That confirmeth the word of His servant, and performeth the counsel of His messengers; that saith to Jerusalem, Thou shall be inhabited; and to the cities of Judah, Ye shall be built, and I will raise up the decayed places thereof:
—Isaiah 44 vs 26 (King James Version)
She didn't know what to think about the hourglass on her hand.
Sure, she had no problem with the motif but… she hadn't thought she'd see it back so soon, she'd long since gotten used to it not being there. She rubbed the fingers of that hand—the feeling was only just coming back to them—and wondered when she'd become so ungrateful. For years at the time, this was all she'd ever wanted. Now... she wasn't so sure. Why did it have to come now?
"Time!" Someone yelled.
Her eyes snapped away from her palm. Looking up, she could see all of the Seven looking at her, a mix of expressions on their faces. Seemed they'd been calling her for a while now.
Whoops.
She shook her head and tried to force a smile, as if she could ever actually succeed at it, "I'm sorry." Then she noticed they were looking at her expectantly. It was embarrassing, but she hadn't even been listening to the discussion. Now, it was time to try looking as sheepish as she felt, "Uh, what were you guys talking about?"
Nature scoffed, muttering something under her breath.
Time was finding it best to ignore her.
Love explained, "We were just considering whether or not to still use this place—it's not exactly in the best condition anymore."
Looking around, the conference table in the middle had been shifted while some of the chairs and shelves had been upturned. Putting it frankly, the place was a mess. Still, it was nothing they weren't able to fix… if they wanted to.
That seemed to be exactly the problem—no one wanted to.
"I vote move!" War announced, finger in the air, even though no one was subjecting it to one. They didn't have to either— that would be nightmarish. Time thought she was more excited than usual, but then, in eight years, everyone's usual may have changed. Besides, she'd questioned the place from the very beginning.
But could they just leave it this way?
She glanced at the host.
"I think we can go," Love said. Then she gave a conspiring grin and cupped her hands around her lips, mouthing, "I can do it later. They all want to go, let them have their fun."
"And Nature?" Time asked. Like it or not, she was still one of the organisers.
Nature spoke up from where she was seated, "I would like that as well," and just had to add, "If you can even be bothered to listen to us."
That was new, she hadn't known Nature could act so subdued, minus the snark. Was she that badly affected… or was it something else? Time wondered how long it was going to last.
Love gave a knowing smile and shook her head.
Balance, as usual, made no move to show a stance on the matter. Judgement nodded.
Alright then. She snapped her fingers.
Their surroundings turned into a blur. When it passed, they were settled in a conference room a little similar to the one they just left, only, in this one the walls were pure white. Otherwise, it was just as small, and except the conference table still standing stately in the middle, was scattered in the same way.
It had been too long.
She smiled, then clapped twice, leading the way towards the middle.
The room shifted, and went into motion as they walked, expanding outwards and up. The silver tiles morphed into a thick rug of bright red, with the walls taking on the same hue in a slightly deeper shade and the ceiling turned to gold. From under the round table now more than double its size and still growing, a banner of rich dark green would spread from a tapered point, roll underneath one of the several seat and continue up the walls. There were eight in total, like lines around a circle—rays shining from the sun.
A turn back at the others showed that they had been changed too. Their individual outfits had been replaced by long white gowns of various designs, and complex hairstyles and sashes in their colours around their waists. Yet even the unified outlook had twinges of their personalities—Nature had tresses of green on the sides of her dress, a leopard spotted necklace and a wreath of leaves and flowers twisted into her hair. War's braid jutted out of a gilded helmet rather than her motorcycle one, and her black dress gloves were decorated with diamonds so they looked like weapons of crushed glass twisted into leather and cloth wrapped around her arms. Her dress had one-half of it covered with a golden cape that extended onto her arm, on which various inscriptions shone in a bright light—her mantle.
Love's had three sashes, red on top, white at the bottom and pink in the middle, hair dotted with little red hearts and golden trumpets. Balance and Judgement were distinguished more in their dress styles, sashes of blue and black for each. Even Marcus had been changed, top and slacks of white cotton.
For herself, Time glanced down— her dress was more on the simpler side, her hair in an elaborate up-do she wouldn't have put it in herself, a grey sash the only thing to mark her out. She smiled—there was no point to comparison now—it was perfect for someone like her.
They reached the table and this time; each went to a pre-determined spot. About midway up the walls, a motif in white and silver was drawn into the green banners, a different one for each. Time was directly opposite the head of the table, a stylised hourglass behind her, the exact replica of the symbol on her hand and also marked the shape of her chair. It had the edge of its intricate frame longer vertically on one side at the top and at the opposite side at the bottom—impractical in real life; it would never stand—but she liked it all the same.
The banner next to hers had a heart—no, not a human one—wrapped round by a rose vine, thorns digging into it, a single bloom in the centre facing outwards while an arrow laid at the base of everything. Love took her post in front of it.
For War at her other side, it was a sketch of a Spartan warrior in full armour, down on one knee to take a shot with a bow.
Nature had the Tree of Life in its full glory.
Beside Love stood Balance, hers was a set of scales with nothing on them, perfectly level. Judgement also had a symbol that had become recognised everywhere— the gavel and hammer.
Between her and War, the space remained empty. It made Time a little worried. The banner there was blazoned with a skeletal arm and a long scythe crossed together in an X.
Finally, the eighth space, and it was no miscount— the throne there was of a higher standard than the rest, decorated with ornaments and reliefs that marked all of them. There, the white showed a throne, a cross and a dove, all together in a circle.
"Here are the Seven gathered," Time announced, when they were complete around her. She didn't forget Marcus, standing off to the side and snapped her fingers again. One last seat appeared, making space for itself in between Love and Nature's, a green banner also dropped down from the ceiling behind it—a man's foot on the neck of a serpent, but that was not the only way it was unlike the one mentioned in Genesis chapter three, this one also was not striking back at the heel. "Alongside a member of the Surrendered Ones," she added.
They all bowed to the eighth throne and took their seats.
Just a second after they did, the room started moving again, this time in the opposite direction, but not like everything was coming undone, rather like it was locking in on itself—the two realities present overlapping, being superimposed one another. The room became white and small again, their clothes and hair were back to normal, and the seats were regular old conference chairs. But the arrangement around the table was the same, and Marcus was still sitting between Love and Nature though no one had physically pulled a chair over for him, and at the head of the table, there was no chair, but the space remained like there was one. No one even raised the idea of touching it.
And to her, the curtains hanging over the windows were not as rich a red when they first walked in.
"Remember who you truly are," she said softly. Sometimes, they needed the reminder.
She leaned forward, "Nature, Love, Marcus, you three have the most information on exactly what we're going to be dealing with here, so let's have you fill us in," and added, "—if you don't mind," while looking directly at Nature, who'd rolled her eyes.
"We were going to do that from the very beginning," she said standing up, "If it weren't for all the interruptions." Time figured she meant both her and War. Looked like the feelings from earlier had passed—that was fast.
Regardless of the remarks, the three of them still gave a detailed run-down of everything that had happened. Nature on her part started from the very beginning—when she'd first begun looking for the Rifts and described the incidents she'd encountered, ending with the train. One thing stood out in all—the human's reactions. Or lack of, thereabout.
Marcus laid out the bundle that contained the fragments on the table, the cloth was now a floral print kitchen towel. On the inside it was caked with a pinkish powder, "Most of them turned to dust over the weekend, but there still are a couple of them."
"It's a lot to deal with."
Judgement sighed, "Even just encountering the Sins would already be a busy day in the past."
There were no more pieces as big as her hand, them having all been eroded. The largest piece she could fit on three fingers. War took another, and Balance took another, that was all. Compared to what he'd showed her before, they disintegrated even faster than Nature's attempt at gentleness. She spun the fragment in her hand, the edges were already twinged pink and crumbling.
When she looked up, all eyes were turned to her again. She was sure she hadn't missed a conversation this time.
"So, what are we going to do?"
There it was—there was everybody looking to her, like she was supposed to have all the answers, and the only person who seemed to doubt that she did happened to be her number one opposition. Life was great.
She thought about what to do—she could try peeking into its time and checking its future. Past would yield what it was while the future would give where it was going, where it would end up, what it was supposed to do and most importantly, how. They could use that.
It seemed plausible, if she could just get over for a second what it was she might end up seeing—if it would be too much, or too little. If it would be anything at all.
And she was doing it again, thinking too much.
She stopped spinning the piece and held it steady—there were too many influences for it to yield its time by touch alone, she had to use her eyes, and fortify them too. Burning hot, she felt the power flood into them, a little surprised by how much came forth. She was careful not to look at anything else, and not to glance back at its past too—only going ahead, blazing forward. If any of those Personifications were behind this, they may be able to feel her looking if she checked its past.
And then like the end of a trail, everything terminated, the power left her eyes, and she was looking at the room again. She'd reached the end of the timeline.
"What did you see?" Love asked.
Time frowned, "Nothing really," she put the fragment on the table, "Everything just ended in a blaze of orange light." She knew what that meant in a timeline—
Fire. It ended in fire—but how? Why? It didn't speak or show anything.
"That settles it—those Sins are behind it," War said, "And it the things go back to join them where they are."
Balance commented, "Hold on, we can't be sure of that yet—there are many other ways to end up in fire." Both their pieces had since been passed over to Judgement, who was looking over them intently.
"I say we bunch everything up into a ball and throw it straight for 'em." The blonde responded, hand in a fist. That was one way for it to end up in fire.
Their bickering was leaving Time with another headache, or maybe it just the fact that it had been eight years since she'd last done something like that. And there were still the Rifts and if they were also responsible to discuss. That was the problem—these were way too many things to try solving at once and too little information to go on, even divide and conquering wasn't working. She just couldn't make sense of it all.
There's an idea, she thought 'make sense.'
Wait…
Something crossed her mind. Truth be told, it was a little… out there.
The finger she'd been running against her palm stopped. She looked down at the symbol on her hand—yes, it served to mark out the restoration of their power, but that was just an additional function; there was one other thing a symbol was associated with.
She reached for it gingerly with her index finger, hesitating more than once: would it also have been restored?
She touched her Sign and felt for it. Then she shut her eyes—it had.
It really had.
When it disappeared back then…
She wrapped her hand around and held it close, not the Sign, but what was attached to it—a line of thread so thin that it seemed it could snap at the slightest touch, yet, it was the strongest thing she knew. Its colour was a gleaming gold, a mark all on its own—
A direct connection.
Using it was like breathing, her grip tightened subconsciously around it and she willed her thoughts through it, like a telephone wire.
"What do You say?"
There was no booming voice, no vibration downwards, her thoughts simply responded to her in her own voice, very gently, "What do you think you need?"
"Help in putting it all together. I can't make sense of this on my own." Leader or not, she'd had a lot of time to get rusty.
"And whose help do you think you need?"
Time felt like chuckling, who else's, "Yours."
The voice in her head sounded like the Owner was smiling, "And how do you want to get it?"
The idea surfaced in her mind again, she willed it out, hoping it was the right one, "Wisdom—I need Your wisdom."
"Then it seems you already know what to do." Well, that sounded like a confirmation if she'd ever heard one. She nodded.
Finding wisdom, no— Wisdom. She was pretty sure the others wouldn't like that.
She opened her eyes and gave them the news, "I want to try looking for Wisdom, maybe she can tell us what path's best to take." There was no point in hiding it, even though getting outside help wasn't very common among the Seven, she needed it.
The room was silent for a second, then they all collectively groaned. Only Love remained quiet. Yup, they definitely didn't like that.
"Well, I'm out," Nature said, folding her arms in her chair, "Job twenty-eight; fourteen till twenty-one and Proverbs eight; twenty-two till twenty-nine say it all—I won't be of any help."
Time sighed. Here we go.
"Oh, oh," War raised her arm like an excited child, "Proverbs twenty-four; six," then she turned to Balance and Judgement, "Too bad for the two of you; you don't have anything to use to excuse yourselves, it's almost the opposite. Even Time has one—if she'd choose to use it."
Neither of them said anything.
Nature sneered, "That doesn't excuse you either, you dolt," then added, "I think seventeen; twenty-eight is better for the likes of you."
"That's enough, both of you," Time called, she couldn't let it become another argument, "And you're both overruled—Proverbs two verse six; you're all helping." She hoped that settled it.
Seriously. They didn't have any problem with wisdom, the concept, but Wisdom… dealing with her was a little tricky. Let's just say she tended to take that Proverbs four verse seven thing a little too seriously sometimes. But for now, they had no choice.
"I want us to work in teams," she decided and looked around trying to find the best arrangement. The go-to combinations were Love and Nature, Balance and War, Death and Judgement, and she alone, but Death wasn't here. And with everything that had happened, she had to consider it on two levels— the two first needed to be able to stand each other and concept-wise, the most ideal would be two that wouldn't interfere with each other but having one that could keep the other in check was a good second best. Something like Nature and War likely wouldn't work—last thing they needed were riots on the streets of Lagos. And what she could assign them depended on the scope of the concept.
"Love and… War," she decided, "I want you two to find out anything you can on the activity of the Sins." She turned to the next pair, "Balance and Nature—"
Hmm, what could they do?... Right— "You two keep investigating the Rifts and the incidents surrounding them—see if there's anything unnatural behind them disappearing."
Nature and Love had the most information among the Seven so remaining together would be a waste, and with War as volatile as she'd been lately, it was safer—Love had the stronger dampening effect.
Finally— "Judgement, you're with me. We're going to start the search for Wisdom—you don't mind that, do you?" She didn't remember her having any verses to use to complain, but honestly if the girl or anyone else tried using another one on her, she was going to lose it. Thankfully, Judgement didn't have any objections.
"What we need most is information," she clarified, "So don't hesitate to collaborate and share what you know among teams. I think that's all for now." The Meeting could be adjourned.
"Aren't you forgetting something?" Nature said.
There was more?
"Marcus over here," she pointed at him with her chin, "How have you decided to help him?"
Time didn't understand. She looked over at him, he didn't meet her eyes.
Nature saw the interaction, "Don't tell me—he didn't say anything to you?" she laughed, "Turns out your little rat still knows how to keep some secrets." She snickered into her palm.
Time tried pressing him with her gaze, but the boy wouldn't even look at her. Fine then— she'd bite.
"Nature, what is it he didn't tell me?"
"Master and servant go really well together," she said, when she had her fill of laughing. Her eyes turned cold, "His father is missing."
What?
In her confusion, she even forgot to tell her that he wasn't her servant; Time had only heard about the man that had taken him those years ago and didn't know him personally, but still, why didn't he tell her? She would ask him later.
However, there was no use in putting it off when they could do something about it now. She turned, "Help me out here, Love." and thundered, "Marcus, come over here!"
As he stood before her, her language became formal once more, "What is your father's name?"
They didn't always need it, but it was better with a name.
"Jonathan," he answered, "Jonathan Crawford."
"And this man—would you say you love him very much?"
The buy sputtered a little, but Time didn't care how awkward the question sounded, what she needed was the reply. After a few seconds, he scratched his head, looking at the ground, "Uh, y-yeah."
"Good, then we can do this—" She and Love stood, clasping their hands together. "Come closer," she called, and when he did, they placed their free ones on his shoulders and closed their eyes.
"You heard your son," she declared, "Now, it is time—where are you?"
Yield, she willed silently.
It took a few seconds for anything to happen— in the darkness, white light materialised and coalesced into a single strand about as wide as a ribbon. She grasped it and pulled. As she drew more and more of it to herself, the darkness changed around her, at first revealing coloured sections like huge, mismatched puzzle pieces, then transforming into a map.
She kept on pulling. It centred on an area of the map, drawing it closer, and closer and then finally, the last of the thread came into her hand, fraying at the end. The map disappeared.
Oh, no.
She opened her eyes, just able to catch the stream of light fading away from her physical hand. she felt a little cold—normally, it would be attached to an exact location and pull it up. For there to be a broken end—
She didn't have to tell Marcus anything, he hissed and shut his eyes, bowing his head. Maybe that was exactly what he'd been afraid of. Love drew him close.
"I'm sorry." Time said softly.
He wasn't anywhere in this world. Not anymore.
She left the boy to Love, escorting both of them outside. She was more than wiling to give him the time and space he needed. She watched them leave, then closed the door, leaning against it and folding her arms.
Mistake or not, she could change nothing now.
At the table, Judgement raised her eyes from examining the fragments, looking ready to speak.
"Did you find anything?" Time called.
"Well," she grabbed one and picked at the edges so the dust fell off, "They only look like the powers of a personification went through the metal and corroded it to give this, but as it turns out, this isn't metal— this is what we have from the powers receding from a manifestation of sorts."
"So that means—" Nature started.
"The entire train, wasn't a train at all." Judgement confirmed.
"So, a trap then." Time said.
"Well, that's elaborate," Nature said, "But for who? —They couldn't have known we were coming."
Judgement shrugged. Even she couldn't tell that, not with only these materials.
Time started walking forward, "And even in that case, it still doesn't explain it—why make it physical then in the first place? Why would they do all this just to go through the trouble of hiding it from human eyes?"
"Probably the same reason I'm here."
Time froze mid-stride, the rest of the Seven raising their heads, eyes opening wide. That reply hadn't come from any of them.
To the left, someone—a woman was standing in front of the windows. She was dressed similarly to War, clad in black pants, jacket, and boots—but not leather. A smirk was drawn across her lips.
Time didn't want to believe her eyes. Her, here? How? It should have been impossible—this was the seat of their power. A stream of wind billowed in from the open wind behind her, ruffling her blood red hair, as if to show it was real.
She was very real.
Fear.
Two small monsters with wicked sharp looking teeth and claws snarled beside her feet—hound demons. They were very real also. One sniffed the air and whined. Fear sighed dramatically and drooped her shoulders, "Seems like you guys don't have it either."
Time didn't understand what she was talking about but a direct affront like this would not be tolerated. Her face went cold, "I don't know what you think you're doing here," she said, "But get out. Now."
She raised her hands, "Relax—see I only came here to give you a greeting—" Then, her gaze rested on Time, "But you… seem to be afraid—" she drawled slowly, tapping a finger to her cheek, "—of me." The smirk became a smile, "Delicious."
Time found the words almost ridiculous—what did she mean by—
Wham!
--that.
She blinked. Fear was right beside her; her hand buried into the wood of the door right beside her head, ear ringing from the sound.
"Oh, missed." Fear sighed, "That seems to always happen with the first strike—" Time got away from her as she shook her arm, breaking apart the top section of the door and revealing a hand now topped with three-inch claws where her nails should have. She flicked off a splinter, "—I hate it."
"Hey!" War yelled as she charged, motorcycle helmet in hand, taking a swing at her from behind.
Fear took a step forward— it narrowly missed her back and she kicked out. War slammed down with her helmet and it collided with her leg, sending them both back.
Fear rubbed her shin, "Now, is that any way to treat a guest?" The five of them had her surrounded.
"What guest?" Nature snarled and raised her hands, ready to strike.
Fear whistled. The hounds leapt at her and Judgement. The nails on her other hand transformed into claws as well, she went for War again. "You—" she said, scratching against the helmet, "Brave and reckless, scared of perhaps only yourself—"
A hound flew at War and Fear turned to Judgement, "Still afraid of bringing the hammer down on the gavel, are you?" she asked as she scratched at her.
She ducked as Nature swung a vine in her hand from behind, rolled backwards to her feet and kicked out her legs, then grabbed her face in one hand, "And you—you'll never be as powerful as you hope to be," she clicked her tongue, then left her as she caught something out of the corner of her eye— "Balance, the scales will never be even, you know." She was dealing with the second hound.
Fear leapt on the conference table, "You guys are even worse than I'd thought you'd be. Are you really sure you have your powers back?"
The door opened, "What's going on—" the brown-haired girl stopped in her tracks on seeing the battle.
"Hi, Love," Fear sang loudly and waved at her. Then she looked around—Nature had speared one hound with a stick, while Balance had the other on the ground, "Guess I should skedaddle."
She reached for the fragments, but Judgement was closer, grabbing them before she could and stepping back.
"Oh, if you're going to be like that—" Fear muttered and crouched, resting her hand on her thigh. She stared at the bag, "I suppose I was meant to give a greeting—"
Her dark eyes began to shine. Inside, the pieces glowed in resonance.
That definitely was not good.
"Bye-bye."
"Drop it!" Time yelled to Judgement. But she knew that wouldn't cut it— the bag was glowing brighter, she could feel the heat from here—
At her wit's end, she snapped her fingers.
Please work.
The light disappeared. She opened her eyes—the bag was no longer in Judgement's hand. The explosion hadn't come. Or rather, not here. Fear was long gone.
War kicked at one of the hounds.
Nature slammed a hand on the table, "When I get my hands on her—" she growled.
Time was just glad the danger had passed. As for where she'd sent it to— she turned to Love, "I am so sorry," she tried explaining, "I couldn't think of anything else—"
The girl stopped her, "It's fine."
Time just hoped no one else had stepped into that room after they'd left, or was on that floor for that matter. She wondered what the humans would see—hopefully confetti instead of broken glass and fire raining down on the street.
Her mind went to one thing after the other—How had she even gotten in? Had their defences gotten that weak? She sighed—there just seemed to be problem after problem.
"Meeting adjourned, guys," she called. That went without saying. She didn't even want to think anymore.
Love had a rare frown on, "I'm going back to Marcus," she finally said and dipped out again.
Time wouldn't stop her, "Yeah, you do that," she said and found a place to sit with her down. The excitement and relief all at once—it'd had made her tired. And it wasn't the only thing.
A few minutes later, someone came to stand beside her. She let it be for a few seconds, but they didn't leave—she didn't even have to turn her head to know who it was, "What is it, Nature?"
If she said one thing about her making a mistake—
The woman folded her arms, "You've been acting so melancholic since you touched that thread," she frowned, "And I know it's not just because his father's dead—there's something else you saw, something you didn't tell them—"
Her eyes bored into her, "What are you hiding, Time?"
She sighed and wondered how it could be that her greatest rival was the one who understood her thoughts the most.
Yes, she had seen something else when she'd picked up his thread. Sometimes, it brought on more than a location—items, names, faces, memories, and this one was quite interesting.
She looked at Nature, "What do you know about someone named Greene?"