CHAPTER 1

At 2 a.m., the prince descends on the summit of Mount Colossae. His hordes, spread out before

him like a layer of cloud, receive his arrival with a thunderous roar. Below them, the city lights

of Crya extend west toward the Pacific. With his wings spread wide, he glides down slowly to

prolong the agony of the hordes straining to fix their eyes on him. Full of delusional and

grandiose ideas, their manic eyes dart everywhere. The One has taken away the notion of peace

from them. Their restless souls forever rage with violence and betrayals.

Now, they strain their eyes to look up at their general and prince, Mega-Monger. A

promise of power and dominion is what holds all of them together. Nothing else will. This

prince, who presides over the domain that includes the city of Crya, slowly surveys his empire

with his wings spread wide open. With his feet nearly touching the summit, the 11-foot-tall

demon general draws out one of his massive, curved twin swords. The body of the blade is dark

red that gradually gets brighter toward the edge, like ember. He raises the sword high, whipping

up a frenzy among the minions. All the captains raise their own swords in unison, followed by

the entire army with a loud shout.

“SUBJUGATION!

DOMINATION!
 POWER! POWER! POWER!”

Voices and shrieks combine to produce a rumbling that shakes the mountain.

Once, Mega-Monger was a shining heavenly warrior commanding a legion of angels,

taking his orders from the Commander of Heavenly Hosts himself. Over time, however, he has

metamorphosed into a dark being that sucks in light from his surroundings. He has lost all his

God-given illuminations.

His body is covered in feathers and scales, mostly dark brown interspersed with navy

blue, with lighter-colored plumage on the underside of his wings. A black belt with large buckle

with his insignia supports his core. His eyes, resembling those of big cats, scan the hordes with a

mixture of excitement and contempt. The veins in his temples pulse iridescent blue. In darkness,

there appears to be a faint, pulsating light escaping through the cracks in his dusky colored skin.

His feet land on the flat rock surface of the summit. The wings fold and drop down to

drape his body and cover his feet. The dark clouds slowly swirl and rise, energized by the

restlessness of the minions who are all dressed up for the occasion. He slowly lifts his chin and

closes his eyes, drinking in the atmosphere of fear.

“Your soldiers remain undisciplined,” the prince begins after opening his big, yellow

eyes.

“My lord, they are just…excited and nervous,” the major of the first regiment cautiously

responds.

“Why?”

“My lord, please. You know why. They fear your presence.”

“Do they now; do they?” the prince drawls in a deep voice, savoring the moment.
 Mega-Monger often provokes and even destroys his subordinates for no reason.

Unpredictability begets fear. A thought crosses his mind. Always keep them guessing, then you

always have them under your control. Of course, those who perform beyond expectations are

rewarded far beyond their wildest dreams. The punishment for failure has not always been

equally severe. It is usually much more severe.

“By the way, major, how is the boy?”

“The boy, my lord?”

“The boy of visions and dreams…”

The major suddenly becomes fidgety and cannot maintain eye contact with the prince.

The ever-growing silence multiplies, heavy with the threat of imminent punishment.

“You don’t know who I’m talking about…do you, now, major?” The tone of prince’s

voice is too calm.

“F-Forgive me, my liege. Please, forgive me!” He blurts out in panic, eyes still downcast.

Mega-Monger closes both of his fists. The pulsating veins glow brighter on his massive

arms.

“Please… Report in for the regiment number 1.”

Filled with trepidation, the major begins.

“The city council will vote to shoot down the budget. The military strength of the city is

now at its weakest. But the mayor will continue to apply pressure as long as he is in the office.”

“So, what are you proposing as our next step?” The prince casts his gaze upon the humble

house of the mayor way up on north side of the city. The boy of visions and dreams, the mayor’s

nephew, also lives there. There is nothing special about a 13-year old boy daydreaming all the

time. However, something about this boy has been bothering Mega-Monger lately.
 “We are devising a plan to injure or kill the mayor of the city, or to make him really sick.

But the protective perimeter is strong around him.”

“How strong?” Mega-Monger keeps his gaze on the humble house.

“Very strong, which is very unfortunate for us.”

“Unfortunate?” The prince slowly turns to face the major.

“My lord?”

“Didn’t someone important once say, ‘The eyes of the Lord are on the righteous, and his

ears are attentive to their cry?’ But where is He?”

When the major hears the words “the One” and “the Lord,” his face distorts with fear.

“My lord, they can hear you. Please…don’t take His Name in vain.”

Standing about 30 feet away from the major, Mega-Monger suddenly teleports next to

him. The prince quickly grabs the flesh around his neck with his right hand, his sharp finger-nails

piercing through the skin. The demon shrieks in pain. The general quickly adjusts his grip to

apply a choke hold, silencing the now teary-eyed major. He begins to snarl into his ear, “You

know, all these humans, they take His name in vain ALL THE TIME. So, where is He? They

curse His Name like they breathe this very air created for them.”

Just as suddenly, Mega-Monger releases the choke hold and comforts the major, putting

his huge arm around him and whispering, “Don’t you worry. The whole point of it all is that we

use them to bring dishonor and curse against His name. That has always been our primary

objective. He is so weak for them that He never responds in kind. But we are stronger, and we

shall continue to be feared. We can laugh to our hearts’ content at all of them. I mean, just look at

them! They don’t even know that they are being used. If they only knew their full divine

potential…”
 As they separate, the prince rapidly stirs the air with his right arm. His arm becomes a

red, glowing blur, producing a bright blue bolt of lightning. The major reflexively ducks with his

arms covering his face. Too late.

Weak and cowering minds cannot be allowed to hold the office of major. Scorned and

humiliated before the hordes in such a fashion, the prince also knows that the major will harbor

resentment. Demons never forget. Forgiveness comes even harder. As two of the demons carry

away the injured—and now permanently exiled—officer, Mega-Monger points at one of the

captains of the regiment. After all, someone worthier must take the position.

“You. Come up here.”

The captain, who appears to be almost as big as the prince in stature, quickly kneels

before him in the air. His face is grey-blue in color and his body dark teal, bordering on black.

His eyes are pale blue, like that of the reflection of pale moonlight on the eyes of a wolf.

Looking at his blood-stained nails, Mega-Monger resumes.

“So, about the mayor…what is our next step?”

The officer remains silent. This causes Mega-Monger to look up and cast his narrowed

gaze upon the subordinate. His eyes lock on the captain’s. Something catastrophic seems to be

brewing in the eyes of the leader. The hordes expect that they will soon witness the shortest

duration of holding an office by anyone in the history of the principalities.

“To follow your plan, my lord.” The captain sounds unrushed and confident.

“To follow my…plan?”

“Yes, because you already have one, my lord. To contemplate any other would be a waste

of our time.”
 At this clever, almost backhanded, compliment, the general’s eyes get even narrower. He

can see this upstart is more perceptive and arrogant than he had bargained for. Still, he can be

useful. He decides to extend his questioning and testing.

“So, you are saying that I’m wasting all of our time, is that it?”

“If you say so, general. What is your command, my master?”

The prince simultaneously becomes even more impressed and enraged by the warrior. He

just evaded and turned the questioning back on the prince without even trying to patronize the

man. Brazen. He is not sure if he should promote him again or just kill him. Is this one a little

too smart, a little too strong? He weighs the pros and cons. After a quick calculation, the general

makes his decision. The demonic spirit is strong in the upstart and it may be useful for now.

There is always later.

“What is your name, soldier?” The prince asks.

“Amalgamate, my prince.”

The prince glides slowly toward him. The upstart still has one knee bent but his right

hand is battle ready, just in case. His long-handled scythe hides on his back. It gets a little

warmer. Mega-Monger stoops down next to him and whispers.

“This regiment has no colonel for a good reason. Since the demise of my favored Colonel

Fero, all the succeeding majors have been…deposed by me for one necessary reason or another.

If you prove your worth and loyalty to me, however, you will attain the rank of colonel in no

time. Fail me, and your fate will be no different than that of the poor major that I just sent to

Hell.”
 Both the general and the new major know that they are all eventually going to Hell

regardless. Moreover, Mega-Monger does not have the authority to send anyone to Hell. But

Amalgamate simply accepts the ordination.

“Command me in all things, my lord. What of other majors?”

“Don’t concern yourself with things you can’t control. Now rise and turn to face your

dominion.”

Amalgamate stands up and turns to face his regiment. The minions shout in unison to

salute their newly appointed major. The prince sizes up the officer from behind. The other majors

of the regiment are content at being passed over by the captain, because they will stay around for

now, but they are also extremely envious of Amalgamate. All this is not lost on the prince. A

little political tension is always a good thing, the prince muses. It will keep everyone sharp and

fresh. He continues as the masses quiet down, “Major Amalgamate, as you have speculated, I

already have a plan in progress. Soon, I will be sending you on a special assignment, which will

be an integral part of that plan. This boy of visions and dreams must be dealt with… Now, turn

and face me. Regiment number two, report in!”

Colonel Ledger glides forward and bows down before Mega-Monger. In a ridiculously

grand gesture, his head nearly touches his toes and his arms are spread wide. Mega-Monger

flashes a smile of contempt at the colonel and looks over at the major. He acknowledges with a

short nod but remains expressionless. Amalgamate is as wary of Ledger as he is of the general.

“That’s close enough”

The prince looks down at the colonel, who is now about 30 feet below him. Silken

gossamer of green and purple with gold accents drape over and drown the small but muscular
figure of the colonel. A reverse dagger hides somewhere underneath the cloak. Ledger opens his

small but loud mouth.

“My liege. It’s been a long time. We have much to discuss; ah, does he have to stay

here?” Ledger casts a sideways glance at the newly appointed major.

“Amalgamate stays. Now, do your duty.”

“Yes, of course my liege. The power of the Consortium grows strong in the city. Soon,

they will possess power over all sectors of the economy. Water, food, energy, tech and

entertainment. You know how the saying goes, my prince, ‘you control the water and you control

all who come to it.’ Sooner or later, they all have to come and drink. They have no choice in the

matter.”

“They aim for utopia through A.I.s and machines while denying the powers of the

metaphysical… But, this is our time. We will continue to reinforce the illusion of control for

them. What about the distributions of magic potions and powders?”

“Oh yes, my prince. Keep them under the influence and keep them happy.”

“And stupid…”

“You stole the words right out of my mouth, my lord. The happier they get, the more

stupid they become. The more stupid they become, the more control we will have.”

“Control is power, and power is control.”

“Amen, my liege. Amen! Of course, anything is possible through money with them. They

will sell their bodies and souls. In the name of mammon, they will continue to devolve into the

oblivion of highs and stupidity—”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” the prince interrupts.

“My lord?”
 “What about the man?”

“Ah…yes, you mean the man? The man! I was just going to brief you on him. The family

is on the way. He is by far the richest man this city has seen in a very long time. They have just

moved from the Capital of the Eastern Prov—”

“Not that man.” The prince interrupts again.

“Not that man…” Ledger stutters a bit.

“I’ll give you a hint. He is old.”

“Old, my lord?”

The prince teleports right next to Ledger, who is rattled by this sudden move. Mega-

Monger puts his right palm on top of the skull and closes it in a vice-like grip. Ledger’s temples

engorge with blood and begin to pulsate. The hand slowly rotates the head in the general

direction of the farm way down below where the slope begins to level out. The perimeter of the

farm has a barrier around it, invisible to human eyes. It stands like a double-walled, dome-like

structure. Breaching the barrier activates a ladder for the angels, not so different from that seen

by Jacob, Abraham’s grandson.

The prince slowly raises his left index finger, pointing at the cottage in the center of the

dome barrier. He quietly whispers into the colonel’s ear, “That Old Man.”

“Yes, yes, of-of course, my prince! I didn’t forget, sir. Please, if you would remove your

hand…”

The prince slowly releases the colonel’s head and teleports himself back to the summit.

Ledger takes a big breath and continues, still reeling from the pain,

“The…old man is…building a high-tech green house.” He takes in another gulp of air,

wincing. “The…number of people he employs grows steadily for his farm, currently at 30
families. His academy has 12 students right now. But, my lord, the Consortium controls 98

percent of the city’s economy. Even with the completion of the greenhouse, the man will control

less than one percent of the city’s economy.”

“Ledger, you never cease to amaze me.” The prince sounds increasingly irritated.

“My lord?”

“You take me for a fool.”

“No, no, never my lord. Never!”

“I commissioned you with the task of stopping this man from coming to this city in the

first place. The man will only control 1 percent, you say? You are seeing trees but not the forest,

my dear colonel. The fact that you do not comprehend what the old man is trying to accomplish

here astounds me…” The prince shakes his head slowly in displeasure. “Anything else to

report?” he continues, while admiring his sword, which he has raised to eye level.

This casual phrase grabs the attention of the colonel. He knows Mega-Monger has a habit

of dismissing his subordinates in a rather violent fashion. The sword is always ready to strike.

Ledger knows to make good on wrapping up the report.

“The man is approaching 80 years of age, my liege. He is nothing like what he used to be.

He sees himself as nothing more than an aged benefactor: A vestige of the old religion that no

longer holds power in any geo-political spheres. He sees himself as weak and powerless. In any

case, we will continuously hound the man through the Consortium. They will continue to apply

pressure to give up his assets and thereby his cause, his mission, or perhaps they will find a way

to depose of the man. They always do. I see that as our only option at this point. Since we can’t

do it directly, maybe they can, just like how it always has been.”
 The prince is suddenly reminded of the song from a church where one of his pet projects

dropped off his children one Sunday. As he was leaving, he heard an echo of simple, yet

grotesque music:

“Little ones to Him belong ~

They are weak, but He is strong ~”

“Ledger, your confidence in this global financial organization, this Consortium, is

misplaced. They can be useful…to a point. Let me ask you, do you know the Apostle Paul?” The

prince inquires.

“We all know who he is, my liege.”

“I doubt it… Power of the One is perfected in weakness of the flesh. When a man like

this sees himself as weak and powerless, that’s when he is the most dangerous. He surrenders his

will to the will of the One every day, just like Paul did. The man’s heart has become, as a result,

extremely strong. The Spirit of the Lord may descend upon him once again and there will be

casualties on our side. See the forest, Ledger, the forest! We can’t make a martyr of him yet, nor

can we increase his need for more power of the One by taking away his assets. Maybe we can try

to tempt him by the way of females, but he is old, and we sense that the stirring in him is not

very strong… Colonel Pious!”

“Here I am, my lord! What is your command?”

Mega-Monger looks over at Amalgamate, points to Pious, and says, “This is how you

address your prince.”

Mega-Monger focuses on the colonel. “Colonel Pious, report in for the regiment 3.”

Colonel Pious glides up toward Mega-Monger and stops 30 feet away from him. His

grey-brown skin, hiding boils and blemishes, contrasts mildly with his grey eyes. He is a big
demon with a small head and a large neck blending smoothly into massive shoulders. He sports a

white robe that drapes over his folded wings.

“Things are coming together as we have planned, my lord. There is nothing new to

report.”

“What do you propose we do about this old man, colonel?”

“I think it is prudent for us to wait and see how things play out.”

“See how things play out… You are talking about patience?”

“My lord, as you already know, we are in no rush.”

“We are in no rush, yes, and to delay is the name of the game…”

But, at that moment, verses from the Book of Habakkuk and Daniel put a sharp sting in

his soul.

For the VISION is yet for the appointed time, and it hastens toward the end, and shall not

lie; though it tarry, wait for it; because it will surely come, it will not delay.

Wait for it… It shall still come at the appointed time… Wait for it… Mega-Monger cannot

help but wince at the thought. Part of that Vision is the Lake of Fire for all his kind. He cups his

forehead with the index and thumb of his right hand and slowly rubs his temples. It’s been so

long since the Fall, and he does not recall a time when he had believed in the Vision. But it

doesn’t really matter anymore. He has gone beyond the point of no return. Any passing thought

of the Vision eviscerates his soul over and over again.

If his fate as well as that of his dominion is sealed unto eternal damnation, he might as

well wreak havoc on the souls of these human beings. Long ago, he had determined in his heart

that if he cannot exalt himself above the One and the commander, he will use everything in his

power to drag His Name down to the Abyss through them; these human beings who are so-called
“fearfully and wonderfully made.” Ah Yes, I will defile His Name through them and destroy His

image in them. Who are they, decrepit houses of nothing, but dirt? And they are to be His sons

and daughters once again only if they would turn and believe in the Incarnate? Preposterous.

“My lord?”

Pious brings Mega-Monger back from the trance-like state. His eyes lock with Ledger’s,

who remains prostrate behind Pious. The prince tightens his grip on the sword and the ember

edge grows brighter. The swirling clouds above him pick up speed. Ledger is still in a submissive

posture but his body tenses up, with both of his hands concealed underneath the robe. The

garments and feathers flap and flutter. After five seconds, however, the prince slowly relaxes his

grip and puts the sword on his back. The clouds above slow down. Ledger barely moves. But, a

very subtle movement underneath the cloak suggests that he is relaxing his grip on his reverse

dagger, too. Mega-Monger speaks to Pious but maintains his focus on the little cottage and the

city.

“Yes. We will see how things play out. We will be patient. I trust in their human nature to

work this issue out in our favor. We will just have to wait for an opportune time to strike. By the

time they realize that they’ve been hit, their souls would have been demolished beyond repair.”

With that, the prince shifts his gaze back toward the good mayor’s house. His thoughts

come back to rest on the mayor’s nephew there. The boy of visions and dreams. The night flows

dark and deep, and the city slumbers through it.

 CHAPTER 2

Something resonates within Manuel. He can’t tell if it is a sound or an emotion. Suspended high

above the streets, the boy is in a reclining position. The soothing, misty light of dawn washes

over the city below. Gradually, his body rises above the fog to another sound. Somewhere, very

far in the distance, an immense bell has rung, causing reverberations of all things ancient and

eternal far above the stars. His entire being starts to vibrate gently, as if to resonate with it. For a

brief moment, it weighs heavily on his small body, heavier than the foundations of the earth.

Then, with a great release, he soars before a great void of the New Universe that is about to

unfold. He continues to ascend.

 Across the chasm of dark space, he sees three massive, greyish-brown trunks looming.

Billons of bulbous protrusions, like burls, slowly and continuously form on the outside. They

advance upward in waves. Bright lights illuminate the edges with a spectrum of colors. He then

realizes that he is looking at three massive clouds, standing like giant pillars of the universe.

Lightning flashes within, lighting up a very small portion of the pillar. The flashing patterns seem

random at first. They increasingly build in frequency and number. Thunders echo across the

space.

Manuel sees a colossal white throne suspended high above the middle pillar. On the

throne is the One, whiter than snow. How does the boy know that He is the One?

Because he was created in His image at the beginning of creation.

A cosmic hurricane rages on top of the middle pillar with a trillion asteroids. In the eye of

the storm stands a man with his eyes closed, calm and unperturbed. He is wearing a one-piece

tunic, white as snow.

As the man opens his eyes, the hurricane subsides. Another throne slowly descends to the

right side of the One seated on the first throne, which hovers diagonally far above the man. The

asteroid field forms into slowly rotating rings around the man, like the rings of Saturn. The rings

begin to separate into three flat layers in parallel, like three immense discs stacked on top of

another. The boy then witnesses gentle and bright waves emanating from the foundation of the

thrones.

As his eyes focus, he realizes that it is a river of fire. It flows down to the man. It is so

quiet he can almost hear his eyes blink. Slowly, the Man of Mystery takes his first step onto the

river that has now reached the center of the rings. Manuel is afraid that the fire will light up the

man instantly, but his white tunic never catches fire. The man then takes another step, then
another, going up toward the throne. With each step, his body pulsates with more light. The river

of fire starts to disperse from the center and then sweeps across and into the vast spaces between

the planes of the disks.

Suddenly, a dark cloud overtakes him. Manuel can’t tell if his eyes are closed or open.

Darkness and fatigue overwhelm him. He decides to rest and stops trying to open his eyes.

Instinctively, he prays. Please, keep me safe. I’m flying blind. Please…keep me…

He travels through deep space for what feels to him like several days.

Finally, there is a light in the distance. He can see lacy, intricate layers of clouds over

glimmering lights. With each passing layer of clouds, things become brighter. As he emerges

from the final layer, a bright atmosphere with a vast expanse of blue sky welcomes him. Way

below him are summits of mountains peaking above white, cumulous clouds. His body is

suspended above the tallest mountain. Then, something makes him look up.

A bright, blue light descends from above. Fast and silent, it comes straight down for him.

When it’s about to collide with Manuel, it pops open its majestic wings, coming to a sudden stop.

The instantaneous and powerful compression of air underneath its wings makes Manuel’s hair

bounce and tosses it about. He puts both of his hands up in reflex. The blue light then disappears

behind the shrouds of cloud and fog that envelop Manuel, too. As the fog slowly clears, a big

face with a broad chin appears to his left. He looks human except for his gigantic, magnificent

wings. The two find themselves flying over a large mountain with giant cumulus clouds below.

The light from this magnificent celestial being illuminates the surroundings with glory.

The appearance of his face can only be compared to bolts of lightning perpetually etching

a porcelain surface through a layer of water. The light itself appears to create a tear in the fabric

of space between Manuel’s face and that of the angel. The outline of his nose, eyes and mouth as
well as the contour of his face constantly oscillates between being amorphous and sharply

defined. His face is hard, soft, opaque, and translucent at the same time. Though predominantly

blue, the angelic warrior radiates an ever-changing spectrum of colors.

It is hard for Manuel not to stare at his body. At 10 feet tall, he is a magnificent angel,

with gigantic blue wings resembling the wings of an eagle dwarfing his own massive, muscular

frame. His distal limbs, dark and silken like a panther’s, reflect the gleaming lights around them

like burnished metal. A large belt with an insignia on the gold belt buckle has a vice grip hold on

the dark core of the angel, becoming a part of his body. Everything about this being exudes

power.

The angel scoops up Manuel with his right arm. He can feel the strength of this warrior

angel gently and firmly cradling his weight. Manuel’s entire body easily rests on the inside of his

forearm, with his feet dangling on either side. The boy has never felt so tiny and yet so secure.

The sun peaks from the eastern sky and Manuel feels the rays caressing his face. The angel tucks

him in, and then gently folds his wings.

They dive in an exhilarating, rapid descent. This must be what skydiving feels like…wait,

this must be better! Fluttering wings propel them faster and faster. Shooting through the sea of

clouds with a thunderous supersonic boom, they see another world unfolding below.

Vast expanses of bright green and deep blue unveil below them; mostly flat landscape

transitioning seamlessly into rolling hills. Trillions of green bubbles gradually become more and

more defined into trees in forests. Many rivers and creeks make their ways through forests and

grasslands, like snakes. All kinds of flowers and trees are interspersed in groups, some familiar

and some exotic. Manuel feels the gradual deceleration as the angel slowly spreads his wings

again. Some of the rivers are very large. Even from this vantage point, at about 30,000 feet above
the ground, Manuel can see all kinds of creatures—familiar or extinct—swimming in the deep

waters. Am I seeing everything through my own eyes…or this angel’s? Whenever Manuel turns

his head, however, the angel’s head does not turn the same way. Maybe in this world, I can see

things very far if I want to! The angel extends his arm out, allowing Manuel to dismount and

hover in the air once again. They are now nearly in standing position and descending very

slowly.

A school of fish that is swimming slowly below captures Manuel’s attention. They have

armor on them. Many of them are as big as whales. Some are even bigger, much bigger. Many

different creatures with all types of color and scale patterns swim back and forth around the

larger ones. There seem to be paths, or highways, for all these creatures in the big river beneath.

The crystal-clear blue-emerald waters allow him to see all the coral formations and the schools

that swim above and through them. For a split second, Manuel sees what looks to him like a

group of children swimming with the creatures. Then, they disappear into the deep.

Ahead, toward the horizon rise magnificent mountains, some with ice caps on their peaks.

Flying over them are creatures—unexpected, and yet so right—large whales and giant rays with

children on their backs, sliding in rows but not falling. They would simply walk upside down on

the underside of the flying animals and trot back up, only to slide down again. How? He hears

their laughter, playful and free. As he slowly makes his descent, his question returns. How can

all this be?

Some of the whales join in this game with the children. As the children are about to hit

the end of the “slides,” the whales tilt and rotate their bodies the other way to keep the sliding

going. Those who are trotting back up to the top of the slides find themselves instantly back on

the top of the slides when the whales stop rotating. A humpback whale rotates sideways, just at
the right speed, to keep the sliding going for as long as it can. The children feel the sustained,

exhilarating suspense of being on the verge of a rotating cliff. For several seconds, they see

nothing but vast spaces filled with air between their feet and the ground far below.

All kinds of flying creatures and birds join the ranks of the whales and giant rays, with

some small children jumping from one to another. Giant eagles and storks join them and swirl

about in grand and spectacular formations. A small girl waves at Manuel while doing a backflip

like an Olympic diver. She jumps from the whale and lands on the back of a giant eagle, only to

jump onto a manta ray, then onto a giant jellyfish. Manuel thinks, There is gravity here, but then

there is not; wait, that’s not right. Maybe, the animals work like magnets for children while they

are riding them? Or maybe the children just think that they can do it and then it happens!

Then, as if on cue, all the children jump off the animals to converge into a large, tight ball

in the sky above Manuel. In a split second, the ball explodes as they fly away from each other

and descend like fireworks. Each of them holds a retractable, long, shining ribbon that never

tangles. They come together in smaller spheres and explode again, making their way down. They

repeat this exercise one more time, then drop into the river with all the rays, whales, and

creatures of the sky joining them.

A few seconds later, they emerge riding the school of armored fish and creatures of the

deep to fly away. One of them, a boy at the front, holds up a banner that says, “First Battalion of

the Celestial Army of Children.” This boy seems familiar to Manuel, but he can’t remember

where he has seen him.

Suddenly, a gigantic, fearsome-looking creature with flaming blue eyes comes into his

field of vision approximately 200 yards ahead. He is now suspended 100 yards above the ground

and is almost at the same level as the enormous flying creature. The first thought that flashes
through his mind is, dragon, but all the dragons he read about have relatively smooth bellies. The

underside of this creature is jagged, like hundreds of shards stuck to his belly. Each scale glistens

with a spectrum of all colors and his entire body shimmers like a diamond. The scales, made up

of alien elements, continuously interlock with every movement. His exterior is virtually

impenetrable by any man-made weapons.

He doesn’t see them at first. Manuel sees the children again, playing all kinds of games—

upside down—in the landscape of the creature’s underside. If the leviathan turns away in front of

Manuel now, its massive tail would swing to lethally greet Manuel and the angel, sending them

off to another world. Smoke furls from his nostrils. Manuel looks to his left to see if the angel is

watching all this too, but he is nowhere to be seen. Where did he go? He slowly descends by

himself.

Watching the leviathan with all of his precious cargo slowly fly off to his left and then

behind him, he begins to wonder. All of this…is this…is this…? Then, a gentle voice echoes

nearby, “THIS MAY BE…BUT IT IS ONE OF MANY.”

“Many what?” Manuel asks.

Another gentle voice echoes, “NO EYE, NO EAR, NO MIND.”

Manuel hears, but he does not understand.

“NEITHER HUMAN NOR ANGEL, NOR ANYTHING OF THE EARTH,

PRINICIPALITIES, POWERS, NOR HEAVENLY HOSTS.”

Manuel asks in his mind, still not knowing what they mean, Many? Then, how many?

There is no answer. He quickly forgets that he even asked. While mesmerized by this world that

continuously unfolds before him, he hears himself say,

“Mama? Papa?”
 If this world is what I think it is, then Mama and Papa would be here!

“Mamaaaaa! Paup-paaaa!”

No answer. He waits a few seconds.

“Moooom!”

Nothing but silence. He decides to wait for a few minutes.

“Mommieeeeee! Moooooom!”

His voice, carried by the cool morning air, reaches the distant mountains and echoes right

back to him; hollow and haunting sounds of his own heart, not to be answered even in this world.

In one deep corner of his heart, he feels a pillar crumbling, never to be rebuilt again. Somewhere

else in his heart, however, he is unaware of a bigger foundation descending from above. A stone

rejected by the builders of the world long gone. Manuel tells himself, Before I leave here, I will

try to find them. I cannot forget! I need to remember!

He is almost on the ground now, coming down to the large stream of water with trees on

either side. There is light coming from everywhere, even from the depths of the river. Yet, the

ambient light is that of dawn and dusk. He is not sure if the soft light is emanating from the

creations themselves or are reflections of some bright light nearby. Manuel hovers just above the

bank of the river. Tall trees with long branches are sprouting in all directions.

On the opposite bank, a man with bare feet slowly walks away from him. Many of the

others hover around and even fly. It appears that this man enjoys the feel of the grass, which

looks impeccable, like a fine green carpet. Everything seems perfect. From myriads of butterflies

to millions of fireflies, there is a certain organization about the way they fly in groups or

synchronize their flashing lights. They fly around the man in circles twice and then disappear

into the woods nearby. Some of them remain around the man.
 The man locks his gaze on one of the trees directly in front of him.

He plucks out a fruit from the tree, a very plump fruit that looks like a giant peach. His

eyes focus on the glistening skin of the fruit, reflecting shades of muted orange, red-purple, and

light blue-yellow from the water and evening sky. And the beautifully delicious colors change

constantly, as if images being projected onto the skin from the core. He places both of his hands

underneath the fruit and takes a big bite, which instantly causes his cheeks to bulge and the juice

to run down from the corners of his mouth. His facial skin absorbs the juice as it flows. There is

not a drop on the ground. The man must really like that fruit, Manuel concludes.

Two other men join this man on either side of him. Manuel did not see them approaching.

All three men have their backs to Manuel, in the distance. A sense of enigma and mystery fills

the air as the three men stand together.

The man in the middle places his arm on the shoulders of the man to the left. They are

about 100 yards from Manuel on the opposite side of the stream. The man to the right then puts

his hand on the shoulder of the man in the middle and says something.

It is at that moment that the man in the middle turns and looks at Manuel.

Manuel sees the face of the man. A gentle glow from his face blurs its contours. The other

two men turn as well. Manuel does not recall where he has seen them. They all seem familiar to

him somehow. All three appear to be of the same age; not too young, but definitely not old. A

soft and ethereal glow illuminates their bodies and their white garments. Their demeanors are

gentle yet strong. They are tall, but the one in the middle is the tallest. They resume their walks

in the direction away from where Manuel is hovering.

 Suddenly, something makes them stop. They don’t turn around. Manuel knows that they

are smiling because there is a large group of people walking, running, and flying toward them

with smiles on their faces. With hugs and kisses, the crowd mingles for a while.

Manuel feels in his heart what his mind does not yet understand. In this world, no one is

excluded or left out. Misunderstanding is not in the vocabulary of this world. Neither is justice,

for there is no need for it. Nothing is ever taken out of context because everything is fully

known; from the wisp of cloud above an evening star down to a tiny sparrow that sings on a

myrtle tree branch down below. Everything is fully known; every heart, every mind, and every

soul. Perfection has been achieved. No more revelations. Every intention of God and men is fully

known. The imperfect is no more. Everything is fully known because everything can be known.

Everything can be known because there is no fear of knowing. There is no fear because there is

no hatred. There is no hatred and jealousy because there is no pride. There is no pride because

there is no sin. And because there is no sin, there is no more death.

Everyone seems happy… No, happy isn’t an adequate description. The joy in their hearts

grows and ascends into…bliss? Not the word that the world of the past understood but the Word

that is fully known only in this world. The Word is here. The Word has finally come in His

totality. The Word is Love. There is no more need for faith or hope, because Love is finally here.

Then, they all slowly disappear into the forest on the other side of the river. The group

merges with a sea of people in the vast clearing on the far side of the forest. They are further

joined by the creatures of the earth, sky, and water; who walk and glide alongside them. All of

them walk toward the source of light that seems to permeate this whole world. As Manuel

watches all of this from distance, he feels light as a feather with no worries, fears, or loneliness.
 There is something else Manuel feels. It is a touch of sadness from past dreams

unrealized, fleeting but still lingering, that makes this blissful moment endure forever.

Then, he sees the throne just beyond the light.

Manuel doesn’t know that all he has seen and felt in his journey through this realm

somehow traces back to this very Light. This eternal, unchanging Light now engulfs Manuel. In

it lies not only his identity and purpose, but his divine destiny.

In the vastness of all the glorious space unfolding before him, Manny somehow feels

enclosed, safe, and whole. There is no more desire or painful longing. With his eternal fate

secured, the boy can finally enter His rest; true eternal rest. His eyes begin to roll up. I’m home…

Out of the blue, he hears someone say, “Lemuel.”

Lemuel? The name echoes through his mind.

“Lemuel.”

Maybe I’m hearing Manuel, but it sounds like Lemuel.

“Lemuel…”

“Manuel!”

The voice gets very loud and his whole body begins to shake. The glowing light in front

of the throne overwhelms his vision.

“Manuel! Wake up Manuel! Time to get up! Gotta get ready for school!”

As he fights and struggles to open the lead weighted double gates—his eyelids—the rays

of the morning sun fill his earthly vision.

His uncle leaves his room to finish preparing breakfast. Manuel slowly gets up.
 He sits up at the edge of the bed. His clothes are damp with sweat, but he doesn’t feel

feverish. Still half asleep, the morning mental fog lifts painfully and slowly. He looks at his wrist

tech and it’s already 10 minutes after 7. He has slept through his alarms…again.
 CHAPTER 3

Manuel just sits there for a while, not wanting to move. Images from the dream are flickering

out like a movie projected on a dissipating smokescreen. Now the first part of the dream was

violent. No, it was, it was… Manuel searches for the right words, then fails.

He remembers the second part of the dream better than the first. It was like he was in

heaven, but it felt a little different from what he had been told by his Sunday school teacher.

He was flying and hovering all over the place and watching all kinds of creatures with children

on them. Besides all that, however, everything becomes fuzzy again. Was I with someone? I

remember seeing a lot of people. Strange emotions? What? Argh, time to get up…AGAIN.

As Manuel takes slow, zombie-like steps into the dining area, Kyle, age 6, and

Kimberly, age 4, bump into him. Kyle is holding a small metal airplane that flies right into

Manuel’s private area. Manny can’t breathe for a split second and bends over in pain. Kimmie,

not about to be outdone by her older brother, slaps Manuel’s knee as she follows her brother

into the living area. Ouch! Kyle, you little punk! How can they be so hyper this early?

Morning sucks…
 “Good morning Manny!” Uncle Zach calls out.

“Bad…morning…” Manuel replies while walking gingerly toward the dining table.

“You ready for a breakfast of champions, kiddo? Over-easy?”

“Uncle Zack, can you remind me why I have to go to school every day? I mean, I went

there yesterday, and I will be there tomorrow.” Manuel inquires quietly.

“Well, hmmm, let’s see. Kimmie? Kimmie?”

“Yeah Daddy!” An eager voice pipes up from the living area.

“Why does big Manny have to go to school every day, Kimmie?”

Kimmie doesn’t miss a beat at first, “So he can make lots of money, buy us a big…

house and take us to the…to the…”

“Oceans of Universe,” his uncle quickly helps.

Kimmie has to start all over and does not like that at all. “I got it, got it Daddy! Shhh!”

giving her dad a little frown, as if to scold him for correcting her. Then she declares, “So he

can make lots of money…and take us to the Oceans of Universe…every weekend!”

Manuel glances at Kimmie and rolls his still-sleepy eyes.

Uncle Zack reads Manuel’s eyes and gestures. “You know, Kimmie is right. You go to

school. You become a successful doctor, or whatever you want to become. And you can take

Kyle and Kimmie to the park and buy me a nice house. You can buy a bigger house for

yourself, of course, and then we can all come and play at your house whenever we want to,

right Kimmie?”

“What, Daddy?” Kimmie is no longer paying attention.

“Come on, Uncle, Kimmie doesn’t even know what you just said.”
 “I do too!” The little brown-haired girl in a pink dress comes and bites Manny in the

arm and then runs back to the living room. Kyle chimes in from the living area, “Yes, you

have to take us there, Manny! Take us to the Oceans of Universe!”

“Ouch!” Manuel says, extending out his tablet bar screen, “Uncle, most of the stuff that

they teach you at school is so easy. I can learn everything by myself right here.” He looks at

his arm, which now has a tiny bite mark. Kimmie, the morning vampire.

“Oh, is that right?” Zach questions, while easing two pan-fried eggs onto Manuel’s

plate.

“You know, I aced every single class even though I missed a ton of classes.”

“So?” Uncle focuses on his pan.

“Uncle, you see those plaques on the wall that I get every year?”

“What about those plaques?” Uncle actively suppresses a smile. Manuel can tell.

“Come on Uncle, first place in the entire Western province every year.”

“Every year? Since you were born? I don’t think so. And, for what?”

“What? Uncle, you know what those are for! Come on!”

“Well, for being lazy? For being smart with your uncle every morning?”

“Uncle Zach, never mind,” Manuel sounds frustrated. “I just don’t feel well today.”

“You don’t?” Uncle says, as he puts three big pancakes on the plate.

“Yeah, I got up all sweaty, I think I’m coming down with something.”

Uncle leans over to feel Manuel’s forehead with the back of his hand. “You don’t seem

to have a fever. You are not sweaty now, but you’re right about your clothes, they’re filthy.”
 “Uncle Zach, I’m telling you, it was clean last night. I got up with my shirt soaking

wet… I think I had a really bad dream and then I couldn’t remember any of it. I just feel bad.

If I go to school today, I think I’m really gonna get sick.”

Uncle Zack pauses.

“Hmmm, you know, you do look a bit out of your elements today.” He gets a bit

serious, “Sometimes the school pushes a little too hard on you guys. And since you’re the

smartest kid in this town, maybe you can take a little break.”

He seems genuinely concerned, closing his mouth tight in contemplation. As he pours

OJ into a cup, he says, “Today is Friday, right?”

“Yes?” Manuel said with a little excitement building inside…cautiously.

“You don’t have to go to school today.”

Manuel can’t believe his ears. “What? Really?” He grins from ear to ear. Three-day

weekend, baby! Here we go!

“Not really.” He bursts into laughter as he slaps Manuel’s back.

“You are the lamest…uncle…in the world! Cheesy with extra cheese! Your heart is

made out of stone!”

Uncle Zach plants a big kiss on Manuel’s head. He says firmly with a big chuckle,

“Who are we kidding? Oooooo, I love ya! How can you be so smart and clueless at the same

time? Are you really my nephew? Eat up, shower, get dressed, and get your butt in the car.

You've got 20 minutes.” He walks out of the kitchen.

“Come on, Uncle! You got me all excited for nothing!” .

“Don’t cry uncle now…not gonna work, ya hear?” Zach quips on his way to the

bedroom.
 Kimmie helps her dad make his point, “Yo butt in da cah! You got 20 minutes!” and,

with her tongue wagging, she squirms and twists her tiny body right next to Manuel. Kyle

joins the fun, circling the dining room table, his dirty blond hair tossing about in the most

annoying way. Manuel closes his eyes, leans back with his head tilted all the way back on the

chair and his mouth wide open.

Kimmie, please!

About 35 minutes later, Manuel arrives at school after Kyle and Kimmie are dropped off at

Mrs. Lambert’s, who is one of their neighbors. Kids file out of the school buses. All the

schools in the region have uniforms. District of Crya Junior High School, Manuel’s, dons their

students in white shirts and grey pants with navy blue vests. During the summer, the vest is a

light grey-blue. Since the Great War, many things have changed. Only certain private schools

used to make their students wear uniforms. Now, every school has its own.

The adults wear form-fitting clothes. It is a case of “form following function.”

Materials are getting harder to come by. Fabrics are getting smaller, leaner, more flexible, and

tougher every year. Uncle is wearing a suit that is slightly elastic. It has a technology to

contract the fibers of the fabric so that it is warmer during the winter. Now, in the late spring,

the fibers relax, and the clothes breathe. They can even fold or detach in the sleeves or knees

to make them T shirts and shorts, or vice versa.

It is amazing how most of the school buses and parents’ cars arrive at the same time,

adding to the mayhem of the drop zones. That will never change. The car that his uncle drives

is an A.I directed self-driving car, a cheap model. Since they left the house, his uncle has been

preoccupied with the agenda on the console. Manuel suddenly has a crazy idea that maybe
driving a car can be a fun thing. Maybe it was…but a long time ago? His uncle has an old but

brand-new-looking hybrid Genesis that runs on gas and energy. Maybe he might let him

practice driving with that thing. It looks brand new because it’s always sitting in the garage

and is almost never driven. Manuel wonders, from time to time, why he kept this extra car for

all these years.

He sees one of his friends, Magma, coming down the steps of the bus with a pair of

earpieces on. Manuel says a quick goodbye to his uncle and gets out of the car. He is always

trying to look cool, he thought. He is always the last one to get out of the bus. Sometimes he

wonders, what kind of a name is Magma, anyway? Then again, his name is Manuel; a name

nobody else has, at least at this school.

He thought about changing his own name, but Uncle Zach would never go for it.

Actually, he would just pretend to go along with him at first but then say, “Not really,”

accompanied by his extremely annoying laughter. The name was given by his parents, so it

will not change ever. Although he will never show it, he is very grateful to Uncle Zach, who is

his mom’s older brother. To Manny, his antics and idiosyncrasies are tacky and cheesy, but no

one’s perfect. He’s been taking care of Manuel like his own son. He will never forget that.

On the other hand, no one ever asks Magma about his name. He is already 6 feet tall

and still growing. No one seems to know who his father is. Some kids at school joke around,

behind his back, that Magma never had a father. Manuel doesn’t think it to be particularly

funny, but casually mentioned it once at dinner and got an earful from Uncle Zach. He would

never speak of it again, he told himself. Anyway, his own parents have died, too. At least

Magma has his mother.

 One of the teachers, Mr. Kruger, motions to Magma from the concrete landing atop the

main stairs. Magma takes off his earphones and stuffs them into a front pocket, not changing

the pace of his steps. He is still getting a tense stare from Mr. Kruger when a couple of boys in

the parking lot begin to scuffle. Mr. Kruger trots down the steps and toward the boys but, as he

does, casts a hard stare back at Magma. Magma never looks back or changes his pace. As soon

as he turns the corner, he slowly takes out the wireless headphones and resumes listening. The

school prohibits wearing headphones during school hours. Magma acts like he is above the

law most of the time.

“What’s up Magma?” Manuel catches up to him.

“Yo.”

“How’s it going?”

“Alright.”

“You doing anything this weekend?”

“Yeah.”

“Like what?”

With his left eyebrow raised, Magma turns his head slightly toward Manuel. “Are you

trying to get me to go to church, again?”

Manuel quickly responds, “Nah, just wanted to see what you are up to. That’s all.”

Magma goes silent for a couple of seconds. “Ah… I see. Cool.”

What kind of response is this? Manny wonders, but decides to let it go. There is

something else he wants to talk to Magma about.

“Hey, so, are you like 6 feet tall now?”

“Yep.”
 “That’s crazy. I mean, that’s cool. You get any pain in your legs?”

“Pain? What are you talking about?”

“Like you know, growing pains.”

“Growing pains? Nah. Nothing like that.”

“Really? That’s so awesome. Was your dad really tall, too?”

As soon as the words leaves his mouth, he wishes he could take them back. Too late.

Magma slowly turns toward Manuel but this time, he is expressionless. He says slowly, “I

gotta take a piss.”

“OK, see you around, Magma?”

“Yeah… See ya.”

And, just like that, he slowly walks away from Manuel in the general direction of the

boy’s room, never breaking his slow strides. Manuel had invited him to his church a few times

and he actually came, once. Now the big guy doesn’t seem to care for it.

To all the boys, Magma has always been curt and aloof. With the girls, however,

whether they’re pretty or not, he actually looks at them in the eyes when they talk to him.

Manuel has also noticed something peculiar about Magma that most people, even adults, fail

to grasp. Magma never looks at a girl if he isn’t talking to her. His boy classmates would stare

at pretty girls in school, but not Magma. Even stranger is the fact that so many of the girls in

this town, even the ones a year older or two, would give Magma a kind of stare that was

mysterious to Manuel. Is it all because of his mother, or because he is tall and strong? Manuel

wonders. Something in his mind tells him not to linger too long on the thoughts of Magma’s

mother. He would not ask his uncle either. It just seems wrong to think of her in any way.

Period.
 No one is allowed to bring in communicative devices into the classroom except their

tablet bars in class mode only. Manuel makes his way into the classroom after putting his wrist

tech in a locker just outside the classroom. All the seats in the back are taken by the time he

gets there. There is an empty seat by the window in the middle. He usually daydreams about

some distant imaginary world, and sitting by the window helps. Before taking his seat, he

scans the room quickly to see if the seating arrangement has changed since yesterday. It hasn’t.

On the opposite side of the room, three girls huddle in a semi-circle, talking in hushed

tones with their eyes wide open. Way up in front is Seth, his main academic competition,

pouring into his tablet. He is a shy, skinny boy with not a single athletic bone in his body.

Nobody talks to him. Manuel is the only one who talks to Seth sometimes.

Today is just another mundane, routine repetition of the same old, same old; until the

door opens, and a red flower walks in.

The girl in a dark red, velvety dress glides effortlessly into the classroom beside Mr.

Patton, the teacher. Mr. Patton, a large, portly man of fifty something with a thick beard and a

mustache, is not only their homeroom teacher but also their math and history teacher. The

flower doesn’t go too well with Mr. Patton, or is it vice versa? The Beauty and the Beast?

Manuel’s mind was already erasing the annoying image of the Beast.

“Good morning everyone! I have a special announcement this morning! Settle down!”

Mr. Patton shouts.

Everyone faces forward. The teacher continues, “We have a new classmate today. Why

don’t you go ahead and tell us your name and where you come from?”

Her words sound like music from her small, pretty mouth. “My name is Rose Callahan.

I’m from the Capital of the Eastern province.”

 “Rose is from the Capital of the Eastern province, everyone.” Mr. Patton reiterates

slowly, as if everyone in the classroom is deaf and slow. “Please make her feel welcome, class,

okay? Jessica?”

“Yes?” One of the three girls in the semi-huddle earlier responds in a startled voice,

suddenly wide-eyed.

“Can you please be a buddy to Rose today and take her to her classes?”

“Sure, Mr. Patton.”

“Rose, would you go ahead and take your seat over there?”

“Yes, sir.” Rose says softly with a confident smile.

Mr. Patton is pointing at the seat that is right next to Manuel. Manuel finds himself

petrified but tries hard not to show it.

As Rose takes her seat, Manuel feels a little nudge on his upper back. He ignores it.

Then he feels it again, a little stronger. Manuel rolls his eyes. You troublemaker, what do you

want from me? He quickly turns just enough to see Matt giving him a sly smile and a wink.

Extremely annoyed, Manuel restrains himself from punching Matt in the face but gives him a

quick, hard stare. By the time he turns around, Rose’s big blue eyes are looking right into his.

The first class is over, and the students rush out of the classroom. Jessica approaches Rose and

introduces herself. Manuel takes the opportunity to say, “Welcome to our school,” and then

excuses himself. That takes more courage than he anticipated. The red heat rising from his

neck lingers for a while. Walking out of the classroom, he runs into Matt leaning on a wall,

talking to one of the girls from the class. He plans to walk on by when he sees Matt motioning

for him to come over. Manny just ignores him.

 “Wait up!” shouts Matt.

Wait up? Leave me alone.

“What's up? How ya doin’, buddy?” Matt intentionally shoulder bumps him.

“I'm good. Thanks. I gotta get to my next class.”

“Alright. Hey, listen, I think the girl likes you.”

“The girl? What are you talking about?”

“The new girl. Who else? Don’t play dumb, Manny.”

“What about her? I really don’t care.”

“Come on. Don’t be stupid. She was sitting right next to you. You don’t think she’s

pretty?”

“Well, she is I guess… Listen Matt, I really don’t—”

Matt interrupts, “If you don't like her, then maybe I’ll ask her to be my girlfriend. How

do you like that?” He has a sly smile on his face again.

“What? Okay. Well, like I said, I really don’t care, alright? Go ahead and ask her if you

want.”

“Okay. I think I will. By the way Manny, guess what?”

“What?”

“For a really smart guy, you’re really stupid. You know that? You are very…uh…

different. Kind of weird.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Never mind. I don’t think you will understand.”

“You better watch it, Matthew.” Manny’s face blossoms red, his fists clenching.
 “Ooooo, I’m so scared. Or maybe you’re just very shy; too shy, if you ask me. Manny,

the shy boy! Alright boss, I’m outta here!” Matt starts walking backward and runs into a group

of girls behind him, making one of them drop her tablet bar. He starts laughing and shouting at

the girls, “You gotta look at where I’m going!”

One of the girls punches him in the arm, “You jerk!”

Instead of retreating, Matt picks up the bar and says, “This is going to cost you, young

lady.” He does not let go of the tablet and gets into a little tug of war with her, winking and

smiling at her throughout.

I really don't get that guy, thinks Manuel. But that’s not completely true. He knows that

a part of him understands what he was talking about and that makes him even angrier. If you

mess with my girl one more time, there will be a WAR.

 CHAPTER 4

“Your highness, it is time for your supper,” the old man reminds the young princess.

“Well, I'm not ready yet.”

“It's 5 minutes past 7, your highness.”

“Yes, I know. I just need to finish up something.”

“Can I help you in any way?”

“No, it's okay. Thank you. I'm just about done.”

“Your father is waiting for you in the dining room. He’s been there since 6:30.”

“OK, I’m coming, give me a minute!”

“Yes, I’m counting every second, Princess!”

Standing in the living area, he rolls his eyes. He loves the little darling but whenever

she says a minute, it usually means five minutes or more. A true princess. He continues, “Your

highness, your father doesn’t have any guest today. You don’t have to change your attire. Your

father specifically said…”

“Give me a minute, please! Rachel’s helping me!”