Kingdom Come: the Series Volume 2

Copyright © 2012 Casey Lee

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ISBN: 978-1-4497-4292-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4497-4290-4 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4497-4291-1 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012904347

WestBow Press rev. date: 06/013/2012

Contents

Doves & Serpents

Chapter 1: The Ones Left Standing

Chapter 2: The Strength Of The Remnant

Chapter 3: The Secret Sorrow

Chapter 4: Righteous Rage

Chapter 5: Twin Tragedy

Chapter 6: Silent Screams

Chapter 7: Secret Scars

Preachers & Prophets

Chapter 1: Good Grief

Chapter 2: A Time To Plant

Chapter 3: In Remembrance Of Me

Chapter 4: The Moment Of Truth

Chapter 5: Strike The Shepherd

Chapter 6: Unscathed

Chapter 7: Ask The Father

Heroes & Martyrs

Chapter 1: Redi, Willen, And Abel

Chapter 2: Far From Finished

Chapter 3: A Child Shall Lead Them

Chapter 4: Out Of Tragedy

Chapter 5: Abel’s Army

Chapter 6: To Hell And Back

Chapter 7: Kingdom Come

Epilogue

A Note From The Author

Hunger…hope…and healing.

Doves & Serpents

Casey Lee

KINGDOM COME: Doves & Serpents

is dedicated to:

My grandfather;

Who inspired Haggai’s tale

of the weeping willows.

He is a lifetime farmer full

of wisdom and a few tall tales,

but I love and respect him greatly.

Rick;

May God continue to use you

as His hands, His feet, and His mouthpiece.

Your excitement and feedback has

been such an encouragement to me

and I thank you for your support.

God;

Who teaches us to be

as wise as serpents and

harmless as doves.

To Him be the glory.

Chapter 1:

The Ones Left Standing

The City On A Hill would never be the same again. It was official. No one could deny it. In the course of five months, three ministers had fallen—two of them were dead and the third was nothing more than a Judas kiss to the underground church. This is how he was remembered by most.

But not all.

Haggai Haran, one of the remaining ministers in the City, still could not bring himself to fully believe that Silvanus Scathe, minister of spiritual warfare, had murdered Chief Minister Paulus Prudent, the founder of the underground church.

Lord, Haran sighed as he walked alone among his sheep out in the pasture, I don’t know what Ye have planned in all of this, but things are surely different now, they are.

The big Irishman walked on, his faithful sheepdog Lazarus padding along beside him, an ever-faithful companion. He would often glance up at Haran with his liquid brown eyes full of concern for his two-legged master.

Don’t know what we’re going to do, Lazarus, Haran muttered as he paused to lean back against one of the huge boulders scattered across the pasture. The dog bounded up and settled himself beside Haran, who absently rubbed his furry ears, causing Lazarus to lean into him with a deep-throated groan of pleasure.

Ye old goof, Haran chuckled, giving him a playful shove, then he rose to head out to the field where the City’s horses grazed peacefully.

One horse in particular—a mottled white gelding—came over with a purpose in his step. He seemed to look beyond Haran, his distant gaze focused with a longing expectancy.

Aye, ye miss him too, don’t ye, Amos? Haran murmured as he stroked the horse’s nose with a gentle hand.

Amos nuzzled the big Irishman’s hand, then nudged him and returned his gaze to that distant focus once again.

He’s not coming back, Amos, Haran sighed quietly, his voice heavy with sorrow as he spoke of Silvanus Scathe, He can’t come back. He, uh…he did a very bad thing here in the City.

Haran knew most would think him foolish to be talking to a horse in such a way, but he also knew that animals understood a lot more than most people gave them credit for.

Haggai?

The distant voice calling to him caused Haran to turn and look back over the pasture he had just crossed. He knew that voice. It was young Willen Hartt, one of the students residing in the underground church. She was also one of three children Silvanus Scathe had brought back to the City nearly a year ago.

I’m over here, lassie, the minister called back, waving a hand to catch her eye.

Willen spotted him and broke into a run, hurrying to close the distance between herself and the minister who had been chosen as her mentor and overseer. When she reached him, Haran reached out a hand and pulled her up to sit beside him on the massive rock he sat upon near the horses’ fence.

How be ye, lass?

Oh, I’m…I’m okay, I guess, Willen replied, brushing her wind-tossed hair out of her eyes and smiling at Haran, but her smile was very weak. Forced.

Ye guess? Haran raised a questioning brow.

Well…I guess…I guess I’m not, actually, Willen confessed.

What troubles ye so, little one?

A lot of things, Haggai. Chief Minister Prudent being gone, for one and…

She trailed off and looked down at her feet, her long dark hair falling past her shoulders and hiding her face like a shining curtain in the light of the setting sun.

And…? Haran prompted, brushing her hair aside so he could see her face again.

I’m not sure I should say.

If it’s on your wee heart, ye might as well say it, lassie, Haran chuckled kindly, I’ll listen. It’s what I’m here for, don’tcha know.

It’s about…Minister Scathe, Willen confessed, half expecting Haran to recoil at the mere mention of the man.

He did no such thing.

Ye miss him, don’t ye?

Y-yes, Willen nodded, tears welling up in her eyes, Granted, he was kind of grumpy and sometimes scary, but…I miss his wisdom. There is a distinct void without his class.

Aye, that there is, Haran agreed solemnly, turning his eyes to stare off toward the sunset.

Haggai? Willen asked at length.

Aye, lassie?

Why did God allow all of these things to happen?

The good Lord works in mysterious ways, dear Willen, Haran replied quietly, then he brightened a little and turned to face her, Would ye like to hear a story?

Yeah, sure, Willen smiled, I love your stories, Haggai.

Haran returned the smile and, turning his eyes back to the beautiful array of gold, pink, and lavender in the west, he began a story that went something like this:

Birds sang joyously as they flitted from branch to branch in the huge, wide-spreading willow tree. He was the tallest, most beautiful willow tree on the edge of the forest. His branches offered shelter to many small creatures in all seasons and in all kinds of weather. His roots grew deep under the rich soil that the many wildflowers were planted in. The wildflowers always referred to the huge willow as Dad, for he watched over them all as any good father would.

Another plant grew under Dad’s protective branches. It was a very small willow tree, barely three years old. Her name was Little Willow. Little Willow adored the bigger, older willow tree, calling him Dad just as everyone else did. She wanted to be like Dad. She mimicked everything Dad did, though her branches weren’t nearly as majestic, nor her whispers very smooth or in tune, but when the wind blew, she practiced her whispering song and she waved her branches as majestically as she could.

In spring, Little Willow and Dad would whisper together with the various songs of the birds and the chattering of the squirrels. When the wind blew, they waved their branches and wiggled their roots through the soil, loosening the tight winter ground and making room for the wildflowers to come alive again. When the rain fell, they whispered their song in time to the drum beat of the falling rain as the flowers absorbed the life-giving water. When the sun shone, Dad and Little Willow would raise their branches to the sky as the flowers would lift their little heads, giving praise to their Creator Who made the birds to sing and the squirrels to chatter and the wind to blow and the rain to fall and the sun to shine.

In summer, Dad and Little Willow whispered and waved their branches in the sun. They watched over the lush green grass and the little wildflowers and they tickled the backs of the deer fawns born beneath the shelter of their long, whispering tendrils.

In autumn, the willows began getting ready for the long winter ahead. They slowly gave up their green leaves, one by one, letting them change to brilliant colors and drop to the ground, providing insulation for bugs and tiny animals that spent their winters underground. The flowers lowered their tiny heads and returned to the soil to sleep away the long, cold months.

In the winter, when the snow covered the ground and the branches of Dad and Little Willow, the two trees slept, just as the little squirrels did among their roots and within the crevices of their trunks. The two trees bent with the prevailing winter winds, but they never broke under its force. They stood strong together, though Little Willow was certain that, were it not for Dad, the wind would have torn her down a long time ago. Dad’s strong trunk and sheltering branches protected Little Willow from the strongest of storms and winds.

As time passed and seasons changed, the two willows stood strong. Dad continued teaching Little Willow the fine art of being a willow tree and slowly but surely, her whispering began to sound a little better. She still had trouble whispering in low keys like Dad. Her whispers were always high and occasionally squeaky and raspy, but she refused to give up trying as she was driven by her desire to be just like Dad.

One stormy night, the wind was especially strong and forceful. It blew with a fury that the forest had never seen before. The mighty oaks swayed in the gusts, their branches causing a terrible howling that sent shivers up Little Willow’s trunk.

Dad, I’m scared, she trembled, The oaks sound so spooky.

I know they do, Little Willow, Dad smiled in understanding, That’s why, when the wind is this terrible, I whistle instead of whisper. Whistling is a happier sound and, when you do it just right and you really concentrate, you soon forget about the howling of the oaks. Give it a try.

Little Willow smiled and tried to whistle, but it sounded terrible. Even Dad shuddered a bit as her whistling sounded more like someone raking their fingernails down a chalkboard, but he held his patience with his little friend and gave her an encouraging smile.

Stop it! the mighty oaks howled, Stop that whistling! It’s absolutely dreadful! What a horrible sound!

Little Willow stopped in mid-whistle and bent low in shame, but then she felt one of Dad’s gentle branches touch her softly. As she looked up, she caught his encouraging smile. Dad bent low to whisper to her softly.

Pay no attention to the oaks, he told her, They think your whistling is terrible because they can’t hear the melody of your song over their own noise. Keep whistling. You have just as much a right to make noise as they do.

Her strength renewed and her spirit lifted, Little Willow straightened herself against the wind and whistled with all her might. It was still very much off-key, but that didn’t bother Dad. He only whistled with her and, as the oaks listened to the two willows, they became enlightened. Little Willow sounded terrible whistling all by herself, but when Dad whistled with her, the two trees whistled in harmony and, despite the frightening weather, the whistling of the harmonizing willows brought a sense of peace to the forest.

When morning came, the wind died down and the air became ominously still. The forest was so quiet, you could hear a ladybug’s footsteps. Looking around Dad, Little Willow saw a strange thing moving toward them on the horizon. It looked like a thick, black cloud pillar and it was coming closer.

Dad, what’s that? Little Willow whispered fearfully.

Dad looked and he shuddered with fear, causing the earth around his roots to quake. The cloud pillar coming toward them was indeed a tornado and, as it drew closer, the once still air became windier and more destructive than ever before. Little Willow cringed as she felt many of her green leaves tear away from her branches to be swept away.

Dad knew Little Willow would never withstand the strength of the tornado and, having no other choice, he bent low over her smaller form, sheltering her under his strong branches. As the tornado came upon them, Little Willow closed her eyes and braced herself. She felt a tremendous shudder in the earth around her, followed by a sound dreaded by all trees.

The sound of one of their own falling to the ground.

As the air grew calm once more, Little Willow opened her eyes and the first thing she saw was Dad, uprooted and lying on the ground.

Dad! she gasped, bending low over his fallen form, Dad? Dad, what happened?

It’s all right, Little Willow, Dad whispered, so faintly that Little Willow had to strain her ears to hear him, The storm has passed. Are you okay?

I’m fine, Dad, Little Willow sniffled, But what about you?

Don’t worry about me, Little Willow, Dad sighed, It’s all part of the great Creator’s plan, you see. I’ve been uprooted and my time has ended. You are strong enough to stand on your own and I leave you with a good start. Look! The ground where I once stood has been loosened by my fall and you now have room to grow and stretch out roots of your own.

But Dad, Little Willow sobbed, What shall I do without you? I’ll never make it! I’m not very strong, my whistling stinks, and…and I love you, Dad…

What shall you do? Dad repeated, You shall grow tall and strong and you shall fill the forest with a song all your own. You must carry on, Little Willow. The forest needs your song and the Creator needs your praise.

How can I praise the Creator? Little Willow cried angrily, How can I praise Him after He has done this to you?

It’s all a part of His perfect plan, Dad answered, He removes the old to make room for the new. Grow, Little Willow. Make me proud…praise your Maker…and never forget…I love you.

With one final fading whisper, Dad was gone. Little Willow’s thin trunk shuddered as she bent so low that her tendrils touched the ground and she wept. Her weeping filled the forest—a song of heartfelt sorrow and the flowers and forest creatures joined her sad song, each of them grieving over the loss of such a magnificent tree and a wonderful friend. Little Willow knew the forest would never be the same again.

Many years later, Little Willow still stood in her place, but she had stopped weeping so bitterly long ago. She still grieved in her heart, but she was also filled with joy in knowing that she of all trees was chosen to carry on for Dad. So she stood tall and proud and whispered and whistled with all her might, determined that someday…one day…she would be…just like Dad.

Willen had listened intently to every word and now she found herself weeping like a willow, not just over the sorrow within the story, but over how the story coincided with all that they were faced with in the City On A Hill as they all struggled to recover in the wake of the tragedy that had occurred.

The black tornado made her think of Silvanus Scathe.

Are ye all right, lassie? Haran asked at length.

Yes, Willen nodded, blotting her eyes, I’m just thinking about how that story…it really goes along with what we’re going through here.

Aye, it does.

Dad reminds me of Chief Minister Prudent, Willen smiled softly.

Haran chuckled and put a hand on her shoulder. And ye know who Little Willow reminds me of?

Who?

The optimistic little ray of sunshine sitting right here beside me.

Me? Willen laughed half-heartedly, I don’t feel very optimistic right now, Haggai.

Aye, but ye ain’t giving up, are ye? Haran asked, You’re still kicking in spite of all this mess that’s happened.

What choice do I have? Willen asked, tears pooling in her dark brown eyes.

"Well, ye don’t have to keep going, Haran pointed out, Ye could forsake everything…turn your back on God…His people…say this whole thing is far from worth it. But I don’t see ye doing that and do ye know why?"

Why?

‘Cause you’re a strong one, ye are.

Willen laughed again. I don’t feel strong at all.

I know ye don’t and neither do I. Imagine that, eh? A big guy like meself feeling about as weak as a newborn lamb.

Really?

Oh, aye.

The confession truly caught Willen off guard. Haggai Haran was the last person she would ever think could feel weak and she found herself deeply concerned. She had to know why.

Why do you feel weak, Haggai?

Haran sighed and rubbed his bearded chin thoughtfully. Because there’s absolutely nothing I can do to change these circumstances. It’s out of my hands, your hands, everybody’s hands. Perhaps the only thing we can do is pray and press on. There’s nothing we can do on our own—no matter how strong we think we are. I know how to fix a lot of things, lassie…but the one thing I have never been able to figure out how to fix is a broken heart.

That’s because that’s God’s job, Willen replied, turning to face the minister, He made us and our hearts, so it makes sense that He would be the only One Who could fix them when they break.

Right ye are, young Willen, Haran winked, Ye are a wise one. Wise beyond your years, to be sure. See? The other ministers and I aren’t the only ones who can teach around here. God’s got His fingerprints all over ye, lassie. You’re destined to do great things. Don’t ever let that tender heart of yours be hardened, ye hear?

Willen smiled and nodded softly as her eyes shifted to focus on the remnants of the sunset fading in the west. Again, she found herself reflecting on the story of Little Willow and her mind wandered to the memory of her parents. Yes, she did know how Little Willow felt. She truly did have a desire to carry on for those who had departed, including Onyxus Pearl and Paulus Prudent.

Even Silvanus Scathe.

Ruth Keneniah, another minister in the City and twin sister of Minister Reuben Keneniah, was feeling no better than she had before Scathe was excommunicated from the church. In fact, if she were to be perfectly honest with herself, she felt worse. Now she had come to the realization that subjecting Scathe to the humiliation of the punishment she wanted to see befall him did nothing to ease the pain of losing her best friend Onyxus or the fatherly figure of the City, the Chief Minister himself.

Where the passionate young minister had once been angry, now she only felt a deep, penetrating sadness. Again, if she were to be honest with herself, she would realize that she missed the presence of Silvanus Scathe just as much as she missed that of Onyxus and Prudent. She was never one to cross paths with him very often, but the loss of Scathe in the group of ministers left a noticeable void she could not deny.

You miss him, don’t you? Reuben asked as he discovered his sister absently wandering through Scathe’s old classroom.

"I miss who I thought he was, Ruth snapped defensively, spinning to face her brother, I do not miss Silvanus. He never was what any of us thought him to be. He was a liar. A wolf. A heartless, blood-thirsty killer."

She stood there with her fists clenched, bracing herself for the argument she was certain Reuben was going to present.

But the argument never came.

I know that now, Reuben said quietly as he hugged his sister, And it really breaks my heart. We all trusted that man. Prudent trusted him more than anyone and Silvanus turned around and killed him.

Oh, Reuben…how can we possibly carry on now? Ruth wept, There are only four of us left to teach the children…and none of us possess what is required to fill the void.

We have to continue with what we have, Reuben replied, his own voice laced with sorrow, And we have to trust that somehow God will raise up other people to fill the voids.

But that’s just it, Ruth gasped, pulling back so she could look into his eyes, "I don’t think God ever will raise up others."

We’ll just have to wait and see, Ruth, Reuben answered, And we have to pray with everything that’s in us that God will provide.

The twin ministers held each other in sorrowful silence, standing in the middle of the classroom where so much of what was needed most had been taught.

It made the void even more profound.

Gray skies darkened the following day and Abel Vykter, in possession of a mysterious book in which Scathe, his mentor, had so often been engrossed, sat in his dorm room, poring over the contents handwritten within the book’s pages. He had recently learned that the author had an alias—The Adopted Rose—and even more recently, he had learned that Paulus Prudent had been married to a woman named Rosie, who had passed away many years ago. Not only that, but Prudent’s wife was also confirmed to be a prophet and the book in Abel’s hands was filled with prophecy.

However, Abel was having trouble focusing on what he was reading. Like many in the City, he was keenly aware of a monstrous void that seemed to be swallowing everyone up with grief. It was like drowning in a sea surrounded by millions of people who didn’t know how to swim.

Over time, Abel had learned to trust Scathe and he took comfort in the man’s seemingly unshakable faith…then he had witnessed the violent shaking of that faith and Scathe had become something horrible. Perhaps of all people, it affected Abel the most because Scathe was the one person he knew who seemed entirely confident in his knowledge. In one moment that changed everything, Abel watched that confidence and faith deteriorate in the face of the untimely death of Onyxus Pearl. Shortly after the fall of his faith, Scathe had become a monster.

"I can’t believe my first impression of him was right, Abel muttered to himself, leaning his forehead on his hand, his elbow propped up on his desk, I really didn’t want to believe he was a bad guy…but he was. He was bad all along. Rotten to the core."

It was then that the reality of the betrayal he felt finally set in full force. After fighting it for so long, Abel had finally given Scathe the benefit of the doubt and opened up and trusted him and Scathe had turned around and done this. Stabbed him in the back.

As the impact of these things hit Abel full in the heart, the boy began to weep. He felt abandoned and he felt lost. Who was supposed to be his mentor now? What person could he turn to with all the pain he felt inside? At one time, that person had been Silvanus Scathe, but no more.

Unable to quietly deal with the emotions swelling in his chest, Abel charged out of his room and fled the underground church. He ran outside and continued to run until he was certain no one in the City could see or hear him, then he stopped. From the precipice upon which he stood, he could see the distant shadow that was Serpent’s Ridge far below.

The place where all the trouble had begun.

I hate you, Scathe! Abel screamed at the top of his lungs, "I hate you!"

He stood there for a moment, his teeth bared in a snarl as he sucked in air rapidly in an attempt to control his rage. Hot tears slid down his cheeks and he swiped them away with an angry fist as he added in a low mutter, I only wish I could say that to your face.

Redina Tuserve was helping Minister Tychus Levi that same day. Scathe’s vacant room had to be swept clean so that, in the event that another minister rose up, he or she would have a place in which to teach.

It is important to rid the City of the remnants of his presence, the dark-skinned minister said in his soft Jamaican accent, They will only slow down the healing and further tempt the bitterness.

Redina helped him carry things to the old storage chamber—books, papers, furniture that was no longer needed. As she set a stack of books on the storage shelves, her eyes fell on a misplaced piece of parchment. It was folded and pushed into a crack in the shelving as though to ensure that it would not be lost. Redina crossed over to the dark corner of shelving and plucked the paper from the crevice.

Upon unfolding it, she realized that it was a letter addressed to Abel Vykter and she read no further. Whatever this note was, it was Abel’s business, not hers.

As Levi entered the room with another stack of books in his arms, she hastily shoved the note into the back pocket of her jeans under her purple robe. She stood there for a moment, studying Levi absently until he met her gaze.

Are you all right, Redina?

Oh. Uh, yes, Redina shook her head to break her trance-like state, I was just wondering…does it bother you to be doing this, Minister Levi?

To be doing what? he asked as he plopped his load of books on the shelf and brushed his hands off on his orange cloak.

All of this? Redina said, gesturing around her with her hands, Heaving Minister Scathe’s stuff?

We are not ‘heaving’ it, child, Levi smiled gently, Just removing it in the event that another minister steps up to teach. Minister Scathe’s materials will remain here until someone wishes to use them.

How do you feel about all that has happened, Minister? Redina asked after a thoughtful pause.

I think I am still in shock, Levi answered slowly, his expression very somber, We have lost three comrades and it has been like trying to adapt to losing two arms and a leg, to say the least.

"We didn’t have to lose Minister Scathe," Redina pointed out.

I am afraid we did, Redina. He was a murderer and he could not be allowed to remain in the City.

So you truly believe he killed the Chief Minister?

He offered no defense, Levi shrugged.

I didn’t ask you that, Redina replied, not unkindly, Do you truly believe he did it?

Levi thought about it for a moment, replaying all of it in his mind—finding Scathe, the gun, a lifeless Paulus Prudent, Scathe’s indifferent reaction to everything…

Yes, he said at last, Yes, I do believe that Minister Scathe killed the Chief Minister.

After the work was finished with Levi, Redina hurried out to find Abel, clutching the mysterious note addressed to him in her hand. She had no idea where Abel might be at this hour of the day, so she went about the City checking all the places he frequented. When she could find him nowhere within the underground church, she headed outside.

Thinking perhaps Abel would be in Minister Haggai Haran’s company, the first place she was drawn to look was the barns and the pastures and sheepfolds where the big Irishman was most likely to be. She found Willen and Haran in the barns, working together to tend to Maggie, the young ewe who had given birth to triplets only a few weeks ago.

How’s she doing? Redina asked as she strode up to them.

Much better, Haran grinned, She’s been able to stand long enough to nurse the wee ones twice now. ‘Course, they have to take turns at it. Willen’s been bottle-feeding the one that gets left out.

That’s great! Redina smiled, then grew sober, Hey, have either of you seen Abel anywhere?

Willen thought for a moment, then shook her head. Not since breakfast in the Banquet Hall this morning. Why?

I found a note that’s addressed to him, Redina replied, pulling the note from her back pocket, I wanted to give it to him.

Who’s it from, lassie? Haran asked.

I don’t know. I only opened it and saw that it was to Abel and I read no further. It’s none of my business. I just want to make sure he gets it.

Why don’t ye run along and help her find the lad, Willen? Haran suggested, I can handle things meself here.

Okay, Willen nodded, pausing to pat Maggie’s wooly head as she passed through the gate of the lambing pen.

See you later, Minister Haran, said Redina as the two girls headed out into the dreary afternoon.

Aye, lassie, Haran smiled and half-waved over his shoulder as he bent to tend to one of the lambs.

Have you checked his dorm? Willen asked Redina, speaking of Abel.

Yeah, he wasn’t there, Redina replied, I checked the Trinity Hall, the sanctuary, the classrooms, the recreation room, the library. Can’t find him. He has to be outside somewhere.

The two girls split up and began to call out to their missing friend, agreeing that, if one of them found him, they would reunite back at the big maple tree on the east side of the church.

Willen headed north along the west side of the mountain, cupping her hands to her mouth and calling out Abel’s name.

Abel! Come out, come out, wherever you are!

Hugging his knees to his chest as he sat on the same rock outcropping overlooking Serpent’s Ridge, Abel heard Willen’s cries, but he chose to ignore her. He really wasn’t in the mood to be discovered in such an emotional state and have to try to explain his rage. He already knew from past experiences that it was hard to explain things even he himself did not understand.

Unfortunately for Abel, his silence did not ensure that he would not be discovered.

There you are! Willen panted after picking her way down to where her friend sat. When he neither moved nor spoke, she came closer and put a hand on his shoulder. Abel? What’s wrong?

Nothing, Abel grumbled, shrugging out from under her hand.

Willen looked hurt, but she tried not to show it. Instead, she sank down beside Abel and looked intently at him, then shifted her gaze to follow his and, in so doing, she easily concluded what he was staring at.

Serpent’s Ridge.

She looked back at Abel, her eyes shining with concern as a gentle breeze played through her long dark hair.

Abel…please talk to me? It was a plea, not a demand. I’m your friend and I care about you.

You wouldn’t understand, Willen, Abel snapped shortly, never shifting his gaze.

But I’ll try, Willen persisted, Please, Abel?

No! Abel barked, causing her to jump, Willen, don’t you get it? You and I do not think the same way! We’re different! You’re too optimistic to understand the downside of things and, frankly, I don’t feel like being optimistic, so take your look-on-the-bright-side hoo-hah and get lost!

Willen recoiled as though Abel had physically slapped her. Tears welled up in her eyes, but before they could spill over, she scrambled to her feet.

All right, Abel, she said quietly, I’ll…I’ll leave you alone. I’m sorry…

Deeply hurt, Willen turned and fled. As she ran back up the mountain, she almost collided with Redina.

Whoa! Willen? Did you find Abel?

Willen didn’t answer. She only paused long enough to look at Redina, tears streaming down her cheeks, then she resumed her flight back up the mountain.

Redina stared after her and concluded two things in her mind: either Willen had found Abel and something horrible had happened to him, or she had found him and he had said or done something to hurt her feelings.

She hoped it was the latter of the two.

As she marched down the path, it wasn’t long before she noticed the boy, slouched in his crimson cloak on a ledge overlooking the valley below. At least she knew something horrible hadn’t happened to him.

Yet.

Abel Vykter! she barked, causing Abel to startle and look over his shoulder.

What do you want? he demanded.

I want you to wise up, Redina snapped, I don’t know what happened between you and Willen, but she just ran back to the church and she was really upset.

All I did was tell her I’m not in the mood for her optimistic mumbo-jumbo, Abel replied defensively, If she took offense to it, that’s her problem.

Is that how you treat a friend, Abel? Redina asked, hot with rage and barely controlling it.

What’s it to you?

That did it.

What’s it to me? Redina repeated, raising her voice a couple of notches, "What’s it to me? Willen is my friend too, Abel. You hurt her for no reason