Destiny of Time 1

The following story contains situations of a homosexual nature, and may contain depictions of sexual acts by consenting parties. If it is against the law in your area / country to read such material, Or if you find such material offensive please discontinue reading.

I would like to send a couple of thanks out to the guys at the niftywriters chatroom for Inspiring me to post this little bit of work, Especially D, Jesse and, Kip. You guys are great! Also lots of love I send to watch! Thanks girl for reading and rereading this for me.

Caleb walked slowly through the old cemetery. His head hung low on his shoulders as he watched the ground pass beneath his feet. He didn't take any notice of the magnificent mausoleums in this cemetery, each one a mini-tomb in its own right. Many shone bright white in the light of the afternoon sun and some had a magnificent patina that shrouds their white stone in elegance. Every grave stood aboveground because, if not, the body would rot too quickly with the high water table in the area. You see, the city of New Orleans sits 20 feet below sea level and anything buried below ground lies in standing water. The aboveground sarcophagi gave the cemetery a distinct look -- like a city for the dead.

He ignored the morbidly beautiful surroundings. His eyes were trained on the crushed stone path and he didn't need his eyes to navigate through the maze of burial plots. He knew the path by heart and could walk here if he was stricken blind. He had been walking this same crushed stone path every day for the past two months. Even the epitaphs that decorated the tombs themselves he knew, as long as it was on his path. His destination wasn't that far off now and he could see yesterday's flower lying on top of it.

He stopped in front of the pure white tomb that stood before him. Slowly raising his head he looked at the grave. He picked up the flower that he laid there the day before and placed it on the tomb to the right. Caleb glanced up at the epitaph and read it to himself, following the ritual he had begun a few months before.

As Caleb read the inscription, His eyes began to well up with tears. The whole thing hurt. He died the day after Caleb's birthday as he and Caleb were swimming in the river. Seith had asked Caleb to go swimming with him. Caleb agreed, as it was a hot, humid day in the Crescent City. They rode their bikes to a quiet place where many kids went to swim. After awhile Caleb got tired and got out, leaving Seith behind begging for him to stay in.

"Nah" the younger brother replied. "Its getting late and I have to get home, before Ma gets mad." Caleb turned around to dry himself off. Moments later when he turned back around, Seith was gone. Caleb tried looking everywhere for his older brother but he couldn't find him. He searched the entire area in vain, wishing for his brother to appear again and be safe. He called out to Seith, hoping that he was playing some sort of trick on him. The minutes turned into hours, and the sun slowly sank into the horizon. Soon the humid night air embraced Caleb. He rode into the darkness, going over everything in his head.

He didn't remember exactly what path he took to get home; it was all a blur. Like a horrible nightmare that was crystal clear as it happened, but clouded like the murky waters of the Mississippi after. He did remember the scent of that night, a smell that was characteristically New Orleans: moss, mildew and just plain old dank and wet. For some reason, the air was permeated with it that night. The scent of the river also soaked into Caleb's' flesh.

With his head hung low, he slowly pushed the bike up the crushed brick path. Tears steadily streaming down his face as he collapsed in the yard. Mustering all the energy he could spare to scream "Mom", once then silence, almost as if he had died also. The tears stopped suddenly, the shaking that wracked his body subsided to nothing, and an unexplainable feeling of calm washed over him.

Both his mother and his father ran from the house to where Caleb lay curled in the fetal position in the front garden.

"Caleb!" his mother yelled, fearing that her son was seriously injured. Her hands started to roam his body looking for signs of blood, but there was none to find. Her hands were only moistened with a combination of his sweat and tears. "Caleb, honey, What's wrong? Where's Seith?" Her eyes pleaded for answers, searching her son and the surroundings for a sign.

Caleb slowly lifted himself from the soft grass. Gradually he lifted his head, until the light from the porch shimmered on his sweat-slicked hair, then the bangs that were plastered to his forehead, and finally his flushed, tear-stained cheeks. His eyes avoided his mothers. Instead the stared longingly into the grass, though what they longed for could not be had.

"Cale, babe, Where's your brother?" His mother asked again, her voice almost pleading for an answer, a distinct tone of worry and maternal premonition. The sound slowly prodded Caleb to muster all his energy to say what he dreaded. His mournful and equally pleading eyes cautiously moved to hers. "Cale" she said softly, noticing the hurt look in his eyes.

"He's ... he's in the river." He barely got the short answer out before the calm was shattered again. All the strength he had gained was lost instantly as he collapsed into his mothers' chest. Instantly soaking her silk shirt with his tears.

He would never forget the sound she made that night, when her greatest fear since becoming a mother lie before her on the lawn. A groaning that sounded if it began deep in her gut shook her whole body, and pierced Caleb's soul for having caused the painful mourn.

They never let Caleb see Seith's body when a surveying crew found it three days later. It was wedged up against a levy, no more then two miles down stream. He knew that they wanted him to remember him the way he was, the way he looked, and not what he had become. They didn't want Caleb to see the way the warm color of Seith's skin had gone, replaced by a sick, milky blue-gray. The way his body was bloated from spending time in the water.

Even though he knew their reasons, it still hurt him to be denied. He wanted to see the consequences of his actions. He wanted to face the reality of the nightmare he so dreadfully wished to be over. To him it was almost like a confirmation that all this had indeed happened, and wasn't some horrible dream that wouldn't end. Maybe then he wouldn't wander through the day wondering when he would wake up, or if he really was.

A single tear rolled down Caleb's cheek. It dripped off his chin and landed on the stone cover. The boy placed the flower on the mausoleum. He climbed on top of the tomb, letting his feet dangle from the edge. He knew his parents would look for him soon, and so, likely, would Detective Marsh.

Things hadn't been going well at home since Seith died. He was the buffer between Caleb and their father, and now he was gone. Caleb reached into the small knapsack he had brought with him and pulled a few items out of it -- a tablespoon, lighter, bottle of water, a syringe, and a small baggy that contained a brownish white powder.

A baggy that held heroin -- which he had obtained one of the few days he'd attended school this year.

Caleb had never used drugs of any kind before, except for an occasional night of drinking with his brother. But the last movie he had seen that summer was Pulp Fiction. He was surprised at how effortless it was to obtain the drug. However morality was no longer his problem, or anything else for that matter.

He mixed the powder like he'd seen in the movie, placing a rather large amount in the spoon. He added the water as if he'd done it many times before and heated the bottom of the spoon until the potent mixture boiled and the drug dissolved. Then he carefully lowered the syringe into the mixture and raised the plunger, sucking the vile concoction into the syringe and filling it 'til there was nothing left in the spoon. He carefully set the syringe down on the stone beside him, and began to untie his left shoe.

He watched the youth enter the cemetery, as he had been doing for the past month. This teen fascinated him. His beautiful green eyes belied his age. They made him look worn well beyond his years on earth, their youthful exuberance long lost to the passage of time, before their time. His whole demeanor seemed broken and defeated. Not only that but grief and remorse seeped out of every pore of his being. It ached him so to see someone, especially one so young, hurting the way this boy did.

Demitri watched as the teen prepared the deadly syringe. His conscious screamed for him to stop, but his lungs couldn't even whisper the word. Half scared that the boy would go through with it, he other half desperately hoping he would, wanting that outcome more than life itself. Torn between his feelings he stood and watched the boy, not more than twenty feet away. Hiding out of sight behind a grave watching intently.

Caleb finished unraveling the shoelace from his shoe. He tied the cord around his forearm, and began to flex his muscle until a vein presented itself. He lifted the syringe and silently prayed the dose would be lethal. All he wanted was to be with his older brother again. He looked back towards the epitaph, tears streaming down his face. The salty liquid crept into the sides of his mouth and blurred his vision.

"I'm sorry Seith" he cried "Don't worry, I'm coming home to you". He wiped his cheeks with the back of the hand that held the syringe, first the left then the right. He gasped for air, for what he thought would be last time. Seeking solace and an end to his pain. He slid the needle into the exposed vein and depressed the plunger in one quick, fluid motion.

He barely removed the needle before his body slumped down backward on the tomb. Those beautiful green eyes began to roll back in their sockets seeking a retreat from the bright sunlight. His body began to convulse and shake wildly, as if he were being electrocuted. The spasms ravaged his body, causing him to fall from the sacrificial altar he rested upon. His body hit the ground with a thud. Caleb's head was turned away from the coffin where his brother's body lie. Caleb could have been mistaken for being asleep were it not for the frothy white saliva oozing from the side of his mouth and the ever growing wet spot in the front of his jeans.

Demitri realized his time of stalking the youth was over. His greatest dream and worst nightmare for the kid had come true all at once. He sprang from his hiding place and ran the 20 or so feet to where the dying boy now lay and scooped the limp body up off the ground. Demitri wasn't much larger than Caleb but he had the power and strength of time on his side. He carried the limp body up the path and back out of the cemetery.

He rushed across the street to La Petite Orleans, A small hotel where he had retained a room. Then, breaking through the doors to the lobby he rushed across to the other side to where the staircase was. Demitri was oblivious to the stares the patrons and staff were giving him as he walked through. He had no concern for those people; his only concern was the dying teen that lay still in his arms. He rushed up the staircase to the third floor to room 304. He slid the boy down the wall into a seated position so he could unlock the door.

As he fumbled through his pocket for the key to the room, the teen slumped forward a vomited down his front. The pungent sweetly sour aroma drifted upward invading Demitri's nostrils 'til he felt his stomach churn and the hallway seemed to spin. Sweat beaded on his forehead. His vision grew dull and hazy. Demitri squeezed his eyes shut as hard as he could, trying to quell the natural reaction. The saving thought that crossed his mind was to get the teen cleaned up and conscious once more.

He finally found the key and unlocked the door, pushing it open as far as it would go. Demitri knelt down and gathered up the wretched youth. He carried the boy into the room and set him down on the bed and looked at the young man sprawled across the bed. Demitri shook his head in silence at the sight before him, breathing a long sigh. He didn't know what to do now.

Demitri stepped to the edge of the bed. He began to undress the teen. Starting first by pulling off the boy's shoes, one coming off easier than the other. Then he pulled off the boy's socks, tossing them and the shoes into a pile by the side of the bed. He moved up the bed to undress the boy's upper torso. Demitri hefted the boy's body up into a seated position and leaned his back and head against the headboard. He pulled and pushed the sweat-soaked shirt up and over the boy's head. Caleb slid back down the bed, allowing Demitri to pull the shirt the rest of the way off. He used the shirt to clean Caleb's cheeks and chin before he tossed it on the pile.

Demitri stood back from the bed, taking a moment to look at the boy. Any color the boy had had was now gone, leaving his skin a pale, pasty white. His beautiful green eyes were now surrounded by dark circles, and sank deep into his skull. Plainly he looked like shit. Demitri knew death was hovering over the kid, and he knew he had to work faster.

Demitri feverishly undid the belt buckle around Caleb's waist, and ripped open the button fly on the baggy pants. His hands moved to the flaps that were spread open, his fingers grasped the warm wet denim. He yanked the jeans down from under the boy's body. Demitri moved back down to the foot of the bed, he grabbed the cuffs of the jeans and yanked them off. Demitri quickly striped out of his clothes down to his boxers, and walked the few steps back over to the bed.

Demitri bent down and hefted the boy over his shoulder once again. He staggered across the small room to the bathroom. He set the boy down gently into the large, cast-iron tub. Demitri bent over and turned on the cold-water tap, cold being the best decision given the boy's current state and the humid Louisiana air. Demitri climbed in the tub and propped Caleb up. Leaning his body against his own for support. Demitri inched the two of them across the tub until they were both under the shower spray. Caleb groaned as the cold water hit him. His body started to shiver uncontrollably. Demitri just held on to him, keeping him within the spray of the icy water.

Detective Marsh walked slowly through the beautiful cemetery. She hoped the 16-year-olds' parents were right, and he would be at the grave today. They told her he came here everyday. She wanted to put an end to the youth's most recent two-day excursion. The Detective really didn't understand why the kid kept running away. This being the fifth time in the past two months. She knew his brother had died and he blamed himself, but why?

She rounded the corner in the crushed stone path, which curved through the cemetery. Seith's grave was no more than 30 feet ahead. She looked over at it, remembering the funeral -- the last time she had been here. She remembered the hurt expression on the boy's face, as if he was burying the only person in the world he cared about. She had seen pictures of both the boys looking happy and full of life. But that wasn't the Caleb she came to know over the past two months. The boy she knew hurt all the time and never smiled once for her, not even to pretend. He didn't frown and for that matter his face was always blank, as if he didn't have any emotion.

"Damn kid" she said under her breath. "Why does he keep doing this to his parent's ... putting them through this? They lost Seith too" She looked at the grave, her hope shattered. He wasn't there. He had been though; his nap sack and a new flower were on top of the grave. As she got closer she noticed a few other objects that looked like drug paraphernalia and a small bag half filled with a brownish-white powder. She felt her heart stop as she saw the small bag.

"Oh shit no!" The words hurt as they fell out of her mouth. Her heart felt like it would explode. Hoping against hope she dipped the tip of her finger into the powdery substance. She lifted her pinky up to her tongue to test the material.

"Fuck" she yelled to herself, as her hand swung swiftly back to her side. Her head dropped half in sorrow, half in disgust with herself for the harsh words she had uttered earlier. She slowly opened her eyes, and saw the syringe lying on the ground next to the tomb. She knelt to pick it up and placed it on the stone lid next to the baggy. The detective started to fiddle through the black knapsack nearby. Inside was a piece of folded white paper that caught her attention. She unfolded the note and read it. Her arms dropped back down to her sides.

"Stupid boy" she quietly said to herself as she placed the letter with the other items. She turned around and slowly began the journey back to her car, to retrieve some evidence bags. She began wondering how she was going to tell the kids parents that both of their children were now gone. Her head ached from the anger she felt towards herself, and the pain the Matthews would soon endure again.

The knot in her throat grew as she neared the Matthew's house and she argued with herself for not stopping by and telling them yesterday as soon as she found the Caleb's nap sack. Police had yet to find the boy's body, but they were sure he was dead. The forensic lab had tested the syringe and said that the amount Caleb had taken would have been lethal even for a habitual user and the lab had confirmed his fingerprint on the syringe.

Detective Marsh sat on the front porch step for what seemed like an eternity. She finally stood up and forced herself to climb the rest of the way. Her whole body was trembling. It hurt her deeply to deliver the news to the Matthews. They were nice people and didn't deserve to lose both of their children. Her trembling hand reached out and rang the doorbell. It shook so much the doorbell rang twice in succession and echoed through her mind like a funeral dirge. It took awhile before anyone came to the door.

"Hello, Oh detective Marsh. Won't you please come in." A slight smile crossed the detective's lips, but her eyes couldn't hide the hurt inside. A song came drifting out of the house, like a scent on the breeze.

"Where? Where did you go, when things went wrong, Baby? Tell me who did you run too, To find a shoulder to lay your head upon? Baby wasn't I there, and didn't I take good care of you?"

The Detective got lost in the words of the song for a moment. Then she realized where she was. No matter ho many times she had practiced in the past twelve hours she couldn't find the words to say to the woman.

She didn't have to the woman looked into her eyes and began shaking her head.

"No, no not my baby too" she brought a trembling hand up to cover her face, a face that was now pale from the pain and sorrow. Detective Marsh still couldn't say anything to the woman. She simply reached into her pocket, pulled out the note and handed it to the woman. A trembling hand reached for the note. As Mrs. Matthews read the note tears streamed down her face.

"Oh God no, not Caleb. Not my baby." The woman dropped to her knees. Struck down in the misery of the moment. "Why baby why?" The detective didn't know what to do. So she knelt down beside the woman and vainly tried to comfort her. The sobs and moans of the woman slowly faded into the background. All the detective could hear were the words to the song.

"Baby what did I do? Maybe I was to good, to good to you. Ohhwhoa, Whoaaoo, whaoooaaaaooo, Stay with me my baby, stayyyy with my baby, my babyyy. Remember, remember, you said you were always gonna love me? Remember you said you'd never ever leave me? Remember? Remember? I'm asking you, Begging youuu, Stay with me my baby. Oh stayy with me my babyyy. Ohh stayyy with me, stayy with me"

The Lyrics seemed to linger on in the detective's mind as she tried to block the sorrow of the woman she held in her arms. She sat with the woman, rocking her back and forth in her arms trying to sooth the pain, even though she knew she would not be able to. Guilt and sorrow soon overtook Det. Marsh. Her eyes welled with tears that blurred her vision. The pain inside of her numbed her sense of touch. The only two senses she could recognize were her hearing, and smell. The words to the song sung in angst and the subtle hint of Mrs. Matthews's jasmine perfume that seemed to linger in her nostrils. Its funny the things the mind chooses to remember a moment in your life. Det. Marsh would always remember this day when she heard that song, or smelled jasmine.

Caleb was lying in the bed thrashing about occasionally screaming "Seith." He had miraculously survived the suicide attempt, but his body still struggled with the lethal dose. The bedsheets were covered in sweat, as was the boy. He had spent most of the night calling out his brothers' name and a few others that were unintelligible. He was going through fierce withdrawals. Demitri wondered why the kid fought to hold on to a life that he had tried to shun the previous day. Nevertheless detoured, Demitri remained vigilant as the teen fought his way back from the grasp of Osiris. So Demitri decided to help him on his dangerous journey, there were just a few things he needed first.

Demitri slowly unlocked the door to the room and walked in. The boy was still unconscious a thrashing about in his sleep. He sat a small case down on the nightstand, and retrieved a gold paint marker from his pocket. He carefully opened the old leather case, and removed four leather straps, a book, and a small stone jar. He set all the items on the nightstand, and moved the case to the floor.

Demitri set about restraining the teen so he would not thrash about on the bed anymore. First he tied his left arm to the headboard with one of the leather straps. Then he moved down the bed to the left leg and tied it to the footboard, leaving just enough slack for the boy to move slightly. He repeated the process on the teen's right arm and leg, until the boy was spread across the bed in an X. He stood back and admired the youthful body momentarily. A mischievous thought quickly entered and left his mind. He walked back around the bed to the nightstand and picked up the book then flipped through the pages until he found the passage he was searching for and read the words there.

He set the book back down after reading the passage three times quietly, then retrieved the gold paint pen. Demitri removed the cap and set it down beside the bed. Demitri climbed on the bed and straddled Caleb's body. He removed the gold pen from his mouth and began writing Hieroglyphics across the teen's breastbone and down the center of his chest. He had to scoot down a bit to finish writing the incantation, writing to just below the hip line. There the words were set in gold upon the body. Just like the book said to do. They shimmered in the sunlight that streamed in through the window.

Demitri was amazed at how much the boy struggled, even if it was weak, as if he wanted to survive. It would not be without a price though, He would never age again he would be this same way until the day he died. Amon was worried about making such a decision with out the boy's consent. But it was too late now. He had carried the marker with him through the land of the dead, far beyond the realm of the setting sun. Therefore far out of Demitri's grasp.

He read the incantation that was scribed on the boys' chest out loud, so the words could enter the ear and flow to his soul the KA and so he would know the incantations, as the Rubric of Life requested.

"Thou who bares these words shall be turned away from Osiris. His KA should not be weighed against the feather of Maat. If it has it should be found true and equal, no matter how heavy it be. He should be turned back the way he came, for the divine King beckons him back to walk with him and guide him in the land of mortals. Upon returning he shall know him, and honor him so."

Demitri closed his eyes for a second, the pain of regret returning. When he opened them, he saw the boy lying peaceful and still. His chest moved no more and his eyes ceased to flutter. The beating of his heart, the palace of the KA, had ceased. He closed his eyes again and bowed his head. He began to utter a hymn in honor of RA.

"Behold the Osiris Ani, the scribe of the holy offerings of all the gods, saith: Homage to thee, O thou who hast come as Khepera, Khepera the creator of the gods. Thou art seated on thy throne; thou risest up in the sky, illuminating thy mother. Thou art seated on thy throne as king of the gods, Thy mother Nut reaches out her hands, and performs an act of homage to thee. The domain of Manu receives thee with satisfaction. The goddess Maat embraceth thee at the two seasons of the day. May RA give glory, and power, and truth-speaking, and the appearance of a living soul so that he may gaze upon Heru-Khuti, to the KA of Osiris the Scribe Ani, who speaketh truth before Osiris,"

Demitri spoke the words, as he knew them by heart; never once opening his eyes to look at the body before him then rose off the boy's body. He rested his head in the palms of his hands as he sat on the chair facing the bed. Guilt pounded in his head. He didn't want to hurt the teen; on the contrary he wanted to help him the only way he knew how.

The ancient barrier between the Heavens and Earth seemed blurred. The stars bled over the line and twinkled up from below. The rivers flowed off of the featureless plain into the vast inky blackness. Caleb looked around him, taking the whole surreal scene into account. Only one path could be seen and it shot out before him before it melted away into the distance. There was movement all around, yet it was as still as a graveyard at midnight.

Not knowing what else to do he slowly crept along the path. He was interested in where it led, or if it led anywhere at all. It seemed to go on for an infinite distance, far beyond the horizon of space and time. As he made his way along cautiously, it was as if the stars watched him and noted his progress. The whole experience made Caleb feel uncomfortable, and alone, more alone than he felt the day his brother died. He pressed on down the path, unconsciously aware of the deafening silence that enveloped him like a warm blanket.

Words formed around him, carried away on the still breeze. They floated gently through the cavernous darkness. He could almost see the words as they spun around him like a tornado, swirling round behind him, going out of sight, then racing back into his field of view. They were just a whisper, barely audible to his ears, yet they were screaming inside his head.

Hieroglyphic writing burned through his skin, shining bright golden light like the rays from the sun. They burnt a path through the infinite darkness. Half in shock and half in horror, Caleb brushed his hands through the golden light, its presence felt warm and comfortable. He relished the warm feeling as he ran his hands lightly over his chest causing a slight groan of pleasure to escape his lips. The feelings of loneliness he had just had were now replaced by the feeling of someone, something hugging him and holding him close. He felt warm and comfortable pleased to be held within this close grasp.

As he looked back up on the path before him, a large ancient gate rose up to block it. The writings were strange and exotic to his eyes, but his mind read and understood every word. A deep echoing voice boomed through the vast silence.

"What is the name of the Doorkeeper of the first Arit, and what is the name of the Watcher of the first Arit?" Caleb's ears found the question foreign and odd, but his mind knew the answers and pushed them out of his lungs.

"The Doorkeeper is Sekhet-her-asht-aru, The Watcher is Smetti." Caleb had a puzzled look on his face. He didn't understand what had just happened and where he came up with the names he said. The low voice boomed again.

"The name of the Herald of the first Arit is Hakheru." The boy was surprised as he heard his voice, imbued with the knowledge, speak the ancient words, his voice confident as he uttered words he had never heard and didn't understand.

"Who are you?" The voice asked leaving an echo in the vast nothing. The boy thought of the question a bit, even though the answer was easy.

"I-I I am Caleb" He finally answered with less certainty than before. He wondered what to make of this whole situation. He hadn't gone to church regularly or anything, but he was sure this was not supposed to happen. "I never knew purgatory was 20 questions." He silently commented to himself.

The gates of the Arit slowly opened. He felt himself being drawn through. As he passed underneath the old structure he looked up. It looked old indeed, old and decaying. The stone the gate was made of was decaying from its ancient age. Sand and dust cascaded out of cracks in the stone like a waterfall. Small chunks of stone dribbled down, as the old structure gave a sharp cracking.

When he had cleared the crumbling structure he looked back at it. A very confused expression washed over his face. He was gazing back at the same gate he had just past through, as if he had never past through it.

"What the hell!," his voice sounding confused and frustrated, "was this eternity? Alone in the dark answering the same friggen questions over and over again?"

"What? Not wanted! What the hell do you mean by that?" Caleb was getting angry, how could a fuckin' crumbling piece of wood and stone decide who comes into heaven and who doesn't.

"Go back the way you came, Our king awaits your return." The tone of the voice became more demanding.

"My king? What the hell are you talking about?" Caleb yelled at the gate. Suddenly a large gush of wind blew through the gate throwing his body 20 feet back. As Caleb flew through the air the voice boomed back at him

"RA" was the word spoken. The images and religion of the Ancient Egyptians flashed through his head burning a deep path as they went. Only one stood out from all the rest, Amon Ra the king and creator of all the gods. His body didn't crash to the ground that he thought was fast approaching, instead he kept falling for what seemed an eternity, an eternity through the cold dank darkness. The warm comforting feeling had abandoned him, again he felt cold and alone.

Demitri sat alone in the room staring at the lifeless body strapped to the bed before him. Tears trickled from the corner of his eyes. He sat there in the silence consumed with grief. Looking ever so slightly at the boy on the bed. The sullen thoughts of an unwelcome new life ate at his mind, consuming his conscious and ability to think rationally. They hounded his mind and crept in his thoughts. Maybe he had gone too far in presuming the boy would rather live in the shadow of his death. Still, though it was far too late for these thoughts they persisted through the resistance.

The body lay there marked in death as it was ravished in life, sullen and silent unwilling to give a whisper of truth to the feelings that crashed over it. Locked in this moment in time, stuck somewhere between life and death, Heaven and Earth, lying steadfast, trapped in what would be eternal sleep. It was silent to all that would gaze upon him and ask him of every dream he had.

In the eerie hush of the room the chest of the bound boy rapidly expanded, filling instantly with air, bringing life and movement back to the still flesh. As the lungs drew in the hot air in the room, the silence was replaced by urgent gasping. Demitri peered knowingly at the, boy watching as the life torn away so quickly made itself known again. Demitri stood from the chair and walked back to the bedside, lightly brushing a hand over the angelic face before him. Willing the eyes to open so he could stare into them and know their owner.

His eternal fall had stopped, roughly slamming into his body. Caleb urgently gasped for air feeling that every bit had been squeezed from his body. A soft, gentle hand fell upon his face. He knew without knowing who it was. The hand gave off a warmth that felt like the sun messaging your back on a winter day, welcomed and comfortable. He desperately wanted to open his eyes but feared of the person who stood beyond the thin skin covers. Slowly, cautiously he opened his eyes, his curiosity outweighing his fear.

There above him was a face that he had seen in dreams, in distant memories and walking down the city streets everyday. The face looked so young yet so old, warm and inviting on one hand but cold and calculating at the same time. The most striking feature of the face was that it was clearly handsome. Caleb looked deeply into the endless pools of deep sapphire. Looking far past the boundaries of time, into the distant past and forward to the bright future.

Not wanting to know what happened and where he was his eyes slowly closed blocking the future and reveling in the past. Visions of the river, of Seith, and now, deep blue pools of knowledge that stared back down at him. A low moan escaped his throat acknowledging his new surroundings and even the mysterious new friend, though he wasn't altogether sure if he wanted to meet this new stranger who was hovering above him.

He slowly opened his eyes again. The stranger was still looming over him, staring downward. Caleb returned the look momentarily then scanned the rest of the room. Trying not to look at the person before him for long, his eyes wondered. He looked at the long shadows cast on the walls and the pinkish-orange shafts of light from the setting sun that crept in through the closed shutters. Finally unable to stand it anymore He looked at the teen before him and spoke.