D. MacHale - The Soldiers of Halla

“So what’s his real name?”

“We have no real names. Like I said, we aren’t physical beings.”

“But you’re Press Tilton.” “Because I needed to be.”

“Okay, never mind the names. What happened with Saint Dane?”

“Like I said, we aren’t about influencing or changing the natural course of events. Since we are reflections of man, our only purpose is to help bring balance to their lives and allow people to reach their full potential, whatever it happens to be. That wasn’t enough for Saint Dane. I don’t know why. Perhaps he had seen too much. Or had too many difficult experiences. But he actually grew angry at mankind. Which is an odd concept because we are mankind. He became obsessed with what he considered the mistakes made by people on all worlds. Instead of rejoicing in man’s various achievements, he dwelled on their errors.”

“Sounds like a ‘glass is half empty’ kind of guy,” I offered.

“The trouble began when he decided that we should start playing a greater role in shaping Halla’s destiny. Instead of allowing people to find their own way, he started to influence their choices.”

“Because he thought he knew better,” I added.

“That is exactly right. He felt Solara had the only true perspective on how mankind should evolve, and that it was our duty to steer the worlds of Halla in the right direction. Or at least, what he thought was the right direction. He thought we were more important and more knowing than mankind. That alone was wrong. We aren’t gods. We don’t know all.”

“Yeah, try telling him that,” I said, scoffing.

“I did. Many did. But he would not be convinced. He was appalled by the state of mankind, or so he said. He thought we were all weak for not taking the responsibility of guiding the very life that created us.”

“Kind of like the Frankenstein monster turning on the guy who made him.”

“Except that Saint Dane considered himself to be superior. What he didn’t accept was that there is no right or wrong. There is just life. With all its flaws and triumphs. To alter that is to change the natural course of evolution, which could lead to the end of it all.”

I had heard a lot in the past few minutes. The past few years. Nothing hit me harder than what Uncle Press had just said.

“Wait, you’re saying that altering the natural course of life could lead to the end of all life?”

Uncle Press stepped away from me and gestured out to the wasteland that was Solara.

“Your dad told you that Solara wasn’t always like this. It wasn’t. Solara was a wondrous place of light and harmony. Since it isn’t a physical existence, its nature is different for each of us. Solara is whatever you want it to be.”

“Like Lifelight?” I asked.

“In a way. In fact, that is one of the influences Saint Dane made. He planted the concept of Lifelight in the head of Dr. Zetlin on Veelox. He wanted to gift mankind with the kind of existence we share here. And you know how that turned out.”

“Yeah. Yikes.”

“Exactly. Saint Dane wasn’t all about power and conquest. At least not at first. He actually thought he was doing the right thing by bestowing his wisdom on the people of the territories. He wouldn’t accept the fact that he might not have all the right answers, and even if he did, he shouldn’t be imposing them on the worlds of Halla.”

“Sounds like his typical arrogant self. So what happened to Solara?”

“Like I’ve been saying, we were created by the spirit of mankind. It not only created us, but it powers us. What they are, we are. We are the spiritual reflection of the state of Halla. We have very little physical power.”

Uncle Press pointed to the roiling, colorful clouds above us. “You’re looking at the base elements of matter. Halla is constantly expanding. This is where it begins. What you see up there is matter that will soon become part of the physical Halla.”

I had new respect for the light show in the sky. They weren’t clouds at all. Those electric images in the sky were the seeds of all that is. Or about to be.

“Uh, wow” was all I could squeak out. Kind of an understatement, I guess.

“Saint Dane injected himself into the natural cycle,” Uncle Press said with a touch of anger. “Like I said, we aren’t gods. We don’t create. But Saint Dane crossed a line that is taboo. He manipulated that material to create matter. Physical matter.”

“He had that kind of power?” I asked, aghast.

“Not at first, and not alone. He brought other spirits together, creating forces greater than any individual life. He didn’t want them for their ideas or wisdom; he needed their energy. He became stronger, far stronger than any single entity in Solara. That power allowed him to manipulate matter on the physical worlds. The first thing he did was create an actual, living being for himself. He became the man you know so well.”

“Too well.”

“But he wasn’t truly human. He could manipulate that physical being, becoming any form he chose. Any person, any creature. He continued gathering power from Solara and created the flumes.”

“Saint Dane made the flumes?” I asked, stunned.

“To connect the worlds. That was a critical part of his plan. To gather together the strength of Halla, he needed to make it one. But to do that, he needed a way for the worlds to physically join. That’s why he needed the flumes. And the quigs to guard them.”

“All that was done using the spiritual power of Solara to manipulate physical matter?”

“Yes. It was not only wrong, there was a stiff price to be paid. With each physical creation, with every manipulation he made to the worlds of Halla, he killed a little bit of Solara.”

”Killed?”

“Solara is dying, Bobby. Saint Dane’s actions have drained its spirit. Each time he manipulates matter, a bit more of Solara dies. From creating that massive flume in Yankee Stadium on Second Earth, to turning himself into a raven. It all drains a bit of life from Solara. You know that he saved Courtney Chetwynde from dying, right?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“That act alone nearly brought Solara down for good.” I didn’t know how to react to that. Talk about conflicting emotions.

He continued, “I told you that the spirit of mankind is so powerful it cannot die. That isn’t entirely true. Using Solara to physically manipulate Halla is slowly destroying that life force. The reflection works both ways. If Solara dies, Halla dies.”

“Yikes, talk about interfering in the way things are supposed to be.”

“It gets worse.”

“Worse than the total destruction of Halla?”

“Saint Dane doesn’t want to destroy Halla. He wants to control it, and thereby control Solara. His quest has been to change the mindset of mankind. I think you understand, Bobby, that mankind is basically good, with positive goals and the desire for peace and order. Yes, there are wars and strife and every kind of conflict that you can imagine, but taken as a whole, mankind strives for good. Saint Dane has slowly changed that. By finding the turning points on each of the territories and altering their destiny, he has turned Halla into a dark, dangerous place. People live in fear. So many have died, and those who remain fight for survival. Then of course, there are the chosen. Saint Dane has created a superior legion on each territory that live in peace and safety, but even they are consumed with keeping their own power.”

“The Ravinians?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“But doesn’t Saint Dane realize what he’s created? I mean, did he really want to create such chaos?”

“I don’t believe that he cares one way or the other about Halla.”

“Uh, what?” was all I could get out.