guardian

The darkness is pierced by the flame below us. Every time it sputters, my heart sputters with it. The hopelessness rests on our shoulders and is squeezing in like the loops of an anaconda around us. I hold Ori’s left hand on my right side and Aleena’s on my left. We circle the turret hand in hand. I know every person in this circle who is defending the light. We all know what is at stake if The Flame goes out. It is a circle of trust. If any one of us break it now, there is no way we could keep the fire burning. We are shoulder to shoulder and the dark demons are closing in on us. How long can we hold on?

Father Xander’s voice is an intense whisper and I lean in and strain to hear it. It requires the focus of my entire body, even to the cellular level. His intensity is meant to convey the importance of my mission. We rehearse this list of questions with the deepening of every dusk. The Flame I protect is really the only light source in this portion of the universe so there is only a small separation between daylight and nighttime. When the night descends, it is the most dangerous time for all of us. The demons often come when it is darkest because it is even harder to see them approaching across the glassy surface of the water towards the shallow turret that holds The Flame. The questions are belabored and rote like a used-up script, and yet they pierce like broken glass. He insists that I rehearse them with exactness.

He offers the questions to me with an intense, measured heat:

What is your name? Dilana Gof  

What is your purpose? Guardian of the flame.

What is The Flame? The Hope of the World.

And what happens if the flame goes out? Desperation. Decimation. Devastation.

Who are our enemies? The demons of darkness. Our dark brothers. Siblings who left the realm.

What is their mission? To put out the flame.

How will we fight them? With the Power of the Light.

How long will you fight them? Until the flame goes out or I do.

He nods. Xander moves on to the next person in the class and the questions begin again with the same answers. I say class, but I mean family. We are all related from one line or another. We have been educated on our role here at The Mount since we were barely old enough to walk. Our mission is clear. The Flame of Hope must remain alight, or it will be the end of our existence as we know it.

He seems relieved that he has finished the task for today. I know his heart is full of concerns, but he believes in us. He is afraid one or maybe all of us will be lost in the battles to come. He is weakening and we are the last heirs of the flame. All of his Sons and Daughters have abandoned the cause except for the thirteen who remain at the Abbey on the Rock. Class ends and we scatter about the castle and the abbey for dinner, study, or prayers.

I see Father Xander as he makes his way to the Great Hall for dinner. He is bent with years and the burden. He often looks like a weathered old man to me but when he teaches me, his energy and light return and suddenly he looks like a seasoned Warrior. He often stands at the turret reaching his hands over the top of the flame. I am re-igniting my hope, he says with a smile.

I catch up to him because I have a question. He and I walk to the edge of the rock wall. “I wanted to ask you,” I begin. He slowly puts his hand in the air to stop me. The sound of water, not crashing waves but broken stillness, and the feeling of impending darkness lift our eyes to the waters that surround our rocky island home. The shadows in the blackness just look like faint ripples in the blackness as the demons swarm The Mount where it rises in the water.

They are coming, Xander whispers. I clutch the amulet around my neck and begin the chant, calling all of the others to the top of the turret. I stop at my stone encased room off the main hall and don my red hooded robe.

All the students heed the call and are finding their way to The Flame. There are only six of us to begin the circle and our arms are stretched until we are just touching fingertips. It is only Dawn, Ori, Ziv, Eleanor, Noor, and me. Aleena takes my hand at my left and one by one as they join the circle, we are stronger and tighter together. Father Xander takes a hand and expands the circle. When we are all there together, the prayer begins in earnest.

There are more of them than there are of us. They begin filling in all of the empty spaces behind us, beside us and at our feet. They are whispering their lies and darkness into our ears and taunting us. They are telling us that we are not strong enough and that darkness always wins. They are mocking and laughing and pointing at us.

It is difficult to focus on The Flame at our feet and those who support us on either side with the noise and the distraction. I have been staring at The Flame, but my gaze is broken when I look up and see Noor’s face. His eyes are closed. There is a demon on his right and on his left, one at each ear. His chest is heaving as he gulps for air. There are tears rushing down his face. I cannot hear what they are whispering to him, but it is working. He is faltering. I shout his name. I shout it again. He does not look up at me. I look beneath him and The Flame just beneath his feat is collapsing like his tears are the water that is putting it out. He is losing hope.

Xander is looking at him too and now we are both shouting his name. Dawn is on his right, and she is tightening her grip on his hand but you can tell he is trying to let go. He is shaking with cold but sweat is running down his face. He is trying to shake his hands from Dawn and Ziv’s grip. They are holding onto him with all their might. Ziv is trying to get Noor to open his eyes. Noor is shaking his head back and forth. He begins to shake his body back and forth, twisting his entire body. He is successful and the grip is broken. He takes one step backward and is swallowed up by the sea of black demons.

Ziv is horrified and can hardly move. Dawn is reaching for Ziv’s hand and the black figures swarm like bees again looking for another victim to join them. Ziv is able to get Dawn’s hand before the demons can block her completely. They pull the circle closer together forcing the black creatures to push backward once again. They both open their eyes and look to The Flame again. There is a black spot in front of where Noor was standing that is struggling to bloom back to life. It is sputtering and coughing up little puffs of ashes.

Xander’s fear has been realized. The darkness has stolen one of his students, one of his sons. The cost is too high. He is looking into the faces of each of his students in the circle as they fight the darkness that is suffocating them from every side. He begins looking into the faces of each one remaining.

His voice is suddenly there. Loud enough to rise above the din but not shouting. Still quiet enough to demand our entire attention. A voice with that same intense heat.

What is your name? Not all of the students answered.

He ignored the demons and with each word, The Flame at his feet seemed to stretch up toward his strength. He repeated the question more slowly this time. What is your name?

Even though there were tears running down his face, Ori said his name loudly and clearly. My voice broke but I said my name. Each around the circle said their name in turn.

 What is your purpose? This time we all answered together. Guardian of the Flame.

What is The Flame? The Hope of the World – we shouted. Some of the demons at our feet started to slither away from our circle.

What happens if your Flame goes out? Desperation. Decimation. Devastation. We were so loud now that the demons whispering at our ears flinched away from our faces. Some stepped back.

Who are our enemies? The demons of darkness. Our dark brothers. Siblings who left the realm. Some of the dark creatures hung their heads and turned away. There were only a few in our space now and instead of coughing and spluttering, The Flame was climbing toward our faces and warming our connected hands.

What is their mission? To put out the flame, we said with determination.

How will we fight them? Xander whispered. The grip in our collective hands tightened as we responded: with the Power of The Light.

How long will you fight them? We looked around the circle at one another. My breath caught in my throat. Until The Flame goes out…or I do.

The space was now empty. We moved to the edge of the roof to see if they had truly gone.

We had done it. Together. At great cost.

But The Flame of Hope remains.

And would remain as long as there is fight in us.

And hope.