D. MacHale - Raven Rise

“To turn back now would mean we are no better than the people we disdain. Our future will not be determined by any one person. Our strength is in our common vision. That is what Naymeer taught us. That is what the world expects from us. That is what Halla expects from us.”

Excitement was growing. The people were getting worked up. The wailing cries were heard no more.

“To turn back now would be an insult to the memory of Alexander Naymeer, and to our own beliefs and values. His mortal body may be gone, but his spirit lives on in each and every one of us.”

Applause broke out.

Eugene smiled. Saint Dane smiled.

“Even now, Ravinians from Second Earth have been sent to Denduron to aid the Bedoowans in their battle against the Lowsee. Military strategists have arrived on Zadaa to help the Rokador plan an insurgency against the powerful yet primitive Batu. The island of Ibara will soon be under siege. Right here at home, the dramatic events that occurred not far from this spot have cemented our power. The people of Second Earth fall into two camps. They either embrace our philosophy, or they fear us and will be marginalized. We are at the forefront of a new world. A new Halla. That is the legacy of Alexander Naymeer. We must not fail him.”

The crowd cheered. The promises were all coming true. Their cult of excellence had taken hold and would grow, even without Naymeer.

Eugene held up his hand to quiet the enthusiastic crowd.

“Naymeer foresaw all of this. He anticipated many things, including his own demise. He knew his body would not live forever. That is why he had the foresight to groom an heir to take his place.”

The crowd once again gasped in dismay. Eugene pressed on, not wanting the momentum to slow.

“As great as our ship is, we must have direction. Guidance. Experience. We must have youth. There is an individual whom

Alexander Naymeer has tutored in the ways of Halla. Together they traveled to other territories, learning of the customs and idiosyncrasies that make up many different worlds. They have broken bread with leaders from all territories, forging alliances and laying the groundwork for the common good we all so desperately want. This is the person Naymeer put his trust in. This is the person who will guide us. This is the face of a new Second Earth. A new Halla. Fellow Ravinians, I present to you…our future.”

A spotlight flashed into the flume. Standing there, wearing the dark red robe that was once worn by Alexander Naymeer, was Nevva Winter.

The crowd didn’t know how to react. There were confused murmurings rather than cheers. Gasps rather than applause. It didn’t bother Nevva. She looked to Eugene.

To Saint Dane.

He gave her a reassuring nod.

Nevva raised her arms as if to embrace the conclave. In an assured voice she announced, “This is not about me. This is not about any one of us. This is about us all. We are the elite. We are the strong. We are the enlightened. We are Ravinia!”

She held up her right hand-the hand with her ring. Light blasted from the stone, activating the flume. The tunnel sparkled, turning instantly to crystal. As Nevva stepped aside, light grew from within, coming forward like a ball of charged energy.

The crowd watched in awe.

The light drew right to the mouth of the flume and formed an image. It was the face of Alexander Naymeer.

People fainted. They fell to their knees. Some cried. Others simply stood in awe, holding their hands out, trying to touch the ghostly image. Naymeer had gone from leader, to legend… to god.

“My friends,” the disembodied image bellowed with a voice that echoed eerily through the conclave building. “The first territory of Halla is now under your control. You alone will decide its future. Do not mourn my passing. Embrace my spirit. Through Nevva, I will be there for you. I will be there for you all. This is not an end, but a glorious beginning. For you. For Halla. For Ravinia.”

The image of Naymeer erupted with light, turning into a three-dimensional star. Nobody flinched. They stood staring, as if the light were the very essence of Naymeer that was sent to embrace them.

Nevva looked to Eugene.

“This is it, isn’t it?” she said. “After all this time. It’s finally over.”

“It is over,” Saint Dane replied with confidence. “And now we can begin.”

I didn’t feel an impact. I felt something else. Gravity. My body suddenly felt heavy. I was no longer floating, or whatever it was I was doing. It felt like lying down. Other sensations returned. I felt a chill. Air moved over me. Sound returned too. I heard the moan of a far-off, hollow wind. I didn’t think I was hurt. There was no pain. I wondered whether I was dead. Not knowing what being dead felt like, I had no opinion.

Wherever I was, I was lying facedown. I cracked an eye open to see that I was stretched out on bare ground that was covered with a fine, light brown dirt. Or sand. I couldn’t tell. I brought my hand to my face and touched it. It was just that. Dirt. I guess that sounds like no big deal, but it was to me. It meant I was someplace solid. Some place real. The question was, where?

I sat up to see…nothing. Or almost nothing. A quick three-sixty showed me a whole lot more of nothing. Still, the place felt real. I had the thought that I was in the middle of a desert, with nothing around me for miles. The air was hazy and full of dust particles that hung like fog. I had no depth perception. Could I see for ten miles or ten inches? There was no perspective. I didn’t know where I was. I didn’t know when I was.

It was a lonely place to be.

That’s exactly how I felt. Lonely. I was totally, miserably alone. I had lost the battle for Halla. For Second Earth. I had become a killer. Most of the people who meant anything to me were gone. I had failed them all. Saint Dane had done exactly what he said he would do. What he predicted he would do. He had torn the territories of Halla down, so that he could rebuild them and rule the way he saw fit. Halla was now controlled by a dictator.

I sat alone in that grit, not able to move. Not wanting to move. I wouldn’t know where to go anyway. I wanted to lie down, close my eyes, and let the swirling sand bury me. I was done. I had no future. There was no future worth having. If I wasn’t dead, I wanted to be.

That’s when I heard a voice.

At first I thought I was imagining it. It could have been a trick of the wind. It wasn’t loud, or distinct in any way. I thought maybe it was someone speaking far away, and the words were being carried to me on the breeze like a whispered memory.

I heard it again. Closer. More distinct. One single word cut through the howl.

“Bobby.”

I knew that voice. It was so familiar, but I couldn’t grab on to it. It was like the answer drifted on the edge of my consciousness, waiting for me to reach out and grasp it. I looked around and saw nothing but dusty haze. I felt sure I was hearing a ghost.

My eye caught movement. A shadow. Something was out there. I focused on it, desperate to see anything that would tell me I wasn’t trapped in an endless limbo. The shadow moved closer. It was a person. Someone was walking toward me. I couldn’t find the energy to stand. The shadow walked boldly, confidently, as if it knew exactly where it was going. Whoever it was, whatever it was, it didn’t seem like a ghost. It seemed to be wearing some kind of long, open coat that flapped in the breeze.

My heart stopped. I swear. I couldn’t breathe. I had finally reached out to the edges of my very being and grabbed hold of the truth. It was impossible. It was beyond reason. The ghost was a man. Or the man was a ghost. He stepped out of the dusty haze and stood over me.