24: WHEN ONE DOOR OPENS, CLOSE IT; WHEN ANOTHER CLOSES, LET IT BE
In the beginning, there was darkness.
In the beginning of her death, anyway. But then, there was light. Endless, infinite, stretching on towards forever. She was a weightless feather floating in the vast expanse of white nothingness.
Nothing. No pain. No anger. No hate. No fear. Just nothing.
She didn’t know how long she stayed in the fields of nothingness, but then suddenly it felt as if something was pulling at her.
She fought at first, because the white, though having absolutely nothing, was warm and comforting and it just felt so good, she didn’t want to go away. But the pull was strong. Slowly, she drifted, floated and glided across the white, white sea, until there was a searing pain in her chest that knocked her out cold again.
Then she opened her eyes, and everything hurt. “Solenn!”
Her friends were all gathered around her, wearing different expressions of fear, anxiety and relief. Even Selina, who was just about as expressive as a rock, was looking at her with slightly wet eyes.
“You guys are weirding me out,” Solenn said. She opened her mouth to tease her some more when she remembered where she was and what she was doing before everything became dark. “Sol!” she cried out, suddenly frantic. The last thing she saw before she blacked out was Xandros standing over Solomon with his sword raised. “Solomon! Where’s Sol?”
“I’m right here, ‘Lenn.”
Solenn was out of Gabriel’s arms and into Solomon’s in a heartbeat. Solomon’s arms were warm and firm around her shoulders. His heart was strong and steady, and it was music to Solenn’s ears. Solomon was alive.
Thank the Triune.
She quickly let go of Solomon and stared at Lukas. “You did it?” Lukas nodded with a small smile. “You didn’t…?”
“No,” Lukas answered her unspoken question. No, I didn’t absorb your wounds. For some reason, the wounds didn’t transfer to Lukas this time. He didn’t know what happened, but what he knew was that he was so desperate to heal Solomon and Solenn, he was willing to absorb all their wounds just to bring them back to full health.
He didn’t want to see his strongest friends broken like rag dolls on the ground, and he didn’t want to see that broken look on the strong commander’s face anymore.
“‘Lenn, Sol,” Selina said, “we still have to close the Gate. Samson said we could use our holy weapons to close it.”
“Well,” a voice said, cutting through their conversation, “that’s something I’ll have to see.”
Seven heads turned towards Xandros, who, all this time, was sitting on top of a tree stump, reading his book again. He was wounded all over from his earlier battle with Solomon and Solenn. His clothes were tattered, and there was blood soaking the side of his armor where Solenn had pierced him with her sword.
And yet, he was still as serene as if he had just finished drinking his afternoon tea.
“I would like to believe I’m being kind by allowing you to have your heroic healing session and your tearful reunion, but you see, the Gate stays open unless someone closes it.”
“Why didn’t you tear it fully if you wanted it blaring open?” Solenn demanded as she pushed herself to stand up.
Xandros closed his book and kept it in his coat again before standing up. “You would be pleased to know that the two of you were successful in stopping me from opening it fully. The planets have misaligned. The sword is now ineffective. I would like to watch you close the Gate before I return to Astana and receive the punishment of the emperor for failing my mission.”
“You won’t be coming back to Astana, you traitor,” Solenn said. “We’re taking you in.”
“If you can, my sun.”
“I’ll die trying.”
“Don’t bother,” Xandros said as he stood up. “Now, let’s see you close the Gate, all seven of you.”
The seven Champions looked at each other, wondering if they would apprehend the smug man in front of them, or if they would do as he said and close the Gate.
In the end, the fate of the Worlds was more important than the fate of one man, no matter how despicable he was.
Deciding to do what was right, the seven Champions stood on seven points surrounding the open gate.
One after another they raised their Triune-given weapon towards the open Gate.
Solomon and the Second Coming. Selina and the Exodus. Joana and the Passover. Lukas and the Resurrection. Mateo and the Tabernacle. Solenn and the Ark of Covenant. Gabriel and the Memorare.
Drawing deep, the seven Candidates pictured the Flaming Sword of Eden and the Tria Haec in their minds. They allowed their minds’ eyes to be blinded by the ever-burning fires of the Sword, and the jeweled crystal glasses of the Towers.
In their hearts, they heard the cries of the thousands of Guardians who clamored for their victory. In their minds, they tapped into the quiet of their souls, reaching farther and deeper into their very core.
They felt it. Their minds and hearts and souls converging, merging, mixing and coming together to form one core. In the silence of their hearts, they found it.
Their core.
It was the core of the Champions.
Flawed. Imperfect. At the moment unbalanced and deficient. But strong. Brave. True.
They tapped into that core and raised their weapons.
With everything they got, with all the power that was left in them, with all their might, their imperfect hearts, and their flawed souls, they released all the power they could draw from the core and directed it at Gate Pandora.
There was a flash of brilliant light, like ice and fire, wind and hale, sky and sea, coming out of their weapons and into the open Gate.
All but one. Gabriel’s.
***
“Gabriel, what’s wrong?” Solenn shouted over the shrieking protests of the demons.
“I don’t know!” Gabriel shouted back. “Why isn’t mine working?”
“Gab, dig deep!” Mateo advised.
“The heck’s that supposed to mean, dude?” Gabriel asked. “Let me see you digging deep!”
“Gabriel, calm down,” Solomon warned. “It won’t help if you’re panicking.”
Gabriel shook his head. “But it’s not working! I told you already, I’m not one of you! What the heck was I thinking, believing you that I was a Champion,” he spat, face full of spite. Behind that spite, though, was the pain and disappointment he had been harboring since before the beginning of this mission. “I was neverone of you! I should never have believed you!”
“Ah, yes.” once again, Xandros’ voice cut through. “You were never one of them, brother.” Slowly, he took out something from his coat and held it out. It was a small sapphire gem not bigger than Xandros’ palm. He closed his eyes for seconds that seemed to stretch into hours, and right before their eyes, the sapphire stone transformed into a weapon.
Another Holy Weapon.
It was a scythe, seven feet tall, with three blades curving out in alternate directions. There were etchings and engravings of roots, vines and blossoms from the base to the tip. One of the blades, the longest one, was the color of deep crimson, while the other two were black.
“My Holy Weapon, the Revelation,” Xandros said as he walked up to them. “Aptly named, don’t you think?”
It was as if their voices were stolen from them. Nobody could say a word. Their hands were outstretched towards the rip in the Gate, but their eyes were all on Xandros and Gabriel.
No one, not even Solomon, knew about this.
“Because you see, brother,” Xandros said, “the Judges had it all wrong. You aren’t the seventh Champion. I am.”
“You’re lying!” Solenn cried out, her eyes once again showing the beginnings of hatred. “Samson is never wrong!”
“I’m not lying, and I’d prove to you that your perfect father could be wrong sometimes. The names were revealed, yes. But did the Judges tell you that only the surnames were shown? All they had when they went out to look for you was a surname and the hope to find the mark in you. You don’t have a mark, Gabriel,” Xandros pointed out. “I do.” Xandros pushed back his tousled fringes and revealed the mark on his forehead. “I’m the Die’Erde the Towers were referring to.”
The seven Champions — one of them apparently nota Champion — all gaped at Xandros. “And because I’ve already failed in opening it anyway, might as well help you close it now, too, just to prove that I’m the true Champion,” Xandros said.
He gave them all a meaningful look before he raised the scythe towards the opening and released a burst of light similar to the others.
The portal was closed in a matter of seconds.
There was a loud cry of victory from the Guardians. Gate Pandora was closed.
They did it.
With renewed zeal, the Guardians took out the remaining demons that had gotten out of the portal. Everything happened in a flurry of motion, but for the young soldiers gathered around the closed seal, time seemed to stop.
Samson slowly approached the eight teens, three of which he trained into becoming the best soldiers in the continent.
It broke his old heart that one had decided to abandon the Light. As if that wasn’t enough, the traitor had also nearly killed the two left in his care. No other father should go through this.
Samson’s eyes moved to Gabriel, who looked as if his world had collapsed in on him yet again.
Magda, what had happened to the children we took in? It seemed thatI failed at beinga commanderas muchasI failed at beinga father. “I…” Gabriel shook his head and laughed weakly.
“I… What is this… You made me believe… Crap.”
Samson had nothing to say. For the first time in his life, he didn’t knowwhat to say. There were no words or gestures in this world that could make this right for the boy again.
The first words came from the unlikeliest man. “Gabriel, you are not a Champion,” Xandros said, his soothing voice uncharacteristic of a villain. “You are the prophesied king.”