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Chapter 45: THE VOICE

I paused at the start of the hall, well the end of it, keeping it about five hundred feet in front of me so I could take it all in. Take advantage of the Invisible man act. I smiled again when the Wolf head spoke.

The tiny beads of light art keeping ye alive. Thus far ye haven’t broken any rules, and ye remain undetected. Apostasy still plans to overthrow the Leader of the Wolf Tribe, and will be unsuccessful. He himself has never laid eyes on the Leader, no matter how many tricks he’s pulled, and no matter how many booby traps he set: he has failed.

He lies without a conscious.

He speaks to the Leader through a small door on the floor of the Leader’s Quarters. He has to always get on his knees so his lips art close enough to the nine inch door to speak through. The Leader set it up that way, so he always bows while speaking to his master. And Apostasy hates it, but tolerates it because he has schemed to take the throne.

How do ye know so much about the secret dealings of the inner sanctuary of the Underworld, and the policies governing the Wolf Tribe, within in its limited range, limited in size, and limited longitude and latitude settings according to its location, the area itself shaped like a winking eye from an aerial view, but hasn’t been uncovered as of yet.

But the white man was so smart…? The wolf said rhetorically. I won’t reveal as of yet who I am, or what I was, or my level of status within the Wolf tribe. When ye seek knowledge, be prepared to get more than ye bargained for. Always scratch below the surface, Kleopha.

I respect that…

Don’t ye have an imposing war to snub?

I smiled beneath the mask. Yes I do, and I truly appreciate thy help, and letting me pick thy brain.

You’re most welcome, the voice of the Wolf said, relaxing me. I rubbed my belly, comforting my babies. They were asleep. I still had the nerves surrounding my womb numb so they didn’t feel any impact in the event I am wounded or hurt during battle.

Kleopha, the light of the stained glass protects ye. It knows ye have come in contact with the stained glass experience, realizing we shouldn’t worship the biblical shapes crafted on them, because they art a deception.

The light of the glass knows ye art one of the chosen few to change the course of humanity and human history.

So it guides ye along thy purpose. But it never said it’d be a safe trip.

The moving multi-colored lights acts as a magnetic force field, repelling anything of negative energy like repelling magnets. Positive energy within the realm, even the positive vibes from the enemy’s delusion that his days art long and his rule is indefinite, will be drawn to ye and will be thy source of power.

The Armor of God protects ye, despite thy ignorance.

He said if ye take one step towards making a difference in thy life, or in understanding Him better, and his law, just simply ask.

But that’s a question many art afraid to know the answer to.

They art afraid, perhaps, because they art attached and in lust and in love with the elements of the world, and the infatuated with the beauty that deceived within. And anything that jeopardizes their form of Heaven they don’t entertain.

I was of positive energy. The Realm within the stained glass, the life of Christ depicted on the glass itself, was of negative energy.

The Wolves, or the demons inhabiting the bodies of the wolves, making them half human as well, were mocking Christ, and that angered me that they did it openly amongst themselves, the lower class of Wolves, making up the peasants of the Wolf Tribe were never worthy of seeing the image.

So I had to wonder about the history of the Wolf head I wear. When he was alive, and part of the Wolf tribe, what was he? Was he a General? Was he a good friend? Was he part of the wolf military? Was he a commander? He had to have been high up the wolf latter, or was it ladder?

It frustrated me that the voice ignored my mental question.

Well, forget it then!

I’ll just continue to reap the benefits of the Wolf head.

And that’s the only relationship we’ll have.

All head wasn’t worth the hassle.

This was going to be harder, emotionally, than I expected. I still thought of Chanteuse, Doneshius’s true identity, Joseph, still confused me, I didn’t understand why Doneshius’s Soul and Doneshius’s Body deceived me; I wondered was I strong and persuasive enough to stop the war, the failed experiment called the Treaty of the Animals still depressed me at different moments of the day.

I wondered were my babies and I going to make it out of the Underworld alive? I shuddered with an ounce of fear, and quickly closed my eyes and held my hands in front of me in prayer mode, something I’ve never done, and I recited Psalms 23.

It felt good to recite, and to mean the words, and to mentally dissect them and analyze them to see what the passage meant.

As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil.


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