Chapitre 6: Chapter 6A: The Mission
"I was the spirit on the Lord's day, and heard behind me a great voice singing out loud the testimony of Jesus Christ and then a great voice said to me..."
The words echoed in John's mind, a fading echo of a vision long past. But the message, the divine decree, remained as clear as the day he received it.
"I am Alpha and Omega, the Beginning and the End."
A tremor ran through him, a cold shiver that seemed to crawl deep into his bones. The Angel's voice, a resonant whisper that had carried the weight of eternity, reverberated through his being. He had been chosen, set apart, and given a mission.
But where was he now?
A wave of disorientation washed over him. His mind was a blank slate, a vast emptiness where memories should have resided. He was adrift, lost in a sea of nothingness. He reached for a memory, any memory, but his grasp came up empty.
"What will you see, write it in a book and send it into seven churches which are in Asia. Into Ephesus, unto Smyrna, Pergamos, Thyatira, Sardis, and unto Philadelphia unto Laodicea."
The Angel's words echoed in his mind, a mandate from God. He had seen the seven stars, the golden candlesticks, the man cloaked in white, a radiant figure with a sharp, two-edged sword. The vision had been vivid, terrifying, and utterly unforgettable.
"Fear not my child, I am the first and the last, I am the one who lived and was dead and lived again forever. I am the keeper of the dead and the King of Heaven."
His heart had pounded in his chest, a drumbeat of awe and terror. He had bowed before the divine, his soul consumed by the vision, his spirit touched by the holy.
He felt a cold shiver race down his spine. He had to find someone, anyone, who could help him.
"Where am I? What is this place?" The words felt foreign in his own mouth, a strange echo in the silence. He pulled himself together, his hands trembling as he reached for his forehead. The touch of his fingers brought no comfort. His mind remained a void, a vast emptiness where memories should have resided.
The darkness was oppressive, but his eyes could still make out the faint outlines of his surroundings. He found himself standing beneath a gnarled old tree, its branches reaching towards the sky like grasping claws. The air was heavy, thick with a strange stillness. He felt a prickle of fear, a primal instinct screaming at him to flee. But where could he go? What was he running from?
He scanned the area, his eyes searching for any sign of life. In the distance, he saw a figure kneeling beneath a tree, a flickering light emanating from his outstretched hand. He hoped for answers, for someone who could guide him. "Mister, could you help me find a way home?"
As he approached, his heart sank. The figure, an old man, his face etched with lines of sorrow, looked up in fear. The candle he held in his trembling hand cast long, distorted shadows on the grass. His eyes, wide with terror, darted back and forth, a silent plea for mercy.
But John was too lost, too desperate. He didn't notice the fear in the man's eyes, the silent terror that filled the air. His mind, still reeling from the shock of his awakening, only saw a flicker of hope.
The old man, his body trembling with a terror John didn't understand, scrambled to his feet, knocking over the candle in his frantic retreat. The flame sputtered and died, leaving him swallowed by the shadows. John looked down and realized that he was standing on a grave, a cold slab of stone beneath his feet.
This wasn't a park. It was a cemetery.
A beam of light suddenly cut through the darkness, a blinding flash of a flashlight focused on John's face. He flinched, turning towards the source, his heart pounding in his chest. But the figure holding the flashlight simply continued walking, their eyes averted.
He had to get closer, to speak to someone. He stalked towards the figure, his legs trembling with a mixture of fear and desperation. "Chief, why I'm at the Cemetery? Where is this place?"
The figure turned, and John's blood ran cold. The man wasn't a guard. It was a dead man, his eyes hollow, his skin pallid, his flesh decaying. A guttural moan escaped his lips, a sound that sent shivers down John's spine.
John turned and fled, his legs burning with the effort. He couldn't stay there, not with that horror lurking in the shadows.
He ran until his lungs burned and his legs screamed in protest, but he didn't stop. He ran until he stumbled onto a street, the city lights blurring before his eyes.
He didn't understand why everyone he encountered avoided his gaze, why they seemed to shrink back in fear. He tried to make eye contact, to ask for help, but they turned away, their eyes filled with a mixture of horror and disgust.
He saw a group of people in the distance, their figures moving slowly and silently. He hoped for solace, for a human touch. But as he drew closer, he felt a chill run through his body. They walked right through him, their forms dissolving like smoke.
The horror settled upon him with crushing force. They were ghosts, the dead wandering among the living, and he was one of them. He looked into a nearby shop window, and the reflection staring back at him confirmed his nightmare. He saw a figure cloaked in a long white garment, his face pale, his eyes hollow. He was a ghost.
The memories flooded back, fragments of his final moments, a whirlwind of pain and sacrifice.
"I'm sorry Lisa, It is the thing I must do. Before anything gets worse, I have to stop it. I wanted everyone get a chance. As I did long ago, It is my mission to save the world. Everyone is innocent, they shouldn't be blamed. If it wasn't me, who else could? This ends my Death. So, I can grant you all a new Life. Stand Up, young lady. In this new World, I want you to be their new hope. Go on! And tell the people the Way of Life. Be their Light to subdue darkness in their hearts."
The words echoed in his mind, the promise he had made to Lisa, a young woman who had become a beacon of hope in a world consumed by darkness. He had sacrificed himself to save them, to grant them a new beginning.
"Lisa. Now, I remember. I died. I told her, I will be always at her side to protect and guide her. That's what I promised before I left. And that's the last line I could remember."
He continued walking, his ghostly form barely a whisper in the bustling city. The familiar streets felt alien, filled with a spectral emptiness.
"Where is she now? How many years have passed? What has happened in the world since I left?"
He yearned to know, to find her, to fulfill the promise he had made before he vanished into the shadows. He walked until his legs ached and his spirit grew heavy. He stumbled upon a park, a sanctuary of green amidst the concrete jungle. The scent of blooming flowers reached him, a faint whisper of life in this world of the dead. He sat upon a park bench, facing the sky, his ghostly form disappearing into the shadows of the towering trees. The sky, once a vibrant blue, was now covered in a swirling mass of gray clouds. Rain was coming, a cleansing storm that mirrored the turmoil within him. "It seems the rain is about to fall," he murmured, a voice that only he could hear. The world was changing, a new chapter unfolding, and he was caught in the middle of it all. He was a ghost, a spirit adrift, but he also knew that he was not lost. He had a purpose, a mission, and a promise to keep. He had to find Lisa. He had to guide her, to help her fulfill the calling he had given her. He had to fight the darkness and bring hope back to a world that had almost forgotten how to shine. The rain began to fall, a gentle patter at first, then a steady drumming on the leaves. He watched as the raindrops fell, washing away the dust and grime of the world. Perhaps, he thought, the rain could cleanse the world of its darkness, too. Perhaps, he thought, it could bring a new dawn.
He rose from the bench, the rain washing over him, his ghostly form blending seamlessly with the shadows. He knew his journey had just begun. He had to find his way, to find Lisa, to find his purpose.
He would be their shepherd, their guide, their light in the darkness. He would be the one who helped them find their way back to the fold, back to the light, back to God.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone