Page 40 of Sin of the Saints

The land of the Hebrews is loud. Its humans speak with their hands, and it seems they can speak in no other tone but shouting. I watch this chaos, the melting pot on the verge of exploding, and I sense the tension in this place.

Intensity. I suppose it’s the only word that can describe this sacred city.

When I landed on the outskirts of the city I realized the collar was a greater problem than I’d thought. From Lilith’s memories I know she has the power to change shape, but the collar blocks her abilities. When a woman in black crosses a nearby alley, I know it’s no coincidence. I follow her, land a blow to her head and steal her clothes, which cover almost every part of my skin, especially my wings and aura.

Thus I enter the most bustling lion’s den I’ve ever seen, without revealing my identity. But damn it, the price of that anonymity is high. The burning sun in this place is nothing like what I know. Even in the memories of Lilith, who lived within the fires of Hell, that heat is unlike this nightmare heat.

But I have no choice. If humanity only knew that the Devil was after me and might be walking among them, Armageddon would erupt right there.

I follow the shining structure that serves as a lighthouse in the chaos of the throng. Better to walk to my destination and enter on foot. I don’t think descending from the sky will be seen as a quiet entrance. People would, to put it lightly, lose their minds.

I lower my head as I feel many eyes staring at me. The one time I dare raise my head slightly, I run into armed soldiers and almost lose my wits. My first thought is that the Council has come for me. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen someone that heavily armed, more so even than the guards at Libretto’s castle. It’s like they’re geared up for war. But the armed soldiers are talking and laughing, and I manage to breathe again. Despitetheir intimidating appearance, they seem to be young men having fun. What on earth would make children into vessels of war?

I need to calm down. I can’t draw attention to myself.But I can’t help wondering how such a holy land could become an arena for war.

I take another look at the child-soldiers. An older man walks by them, spits in their direction and hisses out a curse in a language I can’t understand. One of them seems like he’s about to respond, but his friends hold him back and calm him down. I release the air in my lungs. Damn, I’m more tense than they are. One pats the furious boy-soldier’s shoulder and says something with a gleeful smile, and the soldier relaxes and joins in their laughter.

Children who know war, yet retain their innocence,I think, and turn my gaze from them.

The crowd grows the closer I get to my destination, and I quickly realize that the term ‘private space’ doesn’t exist in these humans’ lexicon. Sweaty bodies bump into each other, loud sounds, car horns and gusts of exhaust fumes blur my vision. It’s too much.

I pass through the heavy security barrier and all the noise stops at once. The crowd thins out in the large plaza, and I can finally draw fresh air into my lungs. A cool breeze hits me and I pause before a golden dome at the top of an octagonal structure decorated with breathtaking mosaic tiles.

“Let the waters under the heaven be gathered together unto one place, and let the dry land appear1.”

“And let them be for lights in the firmament of the heaven to give light upon the earth: and it was so2.”

I recall the passages we studied in Bar’s class. The land, the sea, the sun. All are here right in front of me as though I were witnessing the creation of the world firsthand.

The rays of the burning sun are reflected and magnified off the golden dome, and I shade my eyes, unable to look directly at it. It’s as though God knows I’m unworthy. At this moment I believe that of all the places in the world – God is here. I feel the sanctity of this place, it burns me with beams of light disguised as the scalding sun.I shouldn’t be here, I pull back in terror. The sun burns me, a warning I must heed. I want to run, but the looks the humans are giving me paralyze me.I mustn’t draw attention, I repeat the words again and again like it has the power to calm the storm I’m immersed in. With no other choice, I walk right into the place I’m forbidden from entering. But despite the warning I hear in my mind, I encounter a cold that soothes my fears. Relief floods me and I open my eyes to find the stone ruins at the heart of the structure.

Is that all?I think, disappointed.

“It’s the Foundation Stone,” I hear an English-speaking tour guide explain to the group of tourists standing before him in awe. “They say it’s the cornerstone of the world.”

I approach the rail and examine the ruins, what’s left of the first realm of Man, where I first opened my eyes, before it became a petri dish of obscenity, ruin and hatred. Nothing remains of it but rubble. Nothing is left.

I tremble at the cold that lingers in this place, like someone’s poured ice water over me and put out my raging flames, and I raise my eyes to the arched ceiling.

“He’s not here.” The bitter truth slips out of my lips. “I’ve come in vain.”

I turn and quickly march out of the chilling place. The sanctity within is an illusion, nothing more. I move beyond the boundaries of the site and run; my eyes blurry with tears. So many people bump into me, so many people around me that I lose what little composure I still had. Someone addresses me in an unfamiliar language.

“Miss, are you alright?” He says to me again, this time in broken English. His accent is heavy. I lift my eyes and encounter the boy-soldier I’d seen before. “I thought you spoke Arabic, but you actually responded to English. You surprised me.” He smiles at me affectionately.

“I-I…” I stutter, unable to complete the sentence.

“Here, you look like you could use something to drink,” He holds out a cup of cold water, and I chuckle. “No?” He raises an eyebrow. “There’s nothing cold water can’t cool in this country of ours. Drink, don’t be embarrassed.” He brings the cup close to me again, and I nod.

I react to his words. “Where does your water come from?”

“You’re not from around here, are you?” He laughs. I narrow my eyes and look him over.His smile is pure, I think. “Well,” he scratches his head, trying not to turn his curious stare upon me. “From the Kinneret, of course.”

“God created the water to keep Lilith away,” I blurt out without thinking, the wheels in my head starting to turn.

The boy-soldier gasps and pulls back. “Lilith? We don’t say that name here.” He looks around with a haunted expression.

“I’m sorry,” I quickly say. “I think I have heat stroke.” I wave dismissively, and as I notice terror take a hold of him, I realize my hands are glowing with a crimson light that’s stronger than ever.

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