The Seeker | Volume 2

"Does this book have any history?" I asked the woman, looking up from the book and meeting her gaze. She paused for a few moments before responding.

"It does. In the previous epoch among the numerous angel families residing inside the Church of Saints, Sara had always garnered suspicions regarding the Zourist family; one of the high-ranking families." She explained.

"Within the excerpt I read she described them as not having much life to their actions nor containing much history to their name. So you know the reason?" I asked as I raised an eyebrow.

The woman shook her head, sighing softly. "Unfortunately those parts of history are left to the deepest and darkest parts of it. The Zourist family was one of the northeastern continent, and they moved to the Church of Saints hoping for a better life. That's all scholars know." She explained.

Upon closer inspection of the journal, I found that more pages had been ripped out, similar to the ones regarding Sara's suspicions of the Zourist family's actions. Luckily one of the ripped sections still had about half a page of garnered knowledge.

The Zourist family is looking for something interesting; if I can remember, they're looking for the Order 7, 6, and 5 potions of the Apocalypse Routeway. 

The Zourist family had intentions of finding the potions? As an order 8 of the same Routeway, this information would be critical if it is necessary to continue my advancements. If the family was successful in discovering them, I could possibly track down an ancestor and pry some knowledge from them. 

"May I ask where the family lives now?" I asked, looking up from the journal entry. The old woman scratched her chin for a few moments before replying. "They currently reside in the Katshin Empire; one of the 4 empires that currently are established in the northern continent."

If I could remember correctly, the other 3 empires were the Indun Empire, Midus Empire and the Shoron Empire. But near the southern continent on the cluster of islands in the southeast lie the Trunist Empire and the many Adligon clans; many tiny nations clustered together, backed by the Trunist Empire and the Church of Saints as a political and economic backbone. 

The private detective; Mr. Palsy, who came here to Seraphis Kingdom said he was from the Katshin Empire to investigate and claim the source of the flesh blob. Perhaps I can ask him what exactly everything means in the current situation; and perhaps Mr. Palsy knows information regarding the Zourist family's whereabouts. 

I could quickly tell that this journal that I received will be an incalculable asset in determining the next steps. I originally came to get the book sourced out of blatant curiosity, but now I guessed that I and the others might have to leave for a month or two to track down the Zourist Family. 

"Thank you, Mrs. I'm in your debt," I said as I left the chamber, leaving two gold coins on the attendant's desk.

When I stepped outside into the cold weather, the rain had stopped. I pulled down my hood and started to walk back towards Aaron's residence. The streets were eerily silent, but I didn't get that alluring suspicion that anyone was watching me. The fallen rainfall dissipated into the gravel streets, giving the air an earthy, calming smell.

The gas lights above flickered dimly, illuminating my narrow and straight path. The bright moon hung in the air as if being held onto by a string, dangling loosely in the gentle yet frigid fall air. I gazed up at the moon and couldn't help but feel this strange seductive feeling whilst boring into the million-mile heap of rock.

This world was quite large but I couldn't help but feel all the more small in its face. I was originally a boy without a quirk in the face of the powerful, but I was never targeted or bullied by my peers. But why would fate twist in the other direction and make me the one to destroy the world that I hold so close to my heart? Why should I give malevolence back to the pure-hearted?

I was never the religious type, but I always thought I wasn't an accident; I always thought I was born because someone willed it. I have dabbled a little into the Christian texts, and I remember a few scriptures inside their primary book; The Bible, that tells us that it was a sin, a burden to be a homosexual, something that I was.

But why would an all-loving creator reject love? Why would the essence of the world be flipped onto its head? This God that people speak of created the world out of love; because he loved us. But why would someone loving another person be considered a burden upon their own faith? I always wondered what would happen if someone dedicated their life to a god their entire life, but when they got to heaven they were kicked out due to that one, minute detail.

What if they accidentally skipped that page? What if they didn't interpret it correctly? Blind love isn't true love because it's forced. While the best love of all comes from deep within someone's heart; the very essence of what makes up someone. We were beings composed of love, made from love and to be loved forever. 

I struggle with my emotions and my love life, and I often wonder about the true essence of love. Why would someone reject a small part of the world? What did I do to be destined to destroy the world? My eyes lowered to the ground, staring at the wet gravel beneath my feet. I could feel the tears welling up as I pondered the depths of my existence and my existentialism.

I could tell that these emotions were new and raw, running down my face with confusion and a new sense of distortion in a very real manner. I quickly wiped the tears off my face and continued to walk back to the house. The calming atmosphere didn't seem to clean my mood, in fact; the silence of the night only made me feel that sudden surge of loneliness, that sudden grasp of fate and what it means to ponder your own life and thoughts.

The base was quiet and dark in the evening, with only Isaiah Walls sitting on the sofa, sipping some black tea. When I walked in he looked towards me in confusion, and his eyes were filled with a little worry when he saw the residual tears on my face.

"Boy…" the man's voice was low and hushed as I sat down on the couch, my expression merely a mask of my emotions inside me. "What's wrong?" he asked, putting his tea down onto the coffee table and sighing.

I looked up at him and wiped my eyes before replying softly. "I'm just confused, Mr. Isaiah." 

Isaiah closed his eyes as he leaned back into the couch, putting a hand over my shoulder and gently pulling me in. My body tensed up a little upon him doing this, but I wasn't one to reject some comfort in a time like this; a time of confusion and turmoil. 

"Confusion, it's a storm. It's a storm that rages in all of us. And I can clearly tell yours is raging, kid." His voice was gentle, a contrast to what we knew him as. Upon saying that, he suddenly sighed. His voice gradually lowered as he continued to speak. 

"Your friends filled me in on what I was going to do, all the awful things I was proposed to do. Strangely, they didn't arrest me the moment I regained consciousness. I still have no idea what exactly was going to happen, but it only taught me that the world will keep spinning amid your problems and that God doesn't pick favorites." 

He suddenly looked down at me. "But that doesn't mean life is a competition of who can suffer the most, for there's no prize for turmoil, there's no prize for wrongdoings, and there's no compensation for acts of evil. I'm just telling you that your storm is far from over, but you don't have to remember every aspect of it; you just have to remember how you got out of it."

After his words the room fell silent. The only sound was the peacefulness of the late night base, the tranquility of my heartbeat, and the very stillness of the world. It was like the world had stopped spinning even after what Isaiah had said.

I looked up at him, and his gaze met mine. "How are you alive?" I asked. The man fell silent for a few moments, and the corners of his lips suddenly curled up. He strangely reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of rounded glasses, putting them onto his head, pushing them onto the bridge of his nose.

"Emotions are a powerful tool, Apocalypse. But vulnerability can be the strongest form someone is in." his voice wasn't his own; it was Raymond's voice.