How Deep The Roots Go ( Book One)

Chapter 17

Temperance blinked, awestruck by what was just conveyed to her. The angel noticed and continued.

"Let's just say I am the keeper of the in between. I see that the souls get to their rightful place − whether that is heaven or the underworld."

"So what does God do then?" Temperance chewed on her lip, praying that wasn't blasphemous.

"He sees that everything is done correctly, and opens his gates to those that have the faith and believe in him."

"So you are like the angel of death?" Temperance inquired.

"No. You're getting me confused with the angel of the Holy Army. Again, I am of a different realm, but I do my part to make sure that the worlds remain balanced, and that harmony continues, just like the angels in the holy world do. We all work together, Temperance. We all have duties to carry out."

Temperance paused. "I live in Louisiana, and we're in the middle of a Mardi Gras," she nodded, her lips pursed. "Not much harmony during that time frame."

"Yes. But Mardi Gras marks a holy celebration, which is why Louisiana was chosen."

"Chosen for what?" Temperance asked, and then rounded. "And why in the world is there an olive tree in the middle of the bayou?" She pointed at it, noticing olives awaiting harvest on its delicate limbs.

"Many questions you have. And the answers you receive now, you must retain," she stood statuesque and her chin lifted slightly with an edge of domination.

"Perfect," Temperance said lightly.

"The olive tree dates back centuries, and its symbol holds power and meaning, Temperance."

The crows were cawing again. The high pitch of it drumming into Temperance's ears, but the soothing poetic voice of the angel mounted over it, bringing a wave of peace around her.

"It is the tree of hope for most. During the time of Noah, a dove was released from the ark and sent to find land. It returned and brought a branch. That very act restored hope to humankind."

Temperance remembered that story, but never recalled the olive tree being dubbed the name it was given.

"It is also a symbol of light." Her form moved so lightly that Temperance wasn't sure if she was actually walking or floating above the ground.

"In olden times, oil from the olives were lit for light, thus creating a symbol of light — a beacon for some."

The angel circled the tree, touching an olive leaf with her hand, grazing her finger over it. Her head angled to Temperance, her eyes riveting and consuming every ounce of her soul.

"But it also represents balance, just as I do," her hand dropped to her side then.

"The Celtics have devoted a day for this tree on the twenty third of September of every year," she smiled, clasping her hands to her chin in thought. "It is quite the celebration, I dare say."

"Okay, and the olive tree is here because you want to show me...?" Temperance's voice drifted with the question, and she stared at the tree in awe.

The angel's expression changed. "Its roots burrow into this land because of its holy symbol, and because Mardi Gras is a holy celebration, is it not?"

Temperance nodded yes, daring not to speak further.

"Then it is right indeed. It will remain here until the mission has been accomplished and all is set to become balanced again."
She walked with purpose toward Temperance, ignoring the sudden increased cawing of the crows call.