The Paladin Prophecy

#82: WITHOUT A LIFE OF THE MIND, YOU’LL LIVE A MINDLESS LIFE.

His eye landed on a shelf of family photos. He picked up a picture of his parents on their wedding day, playfully feeding each other cake. Belinda wore a gathered velvet gown, her long black hair woven with lace. Dad sported a burgundy velvet tux and a doofus grad-school haircut and scruffy beard.

Happy, laughing, carefree. He’d always felt a special connection to this picture, because he could glimpse the start of his own life in this moment, as if his spirit were right there, hovering, unseen: the spark in his parents’ eyes.

He thought of the glimpse of “Belinda’s” eyes he’d gotten when her sunglasses had slipped down—empty, vacant—and compared it to the vibrant woman in this picture. That’s what was different. Her soul was missing.

What had they done to her? Would they try to do the same thing to him?

He heard a car door shut and peeked out the window. Three black sedans had stopped in front. Men in black caps and jackets were headed for the house. One of them, a bald man, was pointing and giving orders.

Will’s chest tightened, and the air in the room clamped down: RUN, WILL. He fled out the back door, hopped the fence, and headed north. With a startled flap of wings, the little blackbird lifted off the fence and settled in a nearby tree. Two hours and change until Dad got home.

Dad will know what to do.

* * *

The bald man in the black cap jogged around the side of the house. Raising binoculars, he caught a glimpse of Will as he disappeared over a rise, sprinting toward the hills. He ordered the others to hold back and spoke into his wrist mic. “He’s on the fire road, headed north.”

“Is he Awake?”

“Hard to say,” said the bald man. “But we can’t take any chances. Bring me the Carver.”

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