TAKEN--A Metaphysical Fantasy Audio Drama

DIVIDED: #23 - Watch Your Back

May 06, 2021 V. Morrow Season 2 Episode 23
TAKEN--A Metaphysical Fantasy Audio Drama
DIVIDED: #23 - Watch Your Back
Show Notes Transcript

SET YOUR MIND on things above with TAKEN--A Metaphysical Fantasy Audio Drama. AND NOW the ADVENTURE CONTINUES with DIVIDED--The Days of Peleg.

Bow to the Image! Has the whole world gone mad? Or is there something wrong with a statue that speaks and the giant man who makes the people worship it? Peleg is virtually alone in his misgivings. Meanwhile, all the rest of Shinar follows the mighty hunter Nimrod in building a Tower to reach the gates of heaven and even the Ancient One Himself. Could the mysterious encounters and cruel whispers heard since the Tower Temple's construction lead to something good? To Peleg the matter is simple, find someone who remembers the truth, someone who still hears The Voice—before it's too late. So, Peleg embarks on a journey to learn the secrets his great ancestors Methuselah and Enoch knew. Little does Peleg realize, Enoch—the very one, taken so long ago to a dimension outside space and time—and his son Methuselah are both working just as fervently toward the same goal. With the aid of a wise, old King, the tales from the stones, and the "knowing" that burns, Peleg may be mankind's only hope to stop the darkness descending from the Tower. Never again will a Flood destroy the earth, the Ancient One promised—next time it will be Fire!

Also please check back for upcoming chapters on this Podcast channel. 

 

Remember, “Eye has not seen, nor ear heard, Nor have entered into the heart of man, The things which God has prepared for those who love Him.”  PLEASE share this UPLIFTING READ with your friends and get ready to SOAR. THANK YOU AGAIN FOR LISTENING and MAY THE FAVOR OF THE ANCIENT ONE BE ON YOU.
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Chapter 23 – Watch Your Back.

 

Methuselah’s Time: Location—El Tevah, Seti of Nod, Adamah, First Dimension.

Methuselah checked his satchel while he waited for the rest of the men to catch up. He was prepared to move forward with the plan. He and the Council ironed out the details meticulously just last eve—and he prayed to the Hidden Father about it until he was sure what needed to be done—just like his father Enoch had taught him. 

Still Methuselah felt just the slightest bit paranoid. All day, he just couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched. It is probably just nerves. 

Methuselah shook it off. I must do this no matter how I feel. 

Methuselah waved at the trackers, motioning them to stop and come close. “Timing is important.” Methuselah addressed the men gathered around him as they walked toward the steps of El Tevah and the Queen’s Seat. “Without the element of surprise, we do not stand a chance. We must follow the plan and not get distracted,” continued Methuselah, “or we will surely fail.”

“Aye, we will surprise them all right,” a young tracker said.

This eve, the most elite fighters of the sons of Seth dressed as simple herders and farmers on the pretense of trading goods for the services of the Nephilim. “Meat for power” is the way Semjaza liked to put it. The Nephilim craved live flesh and would willingly barter their strength for it, doing tasks that would normally take humans months in a matter of days.

“We will split up here,” Methuselah said. He directed the eldest tracker and his comrades toward the grazing fields in Nod. “Take the sheep south, the goats north, and the cattle west. “I will take a couple of bulls to Semjaza to show him we’re serious.” Methuselah continued giving orders, “Tiph’arah will stick with me and bring cloth and ointments for Naamah.”

“When you hear the signal,” Methuselah paused and gave five hoots like an owl, “scatter the animals to the north, south, east and west. Pretend you need help to collect them—even offer them a few of the flock as a reward for their assistance.”

“That will keep them busy,” a stout tracker said with a grin. 

The eldest tracker agreed, “If they be eating them, they can’t be eating us.”

The men laughed heartily.

Tiph’arah was unusually quiet.

Methuselah nodded his approval. He knew the men were scared. The fiery Voice burning within him told him so. But it was better to laugh than to admit fear.

“Remember our goal. Draw them away from Naamah, so Tiph’arah has a chance to speak with her alone, and I will deal with Semjaza.”

“Tis’ a bold plan, I will give you that, but will it work?” the eldest tracker asked.

“We have to make it work,” Methuselah said, “for I have sought the One Mind and there is no other way. We must retrieve that garment so Naamah’s influence is broken. As long as the people view her as some sort of goddess with the power of life and death, they will continue to submit to the Elohim and have more Nephilim offspring.”

“Methuselah is right,” Tiph’arah said, speaking for the first time since they had left the Seti of Seth just beyond the Plains of Avenland. “I have to get that garment back—no matter what it takes.” Tiph’arah adjusted her waist pack with her best knives. All I ask of each of you is to just give me a chance—keep the Nephilim and the Watchers away.

•••

 

“You heard the man,” Onami said, giving orders to his troops, “and the woman. Each of us will guard one of Methuselah’s teams. The rest will spread out among the Seti of Nod and create a diversion to draw the Fallen Ones and their Nephilim children away from El Tevah as much as possible.”

“Excuse me sir,” a young sergeant interrupted, “I know the Watchers have lost the ‘sight’ and cannot discern our presence. But what about the Nephilim? Can they see us?”

“I am not sure,” Onami said. “But we will soon find out.”

Delmar appeared seemingly out of nothing. He had meshed inside a nearby tree. “I will go before you and engage the Nephilim to test their sight. Since I can easily camouflage myself, that will give me time to let Captain Onami know, then he can give us a new directive if need be.”

“Excellent thinking.” Onami slapped Delmar on his shoulder. “But I think the Nephilim will be the least of our problems.”

“Why is that?” Delmar asked.

“Look to.” Onami pointing to the sky. “Powers!”

The Powers fell from the sky like shooting stars, leaving a trail of white mist in their wake.

“That,” Delmar said, “is going to change our plans.”

“Not necessarily.” Onami grinned from ear to ear. “Look at what else just fell from the sky.”

Delmar swung around just in time to see a golden chariot descend. The ornate door swung open and out stepped Azam, fully dressed in a suit of weapons—not one spot on his form was free of something that would cause bodily harm.

“Captain.” Onami bowed. “Always a pleasure to see you.”

Delmar also bowed and did a double take. “General Michael, we are honored to greet you as well,” he said, bowing on one knee this time. 

Onami quickly dropped to one knee too. “We await your orders, General.”

“Please rise.” General Michael nodded, taking in the surroundings. He gestured toward Methuselah and Tiph’arah. “Is that the girl who must retrieve the garment?” he asked.

“Indeed, sir,” Onami said. “Her name is Tiph’arah.”

“Very well then,” Michael said, “Remember, you may engage the Fallen Watchers, but you cannot assist her. We will be observing.”

•••

Tiph’arah was the first to reach the steps of El Tevah. Her knees trembled. A knot formed in her belly. She glanced over at Methuselah, who walked beside her. “Are you afraid?” she asked.

Methuselah, stopped in his tracks. “Are you?” he said, truly surprised. “I have never known you to admit fear.”

“I did not say I was afraid.” Tiph’arah paused for the right word. “I am just not as calm as usual.”

“I see.” Methuselah tried to hide his smile. “You should do what I do to remain at peace—pray.”

“But we are already here,” Tiph’arah said. “We do not have time to pray.”

Tiph’arah gazed down at El Tevah. There sat Semjaza and Naamah, looking impressive on two wooden thrones between the pillars. Naamah’s head was crowned with flowers. She held a scepter in her hand. Hundreds of people bowed before her. Semjaza looked smug as the humans brought gift after gift, prostrating themselves for a blessing from the ‘goddess’ and the great ‘son of God’. Twelve Watchers surrounded them. 

Tiph’arah bit her lip. “How will I get around them?”

“We will make time to pray.” Methuselah pulled her into the shadows of the trees and got on his knees. 

Tiph’arah followed suit as Methuselah began to say gracious words to the Hidden Father. His voice was low, but resolute. The words brought tears to her eyes. 

Then, Methuselah reached into his pouch, pulled out the incense, and placed a dab on her forehead. “There,” Methuselah said, “Everything that should be done, has been done. Shall we proceed?”

“Yes.” Tiph’arah placed a hand on her hip, feeling for her dagger. “I am ready.”

Together, they walked down the earthen stairs to the foot of the platform. By the time they made it halfway, a clear path opened, giving Tiph’arah a clear view of Naamah. 

Naamah smirked. “Back so soon, my friend?” she asked, shifting her weight from side to side in her seat.

“Only to pay my respects once more and bring you a small token of my well wishes,” Tiph’arah said. “I brought fine undergarments made from softest skins. They have been soaked in a preparation known to heal every ailment. You would find them most soothing.”

“Indeed,” Naamah said. “How interesting.” Naamah yawned, but her eyes lit up with interest. “Bring them to me,” she said.

“I cannot,” Tiph’arah said. “They are very sensitive and may only be unwrapped in a cool, dry place, out of the elements, or they will lose their vigor.” 

“I see.” Naamah pursed her lips together and said crisply, “And what of your companion? What does he have need of?”

Methuselah spoke for himself. “B’Nai Elohim Semjaza and honored Naamah, I come as Bearer of the Seed and the bringer of glad tidings from the sons of Seth,” Methuselah motioned toward Zin and some of his Nephilim brothers, standing nearby. “We have need of the services of your strong, young ones to build a great structure,” Methuselah said, “and we have brought flocks in exchange.”

“That is most opportune.” Semjaza studied the two bulls Methuselah brought with him, “We do have need of cattle.” 

“Excellent,” Methuselah said, “We have also brought flocks of sheep and goats to exchange for additional labor. But there was no room here to bring them before you. They are grazing in nearby pastures. Shall we go and examine them?”

“Oh Semjaza, do go,” Naamah pleaded, “then we can send the people home for the eve and Tiph’arah can show me the beautiful, healing cloths.”

Semjaza hesitated. “There are flocks of sheep and goats?”

“Yes, just above the ridge there. Come and see,” Methuselah said.

Semjaza hesitated but gazed at Zin and the other young Nephilim again. “I think it is wise we send the people home as well.” Semjaza gave Naamah a knowing look. “Zin and his playmates grow hungry. I will leave Hazazel and a few guards with you until I return.”

“Wonderful!” Naamah almost leaped from her chair. “Let us go inside at once and I will receive your gift there.” 

Tiph’arah followed Naamah. 

Methuselah followed Semjaza.

Tiph’arah nodded to Methuselah, as she left. Soon, she heard five hoots like the owl in the distance. 

So far so good. Tiph’arah knew the trackers would be scattering the flocks. I must act quickly.

“Well, let me see them,” Naamah said as soon as they entered the chamber inside the Seat of Council. 

“Surely, I will,” Tiph’arah said. “You will need to wrap them directly on your skin and then lay your outer garment on top. Shall I assist you?”

“Certainly,” Naamah snapped. “Stand there.” Naamah pointed to the stool next to her. 

Tiph’arah bit back a sharp remark and sat down. This is not the time to put the ‘queen’ in her place.

Naamah turned her back and removed Mother Eve’s garment, but still gripped it tightly in her hand.

Tiph’arah snatched the garment from Naamah.

But not hard enough.

Naamah spun around with surprising strength, still holding on to the garment.

But what Tiph’arah faced was not merely Naamah.

A shadowy feminine form hovered over and through Naamah. It had six arms that continuously reached and grasped at Tiph’arah.

Tiph’arah jumped out of reach and drew her blade. She swiped at one of the arms and missed.

Swizzwhisspah—ha-ha-ha,” laughed the raspy voice. “Nice try monkey girl. But the garment is mine. Naamah is mine.”

“Not so.” Tiph’arah dropped to a crouch while using one leg to swipe Naamah’s feet from underneath. 

Naamah fell back with a shriek. 

Tiph’arah used the distraction to yank on the garment with all her strength. 

She pulled it free.

Tiph’arah turned to run toward the door.

One of the snake arms caught her ankle and toppled her to the floor as well.

Tiph’arah rolled as she dropped to the ground and threw her dagger at one of the snake arms.

It flew straight through it and hit the wall!

“You be a foul spirit!” Tiph’arah shouted.

Just then Semjaza burst through the door.

Methuselah tumbled in after him.

“Naamah!” Semjaza shouted.

Onami ran into the room behind Methuselah and gasped. 

Tiph’arah was on the floor wrestling with a Power! 

Onami shouted, “Serpentine, release the girl. You have no rights here!”

His wings flared out to their full span as he drew his sword on Serpentine.

Semjaza lunged toward Tiph’arah.

Methuselah tackled Semjaza, knocking him to the ground.

“Lord L,” Serpentine hissed, “How dare this underling address me with such sauce! Shall we make him pay?”

The fallen star lord materialized inside the room from nothing, revealing six wings and a sword.

Tiph’arah held onto the garment for dear life and rolled toward Serpentine, wrapping herself inside the tunic during the process. Her arms were bound inside, but the tunic gave her strength and sight from on High. 

She could now see the Wicked One and Serpentine clearly. 

She screamed and used both her legs to kick the snake spirit away.

Serpentine hissed and turned. One of his snake arms reached out and wound itself around Tiph’arah’s throat. She gagged and began turning purple.

Onami blocked blows from the Wicked One, who now set his sights on Tiph’arah.

“You cannot withstand me,” the fallen star lord said with a laugh. He toyed with Onami using playful thrusts from his sword. “The girl will die.”

Just then Azam dropped down through the ceiling, landing in between the Wicked One and Onami. “Let’s make this a fair fight, shall we?”

 Azam and Onami swerved so they stood back-to-back, each one fending off blows from the star lord. 

“Let it be Elohim against Elohim and leave the humans to the humans,” Azam said.

“Fair enough.”  Satan laughed again. “I will dismember any Elohim who stands me first, and then I will destroy the humans last.”

Delmar used the distraction to step out of the wall and slice through the snake star’s arm holding Tiph’arah.

The snake spirit left Naamah to retaliate. Her body collapsed onto the floor like a rag next to Tiph’arah.

Delmar vanished again.

Tiph’arah gasped for air and righted herself. She freed her arms from the garment and was about to put it on when Hazazel entered the room.

“You again!” Hazazel said. “You’re cute, but way too much trouble.” He raised his sword against Tiph’arah. “The garment stays with Naamah.”

Tiph’arah blocked Hazazel’s sword with her dagger, spun underneath his arm and swiped his other sword from his waist.

“Nice work!” Onami said. He thought about what he would do if he were in Tiph’arah’s place and projected his signature toward her.

Tiph’arah responded to his signature and parried Hazazel’s blows using some basic Elohim drills.

Hazazel’s sword circled Tiph’arah, forcing her sword to follow his lead to defend herself. But before he could withdraw and lunge forward with a fatal blow, Tiph’arah hopped onto the table and aimed her sword at his neck. 

Hazazel barely blocked her maneuver in time. He retreated and repositioned himself in a standard defense mode. 

“Come to, now!” Hazazel said. “Have you been taught?” He laughed again, “I renounce my former statement. You may be just my kind of woman.”

Tiph’arah said, “I would rather die!”

Methuselah who had been wrestling with Semjaza the whole time, paused just long enough to yell, “Tiph’arah get the garment!”

Tiph’arah ran toward Naamah, who was crawling toward the garment. 

As Tiph’arah ran, Hazazel took a swing at her. “So, you shall die, my sweet foe.”

Onami spun away from Azam’s back to deflect Hazazel’s blow as Tiph’arah leaped to close the distance between her and Naamah.

Just then, the Wicked One stepped forward and slashed his sword toward Onami’s wings.

“No!” yelled Delmar. He stepped out of the wall and threw himself between Satan and Onami. The jab missed Onami’s wings and landed in Delmar’s chest.

Delmar placed his hand over his heart as he staggered backwards.

Tiph’arah landed on top of Naamah and wrenched the garment from her old friend.

Before Tiph’arah could put the garment on, Naamah grabbed Tiph’arah’s blade from the ground and threw it. 

The blade struck Tiph’arah in the back.

Tiph’arah fell forward.

“Tiph’arah!” Methuselah yelled. Fire spread throughout him. In a burst of strength, Methuselah threw off Semjaza, sending him crashing into the wall.

Onami swung around and caught both Delmar and Tiph’arah before they hit the ground.

Satan laughed. “Good! Two down and three to go.”

Azam stepped in between Onami and Satan and whipped out his scimitar. The two engaged in battle, rising off the ground and upward through the ceiling. 

Onami, tuned out the warfare outside and focused his attention on Hazazel with ferocious intensity.

Methuselah rushed toward Naamah, snatching the garment away so suddenly that she fell out of its folds. 

Naamah grabbed a knife from Methuselah’s waist and tried to stab him. 

But Methuselah gripped Naamah’s hand, holding the knife, and forced it away. 

As Naamah struggled with the knife, she turned and saw Tiph’arah laying on the ground bleeding and gasping for breath. 

Naamah’s eyes grew wide—and soft—tears filled them. Naamah stopped resisting Methuselah. Instead, she grabbed Methuselah’s hand holding the knife and forced it into her chest before he could stop her.

“No!” Methuselah cried, yanking his hand away.

Both Naamah and Tiph’arah were still and silent.

 Onami lunged forward with one strong thrust, giving Hazazel a wounding blow. Hazazel crumpled to the ground.

Onami turned. 

Delmar, Tiph’arah, Naamah were all on the ground. Methuselah hovered over the two women, whispering his strange words.

Onami dropped to his knees. His aura filled the room with intense blue light. “True friend,” Onami placed a hand on Delmar’s heart. “Why did you try to save me?”

Onami started singing a melody unto the Ancient One, allowing healing to flow. He placed his other hand on Tiph’arah’s heart. 

Delmar stopped gasping. His breathing became slow and steady.

Tiph’arah showed no change.

Methuselah knelt beside Tiph’arah and Naamah, sobbing. He pulled the blade from Tiph’arah’s back and placed Mother Eve’s garment around her. He looked at Naamah and would have done something to help her, but it was too late. Her face was already frozen into a mask of fear.

Methuselah sat quietly as the Fire simmered in him. He felt more than his own sorrow. The Voice grieved too—these words burned through his soul: I will miss her so.

 “Beautiful Naamah,” Methuselah said, “you should have changed your mind. You should have brought me a lamb.”

Tiph’arah’s eyelids fluttered at the sound of Methuselah’s voice. She looked at Methuselah and smiled weakly.

“You did it,” Methuselah said gently, holding her hand. “You got the garment back. Now all you must do is get well. That is the easy part, right?”

“I hear music—beautiful singing,” Tiph’arah said.

“Do not try to talk, Tiph’arah,” Methuselah said, “Save your strength. I am going to bring you home to Father Seth—the garment will make you better—I am going to get us out of here—I will get Medici Dinah—I will take you to my mother—she will make you well—just hang on, Tiph’arah.”

Delmar saw Tiph’arah lying next to him and shook his head. “Onami, this must be the will of the Ancient One.”

“Methuselah, can you hear the singing?” Tiph’arah asked. “It is so beautiful.” 

Onami’s smile was bittersweet. “You must transition to Sheol now, brave girl.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “I wish I could have helped you more.” 

Onami place a hand on Methuselah’s shoulder. He kept singing for a while. He could sense the man’s pain and hoped his song would make him feel better.

 “Oh, the melody,” Tiph’arah whispered. “It’s you,” Tiph’arah sighed. Her head fell to the side.

 “It’s you!” Tiph’arah exclaimed. She sat straight up and grinned at Onami. “I have been looking for you. Where be a Watcher when you need one?”

Onami smiled.

“Who is that?” Tiph’arah asked, looking at the golden man next to her. 

“That is Delmar,” Onami said, “He be a Watcher too.” 

“Quick,” shouted Delmar, “behind you!” 

The Wicked One, crashed through the ceiling with Azam right on his tail. He lunged for Tiph’arah and tried to snatch her soul from her body. 

Onami, Delmar and Azam surrounded Tiph’arah instantly.

“Back off, Satan,” Onami said. “You have no orders for this one.”

“No news is good news,” Satan said. “She is mine.” 

Tiph’arah trembled behind the three Guardians as they fought off that Wicked One trying to take her by force.

Methuselah felt heaviness in the room. The Fire saturated him—more strange words and sounds flowed from his mouth. Methuselah prayed and prayed. Finally, something changed in an instant. A peace so serene flooded the room, it dried up all his tears. 

The Beloved stepped into the chamber. 

Intense brilliant light, like a pillar of fire, was everywhere at once.

Satan disappeared in a flash.

“Enough,” said the Mighty One. “You will stand before the Council.”

Onami, Delmar, Azam and Tiph’arah all fell prostrate—terrified.

The Beloved was Fire!

He spoke one more word. “Appear.”

Onami, Delmar, Azam and Tiph’arah vanished in the twinkling of an eye.

Methuselah gazed down at Tiph’arah’s lifeless form, finally wearing Mother Eve’s garment again and smiled. He picked up Tiph’arah’s favorite blade, placed it in her cool hands, and folded her arms across her chest. He smoothed the palm of his hand over her face, closing her eyes.

“Well done, Tiph’arah, well done.”