Bryan Davis - Eye of the Oracle

“Does a valiant warrior from above seek to rescue the downtrodden? We are wretched creatures who have been condemned to eternal torment, and we have suffered for century after century in this cold, desolate hole. Without trunk or limb, we cannot climb the walls to freedom. Without a savior to hear our appeals for forgiveness, we lie here doomed forever.”

Sapphira took another step back, but Elam leaned closer. “What’s your name?” he asked.

She jumped ahead and latched onto his arm. “Elam, don’t.”

The swirling light collected at the top of the hole, white at first, but it split into multicolored streams that rose above ground level and formed into a vertical, elliptical aura. “We have many names,” the voice continued. “Come and help us.”

With each word, the rainbow colors shimmered across the aura’s surface, making it look like a dimensional viewing screen, much like the one the Ovulum had made except more lovely to behold, with dazzling colors waltzing in its ghostly glow instead of a flat, dull red. It also seemed deeper, richer, more captivating as its allure drew them closer, step by step.

The Ovulum stung Sapphira’s leg again. “Ow!” She jumped back. “The Eye of the Oracle doesn’t want us to listen.”

“Ah!” the voice continued, now without a lamenting tone. “There are two of you, and a young female doubts our words.” The colors in the aura formed into the image of a face, a noble-looking man with a strong chin, flashing eyes, and flowing silver hair. Its lips moved in sync with the voice. “I am a Seraph, an angel of Elohim and king of the watching guardians. My kind fought with the dragons, and our battle brought about the great flood that plunged us here to Tartarus. All I need is a courageous young man who is willing to forsake timid, female counsel and climb down to carry us to freedom.”

As Elam turned toward Sapphira, his eyes darted wildly.

Heat surged into Sapphira’s cheeks, and she backed away another step. “No, Elam. He’s lying. I know he is.”

Elam grimaced. He lifted his hands toward his ears, then jerked them back down. “How can you be so sure? My father believed in Elohim and his angels. Maybe the voice in the abyss is telling the truth.”

Sapphira held up the scroll. It trembled in her hand, matching her quivering voice. “I believe Enoch. He was a prophet who warned the Watchers about their evil ways. They were Seraphim who made war against Elohim and his dragons.”

Elam stared at the scroll. “Does Enoch say that Elohim had dragons?”

“I don’t remember!” She waved it in front of him. “But you won’t find the stories in this scroll! Enoch’s is a different one! It’s still hidden in my dugout.”

The voice in the aura spoke again, the lamenting tone returning. “Alas! It is true young Elam. Enoch warned us about fighting against the dragons. We thought they were allies of the first dragon, Lucifer, the prince of rebels against Elohim. Go and read Enoch’s scroll. You will see that we are angels who did not join Lucifer’s prideful quest to unseat the Holy One. To our shame, however, we followed an ill-advised course that brought about our banishment. Now, in our sorrow and contrition, we beg for escape so we can fly to the mercy seat of Elohim and plead for forgiveness.”

Sapphira balled her hand into a fist. “I don’t believe a word he’s saying, Elam. He’s lying. I can feel it.”

The voice grew louder. “Elam, you have heard the song of truth in your ears. Why trust the ever-fluctuating feelings of this little girl? Read Enoch for yourself. Gather your own strength and wisdom and follow the course set before you by trusting your heart of gold.”

Elam stared at the noble face, then at Sapphira. With each glance, his expression stayed the same stern, cautious, maybe carrying a hint of fear. He stalked away from the abyss, and as he passed Sapphira, he wiggled his fingers in front of her face. “Stay here,” he ordered, nodding at his fingers. He then broke into a jog through the trench, calling behind him. “I’ll be back.”

As Elam’s sandal thumps died away, a chill passed across Sapphira’s skin. He had acted so strangely! What did the wiggling fingers mean? But she couldn’t ask now. She was alone with a demon, or maybe a bunch of demons. Who could tell how many? And knowing that they probably couldn’t escape did little to ease her mind. She edged back into the darkness, letting her feet pad noiselessly from toe to heel. She didn’t want that. . that thing to know she was still around, but as its light cast a glow over her retreating body, she couldn’t shake the chilling fear.

A loud click sounded from somewhere beyond the abyss. The angel’s image vibrated. “Is someone still here?” he asked.

Sapphira halted. The angel probably couldn’t see her at all. That face was just a projection of some kind, and the eyes were really blind.

The click sounded again. “Someone is here,” the angel said. “Who is it?”

Sapphira held her breath. Elam had gone the other way, so he didn’t make the noise, and she had never gone farther than the pit, so she had no idea what could be beyond it. Bats, maybe? Something worse? She took another quiet step backwards.

A coarse, female voice crashed through the silence. “Well, if it isn’t little Miss Mara!”

The chill pierced Sapphira’s heart and made her freeze in place. Morgan! Sapphira scanned the chamber in the direction of the voice, but the pit’s brilliant aura blinded her.

Framed by the angel’s shining profile, Morgan’s familiar silhouette sashayed around the abyss, her face shadowed. Still, Sapphira could imagine the evil smile on Morgan’s lips just from the crackling sarcasm in her voice. “So nice of you to greet me at the back door, Mara dear. You must have known the front door was locked, so you rushed down here to form a welcoming party with Samyaza.”

That name sounded familiar, but Sapphira didn’t want to let Morgan know. She twisted her face in mock curiosity. “Samyaza? Who’s Samyaza?”

Morgan turned her sarcastic tone to its maximum setting. “Do you mean to tell me you haven’t been properly introduced?” Her shadowy hand rose to her mouth. “For shame! Samyaza is such a friendly angel. I wonder why he hasn’t told you who he is.”

The name finally clicked in Sapphira’s mind. Enoch listed Samyaza as one of the Watchers! She squeezed her scroll tightly and slid her free hand into her pocket, groping for the Ovulum. It was growing warm, a soothing kind of warmth. Maybe Elohim was ready to help her battle this witch.

Sapphira held the scroll high and waved it. “Maybe Samyaza didn’t introduce himself because he knew I learned his name from a certain book you’ve been looking for.”

Morgan’s voice pitched up. “You found Enoch’s scroll?”

Sapphira stared at the tightly wound parchment. “Ignite!” she shouted. A vigorous flame burst forth at the upper end, growing larger by the second.

“No!” Morgan lurched toward her, but Sapphira leaped out of the way. She dashed to the abyss and held the scroll over the edge, poking Samyaza’s image in the nose, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Leave this place forever,” Sapphira said, “and I’ll give you this scroll.”

Morgan set her fists on her hips. “What good will it do me if it’s just ashes?”

Sapphira nodded at the scroll. “Enough,” she said, and the flames dwindled away. She rolled it out a few inches and studied the text. “Hmmm. I can still read it.”

The angel’s image vibrated once again. “She is not holding Enoch’s scroll. I sent Elam to get it. He is preparing to play the role of Judas, just as you had hoped.”

Morgan’s face lit up. “Ah! Excellent!”