The Elements of Zion: the Vine, the Branch, and the Thorn

Eyes to see

I heard the gunshot and jolted, but something wasn't right. How could I possibly hear it? The notion seemed absurd. Moreover, how could I even contemplate such a thought? It felt as if my senses were entirely intact, a perplexing realization that defied every expectation.

The sharp ringing reverberated mercilessly in my head, yet there was no pain. I could feel my eyelids clenched tightly, my body poised in a state of desperate defense. The idea of opening my eyes flashed through my mind, but I was paralyzed by terror. Then, as if summoned by some unspoken incantation, a woman's soft voice graced my consciousness, like the first crack of dawn after an endless night.

"You're not supposed to be here..." She whispered, her words cold as the winter wind.

Trepidation filled my heart, but I mustered the courage to open my eyes. There, before me, stood a vision that defied all logical explanation. A young woman with dark hair cloaked in an ornate robe, decorated with menacing thorn-like patterns, met my gaze. Her presence was intoxicating, and I found myself unable to look away as she walked towards me without fear.

My body, meanwhile, lay trapped in an unconscious state, detached from all emotions. I questioned whether this was the result of shock or if the scene unfolding before me was, in fact, grounded in reality. The distinction seemed to blur with every step the woman took.

As she approached, I observed the otherworldly features of her face. Her complexion bore an uncanny resemblance to the cracked clay soil that spanned a drought-plagued desert. Her pupils, like obsidian pools, shimmered as they pierced my soul. I was caught in her bewitching glare, and my body remained frozen as if shackled by invisible chains.

The being drew nearer, and a distinct aura of malevolence enveloped her. Her face was inches from mine as she reached out her long, twisted hand, brushing her cold fingers against the side of my face. In that instant, a torrent of raw, unfiltered emotions from a long-forgotten past filled my being with aching familiarity.

As her touch lingered, the emotion I'd experienced before pulling the trigger flooded my mind, every sensation amplified tenfold. Try as I might to maintain my composure, I felt myself crumble beneath the weight of despair. Tears streamed down my face, each drop an echo of the agony that consumed me.

"What is your name, child?"

"Issac". I said. 

She continued to stare at me, her eyes wide and filled with wonder. But then, I noticed that the movements of her head were unnatural and robotic. They were quick and rhythmic, devoid of the smooth transitions of a human being.

For a moment, she studied me further before a smile crept onto her lips, a sense of awe painting her expression. "How is it that you can see me, Issac?". 

"I... I don't know." 

"No one has been able to see us for centuries. Are you the one foretold of?" 

The desire to die intensified with every delicate stroke of her hand on my face. I felt trapped under her spell, but, at the same time, oddly comforted by her presence. The world around us, once filled with color, seemed to fade into shadows, as though we'd slipped out of reality itself.

"I don't know what that means. How did I get here?" I said. 

Her hand slowly moved from my cheek down my neck, pulling my collar down to reveal my chest. Her eyes fixated on the tattoo adorning my skin. She gasped, her eyes becoming more dilated, and then, almost like a cloud of smoke, she shot backward, tearing the very earth beneath her asunder.

"What do you want with us, Issac, Son of Adam?!" She hissed, her voice now tinged with venom.

I clenched my fist, anger welling up within me. "How do you know my grandfather's name? What are you?"