The year is 1879. When thirteen-year-old Ruth Merritt Holbrook emerges from her family's burning estate, bloody and charred, but entirely numb--She makes headlines. Reporters believe she is deranged. They accuse her of having set the fire. All the h...
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My soul feels crushed to splintered pieces. I am exhausted, as Gabe said I would be, and I might sleep if it were not for this desire to write of what I have experienced. I have so many thoughts, so much I need, I must, say. So I shall not hesitate to do so now, before sleep can claim me—
Although I am incapable of remembering Adonai, I have been blessed with a sense of peace that can only be received from him. It is for this reason, and this reason only, that I believe this all to be true. That feeling is familiar, like the voice of a long lost friend, whispered to me in the still sweet darkness of my mind. It is the breathing of the truth.
Over the past few hours, I have grown to not only believe in this truth, but to remember pieces of myself—pieces of Leviathan.
We spoke, Adonai and I—or so I have been told.
I cannot recall it, but I suppose that I knelt before my master and pleaded for the life of my betrayer. I asked amnesty for the one person my heart desired: an archangel, Leviathan.
Leviathan.
I can't even write his name without pausing, shaking, inhaling a breath to try to steady the pounding fo my heart. Something about him, about even his name, sends sparks through me. How had I never seen it? How could my heart have forgotten him?
I remember him now, I remember many things about before all of this, before I was this girl. Perhaps he was wicked, or evil...but none of that seemed to matter to me; for I know him—or perhaps then I did. I knew his very soul, his very essence was mine to see and love. And I had loved every crack in him, every shredded piece of imperfection that was Leviathan.
So it was not my lack of understanding which led me to plead for his life, I knew who he was—instead, it was a passion so deep in my bones that I knew I had to act upon it. It was because of this, my love for him and my understanding of who he truly is, that had me kneeling before Adonai. I loved Leviathan and so he must die.
I am not making sense.
What I know and what I have been told is mixing in mind. I shall begin again—this time speaking only of what I myself know to be true. I am unable to fully picture these occurrences, but, even so, they feel real to me. They are a past I once lived and now can only glimpse in flashes. Bits of shadow wrapped in splintered, fragmented light. As if viewing a silhouette through stained glass windows.
Humanity is not meant to understand the workings of such things, and so I am not meant to be able to see these things as clearly as I once did. Never the less, I shall try to make sense of them here...
We were the first creation. Made fresh and crystalized in a power even we did not fully understand. We were many—legions, even. Together we formed a blindly white mass of divine beings that existed to serve a wonderful and powerful ruler—Adonai. Our creator. Our father. As we formed and drifted into ranks, levels of emotions and desires began take place within us. Our purpose was to serve Adonai and combine his will with ours—for we were blessed with the will to chose our own paths.
