War of Souls: Shadow of Jealousy

War of Souls: Shadow of Jealousy

The Azaleas in Ancilla Priori’s front yard had failed to bloom. Once heavy with vibrant flowers, the bush was now decaying and barren. Running her fingertips across an exposed twig, she used her fingernail to loosen some of the gray fungi that was suffocating the plant. The lichen seemed to have materialized overnight, choking the branches and preventing the plant from flowering. Several hurricanes, severe tropical storms, and endless cloudy skies had left Ancilla wanting a refund from the sunshine state for false advertisement. Feeling defeated, she tossed the lichen aside and headed across the lawn toward her garage.

Ancilla had first stepped onto the beaches of the Gulf of Mexico ten years ago. She had just recently graduated from high school and had been yearning for a life she could call her own. For as long as she could remember, she had been dreaming of adventure. Exploring caves, traversing ravines, uncovering ancient ruins, and discovering buried treasure beckoned her with the promise of thrill.

The first time that she had gazed over the emerald ocean, a sense of calm rolled over her veins, syncing to the breath of the shore. A tropical breeze had caressed her cheeks; the pure white sand offering up faint scents of kelp, sea life, and bone. The water had ebbed warm bubbles over her bare toes.

It was in that moment Ancilla decided that she would leave behind her hometown in the frosty north and set out on her journey by way of sea and swamp. Despite leaving her childhood home behind, the northern forests and murky depths of the Great Lakes thrummed their rugged tune, forever lapping along the edges of her memories.

As a child, the northern land had been her protector and guide. It had romanced her along unbeaten footpaths, where she would encounter aliens with twitching antennae and inky eyeballs. Fish would flash their bellies, leaping from unexpected ponds, devouring prismatic dragonflies with one fell chomp. Like Narcissist, the nymphs had fallen in love with their own reflections, becoming easy prey for the scaly things below.

It was in these forests that Ancilla first began uncovering the wisdom of The Watchers. Guided by her fairy companions, the voices of nature would call to her from the Earth. At night, her dreams were often so lucid that the lines between dream and spacetime would blur, as if somehow, she was able to bend reality so that her elven friends became flesh.

It was in a dream where Ancilla first met Saga, the wise oracle who prophesized that she was destined to become a great leader during the coming destruction of the dark Archon. The Archon were an army of dark-natured beings, who worked together to confuse and separate humankind. The Archon had long ruled the Earth, controlling its goods and people since before the Dark Ages.

The Age of Love passed into The Shadow of Jealousy when slavery and materialism masqueraded as power and wealth. Led by Suleiman the Magnificent, The Ottoman Empire rose after the fall of Rome, beginning a reign of fear and setting the stage for a war like none other in history. Silently, the War of Souls crept in, waging on the battlefield of Syntax. Its unseen armies prevailed, enslaving minds across the globe.

If Ancilla and The Watchers were not successful in stopping the Archon, an inevitable cataclysmic collapse of the Universe would begin, destroying humanity and annihilating Earth into primordial slime.

Saga the oracle could see that the war had already begun. The tell-tale pangs of its labor were laid bare for those who had eyes to see and ears to hear. She knew that Ancilla was not simply chosen, but that she in fact, had chosen herself.

As Ancilla grew into a young woman, the fairy realm gave way to human experience. Magic and knowledge of the worlds she had discovered were suppressed within her dreams, and Ancilla became fully human for a time. The embers of the fires lit within her soul lulled to a glow, awaiting their time to burn brightly once again. When the time was right, Ancilla would be drawn by a thread of destiny to join The Watchers in weaving the web of wyrd.

In the final days, she would be called to battle by a man whose return had been prophesized for thousands of years. Some said he would come with trumpets, claiming him to be born of a virgin; guided by a star. Shimmers of the truth were hidden behind veils and metaphors, ancient stories that had been twisted by the Archon in order to control the world.

But Senex had come as we all do, born into the Archon prison, enslaved at birth and freed by destiny. Senex had returned, and was teaching the masses, calling himself nothing more than a Harold of Truth.

It was known that Senex kept a book. A small, black notebook in which he kept the secrets of the Universe. Within its pages he had recorded the purest, unquestionable, unwavering, Absolute Truth.

On the precipice of the greatest climax in human history, Ancilla, wearing grass-stained tennis shoes and cussing at stubborn roots in her garden, would help catalyze the next phase of human evolution, bringing the end of human suffering one step closer.

Ancilla and her band of unlikely heroes would set out on a journey to free Senex, protecting the Holy Grail, the book of Life and Knowledge and Absolute Truth: The Cognitionis.

Chapter 1

Crimson Morning

What is truth? Can there be ONE truth? Ancilla pondered.

“I’m either crazy, or an alien,” she giggled, hiccupping and spooning a mouthful of chocolatey-choco chunk ice cream into her mouth.

Besides eating, if there was one thing Ancilla was always doing, it was talking to herself.

“There’s my shoe-in for the local asylum!” She joked sarcastically.

Gazing out windows and spying on her neighbors had become Ancilla’s new favorite pastime. Once alive with a motley crew of children and animals, her street was like deserted barracks, hushed and sterile. It was like nothing dared to breathe, as if a poisonous gas had descended upon the world, anesthetizing anyone exposed to its noxious vapors.

A blue surgical mask tumbled down the pavement, pushed by a breeze along a giant aerial map that had been recently painted on the road. It glared up at the gray sky, a giant, white cross, perfect for laying on and watching the aircraft flying above. Every day, more than a hundred aircraft flew overhead, hailing from one of three Airforce bases nearby. Their fumes stung her lungs; their incessant roaring filling her mind with terrifying theaters she remembered only in textbooks.

Grimacing, she felt a slow anger burning in her neck veins, snaking its tentacles behind her eyes. “How could they just come to our neighborhood and paint this monstrosity here without even telling any of us what it’s for?”

She stared at the giant “X” for a moment longer, recalling the children who used to ride their bikes on the street. Her eyes softened; the poor babes would probably play on it, thinking it was some sort of game.

She scoffed, hearing her family’s voices echoing: It’s just a map, Ancilla! For Pete’s sake, stop acting crazy like your mom.

She sighed, pulling herself away from the window. “What day is it again?”

Time had been strange since March; almost a year had gone by since the world had warped. Every human being on planet Earth was now at the mercy of an unseen enemy, a virus that had already killed over 2 million people. Vegetable seeds and building materials had become non-purchasable items. Most ironic of all, it was now required to wear a mask in a bank, but not while sitting at the table of a restaurant. 2020 had also brought giant murder hornets to the stage, and strangely enough, a toilet paper shortage.

It seemed as if every social war had come to a head. Blacks vs. whites, pro-life vs. pro-choice . . . It had come to a point where she didn’t know what to think, let alone who to trust. She had lost her job, spending weeks in lockdown, sanitizing and worrying.

She’d fought depression before, but this pandemic isolation was a whole different animal. Loneliness and fear had become her constant companions. Everyone she knew was terrified. Some had died from the virus, while others had perished by their own hand, unable to cope with the uncertainty. The world had literally collapsed and was hanging onto sanity by a thread.

Forcing herself to turn back towards the living room, she realized her home had become both her prison and her sanctuary. With a sigh, she walked to her desk and flopped open her budget planner.

Hm. Okay, so the electric bill went up $70.00, but we don’t have to pay the mortgage right now. . . she thought, tapping her pen on her lips.

“Oh crap!” she exclaimed, startling herself. “Don’t put the pen on your mouth! Hello, viruses!”

Grabbing her phone, she clicked on her banking app.

I guess I better check my bank account and see what bills we can afford to pay this month. . .

A few taps later, Ancilla had passed out, crumpling to the floor. Cold as a cod, she slid out of her chair as smooth as boy-bots sliding into her DMs.

When she came to, the seven synapses between her eyeballs and her frontal cortex would not process what she was reading.

“ACH Credit: $20,000.00, from California?!” She gawked, blinking at her screen. “There must be some mistake!”

Her heart was slamming in its cage as she dialed the bank teller. After two rings, a robot voice answered: “Welcome to your bank. How may I help you?”

“I don’t want to press 12 or whatever! Customer service!” She shouted into the phone while pacing back and forth and tapping her feet.

The automated teller replied: “I’m sorry, I didn’t understand—please press 1 for English. . .”

“No, just—um, c’mon! Speak to a representative! Speak to a representative!”

“Please hold. A representative will be with you shortly,” the robot replied.

“Oh my god, I don’t care!” She cried, rolling her eyes.

Finally, the phone made a clicking sound, a monotone human voice greeted her. “Hello, according to the number you’re calling from, is this Ancilla Priori? Can you give me your date of birth, last four digits of your social security number, and a copy of your first-born child?”

“Pardon me?” Ancilla replied.

“How about your address?” The voice said flatly.

“Um, 3367 Palmetto Avenue . . . can you just tell me I’m not seeing things? Is there really $20,000.00 in my bank account right now?”

“Yes ma’am, there was a verified deposit made yesterday by the Senex Foundation in California. Is there a problem?”

“Um, no. L-Like I can spend that money? It’s mine?” She stammered.

“Yes ma’am, I would hope so,” the teller said, sounding annoyed.

“Okay, thank you. H-have a nice day,” she said, hitting the end call button. “Oh my god . . . Oh my god! I’m rich!” She screeched, doing a happy dance.

“Wait,” she said, stopping short. “Why would Senex send me money?”

She opened her banking app and looked in the note section of the deposit. Sure enough, someone had typed a note.

Dearest Ancilla, the mutiny has begun. You have been chosen by the Watchers to join our Revolution of the Mind. Help us wake up the world. We wait patiently for you. Follow the link below for further instruction. Respectfully, The Watchers.