Enoch's Ghost - By Bryan Davis


For every child who fears the darkness, for every father who plunges into the darkness in search of the lost, and for every hero or heroine who carries a flaming beacon that dispels the shadows this story is for you.


Enoch’s Ghost is the second book in the Oracles of Fire series. It is a sequel to the Dragons in our Midst (DIOM) series and picks up the story where Eye of the Oracle and Tears of a Dragon ended.

Here is how the stories line up in chronological order. The Oracles of Fire series is boldfaced.

Readers who have not delved into Dragons in our Midst or Eye of the Oracle will have no trouble understanding and enjoying Enoch’s Ghost if they read the recap at the end of this book first. This story extends earlier adventures that will lead readers into a multidimensional land, a fascinating journey guided by the Oracles of Fire.


To my best friend and biggest fan of all, Susie. Hearing you read my book out loud is one of the blessings of life. With every breath from your lips, you bring life and love to my words and remind me that God has blessed this effort. You are a treasure.

To my AMG family: Dan Penwell, Warren Baker, Rick Steele, Dale Anderson, Trevor Overcash, Joe Suter, and all the staff: even if I were to thank you a million times, it wouldn’t be enough.

As always, I thank God for his Amazing Grace. I once was lost but now am found, was blind, but now I see.

Last, but certainly not least, I thank my departed father for his role in inspiring me to include a powerful theme in this book. Even as he lay on his deathbed, his feeble yet deeply meaningful words ignited an amazing string of miracles. Now I know the meaning behind the twelve people, the ten faithless wanderers, and the two precious copper coins.


When fathers, sons, and daughters part,

When hearts are cut and hewn,

No solace can replace the love

No song can bind the wound.

For blood that spills from shredded hearts

Can never be restored

When love is lost, when trust is torn,

When shattered faith is poured.

Will pride forever break the bond

Of love that spawned a birth?

Will memories of death be lost

When life sprouts new from earth?

O what will soothe betrayal’s pain

And what will smooth the scar?

Can sacrificial blood rain down

The healing from afar?

A witness goes to spy the land

With nine more flaunting pride,

But giants seize their quaking hearts,

And faith is cast aside.

Yet two bear witness to the truth;

They trust in God afresh

To catch their souls and take them home

Should giants slay their flesh.

These giants born of demons’ seed

Will cast a net to snare

The holy city high above

And snatch it from the air.

O who will stand within the gap,

And who will sacrifice?

O who will bleed for love alone,

And who will pay the price?

A widow lays her copper coins,

Two mites, her treasure store,

While hypocrites parade their gifts,

Mere sweepings from their floor.

The humble gift restores anew

The hope when life began,

When fathers, sons, and daughters clasp

Their hands of love again.

But will the daughters take the gift

Of coppers from the king,

The wounds that pour his saving blood

To heal the family ring?


The great dragon’s eyes glowed with bloodred luminescence, and his voice rumbled like distant thunder. “Mardon, the time is short. When will the giants awaken to bring about our final victory?”

“Soon, very soon.” Standing on the edge of a precipice, Mardon held a shining rope of gold, as taut as a harp string and almost as slender. It stretched across a chasm that lay before him, the canyon path of a magma river far below. A mere stone’s throw away, a nebulous figure held to the golden line from another precipice, too far to detect any features of form or face. The barest of glows emanated from the slow-moving river, casting reddish light and illuminating the rutted walls and jagged ceiling of their underground cavern.

“Sapphira’s latest use of her power,” Mardon continued, “has allowed me to draw Earth and Hades so close, only a mere thread of dimensional space separates them. A few more pulls should bind them as one. Even then, I cannot guess how perfectly the two dimensions will combine. The dead souls should eventually become as they were when they were alive, but we might have to wait for the merged realms to reach a state of equilibrium before everything settles.” He strained against the line again, letting out an almost inaudible grunt. “That’s why the synchronization has to

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