The evening wind blew gently across the hill as Luther and John still sat in the grass. The sunset color was fading into dusk, and the world was bathed in shades of purple and dark orange. They were through with training, their bodies tired, but their minds sharper than ever.
John brushed a bit of dirt from his knees and sat back on his hands.
"You see,
Luther…
when I read that book,
I felt like I was cradling the very soul of our ancestors in my arms.
Every page contained the voices of warriors hundreds of years ago. It was like they were watching me, challenging me."
Luther tilted his head to one side.
"Challenging you?
How?"
John's eyes darkened. "The book is not just a record. It answers. When I first came into contact with it, the pages shimmered with strange symbols.
The writing shifted, like a living thing, and a voice whispered…..
ordering me to become strong enough to carry the breath of our line."
