Looking up at the beautiful sky, my breath hitches. Dawn is breaking, and the sun is peeking over the horizon. This is my favorite part of the day. The oranges are perfectly intertwined with the tinge of pink in the sky. I'm in awe of the Creator. Every morning, one is given a new beginning, a fresh start. For better or worse, life is a series of choices. What will you do with them?
Savannah, Georgia has been my home for nearly ten years now, and during that time, it has been a place of refuge for many, including me. It's near enough to the coast that we're slowly becoming a trader’s paradise. We're a city built on the dead, but that didn't deter me from settling here. The dead can't hurt you.
I walk across the wide, nearly deserted street. Still too early for most shop owners to even be out and about. Mama used to always say, "Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise." It's how I've lived my life. Passingby a couple of street merchants getting their items ready for market, I send them a wave.
After a short distance, the sound of boots hitting the boarded sidewalk behind me catches my attention. Turning around quickly but seeing no one, I reach inside my bag and place my hand around the pearl handle of my knife. A trusted friend gave it to my great grandfather years ago. No need to panic yet but something is off.
My imagination is working overtime. I'm not sure if my lack of sleep is making me paranoid or if my being trusted with writing the words of the sacred declaration has. There are Umbra spies everywhere, and they want nothing more than to see us fail. For all our sakes, that can’t happen. We will not allow them to take over America like they have Europe. I face forward and start whistling a happy tune.
In mere seconds, the sound of the clickity clack of expensive boots starts up again behind me on the boardwalk. My paranoia has been confirmed as a reality. I resist the urge to turn around. The culprit will just hide once more—the coward. The sound is getting louder, the person must be within feet of me now.
Briskly turning down one of the darkened streets, I hide against the wall of one of the buildings. As he turns the corner behind me, I’m able to grab ahold of my assailant's arm. Slamming him up against the wall and placing my knife against his throat, the handle is almost glowing in the dim light.
"Why are you following me, and who sent you?" I growl at him.
He smiles, giving a small grunt. "I didn't know small-time merchants had skill sets that included taking down perpetrators."
Raising an eyebrow, I wait. What else does he know except who I am? Giving him a once over he's more pirate than a spy, with chin-length dark brown hair, and an eyepatch over his left eye to boot. An odd splotch of facial hair between his bottom lip and chin is visible. Very peculiar indeed. "This one does, when threatened. It seems I'm at a disadvantage, sir. How about you tell me who you are." I put the knife closer to his throat leaving a mark. "Now, as opposed to later."
The stranger raises his hands in defeat. "I’ll tell you everything in due time. If you let me go, there is an artifact in my satchel that you need to see."
I cock an eyebrow. "Not going to happen, son. Not until you tell me what I want to know. Who are you? Where do you come from? Who sent you?"
He rolls his eyes. "Listen, bloody Lightfoot, I haven't got all day."
I tighten my grip even more, and he winces in pain. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way, you decide. I'm not afraid to kill a man in self-defense."
He sighs in defeat, in turn making me loosen my hold in response. "My name is Solomon Flint the IV. My point of origin is not that simple, and sending myself to this timeline was a difficult task. My great-grandfather made a horrible grievance against you and your kind. It hasn't happened yet, but it's coming. If you don't listen to me, all will be lost, and the world will perish."
My uneasiness about the man doesn’t let up, but I let him go, still holding my knife out in front of me just in case. This man is either crazy or telling me the truth and my gut instinct is to trust what he says. Reading people is my job, and I'm never wrong.
Confusion envelops me. My dreams, when I have them, are always powerful. They have always come true in one capacity, or the other, and last night a glowing sun turned black in an instant. People screamed, and a war raged all around me. Weapons were used which I have never witnessed. All goodness and mercy were gone, and only darkness remained. That dream is connected to this individual.
My throat constricts. "Have any proof?"
Rubbing the spot on his neck where my knife had been, he picks up the pouch he dropped at the beginning of our scuffle. Reaching inside the bag, he pulls out something wrapped in purple lace silk. Purple is the color of royalty. A slight glow is coming from whatever is hidden inside. A sun, perhaps? I know it before he even shows me. "What in the world is that?"
A sense of urgency crosses his face. "This good fellow is a vital artifact. One that will be given unto you. There is no other way. You must take it, and I give it to you freely. My only request is that you hide this most precious gift in a place where no one will ever be able to find it, including me. I may not be able to part with it again. It holds great power, one that can ultimately lead to massive destruction.
More confusion hits me as I struggle to piece together every word he is babbling on and on about. Solomon isn't making sense. Maybe I should turn around and leave, but in the end, my curiosity overtakes me. He unwraps the package, and I must shield my eyes from the bright light coming from the object. A most beautiful light springs forth, it shines brighter than all diamonds in any of the realms. The precious rays, although still bright, are not so radiating that it hurts my eyes anymore.Solomon is holding a glorious sun made of pure gold. The absolute replica of the one in my dream. This is no coincidence. Perfect are its lines and its curves. I reach out totouch the tip of one of the sun rays with my index finger, feeling its warmth. "What in the world is that?" I repeat.
He gives me a bewildered look. "This was made long ago, with the hands of a Mayan warrior, Xabier the Great. He was not an evil man, but he built this device not knowing what it could do, what it would do. This is what caused most of the Mayan and Aztec populations to dwindle. Very few know what purpose it was built for. I only know that when activated, it will destroy everything in its path."
My curiosity is no more as I turn my back to him, because I want nothing to do with this cursed object. My beliefs are simple. I believe in love, truth, and light. Long ago my decision was made to enter the narrow gate of the road less traveled and do what was just, what was right.No, I shake my head and try to walk away. "I'm sorry, Solomon, but you're asking too much. What if it were to fall into the wrong hands?"
Shrugging his shoulders, a look of melancholy falls on his youthful face. “It won’t, leave that part to me. I have chosen you because the sun’s power won’t seduce you. No one else is capable. Please, take this blasphemy away from me.”
I bow my head in defeat, not fully understanding the calling. I must do this. I’m filled with a new purpose. I was given the dream to prepare my heart for this task. "I don't want to do this, but I know I must accept."
A look of relief washes over his face, and a genuine smile replaces the frown on his lips. He wraps the sun once again into the silk. "You're a good man, Lightfoot. Hide this artifact in a place no one knows about. May the Creator help us all if it is ever found."
Nodding my weary head, I'm most eager to be on my way. "I will guard it with my life."
He pulls a golden rock out of his pouch. His mission accomplished; his confidence has returned to his demeanor. "Lightfoot, in tomorrow's meeting, you will strike up a secret alliance with Balefire and Polarice. Each of you will become great leaders in the fight against the darkness. Although they will become your most trusted allies, you cannot tell them about this. They can be trusted, but some of your future descendants cannot be. Never forget that. This is a secret you will have to take with you to your grave."
Mr. Flint takes a few steps down the alleyway, creeping further into the darkness. He abruptly stops and motions for me to come closer, so I oblige. A look of mischievousness is upon his face. "In a few years, when another Solomon Flint comes to your mountain home and asks if he can come in, politely tell my great grandfather that I highly advised against his request. If possible, slam the door shut right in his smug face."
With a laugh, he turns and takes a few more steps down the alleyway. Hearing someone's movement a slight distance behind us, we turn around with urgency. Looking diligently from side to side, but I see nothing. No one is there. Was the sound a figment of my imagination? The look on his face tells me he heard it, too. It is eerily quiet, as if time has stopped itself.
