to sleep and rest properly for days, she was weak. Using her magic now would only do her more harm than good. But, more than her disdain for her current helpless state, she was worried about him—the one who was risking his life to protect her.

The young man didn’t know how long it took until he finally gave the final blow to the Taken’s heart. As soon as he did, the abomination curled up into a ball with an eerie moan before vanishing with a puff of black smoke and an explosion of dust. The young man knew that it was quite a long battle, based on how tired he felt.

He didn’t feel as victorious as he should have felt after just winning against one of their sworn enemies. He had never gotten used to taking another person’s life, even if that life belonged to a Taken. Not only that but he did not come out of the battle without a scratch.

A gaping gash was on his right arm from the attack and he didn’t realize it until after the battle that he was hurt and bleeding. He tore off the ruined sleeve of his sweatshirt, revealing the wound not only to himself but to Lucia as well.

You’re hurt, was what she said after giving a gasp as she saw his wound.

She moved forward, her hand outstretched. The young man knew what she was going to do.

Don’t waste your energy, Lucia, he said, his voice hoarse and his throat dry, stopping her not only with his words but also by taking a step back.

He could not allow her to heal him. He would not allow her to waste her energy on something like that.

Although the wound hurt, the young man didn’t lie when he told her, It’s not as bad as it looks.

But I can’t just let you bleed to death! she protested.

He shook his head, trying to give her a reassuring smile as he spoke, Stop exaggerating, Lucia. I’m not going to die because of this. Trust me. Besides, we may need that power of yours for something more important than this.

Silence filled them before he turned and looked around, surveying their surroundings one more time. Seeing and sensing that no other Taken was near, he quickly took Lucia by the hand and together they made a run for it, out of the broken-down house and into the raging storm in the middle of the night.

He didn’t care if he was hurting or if he was tired. He didn’t allow fatigue to show on his face or to slow him down. He did what he was trained to do—to think about nothing else but the safety of his Liege.

They didn’t know where to go and it didn’t actually matter to them where they were heading as long as it was as far away from the house as possible. They both knew that the other Taken were not far behind. The only thing illuminating their path as they ran—and occasionally fell—was the young man’s celestial weapon and the lightning from the storm.

The trees were of no comfort at all. Instead of shielding them from the rain and hiding them from those who were pursuing them, they merely proved as obstacles. The low branches acted like hands and claws that hooked themselves on their clothes and scratched their bare skin. The stubby roots were enough to trip the pair, but still they pushed on through, never daring to slow down.

Finally, they stumbled out of the forest and found themselves at a clearing. The faint light from the distant town of Everheights flickered beyond the unnatural storm.

There, he said, pointing to the direction of Everheights. We should be safe at the town’s cathedral.

Lucia nodded then looked at him with the same worried expression that was on her face minutes, perhaps hours, ago. She asked, Will we make it there safely?

He took a look at the stretch of forest that they emerged from and then back at her. He could sense that they were near, and that it would only be a matter of time before they managed to catch up with them.

He said, You can make it safely there...you should fly to town, Lucia. It would be faster that way. I’ll buy you enough time for you to get to the cathedral and then, I promise, I’ll meet up with you.

Her eyes widened at the young man’s suggestion, he knew how she hated it when they were separated, even if it was only for a short while and even if it was her safety on the line.

No, I will not leave you, she told him. Her soft, melodious voice was shaking, laced with indignation. Who knows how many of them are still after us under this Dark Storm.

That’s precisely the point, Lucia. You know that my duty is to ensure your safety no matter what the cost. he reminded her.

She didn’t have to think too much about his safety. He and those that were like him knew the risks that came with being a Guardian. But she was worried and didn’t want to leave his side. At that moment, he finally understood the reason why his grandfather warned him about being too close to his Liege.

I am safe enough with you. We’ll arrive at Everheights together. she said with finality. She was about to say something more, when her eyes suddenly went wide with a mixture of surprise and horror.

Before he could whirl around, he felt a sharp pain on his chest. As he looked behind, he saw a dozen of the Taken, one of them had a bow aimed at him.

The young man wondered where the arrow was until a pain in his chest exploded and he found himself falling with a blood-soaked arrow, sticking out of his chest.

He heard Lucia shout, No! and saw, with his already fading vision, the Taken moving towards them—towards Lucia. He wanted to move between them, to do his duty and protect her from these creatures that were sent after her, but he couldn’t. He could no longer move his body.

Moments later, he heard her scream something that made no sense to him. His mind was already jumbled up with incoherent thoughts and he was already losing consciousness. It was, however, a scream that he figured would always be etched in his memory should he survive—which now didn’t seem much of a possibility. As she screamed, there was a blinding flash of light. It was like the sun exploding. And then, at that instant, she was gone.

Just like that, he knew that Lucia had perished in the hands of the Taken. After so many months of hiding and fighting, she was gone.

The last thing the young man remembered, before fading into the depths of darkness, was the thought that he too was dying. He was dying and he was alone. He had failed to save what had mattered most in his life. Most of all, he wasn’t able to tell her how much she really meant to him. This was his regret when the memory of that moment—the moment when he could have told her that he loved her—was the last memory he had before everything turned to nothing.

***~~~***

1

WHEN THE BOY MEETS THE GIRL

Summer.

It’s that time of year when the sounds of cicadas drone from the nearby forest; when the sound of the waves lapping on the shore beckon tourists to our town; when there are more people here than there would be at any other time of the year; when the whole town’s always in a festive mood—day in and day out; when the sound of music, whatever the genre may be, could be heard regardless of the time of day.

It’s the only time of the year, apart from Christmas and Halloween, when the town’s actually allowed to let loose and let some of the rules—particularly the curfews—be broken.

To the people of Everheights, our town is a miniature version of a California beach town, minus the dozens of beaches, resorts and hotels, the constant glare of the sun, the sizzling hot weather, and the houses with their own indoor pools, not to mention the lack of sexy girls in bikinis and tans (a constant gripe that my friend, Logan, always had against this town). That, plus the fact that our town’s a bit small with a forest to the south, a mountain range to the east, and the ocean to the north, made me wonder how the people here could actually make that claim with a straight face. I viewed it as juxtaposition more than anything else.

I guess that way of thinking made me different from most of the people in this small town found at the southern tip of Florida. While most of them firmly believe that our town can be at par with any of those beach towns, I’d like to think of it as a mere marketing strategy waiting to blow up in front of our faces.

Of course, that’s just a little thing compared to what really sets me apart from most, if not all, of the townspeople. For one, I’m an orphan. Two, I live in the old cathedral along with the town priest, Reverend Spohl. And three, I don’t remember anything about my past, not my name, where I lived prior to Everheights, or who my parents were. Anything about my past is just one giant blank page with a huge question mark floating and dancing around it.

Most of the townsfolk try to steer clear of me whenever I’m around. It’s like I have something contagious that I could pass along to them. I guess they actually believe that amnesia is a sickness they could catch like the flu or a bad case of the cold, and that it’s something they could die from. It’s stupid, I know.

Some of them stare at me like I’m the unluckiest guy in the world with their sympathetic look that says they are so sorry for my loss. Of course, there are those who like to make fun of me because of the fact that I am an orphan who lives with Reverend Spohl in a cathedral and who can’t remember his past, not even his name—which, let’s face it, makes me seem like the biggest loser in the world (and no, I am not talking about that reality show on TV). I was bound to be made fun of and laughed at. That’s just the way of the world.

There are some people though, who show concern and kindness towards me. Most of them are the girls from my school and the elderly people of Everheights.

If you ask me though, there’s nothing to feel sorry for and I don’t really feel sorry for myself either. I mean, what’s the point in allowing myself to succumb to self-pity? Surely there are more important things than that.

Of course, even though I do say this to people who give me the look, there’s still a desire welling up deep inside me. It’s the desire to learn more about myself and to shed light on the past that I have forgotten. I want to know who I am and I am also willing to do anything and everything to get what I want.

Reverend Spohl told me that when I was just a five-year-old kid, my parents, who were traveling to Everheights for a vacation, got killed in an accident that should’ve also taken my life. When the Reverend found me, I was so banged up that he, the doctors, and the paramedics thought that I would be a goner and that it was only by a miracle or probably my sheer will to live that I survived.

Reverend Spohl took me in when he learned that I didn’t have any relatives left. Apparently, my parents were both only children to their parents and my grandparents were either dead or too old to take care of a boy who can’t remember anything about his past.

Because of the accident, I lost my identity and, without a name, Reverend Spohl gave me a new one: Gabriel. When I asked why he gave me that name, he told me that it was the name of one of the seven Archangels of God and that the meaning of the name—which was strong man of God—fitted me perfectly. I still wonder why he believed that. I am neither strong nor am I a man of God. Heck, religion isn’t even my forte.

Don’t get me wrong, I do believe that there’s a higher power out there and all that, but I am just not plain religious. I don’t go to the Sunday service or any of the other mass services though all I had to do was go down from my room and head to the service hall in order to attend one. I don’t pray either. It’s not that I don’t know how but rather because I don’t know what to say. Besides, I don’t really think that God would want to listen to me rambling on and on about what I want anyway. I’m sure he’s busy with more important things than that and maybe wants me to work for the things I want instead of wishing and making him act like a genie.

Despite giving me the name Gabriel, Reverend Spohl didn’t share with me his last name, so I simply became known as Gabriel and here in Everheights, I just finished being freshman and I also helped out at the cathedral.

It was summer, but I had no intention of basking in the sun at the beach, hiking in the mountains, trying to catch insects in the forest, wasting my time walking around town partying, or going to the Summer Carnival at the plains. I prefer to use my time indoors, partly because I am never really good with people and also because I was hiding from all those girls from the academy who—as flattering as it may sound—seem to always pursue me even when I had shown no interest in them. Apparently, telling girls that you’re sorry and that you’re not interested or that you don’t really have time for them doesn’t really cut it. It’s kind of difficult to tell them off when they’re not exactly listening.

Reverend Spohl does try to make me go out and have some fun, but I think he understands my reluctance and knows that indoors, surrounded by books, I am content and safe from those who would like to do me harm—physically, mentally, and verbally.

Even though I really felt content with just staying home, there are times when I could feel a deep longing. For what? I don’t really know. But it felt as though there’s something I needed to do. No, something I had to do. It felt so important and so urgent that I once told Reverend Spohl about it. He told me that I may have a calling to become a man of God like him.

I shook my head. I don’t really think that that was it. My name may mean man of God but there was no way I was actually going to become one.

It was during one afternoon, I was sitting by one of the cathedral spire’s arched windows that was overlooking the beach with the salty smell of the ocean drifting in, busy with my usual reading, when Reverend Spohl found me.

The Reverend is a tall man with chin-long, coffee-colored hair and brown eyes filled with all the wisdom he had accumulated over the years hidden behind half-moon glasses. He looks a lot younger than his actual age and always had an expression of happiness whenever he talks to people.

Whenever he walks, he walks with authority. He never slouches nor stoops and he always makes sure that he looks presentable, even when the only person he will be meeting was me. People respect him, not only because he is a priest but also because of his wisdom and his compassionate and friendly attitude.

I thought I would find you here, the Reverend said as he entered the room.

Where else would I be? I asked him as I stood up, placing a bookmark on the page of the book I was reading, looking at him with a smile on my face.

Reverend Spohl laughed. That’s true. But I do worry about you not getting enough of the sun and enough exercise.

I get enough exercise from all the errands you have me do, Reverend, I told him, grinning and allowing my smile to reach my eyes which Reverend Spohl had said had the color that is as black as the darkest of nights. Very poetic of him, I know. You have me running around so much that I swear I could now outrun the members of the track and field team if I had to.

Reverend Spohl gave another hearty laugh. Well, isn’t that an interesting thought. I suppose running away from all the ladies in your school helps as well. he joked.

He always likes to say stuff like that, making fun of me and my girl troubles, which is what he likes to call it. Despite being a priest and the person who raised me, I don’t really look at the Reverend as a father-figure. Rather, I see him as an older (though he hates to be reminded that he is old) and much wiser brother.

Please tell me you didn’t come all the way up here just to tease me, Reverend, I sighed.

As much as I enjoy our playful banters, I actually came up to give you a small errand, Reverend Spohl said as he crossed the room and peeked over at the window overlooking the ocean.

Again? I groaned. What is it this time?

The Reverend waved his hand in dismissal knowing that I really didn’t mind that he had another task for me.

While gazing at the view, he said, It won’t take too much of your time. I only need you to go into town—the train station to be precise—get the package that I have waiting for me there and then bring it safely back here.

Bring it safely back here? I asked with a chuckle, my free hand in my jeans’ pocket. You sound as though whatever that thing is, is fragile. Either that or it’s something illegal and the cops are after it or something.

When the Reverend didn’t laugh at the joke nor said anything, I almost dropped the book I was holding as I looked at him incredulously and said, Wait, don’t tell me that it is illegal! I won’t do it if it is. I do have plans in my life and it doesn’t involve sitting behind bars and doing jail time.

I can assure you it is not illegal. The package is merely important and, as I have said, fragile, scoffed Reverend Spohl before he turned around and began walking out the way he came. And Gabriel, do not make any side trips on your way to and from the station, please.

He didn’t wait for my answer as he disappeared behind the door and down the granite staircase. I couldn’t help but wonder what would make him ask me not to make any side trips. He should know me better than that. Not once had I taken any side trips during the chores he had asked me to do. Okay, so maybe there was that one time, but that was because I was with a friend who wouldn’t take no for an answer and besides, we didn’t exactly stay out late that time.

I shrugged and, taking my book along with me, made my way back down the cathedral’s main foyer.

Everheights’s cathedral is the oldest gothic architecture in our small town. The walls of the tower where I was reading are made of stone, some already cracked and dented but that only added to the beauty and history of the place.

The steps of the stairs are made of the same material as the walls—a mixture of limestone and granite—and showed signs of wear and tear. Small, arched windows gave the staircase its natural lighting while hanging light bulbs are used at nightfall.

The tower is directly connected to the main foyer, which also connects to the main service area where one finds the pews, the altar, and where the Mass takes place. Behind the service room lies another room for the Blessed Sacrament where the Holy Eucharist is kept and where people can come to pray intimately if they want. Well, within the acceptable hours of the day, of course.

Many tourists also visit the cathedral. Maybe not only because they’re religious, but also because they love to admire how the foyer looks, what with its high ceiling and paintings depicting several scenes from the Holy Bible like: Adam and Eve at the Garden of Eden standing in front of the Tree of Knowledge; Adam and Eve being banished by an angel out of the garden; Cain killing Abel out of jealousy; Moses parting the Red Sea; and David slaying Goliath with his sling.

From those scenes of the Old Testament, it then jumps to the New Testament showing scenes depicting my namesake, the Archangel Gabriel, giving news to Mary that she would be the mother of the messiah; Mary and Joseph’s journey to Bethlehem; the birth of Jesus inside the stable; Jesus’ ministry, his crucifixion and death, and finally, his resurrection. All of these images were painted so skillfully that it looks as though they are alive.

The lighting of the room also adds to the majestic look of the ceiling that could send shivers down your spine. This makes the Cathedral of the Lady of the Angels one of the famous tourist spots in Everheights.

Rows of pillars encircled the foyer, all of them intricately designed to look like angels with their hands up in the air as if they are holding the ceiling up. The walls, which are elegant and grand, are made of alabaster stone. The arched windows with their stained glass panes held kaleidoscope colors that sparkled with beauty whenever the light from the sun pours in, adding to the surreal feel that could only be found in the cathedral.

Four arched pathways stretched to the four cardinal positions: the north path leads to the main service area, the west and east pathways lead to the towers, and the south path leads to the cathedral’s entrance where two, very large, oak doors with iron linings separated me from the outside world. Beyond that is the pathway leading to the gates of the cathedral and to the town.

Before heading out, I decided to stop by my room to drop off the book I was carrying and to change from my current getup—a pair of khaki shorts, white sleeveless shirt, and a pair of rubber slippers—into something more appropriate. Granted, what I was wearing would have been okay but Reverend Spohl had taught me to always look as presentable as I could be whenever I go out for one of his errands.

There are four levels in the eastern dormitory tower. My room, the Reverend’s room, three empty guest rooms, a large library, and a couple of restrooms, were at the top of the tower while more rooms for clergymen and guests (all currently unoccupied) filled the remaining three levels.

With more than a hundred steps from the bottom landing to the top of the staircase, this was the reason why I had told the Reverend that it was impossible for me to be out of