08-04-2016, 05:50 PM
Armande rose from his chair, the flame in his eyes having been stoked to a furnace of blue fire, jaw was set. He burned with determination, hungered for vengeance. It had been right, his meditating. It had centered him, reconnected him to who he was, what he had been forged into that night so long ago, even as he hid it from himself. No longer. He was strong enough, now, to embrace it, to use it.
The light behind that door blazed in the back of his mind, the nuclear furnace of the sun bathing him in a pure energy that vitalized him. It was as if years were burned away in that white heat, so that he pulsed with power, felt it suffuse him. Pure life.
The reigns of the Atharim were in his hand, ready to be steered on their course amid Apollyon's revelations. This was not over.
He left his office. It was time to find Martin, his Metatron. Time to plan their response. Questions to the few Atharim in the halls of the mansion told him where he was. He noticed, with not a little satisfaction, the look in their eyes. As if they could see the change in him, could feel it emanating from him. At this time, with the Apollyon's revelation so fresh in their minds, many were worried. Even scared. What would come of them? He address that soon enough. But in the meantime, let them see The Regus, that he was uncowed. That he was as confident and determined as ever.
Briskly, he strode through the halls to the gym. The sounds of fighting could be heard even before he opened the double door with both hands.
And there, drawing the eye in the center mat was the American Cross and the Sentient. It was not the beating the girl was taking that made him stop, though. Those eyes. So green.
His eyes narrowed.
The light behind that door blazed in the back of his mind, the nuclear furnace of the sun bathing him in a pure energy that vitalized him. It was as if years were burned away in that white heat, so that he pulsed with power, felt it suffuse him. Pure life.
The reigns of the Atharim were in his hand, ready to be steered on their course amid Apollyon's revelations. This was not over.
He left his office. It was time to find Martin, his Metatron. Time to plan their response. Questions to the few Atharim in the halls of the mansion told him where he was. He noticed, with not a little satisfaction, the look in their eyes. As if they could see the change in him, could feel it emanating from him. At this time, with the Apollyon's revelation so fresh in their minds, many were worried. Even scared. What would come of them? He address that soon enough. But in the meantime, let them see The Regus, that he was uncowed. That he was as confident and determined as ever.
Briskly, he strode through the halls to the gym. The sounds of fighting could be heard even before he opened the double door with both hands.
And there, drawing the eye in the center mat was the American Cross and the Sentient. It was not the beating the girl was taking that made him stop, though. Those eyes. So green.
His eyes narrowed.