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

Lullaby

The tiny skeleton, seemingly weightless, yet emanating a force beyond comprehension, led me down the hallway, his bony hand surprisingly warm in mine. As we tread on, I noticed the walls and ceilings starting to transform. Thorny briars began to creep and crawl across the stone, an unsettling presence that surrounded us. As we reached the room at the end of the hallway, I could hear a faint cry coming from within. Approaching cautiously, the small skeleton stood beside me as I pushed open the door.

In the center, lay a crib, the source of the cries that echoed through the hallway.

"Abby..."

The name slipped from my lips as a hushed whisper, a prayer lost within her wails. I stumbled towards the crib, each step feeling like a plunge into an icy abyss, my heart pounding in rhythm with her screams. I reached out, my hand trembling, yearning to soothe her, to cradle her in my arms. But I faltered. The echoes of a past sin held me in a cruel grip, the cries an agonizing reminder of the child I had wronged. I clenched my fist, " I can't... why can't I.."

A surge of self-loathing washed over me, a bitter concoction of guilt and regret. I was a failure. A failure as a father, a protector, a hero. The wails of my daughter in the background felt like daggers, each cry a painful reminder of my incompetence. I was trapped in a vortex of despair, spiraling down into an abyss of self-hatred. The air grew denser, the room colder. The thorny briars on the walls seemed to twist and turn with a newfound vigor, almost alive, almost sentient. I was under attack, not by physical assailants but by something far more ominous, an entity hellbent on amplifying my torment.

Closing my eyes, the world around me started to dissolve into a dark void. "This...this is all my fault," I murmured, the words barely audible but they hung heavily in the air, a visible reminder of my guilt. As I surrendered to the relentless waves of regret threatening to pull me under, I felt a small squeeze on my hand. With a jolt, my eyes snapped open and I was met with the sight of the boy skeleton, his hand still intertwined with mine, a faint glow emanating from his bones. He began shaking his tiny head. His hollow eye sockets seemed deeper, somehow filled with an understanding that was too ancient for his years.The small skeleton boy, with a gentleness that belied his eerie form, pointed at Abby. His finger, which started to glow brightly in the dim light, seemed to cut through the tension, drawing my gaze back toward my daughter's trembling form. The cries had quietened, reduced to soft whimpers, her tiny fists clenched in the air. Oh, how she fought, her spirit untamed by the situation.

Slowly, the boy skeleton moved his other hand, placing it over my breastplate of armor. As he reached out, his skeletal fingers glowed with an ethereal light, enveloping me in its warm embrace. The emblem of Zion seemed to pulse and come alive in his grasp. A golden orb surrounded us, illuminating the dim room and casting away all shadows. In that instant, it dawned on me that our souls had connected.

The little skeleton's gesture, so simple yet profound, seemed to lift the fog of despair that clouded my thoughts. It wasn't a dismissal of the past but more of an acceptance, a reassurance that while the past was immutable, it didn't dictate my worthiness as a father. As I looked down at the little skeleton, I could see a silent understanding in his hollow gaze, his message clear: My sins were not a chain binding me to a destiny of suffering but a part of my journey that shaped me. They did not define me. Suddenly, the cries that had once sounded like accusations now pleaded for comfort. I felt a compelling urge to respond. I reached out, my hand steady now, and picked up Abby. Her cries subsided as I cradled her close, her tiny body fitting perfectly within my arms. As I began to sing a lullaby, her eyes fluttered close, her soft breathing synchronizing with the melodious rhythm of my song. The transformation was profound. I was no longer a prisoner of my past but a father, here in the present, holding his child.

Abby's soft snores filled the room, a rhythmic lullaby that echoed through the silence. Her small fist uncurled, her fingers twitching in the throes of a dream. The skeletal boy's golden hand extended towards me, as if beckoning me closer. With a sense of foreboding, I relinquished Abby into his bony arms. His touch was surprisingly gentle, and he cradled her with care. His empty eye sockets focused intently on her peaceful face, and I could feel the warmth radiating from their connection. As he stroked her hair with his bony fingers, a wave of emotion washed over me, both heartwrenching and pure. Suddenly, the golden orb expanded, engulfing both the crib and my daughter in its warm glow. And just like that, they were gone, leaving only a void where they once were.

A pang of fear gripped me momentarily but was quickly replaced by a sense of calm. Somehow, I knew Abby was safe. Where the crib once stood, sprouted a patch of flowers. They bloomed in vivid hues of violet, red, and blue, their petals unfurling as if to greet the unseen sun.

In an instant, the boy's slender frame stiffened as his radiant glow turned dark. A silent shudder seemed to ripple through him, causing his bones to clatter lightly. His hollow gaze, previously filled with serene acceptance, now flicked nervously to the corner of the room, a sense of foreboding creeping into his stance. I followed his gaze, but my eyes were met with nothing more than the eerie shadows dancing on the cold stone walls. Turning back to the boy, I smiled, attempting to reassure him, "Hey, everything is okay now."

But as the words left my lips, the boy extended a shaky finger, pointing towards the corner of the room. I turned, my gaze once again drawn to the darkness. This time, however, amidst the shadows, there was movement. An amorphous cloud began to take form, its distinct shape pulsating and shifting, growing steadily in size. Suddenly, within the swirling obscurity, two points of incandescent red appeared, peering out like beasts prowling in the night. Their malevolent gaze pierced through the gloom, pinning me to the spot. The silence was then shattered by a voice, a guttural growl reverberating through the stone walls, filling the room with its oppressive presence. "Your souls belong to me." The voice was strangely familiar, evoking memories I had fought to suppress. My external light had also dimmed, paralleling my emotions.

With a slow, calculated movement I reached down to my side for the Flame of Zion. The room flickered as the blade came to life, its radiant glow illuminating the darkness. I slowly turned my head toward the boy, "Run" my voice low but commanding. He stumbled backward before climbing to his feet and darting towards the door. A thorny tendril lashed out, wrapping itself tightly around his ankle. Slashing down with my sword, I severed the tendril in one swift motion. "Go now! I'll handle this." The boy hesitated for a moment before nodding once and darting out of the room, his tiny skeleton feet pattering on the cold stone floor.

"How unwise of you to come here, little lamb. You should have stayed hidden in your flock." The voice boomed through the room as the cloud took on a more defined form, revealing itself as a monstrous creature with horns and claws that seemed to drip with malice. I stood my ground, my sword at the ready, my heart resolute. "If you want him, you'll have to go through me first."

The creature let out a guttural laugh, its red eyes glinting with amusement. "As you wish." And with that, it lunged forward, its claws reaching for my throat.