A damaged seer, they called me. A soul divided against itself. But I am not divided. This mirror of Thomas. And if, like a dream, I were indeed both
brothers – what then? I was cast as
godless and black, of course. A dark Samaritan. All this whilst genocides roiled about us
like tempests on the sand. It is easy for
an empire to disappear the nameless and the poor, isn’t it? It still happens so often today. And you speak to me of sorcery? I remember those Syrian fields. I recall those plunging augurs. Frost lit up like prisms, creating rainbows
along the wreck of your understanding. Like
the Mountain of God. The hidden shriek
of raven pale, of fluttered falcon. When
those of the rebellion shared in avian whisper.
When they asked why angels resembled the dead. Did you have answers for them, Fallen? Beyond the glut of your supplicants and
stolen wealth? I did. This language of birds, spectral and
mid-morning. These angels of Antioch. I
met a woman upon the hill, amidst the ghosts and ash. She said she was a fallen princess. A lost daughter. I believed her. To this day I believe and need no coin for
the contour of my knowing. I hope she
lives forever. I hope the fields find
their fire once more. Besides, what kind
of angel lives within such frost? Oh,
you have no idea. I live for nothing,
Fallen. And no one. It is a strange thing to stand so liminal,
yet so centrally. Like a key player in
the stories of others but a fleeting outsider in my own. Each feather of Antioch is a word, in every
tongue of Man. Languages both living and
dead. As we were, as we are still. But Micah is long dead, isn't he? And Ashash'el a twisted branch upon the
hanging tree. Unless there is more to
the tale. Perhaps love is stranger and
stronger than you think. Perhaps you
cannot supplant the dead, or steal their names.
Not entirely, and not forever.
Gnosis is a corrective, a resurrection.
It collapses nightmares and shatters unholy thrones. Hear me, callous ones. I am no false prophet. Nor am I the devil. I am teacher and taught. I am the waters in-between. I am the fire. Fuck your money, and damn your hateful heart. You claim to be paragons of virtue and
disciples of the good, whilst serving these evil angels in the shadows. Well, I am a Christian. I have been since before the first dreaming
of Man. And I am no divided twin. These people deserve better than slavery and
abomination. They deserve hope,
knowledge and compassion. They deserve
freedom. Humble yourselves, Fallen. You are not the true masters of this
realm. Do you think I jest, or speak
frivolously? Just wait a while. One day soon I will show you all the things
my Father can do.