Loving Destiny

Disclaimer:  These characters do not belong to me, but to the writers and producers of Roswell

Spoilers:  After Chant Down Babylon, changes happening where Max is successfully rescued, and Michael was the one who broke up with Maria.

Pairings:  You'll have to wait and see!

Pronunciation Guide:  Othniel (Aw - th - NEE - il)

                                        Mizpah (M – iz – pah)           

Author's notes:    Queen Fadilia Kedar: Max/Isabel's mother

                              King Alaric Kedar: Max/Isabel's father

                              Andaria: Tess' mother

                              Radim:  Tess' father

                       Kedrans: race from which Royal Four descended

                              Iturians: race from which Khivar descended, and overthrew and killed Zan and the Kedrans

                              Cerideans:  special core ops of the Iturian army, mostly psyonics and telepaths

                              Kaptar's Jewel:  constellation in the Antarian's star system

                              Yun's Garment:  Aurora Borealis - Northern Lights

                       Saren Dari:  desert plain on Antar

                              Chasser :  animal similar to a cat

Chapter Fifty Five

***

There is nothing so likely to produce peace as to be well prepared to meet the enemy.

                                                                             -  George Washington

***

'Cast your cares on the Lord

and he will sustain you;

he will never let the righteous fall.  - Psalm 55:22'

Are you there? 

Max closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  His recent decision made him turn to the foreign book clenched in his hand.  It was hard to believe the stories about an invisible Being, who created everything; yet here he was, pouring over his Word.  Max shook his head.  It was ridiculous.

'As ridiculous as aliens?' an inner voice countered.

Max sighed.  "I guess not," he replied out loud to the non-verbal question.

Reluctantly Max opened the book once more, and scanned the thin tissue-like pages, searching for words of inspiration and direction.  As if his hands were guided by some force, the book opened to the same book of the Bible he had been previously reading from.  Psalms

Max did not know much about the Bible; in fact, he knew less than nothing.  His parents had not been wholly religious - except for special holidays - and he hadn't been exposed to the dogma of church.  As he scanned the creatively written passages, Max noticed, in fine print, a reference to a man named David.  Though he was practically an atheist - if he were to affiliate himself with any belief system - Max knew, as did most of the population of Earth, about the story about David and Goliath:  the young shepherd boy, who with a single stone and slingshot, killed the towering monstrosity. 

It was a common enough tale about judging someone by their size and appearance; but as Max recalled the story, he remembered the end of David's journey, which had him crowned king of the people of Israel.  He turned to the beginning of the book of Psalms and realized that the author of the book was this same man - the King of Israel.

' In the LORD I take refuge.
How then can you say to me:
"Flee like a bird to your mountain.

 For look, the wicked bend their bows;
they set their arrows against the strings
to shoot from the shadows
at the upright in heart.
 When the foundations are being destroyed,
what can the righteous do?"

The LORD is in his holy temple;
the LORD is on his heavenly throne.
He observes the sons of men;
his eyes examine them.

The LORD examines the righteous,
but the wicked and those who love violence
his soul hates.

On the wicked he will rain
fiery coals and burning sulfur;
a scorching wind will be their lot.

For the LORD is righteous,
he loves justice;
upright men will see his face. - P
salm 11'

And this God has chosen me?

Just like David, who carried the weight of leading, guiding his people, Max stood in front, out on the battlefield; his decisions carrying consequences throughout his kingdom.  If he made one wrong move, his people would fall to their deaths.  It was a burden he hadn't been ready to carry in the past couple of years; he wasn't even sure if he was ready now.  But there was no other choice, not in his heart; whatever kind of king he was, he would do his best to save the millions who depended on him.

How can you be so sure of me?

Max turned this question over and over in his head, as he skimmed the words of one of the most powerful kings ever known.  He expected no reply, in his lifetime; he had experienced an uninvolved God.  Except for the declaration of his destiny, Max had no reason to believe this 'God' existed.

He struggled with this new dilemma.  He could accept that he was a king, and therefore, responsible for the lives of a whole planet; but what difference did God make in his destiny?  Suddenly a gust wind arose and tore at the pages of the neatly pressed book.  Max was startled and clamped his hand down on the blur of black and white, rustling in the wind.  He lifted his hand when he felt the breeze die.  The words of the passage caught his eye.

'"This is what the LORD says-
your Redeemer, who formed you in the womb:

I am the LORD ,
who has made all things,
who alone stretched out the heavens,
who spread out the earth by myself,

 who foils the signs of false prophets
and makes fools of diviners,
who overthrows the learning of the wise
and turns it into nonsense,
 who carries out the words of his servants
and fulfills the predictions of his messengers,

who says of Jerusalem, 'It shall be inhabited,'
of the towns of Judah, 'They shall be built,'
and of their ruins, 'I will restore them,'
 who says to the watery deep, 'Be dry,
and I will dry up your streams,'
who says of Cyrus, 'He is my shepherd
and will accomplish all that I please;
he will say of Jerusalem, "Let it be rebuilt,"
and of the temple, "Let its foundations be laid." -
Isaiah 44:24-28'

His heart skipped a beat.  It was as if those words were meant for him.  Max looked up into the clear blue sky and furrowed his brow.  No, could it be?

Max shut the book, pursing his lips, a look of determination settling upon his brooding features, and closed his eyes.  He had never uttered a prayer before, and wasn't sure if this was 'official' enough, but he wasn't going to go into logistics at that moment.

"God, or whoever you are, if you can hear me, I just need to know that I'm not just imagining things," he began slowly.  "If you really are speaking to me through this book, if these really are your words, then tell me.  What do you want from me?"

Max waited a moment, not sure if there would be an audible reply, or if he opened the black book, a confrontational declaration would await him.  He licked his lips and let out an apprehensive sigh.  Swallowing his fear, which came from an uncertain source of expectation, Max opened the book and skimmed the hundreds of words that formed marked passages.  Once again his eyes were forced to linger on a verse, which would have seemed unimportant to a common bystander, but held Max with such a strong sense of purpose and revelation.

'The Lord works righteousness

and justice for all the oppressed.  -  Psalm 103:6'

Max closed his eyes and closed the book yet again.  He had another decision to make:  Would he choose to believe in this invisible God?  Or was he in this alone? 

Suddenly Max was disturbed from his silent thoughts by the sweet songs of a nearby lark.  Its' voice pierced the silence with a strong, confident voice.  Max sought the source of the song, but could only see loose, green foliage hanging from the branches of a row of trees that lined the street.

'Look around you.  Can you really deny that something this wonderful could have been an accident?' 

Max knew these questions raised from the depths of his soul already held the answer.  He turned to the work of this unknown God, whom he had ignored for so long and who was now calling to him, and acknowledged in his heart and mind that He did exist.

"I believe you," Max said out loud, into the dawn of a new day.  "And will do what you ask me to do."

Suddenly stillness came upon Max and the bustling creation, which he had been communing with.  Even the songbird held its' breath at Max's confession, as if to say, 'finally'.  Then as if someone had turned the mute off on the audio, Max was flooded by the vocal styling of various birds, dogs, cats, and whatever other living creature living in the vicinity.  The sound was deafening.  It made Max stifle a laugh.  He had this mental image of animals dancing around - whether it was because God had told them what Max said, or just because they felt like it.

"You're definitely losing it," Max mumbled, running his fingers through his hair.  He glanced over his shoulder at the house, where Liz and Jesse were sleeping, and closed his eyes tiredly.  His thoughts turned to the day ahead; he was heading out into the desert, in search of a man, the face of which he had never seen before.  Max groaned inwardly.  "What am I supposed to do now?"

Max furrowed his brow and opened the book one last time.  He flipped through the pages, when he came upon the book written by David again.  The feelings of frustration and helplessness he was able to put into words amazed Max.  As he read his words, Max felt himself praying - pleading - to God with the same words, understanding the position David had been in, when all of his enemies pressed in hard against him.  These words filled him with a sense of peace - everything would be work out.

'For this God is our God forever and

ever;

he will be our guide even to the end.' - Psalm 48:14

~ * ~

"What are we doing here?" Jesse asked uneasily.  "We're not going to find them out here.  We're not anywhere near where we need to be."

Max brushed the chalky dust that clung to his hands, as he stood atop the plateau that jutted out above their hiding place.  He looked down at Jesse, who stood nearest him, and then Liz, who was only a couple of feet behind them.  After spending that evening and early dawn in an intense struggle with himself and the One who had chosen him, Max faced the challenge of the day ahead of him, with an uncertain heart.  He was restless, as he planned in his mind the strategy of their search for the group, with the idea of going unsuspectingly into the desert, against an adversary they knew nothing about.  Then with a wonderful clarity, Max realized what he must do.

"We're not going to find them," Max replied somberly.

"What do you mean?"  Liz came up behind him and rested her hand upon his shoulder.  "Max, what are we doing here?" she asked softly.

Max turned around and rolled his shoulders back, staring at the two friends, who had managed to escape capture, and swallowed hard.  There were so many changes happening within him that he didn't have the time to explain to them.  He felt a new strength and confidence fill him as he faced the coming onslaught of enemies willing him to fall.  This was his destiny.  He would not be denied - the One who ordained it would not be denied.

"Would you stop looking at us like we're kids?" Jesse exclaimed in frustration.  "We are not giving up on them, Max!"

Max tilted his head calmly and shook his head in disagreement.  "That is not what I'm doing," he replied stoically.  Turning out into the vast expanse of space and desert, Max focused on the distant horizon.  "We'll get them back." 

"How?" Liz asked hesitantly.

Max quarter-turned his body toward her, with his chin resting against his right shoulder, as his eyes were hidden by his long lashes.  "They're going to come to us."

~~~

"Our defenses have detected a massive energy flux due south, General."  Captain Leisner bowed hesitantly to the high ranking officer, unsettled by the report himself.

"Do you have the exact coordinates for this anomaly?"

Captain Leisner shuffled forward, holding out a thin black panel, which diagramed the sudden energy spike in the region.  He took a step back as the General snatched the information from his hand and waited patiently, with his hands clasped behind his back.  "Yes sir.  Our officers have not yet identified the possible explanation for such a concentrated explosion of energy."

The General seemed perturbed by this unexpected event.  He glanced furtively at the captive princess and then back at the report.  "An obvious ploy," he muttered under his breath.  The General glanced up at him and cleared his throat, straightening his posture to its' imposing height.  "Order our scouts back to camp and prepare our troops for advancement," he commanded sternly.

Captain Leisner nodded his head and acknowledged his commanding officer's instructions.  "Yes sir," he yelled, as a soldier would to his commander.  Captain Leisner was about to salute and leave, but he hesitated - a motion the General noticed.

"What is it?" he barked, irritably.

Captain Leisner furrowed his brow and shrunk back, afraid at what the General's reaction would be to his thoughts.  "Uh, nothing," he said, dismissing his first reaction and attempted to turn and leave.

The General waved his hand above his head and he saw out of his peripheral that two officers had stepped in front of the exit, blocking his escape.  "Tell me what is on your mind, Captain."  He stepped forward, sliding his arm around his shoulder, without making contact, guiding him to a nearby stool.  "I insist," he said, with an aggravated smile across his face.

He sat down uncomfortably, shifting his weight on the small circumference, which was stabilized by three narrow legs.  "It was really nothing, General," he replied, laughing nervously.  "I just lost myself for a moment."

The General looked down upon him in disbelief.  His startling, cold blue eyes bore into him, as if trying to carve his initials in the back of his head.  "I know you were thinking something, now tell me, Captain."  Venom laced his words as they left his lips.

Captain Leisner swallowed hard and lowered his gaze, unable to maintain eye contact with the intimidating Iturian General.  "I had just thought that we might be more unprepared than was first estimated," he whispered, cringing from the outburst that was expected.

"You fool," the General spat, narrowing his gaze, which seemed to intensify the fire that burned underneath the chilling blue.  "He is using this to frighten the troops.  It is nothing more than a game strategy."  The tall Caucasian General began to pace back and forth in front of him.

"But his powers...they seem more formidable than Khivar's last briefing.  The radius of the energy surge spanned several miles."

This comment seemed to sit as a burr underneath a horse's saddle, irritating the horse, and threatening to cause harm to anyone in its' vicinity.  Suddenly, in a blink of an eye, the General stood looming over him, pressing the palm of his hand against his vulnerable throat.  The Captain felt a warm pulsing against his Adam's apple.  He looked anxiously up at the dangerous man, who was usually composed, as his eyes darted around wildly.

"Does it?"  The General's throat rumbled in a low menacing tone.

"Sir?"  A dark skinned man entered the restricted area, regaled in full dress, a gold crest signifying his rank as Captain, and stood a few feet from the high energy fraught confrontation.

The General snapped his head up and glared at the interruption.  "What is it?"

"King Khivar has requested your presence in the Com Quarters.

Captain Leisner felt the heat of the General's energy pulse ebb at the mention of Khivar, however, his hand continued to hover inches from his throat.

The General glanced down at him and narrowed his eyes, as if debating whether he had enough time to kill him before answering his King's call.  Turning his head to the side, the commander took a deep breath and nodded, all the while keeping his gaze upon the captain.  "I am coming," he replied darkly.

Captain Leisner gulped at this comment.  Was he headed towards Volos, as his now deceased parents had predicted?

"You," the General breathed heavily, "should thank His Highness for granting you a stay of execution for your treacherous words."

Unexpectedly the warm pulsing faded away, as the General pulled his hand back.  The General took a step back and observed with an unnerving calmness, his state of utter relief.  "Yes Sir!" he choked out, resting his hand against his throat.

The corners of the General's lips curled slightly, as his eyes gleamed evilly, and he turned heel and followed the other captain to the Com Quarters, where Khivar was awaiting his presence.  Over his shoulder, without glancing back at the captain, the General barked, "Now do as I told you!"

The Captain swallowed hard, realizing how close he had been to finding out whether the 'Unseen' truly was.  He took several deep breaths and wiped the sweat dripping profusely down his brow.  After calming himself, he looked toward the attractive figure in stasis.  "Against such evil, who can stand?" he whispered to the unconscious princess.

~~~

Andaria's head rested tiredly against her chest, as the full weight of her body was held up only by the restraints, which were cutting into her wrists, chained against the blank, grey walls. 

The transfer from Ithilis was unexpected; when Nicholas and several soldiers stood glowering at her, while she sat wearily in her cell, Andaria thought, 'What now'?

It had gone smoothly for the treacherous child, as the soldiers lifted Andaria easily and took her to the transport craft.  Medgio was already chained in energy bonds, which glowed green, when they placed her beside her faithful servant.  She had not seen him since the night of endless torture.  When Khivar taunted and goaded Medgio, Andaria could faintly hear his words, as she used what remaining strength she had to search past that impenetrable mirrored wall beside her table.  She knew he was about to break and cried out words of defiance; it was all she could, as her state left her helpless.  And by Khivar's reaction - he had not come to see her in several days - Medgio did not fail her.  This knowledge brought a smile to her face. 

But as quickly as the victorious insight was received, it was wiped away in an instant.  The last passengers of the transport boarded the dimly lit air craft - Nicholas's recognizable stature stood in the entranceway, pausing, as if expecting the prisoners to gaze in admiration or awe, and he was flanked by two guards, one of which held a fidgeting baby.  Her heart leaped into her throat, causing her to silently gasp for air. 

The memory was still fresh in her mind.

She took a ragged breath, willing herself to live, if only for the young life she had just begun to know.  Andaria hadn't seen her grandson since Nicholas and his guards casually walked through the cargo hold of the aircraft and proceeded to the well guarded interior of the transport ship.  Her mind worked tirelessly, debating whether now was the time to expose her true self, and in turn, take what seemed like the best opportunity to save Zander from Khivar and his twisted schemes, or if she should wait.  In the end, Andaria knew she was too weak to expose Zander to such a great risk; she had been gathering her strength since Khivar's attempt to coerce Medgio into revealing the location of the Loyalist's base of operation, and soon she would be strong enough to press the self-proclaimed Ruler of Antar.

Andaria groaned, as a trickle of blood fell to the ground.  Her body was unable to wholly mend the mindless ravagings of Khivar's evil architects, she was certain, if Khivar or Nicholas were to subject her to another intense series of physical and mental scourings, it would be her last.  As she was about to fall into a state of unconsciousness,she was startled by a soft humming.

'Nonnie.'

Andaria jerked her head up to search the room for the child-like voice she heard - there was no one.

'Nonnie?' the voice called again.

"Zander?"  Her voice was soft, even hesitant to say his name, for fear it was the delusions of a dying woman.

'Nonnie.  I'm okay.'  The voice was void of fear, and almost reassuring, in a hapless manner.

Andaria furrowed her brow, squeezing her eyes tightly, trying to focus her energy towards a silent conversation with this comforting, yet surprising display of power by her grandchild.  Her mind was full of confusion and a swirl of colors.  She could not focus long enough to enter Zander's mind.

'Stop!' Zander commanded forcefully.

Andaria shuddered inwardly.  His mental voice filled her mind; as with any child, unable to distinguish the force his voice yielded.

'I am coming.'

Andaria frowned, uncertain of what Zander's comment could possibly mean.  All of the sudden, Andaria felt herself drawn into a dark, black trance, unable to control her state of consciousness.

Andaria stood on the cliffs of Mizpah, overlooking the billowing tides of the Elvarian Sea.  It was a familiar setting; she often brought Ava to this very site as a child, and in her old age, her grandson. 

'Nonnie!' the familiar inner voice exclaimed happily.

Andaria spun around in time to see a child, no more than five years old, bounding up the winding rustic trail, which led to the cliffs, where she stood.  His straight chestnut hair flopped over his eyes as he sprinted haphazardly toward her.  Andaria was startled at the age of this child, and how he referred to her as his grandmother - Nonnie - when - if it was Zander - she hadn't so much explained her ties to the young child, who had yet to learn how to walk.  He flung himself into her arms, as if he had known her for his entire life, and wrapped his tiny arms around her neck.

'I didn't think I would ever see you again,' he whispered into her ear.

Andaria's arms held the child loosely, as she was coming to grips with what she was experiencing. 

Had Zander learned to utilize his powers at such a young age?  What were his powers?

Andaria felt his arms draw her even closer to him, as his head rested against the nape of her neck.  Instinctively, she closed her eyes and embraced the content child, who clung needfully to her.  There was something so familiar to her, as he rested in her arms.

After a few moments, Andaria felt him pull away from her, until she could see his face clearly in front of her.  His eyes opened in round doe-eyed innocence, shining as bright as Othniel's sceptre, with a startling depth of cerulean blue she had never seen inherited from Antarian genes.  The blue was also accented by a thin halo of charcoal, which was most unusual.  Still, she could see her daughter in his eyes; and his hair and facial features were definitely from his father's side of the family.

"Zander, is it really you?"  She caressed his face with a mother's touch, and brushed his long bangs from his beautiful eyes, pausing a moment with her fingers lingering within the strands of his thick hair.

The child smiled and nodded fervently; then, in the blink of an eye, his eyes darkened and his smooth brow furrowed anxiously.  'I hope you're not mad at me for talking to you," he pouted.  "I know I'm not supposed to..."

Andaria tilted her head and raised her eyebrow.  "Oh no, Zander!" she exclaimed in disbelief.  "Don't be sorry."  Andaria pressed her lips against his smooth forehead.  "My child, you have made your Nonnie so happy!"  She kissed him again, embracing him tightly in her arms.

"Oh," he sighed, apparently relieved.  His lips widened into a happy grin.  His child-like hands pressed against her cheeks, one on each side, as he threw his head back and laughed.  "Oh, Nonnie...you're so funny."

Andaria blew a raspberry against the nape of his neck, causing him to squirm and shriek in delight.  It was a welcomed moment of rest from the toils of the present reality.  She had no other cares except the child in her arms.

"Nonnie," Zander said breathlessly, "The bad men are going to hurt me..."

Andaria's expression, which had been untroubled and happy, now disappeared; instead, a flat, grim look emerged.  "Don't say that," she whispered forcefully.  "I will protect you, and so will your mother and father."

Zander tilted his head thoughtfully and pouted.  "I don't think they're going to be fast enough," he in barely a whisper.  "He told me so."

Andaria rested her forehead against his, as he lowered his gaze dejectedly.  "Don't believe the bad man," she said reassuringly.  "He's lying to you."

Zander pulled his head back, until his gaze met hers.  They glistened under the warm glow of the Antarian sun.  He shook his head.  "Nonnie, He's not the bad man," he stated matter-of-factly.  "He is really nice.  I like him."

Andaria frowned.  "What do you mean, Zander?"  She was confused.  Had Khivar or Nicholas convinced Zander that they were nice, caring men?  The thought frightened her.

Zander squirmed in her arms and dropped all of his weight down, signaling to Andaria that he wanted to be let down.  She released him, keeping her eye on the image of her daughter and Zan, as he clasped her hand in his and led her towards the edge of the cliff.  He pointed eagerly out into the expanse, where the roar of the sea beckoned below.

"He is the guy."

Andaria bent down onto one knee and followed his finger toward its' goal - there was nothing but wisps of white clouds wafting by.  "Who are you talking about, Zander?" she asked gently.  "I don't see anyone."

Zander turned around and stared at her curiously.  "You mean you don't see Him?"

Andaria shook her head, as she glanced behind him one more time, just in case she might have missed something.  "No.  There's no one there, my child."

"It's Him!" he exclaimed unhappily, with his arm pointing out behind him.  "He said He would take care of me, Mommy and Daddy."  He turned around and looked in the direction of his finger.  Stamping his feet, he turned back to her.  "He told me that He was bringing them home."  With a child's temperance, Zander folded his arms across his chest and his eyes darkened, until the charcoal halo, which surrounded the chilling blue, now encroached on the cerulean blue, until there was only a thin ring of blue amidst the overwhelming black, which almost covered the entirety of his eyes.

Andaria finally understood and was awed at the inference of the possibility that Zander had truly encountered 'Him'.  She couldn't be quite sure, but the thought gave her reason for the hope she had.  "I know," she said soothingly, rubbing his upper arms.  "But just because Nonnie can't see Him, doesn't mean you didn't.  Is that what you're telling me?  You saw 'The One'?"

Zander frowned, as if unable to get past the idea that she could not see his 'friend'.  "I don't know," he pouted, pulling away from her grip.  Zander walked a few steps down from the steep cliff edge, as if angry with her, but all of the sudden, he spun around, his eyes returned to their normal blue hue.  "I'm sorry Nonnie," his eyes revealed an unexpected fear behind them, "I have to go."

Andaria tilted her head questioningly.  "Where are you going?" she blurted out, reaching for her only grandson.

"They're talking about their plans...I can't stay."  He turned and ran down the trail, with burnt gold grasses lining its' path.

"Wait!" Andaria called frantically.

Zander stopped a moment and turned around.  "I love you, Nonnie," he cried out, unabashed, waving frenetically.

She opened her mouth to return the sentiments, but her voice was silenced.

Andaria jerked her head up and found herself chained to the bland, mind-numbing walls of her cell.  She gasped for air, as Zander's sudden exit, from his unexpected visit, left her reeling.  Once again, his inexperience, in the art of mind merging and travel, showed, as he left his subject drained.  Andaria closed her eyes and took a deep breath, assessing what had just happened to her.

If that was him, I have reason to hope.

Andaria easily recalled the image of her grandchild, so much older than he was, and the knowledge that parts of his mother and father ran deep in his blood brought a tear to her eye.  'The One' had continued his covenant with the House of Kedar - He saw fit to allow Zander into His Presence, something not done since the days of Cian.  Now she also shared in that covenant, through her grandchild.

Silently, Andaria prayed, asking Him to fulfill his promise, and she also asked that Tess and Max would surrender control over their lives and turn it over to their purposed destiny.  For it was a destiny planned and ordained in love.  And with those inaudible words, Andaria allowed herself to fall into darkness.

~~~

'I will be your Strength.'

Isabel heard the voice faintly in the back of her mind.  Her present state remained the same.  Lost in the ungodly state of unrest neither awake, nor dead - Isabel focused on keeping her sanity.  It was a task that was getting harder by the minute...if there was time in the state her mind, soul, and body were in.

Now and again, Isabel would hear this very voice, which only moments ago urged her to carry on, speaking to her in such a whisper, as if it were not there.  The mysterious occurrences brought to her attention, the possibility that she was imagining things, or her captors were toying with her mind.

'Never will I leave you, never will I forsake you.'

Suddenly a warm bright glow appeared before her eyes, and Isabel found herself gazing into it, in her physical form, which stood in a dark abyss.  Her  hands ran down the familiar form, once a formless consciousness, and swallowed in disbelief at the radiating white light; though it had no obvious form, Isabel shifted uneasily, while standing in the presence of the faceless luminescence, as such an overwhelming feeling of awe and reverence.  Isabel found herself standing in the black abyss, with her eyes averted. 

It was an unexplainable reaction.  Isabel did not understand why something inside of her was utterly drawn to the light yet was unable to face its pure lightness of being.  She bit the inside of her cheek, as her mind raced, searching for any explanation of who or what this light was.

'I AM.'

Isabel glanced from underneath her short auburn hair, which hid her face, at the imposing light, which had unexpectedly strengthened in intensity and brilliance.  'Am I dead?" she blurted out, shielding herself from the searing heat that emanated from this voice, yet was not scorched.

'Rest in Me.'

Isabel's eyes darted, unable to focus while she stood in a place of extremes.    "Can I see you?" she asked hesitantly, angling her body towards the light.  "If you are, who I think You are, I know in stories that I'm not allowed to do something like that..."  Her voice trailed off, waiting in expectancy.

'You may behold the Lord.'

Isabel took a deep breath before turning around and resting her gaze upon a tall, broad figure fitted with skillfully crafted armor of white and yellow gold.  Its' facial features seemed to hold a distinct masculine quality, though Isabel felt deep inside that this creature was not a mere man.  She stood with her mouth agape and laughed nervously, throwing her head back in a mixture of fear and disbelief.  "This is insane."  Isabel stumbled back a few steps, while shaking her head; she turned back to, what she could only describe from her earthly vocabulary, as an angel of God.  "Are you really here?  Or am I just losing it?"

'Do not be afraid,' it spoke, without moving its' lips.

Isabel stared skeptically at the being.  "You've got to be kidding, right?  I'm seeing an angel of God and you're telling me not to freak out?" she exclaimed hysterically.  "This cannot be happening."

'Your time is drawing near.  Prepare yourself.'

Isabel blinked several times, furrowing her brow in confusion.  "Prepare myself?"  She pressed her fingers against her eyes, as a portentous feeling of change made her stomach churn in distress.  "Please tell me what is going on," she pleaded, with a heart felt cry.  "I can't do this anymore."

The angel stood silently, unfazed by her emotional outburst.

Isabel fell to her knees.  "Do you hear me?" she said in tearful frustration.  "Please hear me.  I just want this to be over.  I don't want this life anymore."  Letting out a helpless groan, unable to find the words to express what lay in her heart, Isabel buried her face in her hands, as the disheveled locks of her hair fell across her face.  "Why can't I be normal?  I don't want to be chosen!"

Her cry seemed to be swallowed up in the endless abyss.

Isabel wished she could escape the confines of her body, as it felt like she was about to explode; she wanted to claw off this body, that allowed her to feel.  Her mind was in turmoil and filled with uncertainty.  Memories of her past life with Rath, as Vilandra, plagued her.  Her heart defiantly longed for Michael's reassuring strength and comforting presence.  Isabel shook her head.

No!  She, Isabel, was in love with her husband.  She was leaving that life behind.

'Find Rest in me, my child.  I will be your refuge in this time of trial and testing.  I will see you through.'

Unwanted tears filled her eyes and brimmed over, leaving a glistening trail against her fair face.  Isabel glared accusingly at the statuesque figure, and shaking her head, she spat out, "NO!"  She pushed herself to her feet, all the while continuing to shake her head at the emotionless messenger of God.  "I don't find you comforting.  And you won't stop these memories in my head."  Isabel pressed the palms of her hands against her throbbing temples.

'Your trials are great,' the angel agreed, nodding his head, finally showing signs of life.  'I have been with you through it all.  I AM with you."

Isabel choked on the tears that flowed, lowering her head; the will to fight had disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.  She was so tired, so tired.

'Your fathers have sinned against me, and you are forced to reap their harvest.'

Isabel knew He was referring to their conception and birth.  "Why?" she asked raspily, throwing her hands up.  "I didn't do anything..."

'Because I AM holy.'

His...or its' words didn't seem to have anything to do with her question.

'But you will not always face enmity.  A day is approaching, where at long last the sins of your fathers will be atoned for.  I have chosen my instruments of righteousness.'

"I have to go through this to become this instrument?" she asked wearily.  He spoke with authority, as if He already knew the outcome.

'Yes, you will be my instrument.'

"But what if I said no?"

There was no pause from the messenger, as if He already knew her question beforehand.  'My plans will not be thwarted.'

Isabel took a deep breath and wiped the remnants of her tears of frustration, as they were replaced with an unexpected numbness.  "So you really don't care what I think?"

Silence.

"Don't you love me?"

'I AM love.  What you know, see, hear, and feel is because I AM.  I was before, not begotten, nor created by any hands.  I AM.'

Suddenly Isabel was filled with an indescribable shame at her accusations.  The luminescence that emanated from the angel grew brighter, until she could no longer gaze upon his face.  Who was she to question His plans?

At that moment, Isabel understood what it was like to be in the presence of the Living God.  Everything was stripped away.  Standing in judgment by the Him, it was like she was standing bare - no words, thoughts, or actions of her heart was hidden from His sight.

"Oh God," she whispered, closing her eyes and covering her face from His piercing eyes.  "I am so sorry."  Under her fingertips, a new dampness trickled from her eyes - tears of remorse and shame.  Once again, Isabel fell to her knees, rocking herself gently.

'But I am with you, my child.  I AM merciful and compassionate.  I AM faithful and gracious.'

His words only served to further the depth of her self-loathing.  She did not deserve to look upon Him; she was unworthy to be part of His chosen.  Isabel shook her head and muttered through her hands, "No.  I am nothing.  I don't deserve this..."

When she was feeling the full weight of her sins against Him, Isabel felt a warm hand upon her shoulder; and as she fearfully and reluctantly peered up at the sudden human contact, a soft, kind and gentle face gazed lovingly at her.  He seemed familiar, but she was unable to place the face.  However, Isabel fell naturally into his open arms.  In his arms flowed such strength, and it penetrated her, to her very core, comforting her, when she thought she would never know peace again.

'I am the way, the truth, and the life.  No one comes to the Father except through me.'

Isabel nodded.  She would do anything.  She knew the Truth now.

His gentle voice whispered soothing words into her ear, as he rocked her in his arms.  And when she felt an overwhelming sense of peace and rest, Isabel looked up into the face of God and saw forgiveness and love.  Her tired and weary body was suddenly renewed and filled with an unexplainable joy.

The familiar man, who now seemed so close, knelt before her and smiled faintly.  With a swift, smooth motion of his finger, the man brushed a lock of her hair out of her eye.

'Now you are ready.  You will be my instrument of righteousness.'