Summary – If in event life can become so much more, richer, falling from a grace far beyond decadence, maybe a dream can wake us all.
Disclaimer – I don't own a bloody thing, (apart from the former anomaly's and the land above) and I wouldn't have it any other way.
The Congregation"I'm going to be civilised when saying this," Malachi rose to meet Zephaniah, his fleeting anger and flinched eyelids burning, "When did the gate define?" his voice raised ten fold.
The gate was a chamber that fell in between the heavens, the real of Zion and the inexplicable virtual of the Matrix. It only defined in its vision of the prophecy once someone was let free from the land above, only a hierarchy could escape and once they did its domain decreased, this was shown by the population in the land above, the code shrank and the gate was made smaller.
"It hasn't defined for a while now" Zephaniah raised his apparent head over, into the sanctuary of darkness, only the spiral of eternity, that felt solemn glory faded as it fell onto the land of the real.
The land above the heavens was like that of a black forest obscurely contrasted with golden leaves that sprawled over the darkened land like wires that spread their conquering arms over the fine soiled earth. Pure, white lights shone through them heatedly, revealing every fine line and curve of the lithe leaves that snaked their way into every hole and timid corner of the quaking land. They're faces couldn't be made clarified until only the thundering of the night sky, then only for a fraction of a second, beauty in itself was personified.
Their eyes were like the core of diamonds, and the diadems, symbols of their ranking, hung high on their foreheads, lips as gentle as that of swift winds, and their bodies that of white gold.
It was a dark land, although its white lights crowded its empowering air that was influenced by none other but by Malachi – the fourth anomaly that was blessed with long suffering. No other could control the weather in that bittersweet, morbid land.
The golden and silver carvings that were woven throughout the souls of the anomalies shone with an almighty radiance. Zephaniah placed his hand across a marbled bowl across the ground, filled with silver water that he manipulated to curl into obscure shapes. This part of the land was far out amongst the wild of the east where power was simply used for its competitive talent.
Malachi, the fourth anomaly followed pensively towards Zephaniah.
"I told you," Malachi shook his golden head towards Zephaniah and looked around, "It's changed. Zephaniah... what have you done?" His distraught voice rallied across the silver water with a great crack.
"How did you come to the conclusion that I had something to do with this?" Zephaniah straightened his head squared towards Malachi.
"Nahum saw you escape the domain with Neo. What have you done? Your code has altered... what have you traded?"
Malachi's angered words escaped his elegant mouth with a timid release.
"I traded nothing." Zephaniah stood up slowly the emphatic fire in his voice separated each word.
"Your code is different, it's dismissed and complex, you traded something. Your code is usually straight forward you have not traded your blessed wisdom. What is it?" Malachi started to attack him viciously with heated words, the wind swirled, and it rose and howled violently with his voice.
"If you must know," Zephaniah became impatient with Malachi he couldn't hear himself over the roaring winds, "Not that you should be concerned."
"Brother," he stopped and all the winds of the north, south east and west stood stunned, it stopped dead. Silent. "Of course I'm concerned." He breathed life into his surroundings as small flowers grew beside the small stream.
"What did you give away?" he asked silently.
Zephaniah pulled down his black, velvet hood to reveal his auburn head. His hair didn't glow a bright golden, instead a dull wash of mahogany.
"I gave away my approval." His, voice steadfast and vibrant.
"Brother." He gasped "Your approval means you're ranking," Malachi stepped forward towards him, each of his steps giving life, branches, silver leaves, golden vines thirsting and dying in his reverential presence. "They won't respect you for this Zephaniah," he outstretched his right hand and touched the ends of his auburn hair. The colour made him cower its darkness awe struck him. He hadn't seen such a shade in a century.
"I'm fixed rather blasé," he held his figure straight, "It dosen't matter." He replied.
"Listen brother, let me give you mine, you're the first of us all... you need this." Malachi pulled down his black hood, the silver whiteness of his hair shone as white flame. Zephaniah grabbed his hood and pulled it back over his head roughly, reaching for his hands Malachi gripped them, stopping them from going further.
"Brother, please," Zephaniah pleaded, eyelids fluttered as if mumbling a brief prayer, "I need not care about approval. I have given it to someone who needs it."
Malachi's eyes formed shadowed patterns, they scanned his soul, seeing all his freedom restricted, one, was lost.
"Neo's gone," his eyes never left Zephaniah's golden ones, "He's sought out the real... no one told me this... when was this planned? Who told him?" Malachi's eyes widened with every word he said, he was too foolish to realise that only one anomaly had enough passion and modesty to fall... and that was Neo.
"Who chose Neo?" Malachi breathed deeply and openly, as if disgusted.
"Ask him yourself," Zephaniah grasped his chest,
"Have the elders been told?" Malachi tried to catch him off guard.
"He asked the elders several years ago and they told him he had to choose for himself," Zephaniah confessed, "The elders wisdom is wider than ours, we have to respect it," he sighed "I knew he had to leave." Zephaniah ushered Malachi to walk beside him over the silver sands.
"None of us agreed to this... let's discuss this, maybe there's still time to get him back," Malachi panicked, although anger seemed to be the main factor.
"There's no time Malachi, he wanted this. Neo has felt his purpose is elsewhere, he dosen't believe he should be here with us."
"All the saviours should be here, they're hierarchy code is too powerful to sustain life in the real. He won't survive. He needs to live here, with all of us."
Zephaniah smiled cruelly. He knew, although Malachi was pure in heart, with several of the sins that insulated each soul came a weakness each were susceptible to, with each blessing came a sin, and his was as clear as day.
"Your jealous?" he simpered, "You, want to be him. You want to be human."
"You fool." He huffed; silver hair threading against the wind, "No one wants to be human."
"Everyone wants a second chance," Zephaniah saw Malachi's eyes grow deep with bitterness.
"Would you have done things differently if given a second chance?" he asked.
Malachi didn't express any emotion, "Maybe." He hesitated. "No."
Zephaniah could translate the hesitation he formed, he had known Malachi too long not to realise this.
"You're lying." Zephaniah laughed.
"I don't need to lie," Malachi thrust defensively, "I'm a hierarchy, I don't need to use the weak minded psychological terminology of humans." He breathed furiously, "You don't know the hatred I have for these kinds of inferior terms."
Zephaniah then realised what Neo had been trying to say all the time he was there.
It was true.
They had been writhing within they're own self worth. They were all enraptured within their own self-righteous world that they revelled in. And they did, with all indignant intent revel in it.
"Brother, we are better than that. We should look down upon the 6th anomaly." He joined his arm with Zephaniah's and patted his back reassured. "He doesn't come even a fraction to us. He can die, and I hope he does for leaving us all."
Zephaniah felt his heart burn for the 6th anomaly.
"Don't you ever talk like that about our brother," Zephaniah reeled the force within him and tore his arm from Malachi.
"You self assured Seraph." Malachi gasped at his insult.
"I don't deserve to be called a seraph." He howled back.
"The only reason why you speak against our brother is because you want to be him. You've wanted to feel ever since you came here. You've adapted to the lack of feeling so much that it's consumed you, it still consumes you and you hate it." Zephaniah spat with an insipid realisation.
Malachi smiled wickedly, he shook his head expressionless, his, hollowed eyes darkened with a possession not even the most disturbed of lands could conjure up. The weather fell cold and biting under the detached calmness Malachi enslaved "We are all brothers. I am just making a distinction of who's superior. You cannot argue with me that the sixth anomaly is the most powerful of us all?" his laugh as demonic as his features. Malachi walked on, his voice lowering as if to tease him, "Neo is human, he was always human, does it not insult you?" The grotesque disgust in his voice when repeating the word 'human' was as if the possession of the word heralded a satanic release.
"Does it not insult you that we were in the presence of a person that fell short of everything the Hierarchy are made of? Does it not insult you he put an inferior impulse ahead of his brothers?"
Zephaniah turned his silver back to him.
Zephaniah restrained his hasty tongue. He felt himself beat with the rhythm of the wind, its lashings were of drums and the groaning of the land was its dweller screaming for help, Zephaniah knew he had touched the heart of the fourth anomaly and he wasn't ashamed of it. In turn his heart had been threaded past anything that he
Thought was faith and doubt pushed together, which seemed impossible.
"Come," Malachi turned back, "I shall gather the congregation we need to talk about this."
Zephaniah felt an instant remorse of his words and cast his stare towards the ground his heart grew.
"I know your soul Zephaniah." Malachi's spirit flew beyond the stormy skies.
"The elders did not let us know about the 6th anomaly?" Levia, the second anomaly, blessed with Meekness, stood centre chair to the semi circle of all anomalies in front of him.
The room was large and framed silken walls that cascaded with rippling turquoise and maroon jewels, that represented each age in which each was born and their achievements.
Each with their diadems sat eloquently, all with their majestic roles.
To levia's right, sat Micah the third anomaly, blessed with ruthlessness.
Along next to him was Malachi, the fourth anomaly that was blessed with long suffering.
To Levia's left sat Zephaniah, the first and foremost messiah that was the first to seek out the primal group of Zionists that were freed. He was blessed with ineffable wisdom. Next to him sat Nahum, the fifth anomaly that was blessed with faithfulness.
All of the anomalies had their blinding colour hidden by their long silver cloaks. Individual, colours were distinguished by the diadems on their foreheads but no one of mortal nature could ever comprehend these colours, not even the backs of them for the power possessed was enough to kill a man.
Although their, outward appearance, a profile of a man, either ebony or blonde, after their death, the recorded file was stored but never to be opened without the elders consent, and Zephaniah's.
To the right of Nahum was an empty chair meant to, be filled by the sixth anomaly, the one blessed with compassion, Neo.
Nahum, a fair individual seemed to seethe in his chair, with all intent to battle with words, on his part to build him self up in the process.
"He has left us for the greater good." Zephaniah spoke out passionately, "He will exceed us all."
"No one mentioned anything about a second coming." Micah exclaimed, his dark features angry.
"There was no need, he knew there would be such an up roar."
"The imperfect life he has taken will lead to his death. What standard of life would that possibly equate to for a Hierarchy?" he paused profusely.
"Depends on how modest he is." Zephaniah narrowed his taunting gaze and felt the others scorn him.
"Modesty?" Micah laughed with malediction, "Are we all on the same level here?" he lavished with an unsettling confidence.
"Neo is human. Time wasted on him is like tempting the end, and you know what I mean by that." Levia held his resolving head above himself.
"Remember each of you were once human." Zephaniah stood up instantaneously, pointing at each of them before tormenting laughs glazed their lips, "None of you should have forgotten that."
"Zephaniah the blessed one." Nahum taunted, "Shall we bow to your every wish? Or shall the messianic government bow to Neo's, because we all know he'll be the one to change the hierarchy, if he can reach that far."
"You talk about him like he never was one of us."
"What makes you think he is?" Nahum snapped.
"Whatever happened to being unified? Together, as one." Zephaniah felt his anger course his veins.
"I plead you Zephaniah," Levia smiled, "Your not saying Neo is more blessed than either one of us here." He laughed.
Zephaniah could never figure out Levia. That distressed him, because out of all of them, Levia was one most likely to do just about anything to wane all, good and bad on his stand.
"What I'm saying is..." Levia cut through him.
"The hierarchy aren't meant to reclaim the world." His lips lifted slightly, "We're meant to manipulate it for our own purposes."
Zephaniah creased his fore brow with confusion.
"We're meant to destroy it." Nahum foretold knowingly.
"What?"
"Zephaniah, you were the first and forthrightly most civilised of us all, don't tell me any other one, let alone a human could compare... when you couldn't even get it right."
Zephaniah stopped. How could he argue against that?
Nahum was right.
What were they all doing here, if even they, the Hierarchy couldn't change, or defeat the machinations of the two evils in the world, "Zephaniah, what makes you think Neo can?"
At this moment, only a thread of hope held him together. Even now he wasn't sure if it was hope or just existence.
"The elders think he's worthy." Zephaniah told them. His response was vague and plausible knowing that it didn't come from him, but from the counsel of the elders.
"What makes his sacrifice more worthy than ours?" Malachi heralded fiercely.
"You'll have to ask the elders that one. Only they can judge," Zephaniah sat down elegantly, "I don't trust my own speculation."
Micah felt his eyes grow sore. "Our speculation is as good as the elders, we only have one decision and that should be against him."
"Let him burn." The crowd raised their hands to each other, roaring in unison, for the sacrifice of the sixth anomaly.
After a hectic couple of months, this is the second part of the story. I'll be regularly updating and up next with the third part... but of course need your reviews! Thanks