Prisoner of Prophecy Read online

  Pariah

  Copyright © 2015 by Casey L. Bond. All rights reserved.

  Prisoner of Prophecy

  Copyright © 2015 by Casey L. Bond. All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any way by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of the author except as provided by USA copyright law.

  Scripture quotations marked (KJV) are taken from the Holy Bible, King James Version, Cambridge, 1769. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, descriptions, entities, and incidents included in the story are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, events, and entities is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Design by Kari Ayasha of Cover to Cover Designs

  Cover Photography by Mandy Hollis

  Cover Model: Derienne Briggs

  Proofread by Anna Gorman Coy of AGC Editing and Services

  Edited by CLS Editing.

  Book design by Inkstain Interior Book Designing

  Published in the United States of America by CHBB Publishing

  To my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Without Him, I would be nothing. With Him, I can be anything He leads me to be. He is most patient with me, and I am most appreciative.

  To my loving husband, Elton. His daily love and support mean the world to me. He is a most wonderful partner-in-crime and dedicated father, and for both, I am thankful.

  To Juliet, my oldest baby. I love you and am so proud of you. You are such a beautiful, sensitive soul. I enjoy seeing the wonder of the ordinary and extraordinary things in life through your eyes. You are full of sweetness and questions about the world. I love you so much and am so thankful that God blessed me with you.

  To Eris, my youngest baby. I love you and am excited to see all of your firsts. We add to that list daily. I am blessed with your sweetness and your tenacity. You are full of energy and smiles. I love you so much, and I am also thankful that God blessed me with you.

  To Mama, my second half. You get me, you giggle with me, and pray with and for me. I love that you always support whatever crazy thing I’ve got going on at the moment. You love my daughters almost as much as I do. Almost. But seriously, I love you so much, and God knew what he was doing when he made you my mother. I am truly blessed.

  To Dad, I love you. I love to politic with you, and yes, with you, politic is a verb. I love discussing the world, the Bible, and life with you. You play with Eris and take Juliet fishing. Making memories is just part of being a wonderful Dad and Papaw to you. I appreciate and love you very much and am so thankful to have you in my life. God knew what he was doing when he gave me you.

  To Heather. My BFF, former matron of honor and sidekick in all things wicked. I love ya. I know we don’t see each other enough, but I pray for and think of you often.

  To MaMaw Grammy: We love you so much. My girls love visiting and I love just sitting and talking to you. We’ve made some amazing memories. You taught me to make mud pies and real cookies, too.

  To Crushing Hearts and Black Butterfly: Thank you for loving this story as much as I do.

  Then saith he to Thomas, Reach hither thy finger, and behold my hands; and reach hither thy hand, and thrust it into my side: and be not faithless, but believing.

  —JOHN 20:27

  THOMAS STOOD SILENTLY in the cool, humid air of the cave. Torches dotted the wall of the small space, angry flames licking furiously, consuming everything but the light they provided. Nature’s mineral draperies flowed from ceiling to floor in dramatic ribbons all around him. No footsteps announced his arrival, but Thomas felt His presence with every cell in his body. The hair on the back of his neck rose in joyful anticipation. He reveled in the human feelings he had once again been granted. Being in the flesh once more was something he’d never expected, and now there he was.

  He drank in the familiar sensations of humanity. Thomas knelt low and bent his head in reverence as He approached from the darkness.

  He cupped Thomas’s chin, lifting his head and eyes to Him. “You look well, Thomas, my friend.” The kindness and love shone in deep brown eyes that smiled, even when his mouth wouldn’t.

  “Thank you, my Lord,” he bowed again.

  Deep laughter resonated through the cavernous space. “Thomas, stand up and embrace me as a friend.”

  Thomas stood and collapsed into the arms of his friend, mentor, and savior.

  “You are needed on Earth once more, Thomas. Though, I suppose you already figured that out.” He smiled, chuckling at the obvious.

  Thomas nodded.

  “You must give hope to the hopeless. You must express to them every detail of the Prophecy, which I will give to you this day. Do you understand?”

  “I do.” Thomas’s human hands began to quiver as he took in the gravity of the obligation that fell on his shoulders.

  “Good, then let us get started for there is much to explain.”

  He took Thomas’s hands in his own, and Thomas could see the marks of the nail prints still evident in His palms.

  He joked, “You need to feel them again, Thomas?”

  The two smiled and Thomas shook his head. He had already felt the wounds once, had placed one of his own fingers through the flesh of his palm until it had poked through the back of his hand. And because of that, he would never again allow doubt to infiltrate his mind or his relationship with his Maker.

  GOD ONCE MADE a promise to every living creature on Earth that, never again, would He end the Earth with water. Rainbows were sporadic reminders of that covenant. Over time, the human population grew in number, and evil spread throughout the land like a swarm of locusts—ravenous and destructive. People in the great buildings lied, cheated, stole, and killed. Very few good people remained.

  The Lord grew increasingly frustrated that His creation had become so wicked. His commandments had been long forsaken. Sadness and disappointment in His creation grew into unadulterated anger that would no longer be contained. He would destroy the Earth once and for all, and with it, His most beloved creation—a creation that had been lovingly formed in His own image.

  Fire spewed from the belly of the Earth. Great mountains of ash and brimstone rained down. Ash engulfed the sky, cloaking the Earth in constant shadow. The ground heaved and shook.

  Great buildings fell or were consumed by the magma that spewed forth. Plants and animals were eradicated. The land beneath the sea heaved up, sending great waves crashing over the continents. Great islands sunk beneath the waves, others rose up above the surface. And just like that, in the blink of an eye, the entire face of the Earth changed.

  The humans that remained were terrified.

  As God prepared the final series of fiery strikes to come from the heavens above, Jesus entered the throne room of His Father. He fell upon his knees and begged for mercy for those who had survived. After all, He argued, good people still remained, and if even one soul were turned from evil and taken into heaven, His sacrifice would prove meaningful to the remaining souls below. Knelt before the throne, Jesus pleaded with every fiber of His being for one last chance for mankind. He begged for the souls of sinners and saints alike.

  Love flowed around Him in circling amber streams of light. His Father was taken aback by His son’s humble sincerity and agreed to halt the destruction, giving man one final reprieve. However, said reprieve would be temporary. A neutral agreement would be forged with the dark one, upon which, the fate of Earth and its final inhabitants would rest. And thus, the Prophecy was made.

  At the agreed-upon time, a chosen would be born in the early summer. No loving childhood would await her. No f
ormal religion—completely isolated and neutral. She would come of age in captivity. Her soul would be pure and would be the key to both the gates of heaven and hell alike.

  Eyes bathed in royalty, a body of beauty and grace. Her back would bear the mark of good and evil. The fallen would flock to her like predators, scenting blood. Darkness and light would be given opportunity to persuade her. Her decisions would determine the fate of humanity. She alone held within her, the hope of the world.

  She would receive no guidance from above unless like advice be given from below, save for the exception of her mark, which allowed her only one warning. It would be her responsibility to choose her guides, and both good and evil would test her fortitude, faith, and strength. Gifts would be made hers as required to preserve her life until her soul’s decision.

  Lucifer had agreed to the terms, even the final clause, which stated that to every evil or good action, an equal and opposite reaction shall follow from the opposition. The devil had every confidence that he could win her soul, even if it meant playing fairly.

  Thomas inscribed the words spoken by his friend and Lord into his heart, and then carefully and painstakingly spent several months placing them on parchment. When the final stroke of black ink bled onto the dingy, grainy parchment rolled out before him, a single tear fell from his eye, sealing the document as his own. Now he would simply wait for the chosen to emerge, come of age, and make her way to him—as his Lord had instructed.

  “AHHHH! GOODNESS, ANNETTE! You scalded me!” I yelled, my pale skin already stinging and turning red. I tried to move farther back in the tub but couldn’t escape from the flesh-burning water. The stupid thing was too small.

  Miss Annette used her towel to hang the pot over the fire once more, her spine straining against the weight of the heavy black iron. She turned around, swiped a gray curl out of her eyes, and tucked it back into her bun but to no avail.

  “You know,” she scoffed, tilting her head to the side, “you’re just lucky that I even bother to heat your water. It would be much easier on me to let you and the others bathe in water pulled straight from the well.” She tried to straighten her back, hands on her broad hips.

  I noticed the marks of water slowly soaking into the sleeves and skirt of her long rose-colored dress. She looked tired and disheveled, but beyond that, I noticed a new expression on her face. The lines on her knitted brow hinted of worry and fear, not just the irritation that I seemed to incessantly cause her.

  “I know. Sorry, Miss Annette. I do appreciate the warmth,” I conceded, feeling terrible for yelling at her. She always tried to make our lives more comfortable, and I always seemed to give her grief over the smallest things.

  Her expression softened, as did her warm brown eyes. Wiping her hands on a small towel, she muttered that she needed to go get Lil and Aria’s baths ready before turning on her heel and heading toward the door. The heavy wooden door slammed behind her as always, and as always, I startled from the sound. In the fifteen years I’d lived there, I’d never gotten used to it. Thankfully, I wouldn’t have to put up with it much longer.

  I wouldn’t be free. I would never be free, but I would be free to leave that room. I’d been locked on that floor of the fortress tower for as long as I could remember. The four stone walls were my home, if you could call it that. Personal decoration was forbidden.

  The only décor consisted of the wrought iron sconces that held our only sources of light, save the small fireplace. If we weren’t on the top floor, we wouldn’t even have the fireplaces for heat. I didn’t know what the girls on the lower floors did.

  My bed was small, but the mattress and blanket were filled with down that was both soft and comfortable. There was also the wooden wardrobe in the far corner that held the provided clothing. The approved food was even brought in at designated times by Miss Annette or another member of the tower staff. Until last year, she was the only person permitted to be in contact with us at all. Now, Annette had several female assistants. We also had an instructor, Mr. Wesley, who seemed very young for such a position but was both knowledgeable and kind, and very handsome.

  Mr. Wesley taught us history, prophecy, art, mathematics, science, and writing—trying to fit a lifetime of education into one year as best he could. Talented musically, he intertwined the subject into our daily lessons to express to us his passion for the subject. He was patient—thank goodness—because I was not particularly musically inclined. He even made us sing. Lil and Aria had beautiful soprano voices, but of course, I was the alto of our trio.

  Mr. Wesley often said that we were the perfect combination and would close his big green eyes as we sang, bobbing his head to the melody as if he physically felt the notes wafting over him. His brown hair would graze his brows as he sat lost in the music.

  Did I mention he was handsome? Of course, I could never admit it to anyone. Lil would most certainly agree but would no doubt embarrass me for the rest of our year there. I could just imagine her wagging her eyebrows up and down when she saw me looking at him. Death by embarrassment would come swiftly for me.

  Anyway, Aria, the final third of our trio, was embarrassing enough for all of us. I didn’t want to contribute. She was shamelessly flirty and was experienced with many of the men in town. How she was able to sneak out or sneak them into her room was beyond me. She was just flat nasty, at least her behavior and attitude were. In actuality, she was a beauty. Her hair was long and as black as onyx against her tan skin. She was tall and very thin. I cringed, just thinking about her and couldn’t wait to get out of there to escape her snide remarks that daily chipped away what little self-esteem I had left.

  Wrapped in my thin white robe, I began the tedious process of untangling my wet mane of hair. I was a potential, and potentials were forbidden from cutting their hair. Ever. The rulers said, because the Bible indicated that a woman’s hair was her glory, and thus her beauty, to cut it would be to diminish those gifts and, thus, disrespect the Lord. If the council members had to spend an hour brushing it out after bathing, they might change opinions regarding the glory and beauty of the matter.

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  Lil poked her light blonde head in. “Squeee! Can you believe that tonight is our introduction! I have been dreaming of this since I was like three!” she squealed.

  She was petite, maybe five-feet tall on her tippy-toes, and very tiny. Even her facial features were elfin with slightly pointy nose and ears, big hazel eyes, and pretty, thin lips. I had always wished that I looked like her. Adding to her appeal was her contagious laughter and bubbling happiness. She was my best friend in the world.

  “I guess, Lil.” I smiled, watching her bounce around my room.

  She flopped, belly first, onto my bed and propped her head up with her palms, elbows digging into my pillow. She frowned and curled her bottom lip under.

  “Lars, you have to enjoy yourself tonight. We are never going to get this chance again. We get to be the center of attention, wear beautiful gowns, dance with gorgeous guys, and have a simply magical time! I cannot wait, and I will make it my mission to see that you have fun,” she declared, raising her right arm and making a solemn oath to herself. “Here,” she offered, jumping off the bed and running toward me, “let me help you with your hair. You’re lucky it’s thick. Mine is so thin. I’m jealous!”

  Owww! I thought, gritting my teeth as she hurriedly jerked the comb through my stubborn light brown locks. My hair color was boring. I would much rather be blonde like Lil or black like Aria. In fact, any color would be preferable to light brown or dark blonde, or whatever the dull shade was called.

  “Knock, knock.”

  I cringed, realizing that Aria’s irritating singsong voice was entering the room.

  “Solara, your hair is so difficult. How are you ever going to tame it in time for the introduction?” she mocked with her lips turned down in a condescending pout, her smirk leaking through her feigned concern.

  Lil tensed and stopped combing. “Ari
a, don’t you have someone else to go do?” she retorted, smiling sweetly.

  I couldn’t contain my laughter. Lil rarely snapped back at her.

  Aria sauntered farther into my room and put her hands on her hips. “Look, Miss Annette wants you, so I suggest you hurry, bitches!”

  After her announcement, she turned and stalked out of my room, trying in vain to swing hips that just weren’t there. She was so skinny and bony, almost boyish in shape, and she thought she was the most beautiful thing that ever graced the Earth’s face.

  Lil and I scurried to Miss Annette’s room. We rarely received an invitation to visit her, so we leaped at the opportunity when it presented itself. Miss Annette was sitting in front of her mirrored dresser on a small wooden bench. Her head bent, apparently gazing down at something on her dresser.

  “Lillian,” she said softly, “please come here, dear.”

  Of course, she obliged and moved to stand next to Miss Annette, who showed her the yellow dress hanging on the sconce nearby.

  “This dress is yours to wear tonight. You may borrow any of my jewelry that you like. I will need it back but would be happy to loan it to you for the introduction.”

  Lil beamed, moved toward her, and gently picked up a hammered gold necklace and matching earrings.

  “This bracelet would look lovely too, Lillian,” Miss Annette said, holding the bracelet up for Lil to see.

  “Thank you, Miss Annette, so much!” she squealed, giving her that sunshine smile. Yellow was very appropriate for Lil.

  Miss Annette instructed her to take the jewelry, dress, and shoes to her room or mine—whichever we would be getting ready in—and Lil eagerly ran out of the room and down the hallway. The sound of her footsteps faded in the distance.

  “Solara,” said Miss Annette.

  I stepped forward and moved to her side as well. Moving a red dress to the side, she reached for one tucked behind it.