David has landed on the fringe of the Nephillim Empire. He is light years from Kate and his rescued daughter. Sirius and the Nephillim base are destroyed. The Empire clamors for his blood.
His new world is very much like Earth, except that it has never known war or weapons. Befriended by its peaceful inhabitants, he begins to accept his new reality.
Then the Nephillim invade. Weary of war but compelled to duty, David plunges into his final struggle against humanity’s ancient enemy. In the eye of the maelstrom, he makes the greatest discovery of all time; the key to all that was, is, and will be again
From a cave painting found near Freemans Port, New Florida, May 35th, 1366
It had been forty days since the nuns chained me to this wall by ankles and wrists. The Abbey tower rang five bells. I sat on a blood stained stone that served as my only piece of furniture and stared up at the cell window. Morning light colored the tiny square of sky. This was my last day on Miriam. The fact the Abbey renamed me after our planet remained a favorite joke among the other nuns. I would soon leave this world and never to learn the truth about the man who came from another. He was condemned as I, a thousand of years before. A man of sor─
The door at the end of the dungeon hall screeched on its rusted hinges. My heart jolted. Low voices and heavy steps. Torchlight warmed the walls beyond my cell bars. Something metallic scraped against the wall as the execution party neared my cell. They planned to cleave my neck here upon the blood stained stone that had served as my stool. I stepped beyond it so I didn’t have to look at it, and sank to my knees. Leg chains stretched behind my ankles, wrists swayed high above the back of my head. Through my matted hair I whispered a final prayer.
“David, forgive me.”
I stood, backed up over the stone, and faced the door. The four chains holding my wrists and ankles draped behind me, anchored to a thick wooden beam mortared high in the ancient wall.
My cell door clanked and plowed a sweep against the accumulated dung straw. The Jailer entered with a smokey torch. A Priest and the Head Nun of my order followed. The hooded axe man came last, stooping so his bulk could fit through the door. He pushed past the others and came straight to me. I looked up at the hood concealing his massive face. He shifted his gleaming blade. I stared at my reflected image and filled with a calm I could not explain. The Priest unrolled a parchment covered with official stamps and opened his wrinkled mouth to speak. But before he croaked whatever stupid proclamation it held, I knelt and laid my head sideways upon the chopping stone, staring into the widened eyes of the nun who stole me from my screaming parents seven years this Octember. Her mouth curled as if hungry for bloody spectacle.
The jailer took his place to my right. The axe man flexed his legs and readied on my left. He raised his blade high.
A horrible roar filled my cell. The floor jolted. The ceiling cracked. Everyone was tossed off their feet. The Priest and nun struggled to stand. A huge ceiling slab crushed them. The axe man stumbled, lost his grip. The blade dropped. I rolled off the stone. Sparks fired as blade hit stone where my neck had been. Walls exploded. Timbers crashed. But nothing struck me. As the dust settled, the jailer lay dead and buried beside me under a pile of rubble. His keys protruded, dangling in his twitching hand. The axe man lay buried to his neck. He grunted and pushed rocks away as if they were pebbles. I grabbed the keys, freed my wrists, and set to work on my legs. I got the left leg free. But the right lock would not yield. The ground began to tremble. The axe man pushed to his feet. His hood fell off. His face was one of dim understanding. Outside a mighty roar rolled near, marked by explosions and screams. I struggled in vain to turn the lock free. He picked up a large rock. After all this, he still wanted to kill me? The floor heaved. The wall behind me collapsed. It missed me and fell on him. The great timber that anchored my chains cracked. A piece as long as my leg broke free. The chain holding my right ankle was tethered to it. I stumbled out the wrecked cell, my prison chain and the piece of timber dragging behind me. My nun’s robe caught and tore to the knees. I fled the dungeon out the way my accusers had entered: through the Door of the Condemned and into the Cathedral of the Glorious. I stumbled across the pitching floor. The ancient arches swayed as if made of willow. A massive fresco crashed. Colored glass windows exploded in sparkling horror. I ran under a beam bouncing end to end like a dancing twig. It crashed flat behind me. My ankle chain and timber caught. I pitched face flat upon the stone. I staggered back to my feet, spit blood, and pulled on the chain till my hands bled. The timber came free. Bloodied monks and nuns stumbled through the Cathedral, stepping over bodies. None noticed my divinely gained freedom. All sought the sanctuary of open sky and flat ground. Grave stone slabs of the Saints that lined the center aisle, burst open. Mummified corpses flipped into the air. The Choir wall collapsed. Sunlight burst through, framing burning town, toppled forest, and frothing sea. Thick smoke fingered into the breach of the Cathedral, as if seeking new souls to claim. I choked and covered my face with my habit. The heavy iron chain clanked over broken flagstones as I dragged my unwanted beam through a breach in the city wall. Orange smoke churned skyward from the harbor docks. Screams for aid were drowned in the roar of flame and thunderous collapse. Half the harbor seawall was gone. Drowned under ocean waves that now swept unimpeded up the narrow streets, carrying what was left of the Abbot’s trading fleet with it. The Abbot’s Tower was engulfed in flame. I shuffled away from the harbor, seeking safety on the high knoll I had prayed upon the eve of my arrest. Sparks spiraled past, riding hot winds that burned holes through my tattered robe. I sank to my knees, sucked in the air through the wet dune grass and poured out my frantic prayer for rescue. Again I felt calm. Surely powers greater than this catastrophe were at work on my behalf.
My faith was rent by an unearthly roar. The ground heaved higher than when I had hung shackled within the prison. Then the hill sank under my bloodied knees. The ocean rose high in the sky. The Abbot’s Tower swayed and toppled into the city. Stone, furniture, and flailing bodies spewed from its lancet windows. An explosion of flame mushroomed skyward. What was left of the sea wall sank. The beach to the right of the lost wall sank thrice deeper. The ocean rushed into the newly formed bay. The waves roiled through the ruined town extinguishing the flames in an explosion of smoke and steam. Then the ocean called the wave home. It curled around, up, and over my hill. A tumbling mass of burning wood, bodies, and debris raced straight for me. I staggered to my feet. But there was nowhere to flee. The wave hit. I braced and fought to stay standing as the water swelled up my shins and loosed my footing. My chained beam swept past me, caught in a tangle of roof thatch. I felt a pull as strong as a plow horse rip my right leg out from under me. Searing pain shot through my hip as I was flipped on my back and hauled down the rushing slope towards the waiting ocean. Into its foam I flailed and sank. The cold deep crushed my lungs, pried at my lips. The beam and chain hung suspended beside me, as if unwilling to perform the function of wood which was to float. Instead it held its place as if mortared to a watery prison wall.
I cried. A great bubble of disbelief. The wasted exhalation fled my lips and swirled to the sparkling surface.