Author Note:
Helloooooo Readers!!!!!
Normally, as I'm sure you've noticed, every 10 chapters I do an interlude. But, since we're coming to a climax of a small story arc here, im just gonna add this little note and then continue with the story! ^_^
Thanks so much! I hope you're all enjoying the story so far ^_^
Enjoy!
As Moses made his way into the desert, his mind weighed heavy with worry. The burdens of leadership and the challenges that lay ahead pressed upon his thoughts, creating a storm of concern.
The attitude of the Israelites, filled with doubt and discontent, gnawed at his heart. Their constant murmuring and questioning of his authority eroded his confidence and tested his patience.
The threat of the Amalekites loomed like a shadow, a constant reminder of the enemies that sought to harm the Israelites on their journey. Moses felt as though he carried the responsibility of protecting his people, ensuring their safety and well-being upon his shoulders.
The weight of this duty pressed upon his heart, and he wondered if he had the strength and wisdom to lead them through the treacherous wilderness. But above all, Moses's greatest worry centered around Ezrae.
The young storyteller, stricken by an illness of the mind, was a cherished member of their group. Everyone loved and trusted Ezrae, and listened when he had something to say. Not only that, but he was an important figure in Israelite culture; The Storyteller.
With each passing day, his condition deteriorated, and Moses feared the loss of this precious life. Moses knew that the only way to save Ezrae lay within the Blessing of the Storyteller, bestowed upon him by Yahweh.Failure to unlock its secrets meant failing not only Ezrae, but also his people… and his God.
Moses felt a profound sense of urgency as he walked through the desert, his steps guided by a mix of determination and desperation. The vast expanse of sand, sparse vegetation, and rock stretched out before him; mirroring the uncertainty that clouded his mind.
It was in this state of deep contemplation and worry that he finally found a secluded rock outcropping, a haven of solitude where he could seek meditation, training, and Divine Intervention.
As he settled upon the rough stone; sitting with his legs crossed, and Ezrae's staff on his lap; Moses closed his eyes and began to pray. His words were filled with fervor and an earnest plea for guidance.
"Yahweh, my God," he whispered, his voice carrying his concerns and his hopes. "Grant me the wisdom and strength, so I may fulfill my role as the leader of Your chosen people. Help me now, to unlock the power of Ezrae's blessing, so that we may save his life. The boy's mind is broken… perhaps even his heart. And I can't fix him alone. I'm not strong enough, Lord. I need you."
In the midst of his prayer, a sudden shift occurred, as if the boundaries between realms blurred. A sickeningly bright white overcame his sense, and Moses felt a presence, different from the divine encounters he had experienced before.
When he opened his eyes, he was face to face with an extravagant and beautiful angel, radiating an ethereal and holy glow. The Angel stood nearly 10 feet tall, and had 8 beautiful wings made of radiant light that came from its back.
It had androgynous features, but more resembled the male figure; wearing a long, flowing white robe. Gold lined the hem of his cloak, and Moses could make out strange letters embroidered in the gold. He rubbed his eyes and made sure what he was seeing was actually real.
He could recognize those letters as the ancient language of the Lord, and he could feel his heart beating in his chest. Not from fear, but from excitement… Throughout his life, Moses had had multiple interactions with God.
This ranged from his interaction at the burning bush, to the plagues of Egypt, and even all the way up to just recently, at Horeb. However… Moses had never had a single interaction with an Angel.
Excited, curious, and slightly worried, Mosss asked, "Who are you? Why am I not meeting with Yahweh, Himself?"
The angel smiled, a warm and gentle expression. "I AM Metatron, the Scribe of God," the Angel replied. "I AM the keeper of stories, and the carrier of the torch for The Israelite Storytellers..."
Moses's eyes widened in awe and curiosity. This encounter was unlike anything he had ever experienced. He was captivated by the presence of Metatron, who emanated both power and wisdom. His presence was nothing like God's, but it was still powerful, beautiful, and slightly intimidating.
"I apologize, I don't wish to be rude, but why exactly, has the scribe of God appeared to me?" Moses asked, his voice filled with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation.
Metatron's voice resonated with a soothing tone. "Moses, you seek to unlock the power of Ezrae's blessing, do you not? To save his life, and fulfill your mission as a leader? I understand the weight that rests upon your shoulders, but the power of this blessing cannot be freely granted..."
Moses' brow furrowed, his worry momentarily overshadowed by a strange comfort. It was nice to know that even the angels were watching the Israelites. Determination spread across his face as he addressed Metatron again.
"I implore you, Metatron. Please grant me access to Ezrae's blessing, that we may save his life!! He is meant to be among the leaders, and elders of our people; when we reach the promised land…
I am sure that you, the scribe of God, understand His plan better than anyone else in existence…" he paused for a moment, trying ti see if he could register any emotion in the angel's expression… he could not.
"Well," he continued, "Yahweh has just recently revealed to me that I, along with most of the older generation of Israel, will not be making it to the promised land…
The future of our people lies on the shoulders of the young men and women in our nation… Like Ezrae, Caleb, Shelomith, Zaya, Joshua, and Tristan. We can't afford to lose any of them, especially not the keeper of our history…"