Desolation is a strange concept by the very standard of its existence. Some people attributed it to the simple concept of violence, wanton destruction with no sense. Chaos that was always unbecoming.

  Elijah had never understood why people were always of the opinion. Desolation, after all, was more than that. It was a grander thing than people in their simple opinions could understand. Desolation was often the thing found at the end of all of humanity.

  It wasn’t just wanton destruction. It wasn’t just chaos. It was more. It was the sweet calm of the end.

  So why am I being treated like a drop of water in a massive sea?

  Elijah was currently seated on a soft cushioned chair. A gamer’s chair to be precise. It had all the natural curves and head rest that gave a very odd sense of comfort. He could wiggle one way or the other and still be comfortable.

  When he’d arrived, someone had asked him if there was anything he would like. He’d asked for a gamer’s chair. And here it was.

  Elijah was one of eight people in the room.

  They sat around a round and large desk. It was made of glass. Not the simple kind used in making the glass tables he was accustomed to out there in the world. No. This one was oddly thin but so very powerful.

  Earlier in the day, he’d walked into the room and had tried his strength on it. It was the new found strength he’d gotten after his elevation to Oath hood. At least he liked to think of it as an elevation.

  Regardless, the point was that the table had not cracked. It had not even buckled under the weight of his exerted force. Suffice it to say, Elijah had been impressed. Even now, as he sat, listening to those older than him at the table, he tapped quietly against the glass. A single index finger tapped against a single spot. So far, he had counted sixteen taps.

  Elijah Olsen was bored, and slightly peeved.

  But he’d spoken to the Oath of Inevitability not long after he’d become an Oath himself. The man had been a voice of reason, educating him slightly and slowly.

  “Your Oath will make you feel more important than you are,” he had said. “It is normal. You are not.”

  Elijah hadn’t felt unimportant until a few days ago when he’d seen the notification on his interface telling him that somebody somewhere had claimed the world for their own when he'd still been considering the notification that asked if he wanted to become an Oath.

  Now, he felt even less important with the people in front of him talking as if he wasn’t even present.

  The strength of the table against its density was not the only thing that stood out about it. Unlike most tables, it did not have legs. Simply a circle of glass hovering over the ground. It was probably ten feet in diameter, maybe fifteen. And at its center there was a large space, as if designed to place a single person to stand judgement.

  Or to lord over all of them.

  At the center of that space was the old man who had come in unknown to almost everyone in the room. He stood there, hands casually settled on his staff. Older men with unhealthy levels of power always had some form of casual grace to them. Garbed in a simple robe of green and black, he could’ve been mistaken for someone playing pretend as a member of the murim from the stories Elijah liked to read.

  This man’s visage was audacious. He looked at all the Oaths present like a grandfather looking at his children and judging if they had grown well or not.

  As for the rest of the office, Elijah could only describe it as empty. Wholly so. As spacious and wide as it was, the Oaths within it were the only people in the room. It gave it an odd visage, like the one you got when you saw a meeting at the Pentagon Underground facility in movies that liked to portray a country as more technologically advanced than it was.

  When the meeting began, the Oaths had all walked in through the same door, one at a time, and had taken their seats. There had been an order to how it had gone that had told Elijah that this gathering had happened often.

  With fifteen chairs to their eight persons, he couldn’t help but feel like there were people who were supposed to be present that were not present.

  “Can we hurry this along,” the old man said with a sigh, looking at those seated at the table. “Ask me the questions so that I, too, can take a seat. I am old and my bones are weary.”

  None of the Oaths spoke. As for Inevitability, he sat back, watching the man like a prodigy in mathematics would watch an equation that left them discombobulated.

  His elbow was propped up on the armrest of his simple office styled swivel chair and his cheek rested on the back of his hand. There was no one present that did not know that the man was thinking. The problem was that he had been thinking for over thirty minutes, and the others had been more than happy to let him think.

  The old man took another moment to look at everybody before letting out another sigh.

  “If you are in no hurry to start, how about I start?” he asked.

  No one responded, each Oath trying to make sense of him in their own way except one. At least one Oath and one woman. Elijah could tell that the woman that sat next to the Oath of Madness was not an Oath. She did not give off the sensation he got from other Oaths.

  The problem, however, was that she gave off a sensation. He just couldn’t put his finger on it.

  The man settled his attention on the Oath of Inevitability. “Inevitability?”

  Inevitability shrugged.

  He was a dark-skinned man with short hair. He sported a simple beard and spoke with an African accent and oddly grey eyes. There was a curiosity to if his eyes had grown grey from his Oath or if they just were.

  Elijah didn’t know much about African countries and how they all spoke. If he was to be asked, however, it sounded like a variation of the different accents he’d heard since stepping into the country.

  Say what people may about the country of Nigeria, the one thing Elijah could appreciate was how diverse it was. You could hear the touch of similarity in all of them, but there was also that blatant diversity. It seemed to declare that they were all similar, but they were not the same. They were like people who had grown up together but were not related by blood.

  “Since your leader has given me leave to speak…”

  “Not our leader,” a man to the side said. He looked Scottish, freckled and red haired. Stark green eyes looked at the old man. “We allow him do certain things because he has proven more malleable than the rest of us.”

  If Elijah was not mistaken, the man had introduced himself as the Oath of Pain. Unsurprisingly, he looked like he was in constant pain. He also looked like someone who had been in enough pain for long enough that it had become a part of his life. It had left him with a hard face.

  “And you allow him these privileges,” the old man said with a soft smile. “You have ultimately given him the privilege of a leader, Callum.”

  A frown so deep marred the Oath of Pain’s face that it was a surprise how it hadn’t morphed into something terrifying.

  “Who gave you my name?” he demanded with a spark of anger. Strangely enough, besides the frown on his face, the only other sign of his anger was in his balled up fist. “Speak now or your Life will not spare you.”

  He said the word ‘Life’ as if he addressed the old man’s Oath and not his actual life.

  The old man’s smile did not slip from his lips. “I’ve missed this,” he said with a chuckle. “Dealing with Oaths who continue to have problems with their Oaths. A word of advice, Pain. You are pain, not the embodiment of it.”

  And just like that, he turned away from the Oath as if the man was dismissed. For all his arrogance that seemed designed to make him seem more than the rest of them, the old man still wore the arrogance of an Oath like a mantle.

  Pain’s anger seemed to grow at being dismissed until the woman beside him placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “Leave him be, Pain,” she said, voice soft and gentle, almost sing song. It was easy to imagine her hitting the highest notes. “He will eventually come to understand.”

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Elijah watched the old man’s attention twitch slightly at the woman’s words. The woman was the Oath of Grace.

  “I understand that my presence is a bit… worrying,” he continued. “But I assure you that it is necessary. If the [August Intruder] has arrived, it is more necessary than you know.”

  That got the attention of all the Oaths present.

  The woman who was not an Oath, leaned forward. She was a tall woman by Elijah’s standard, taller than all the women he had ever met. There was an Amazonian look to her. Toned muscles that were not bulky. She exuded power in a strange way. More confusing, however, was her soft face. Motherly, was the word Elijah would’ve used to describe it. Green eyes focused on the old man.

  “What do you know about the [August Intruder], Life?” she asked with a specificity to her voice.

  The old man’s attention swiveled to her. He turned with a slight flourish, like an old man showing his children that he was still strong and agile. “Maybe as much as you know about me.” He paused, thought about it, then shook his head. “Nope, more than the others know about me.” Then a small look of amusement crossed his face, and he took a step in the woman’s direction. “You are an interesting anomaly.”

  The woman cocked a brow at him. “Interesting?”

  “Very much so,” the man nodded. “In all my life and all my archives, I have never heard of someone like you.” He leaned forward, studied her as if reading something written in fine print. “I have never heard the likes of what happened to you. Out of simple curiosity, was it a result of your nature as a mother?”

  The woman met his gaze undaunted. Of everybody in the room she was the only one who didn’t seem impressed or confused by the man’s presence. It would’ve made her seem like the most impressive person present if the man beside her was not currently playing with two pens on the table. He kept flicking one into the other, making what seemed like a combat sport out of it.

  When the woman did not respond, the old man turned to the man and looked down at the pen.

  “Do you mind if I join you, Madness?” he asked, speaking in a soothing voice, as if making a request of a child.

  Madness was a large man with a face that said nothing in the world was interesting. Those were the two features that stood out about him. He was probably too large and too uninterested. If Elijah was a gambling man, he would’ve placed all his money on Madness’ response being ignorance for the man. After all, he ignored everybody, and everybody allowed him ignore them.

  Madness raised his head from his pens and looked at the man. “Speak to the woman that agreed to marry me.”

  The lady beside him blushed and the old man chuckled.

  “Madness,” he said. “The same in every recreation.” He returned his attention to the woman. “And so, I return to you.”

  The woman nodded sagely. “The next time you try talking to my husband without reason, I’ll beat you to an inch of your life.”

  The old man cocked his head to the side, amused. “Not to death?”

  “You and I both know you don’t work that way.” She gave him a feral grin, a worrying grin. “So, I’ll beat you to an inch of your life and see if we can make two people share the Oath of Pain.”

  There was a moment of silence after her words. Her husband cared nothing for it, at least he didn’t look like he did. His pens were his only interest.

  Eventually, the old man said. “You know far too much for someone of this time period. And you shouldn’t. That interests me.”

  “And for a man so old, you talk too much,” the woman returned. “Is it an Oath thing?”

  The old man chuckled, stepping away from her and back to the center of the room. “When you have lived as long as I have, you learn that it is fun to embrace the beauties of life.” He held his arms out to his side. “You dispense with pretense and just live.”

  Everyone continued to watch the exchange. Inevitability was now beginning to look like a chess prodigy who now understood what was happening with the game in front of him.

  The woman, however, changed her expression. She went from a feral grin to a knowing smile.

  She tapped a finger to her cheek in obvious pretense at thought. “Perhaps it comes with your position.”

  The grandfatherly smile on the old man’s face slipped a little. It wasn’t worry that tried to usurp it but surprise.

  “Position?” he asked.

  “Does Salem know you are here?”

  This time, the man staggered, reeling back as if physically struck. It took him a moment to recover himself, but everyone had seen the reaction. Everyone now knew that the woman knew things about the man. She wasn’t just calling his bluff.

  After regaining his composure, he said, “It is good to know that there exists an Oath with better information gathering skills than the old Oaths. I should keep an eye on you.”

  After that, he turned to Inevitability.

  “I am now at your service.”

  “What is Salem?” Inevitability asked.

  “A friend?” the old man said, as if passing off a lie he knew would be difficult to believe.

  The woman raised a brow but said nothing.

  Melchizedek. That was what the man had called himself when he’d arrived. Elijah had known the name was familiar somehow. With the addition of Salem, it was all coming together. His years in Sunday school were finally paying off.

  Actually, Elijah hadn’t learnt much in Sunday school. He was never a serious student. The knowledge he had now was not from Sunday school but from his time in the seminary.

  “The king of peace,” he said in a low voice, the pictures coming together.

  The old man turned to him with a flourish. “They don’t teach that anymore. Not really.”

  “You are a priest,” Elijah said.

  “That was my class,” the man said, as if correcting a child that had slightly missed their mark when answering a question. “Happily, accepted, might I add.”

  “And what does the arrival of the [August Intruder] have to do with a priest?” the woman, Grace, asked. Her voice was gentle, tone curious.

  “Let’s focus on something else, for now,” the man said. “Something more interesting.”

  “No.”

  It was a single word that did not come from Grace, delivered precisely. Somehow, it was as if the word being uttered had been timed precisely, inevitable. It was no surprise to know that it had come from Inevitability.

  “The leader speaks,” the old man said, smiling. “But we must focus on—”

  “Why has a priest come at the arrival of the [August Intruder]?” Inevitability echoed Grace’s question.

  “We are focusing on the wrong thing,” the Oath of Life said. “The question is why has the Oath of Life arrived?”

  “An age-old priest from an age-old myth coming at the arrival of a seemingly prophesied special being seems to make more sense,” the Oath of Shield said. “I find myself more curious of that. Priests and prophecies have always tended to come hand in hand.”

  Elijah hadn’t known her for long but he already knew that she had a habit of following in Inevitability’s footsteps. He could also tell that she was very wary of the man who was surprisingly still playing with pens.

  “Melchizedek,” Fear said, drawing everyone’s attention to her. “A priest of El Elyon who met Abraham when Abraham was coming back from defeating the kings.” She was reading from her smartphone. “He blessed Abraham and Abraham gave him a tenth of everything he owned.”

  “Had,” the old man said, correcting her. "Everything he had."

  “So you met Abraham,” Inevitability said. “You are that old. A walking fossil, so to speak.”

  The old man shrugged. “Abraham was an interesting enough man.”

  “And you blessed him.”

  “I am a priest, after all.”

  The man playing with his pen, the Oath of Madness, paused suddenly. He looked up at the old man for a moment, then went back to playing with his pen. His wife placed a gentle hand on his massive shoulder and rubbed it as if soothing a child.

  Elijah came to a single conclusion. This was a group of weird people.

  “Can you bless us, too?” Fear asked. For someone whose Oath was fear, she looked and sounded anything but scared.

  “Everyone is deserving of a blessing or two in their own way, child,” the old man answered. “But that does not mean that we will all be blessed.”

  “So you won’t bless us?” she asked.

  The man shook his head. “Not today.”

  “Who is the [August Intruder]?” Inevitability asked, taking over the conversation.

  “The person to save us all,” the old man answered in an almost prophetic tone.

  Shield was quick to object. “I don’t believe in the concept of a messiah.”

  “That is because the word has taken up something of a spiritual connotation, but I assure you that it wasn’t always this way. A man who gives you money when you need it the most is a small messiah.”

  “A man who shoots you in the leg to stop a mob from taking your life is a messiah,” Elijah offered.

  “In his own way, yes,” the old man confirmed.

  “We all know that the [August Intruder] brings the apocalypse. Why?” Inevitability asked.

  Elijah paused. The apocalypse? What apocalypse? He knew of the [August Intruder] but only from what his interface had told him, which was nothing but the title.

  “That is a question that has confounded so many Oaths for so many years,” the old man said. “We all wish we knew why.”

  The wife to the Oath of Madness sighed. “It happens because their very presence brings a certain level of attention to the world.”

  Pain looked at her as if he was looking at a childhood nemesis. “How do you know this?” His voice came out a little strained, like a man in pain.

  The woman thumbed over to Madness. “You act like you don’t know my husband has met the [August Intruder].”

  Elijah still didn’t understand why the other Oaths had allowed the Oath of Madness’ wife to be present. Isn’t this a meeting for only Oaths?

  And more importantly, why were they happy to let her speak only on his behalf. It was almost as if the Oath of Madness wasn’t even around.

  “Since you have met this [August Intruder],” Pain bit out, clipping the words as if angry. “Where is the person?”

  “Living a happy life,” she answered with a smug look.

  Pain moved, rising halfway up from his seat before being stopped by Grace’s hand. But while Grace’s hand had stopped him, it was the second time Elijah was seeing Madness stop his game of pens without being addressed. The Oath had his eyes firmly fixed on the Oath of Pain.

  It was a sign that even in his perfect distraction he was paying attention.

  You are an Oath, too, Elijah told himself suddenly. He wasn’t just an Oath, he was a person of worth. A Gifted. He had a place here. He belonged here.

  So if an old man came from nowhere to cause trouble, he owed it to everyone to help figure out his purpose here.

  What else did he know about the priest Melchizedek? If there was a time when his years in the seminary could help him it was now.

  Think, Elijah. Think.

  As mystical and magical as the world was, immortality was still an unaccepted concept. That the other Oaths were simply accepting the man’s presence as long lived because of what his Oath was didn’t mean the man was truly long lived. For all they knew, the man could be lying about his age.

  He was probably just playing into his mystery. People lied. It was nothing new. Besides, the story of Melchizedek was already questionable enough. A man without genealogy? No father or mother? There were too many questions there.

  Then there was Madness’ wife. Her total disregard for the man. If he was really as old as he claimed to be, then she would not know enough about him to startle him the way she had been startling him.

  Pain had returned to his seat and Madness to his game of pens. The old man who claimed to be Melchizedek watched them with a look of nostalgia. Inevitability still looked calculating while Fear scrolled through her phone looking for what no one knew.

  A slight chuckle left the old man’s lips as Elijah continued thinking about what he could do to help, to stand out.

  Shield addressed the old man. “What’s funny?” she asked.

  The man shook his head, still chuckling. “It’s nothing important. It’s just… when I met Abram, he was a certain type of way. Personally, I think he would’ve liked you.”

  For the fourth time, without being addressed, Madness stopped playing with his pens. Once again, he stopped and looked up at the old man.

  As if suddenly remembering something, the old man turned and looked at him.

  Something had just happened.

  Whatever it was, Elijah found himself unable to understand it.