abundant, but something else was added—a presence of grandeur, a bigness that towered over him … no, that enveloped him, embracing arms so huge their owner had to be ten times the size of the Nephilim of old. What was it? Pure otherness? A being incomparable? Now barely able to move, Timothy pulled off his shoes and socks and laid them on the ground. This was the answer to the mystery. This path to Heaven was surely holy ground.
Finally, he bumped into something, a flexible wall of some kind that gave a little, then pushed back. He halted and felt the barrier, smooth and tactile, like a rubber membrane.
Gritting his teeth, he turned to face it and called out, “Is the Oracle of Fire here?”
“I am here,” a female voice replied. The voice seemed light and happy, like a songbird in springtime.
“I have come at the bidding of Abraham to ask about Enoch’s hymn, the prophecy concerning this land.”
“You have done well to come. I have been waiting for you.”
Timothy pointed at himself. “Does that mean I am the man in the prophecy?”
“You are,” came the gentle reply.
“What must I do?”
“Gaze into the oracle. I will reveal the truths you will need in order to bring about what God has planned for this world.”
Timothy grimaced. How could he possibly remove the shield and open his eyes? The light would burn the balls right out of their sockets!
His companion nestled closer to his ear. You have come this far. Will you turn back now? Will you return to Abraham and Angel without an answer?
He shook his head. You’re right. I’d feel like a fool for the rest of my life. Slowly unzipping his jacket, he slid it down to his shoulders. Fresh, sweet-smelling air wafted across his skin. Then, bracing himself, he opened his eyes.
Instead of scorching pain, the glorious light bathed his eyes with comfort. The wall ahead of him looked like pure crystal, a flexible diamond that undulated as though a breeze played across its surface. Just beyond it, a girl stood in a hooded cloak of royal blue, opened at the front to reveal a brilliant white gown. She lowered her hood, allowing her long snowy hair to flow in the heavenly wind.
Timothy’s jaw slackened. Those eyes! Such sparkling blue eyes! The most perfect pair of sapphires in the entire world, gleaming in the radiance of her abode, appearing to laugh as she smiled.
“You seem surprised, Timothy Autarkeia.”
“I … uh …” He forced his jaw closed and licked his lips. “I am surprised. I did not expect to see an angel, especially one who knows my name.”
“And your former name, Makaidos, king of the dragons. Our heavenly father knows all your names, and he loves you whether you are in dragon or human form.”
The wind that played on her hair pushed toward him, kissing his cheeks and warming his body from head to toe. Heat rushed into his ears. Tears flooded his eyes. Swallowing hard, he tried to speak, but his breath seemed sucked away. “I’m … not worthy. I’m only …” He couldn’t go on. He just dropped to his knees and wept. As his body heaved, his companion caressed his cheek, whispering, God is love …God is love.
After a moment or two, he gazed at the lovely girl again. Staying on his knees and taking in a deep draught of the gentle wind, his throat loosened and strength flowed through every muscle. “I have been anointed by your holy breath, and the touch has invigorated me.”
“It is not my breath,” she said. “It is God’s breath, his empowering inspiration. Our father has endowed you with the ability to carry out a task that would otherwise be impossible. He finds pleasure in using mortal vessels to bring about eternal purposes.”
Timothy wrung his hands together, trembling. “What must I do now?”
“The prophecy mentions two hearts—your two daughters.” She spread her arm toward a scene behind her. “Gaze upon them now and restore your memory.”
The wind stiffened, ruffling his hair and warping the crystal barrier. Thinning out like a diffusing mist, the lovely oracle faded away. Gray skies replaced the darker backdrop, framing the head and neck of a tawny dragon in midflight.
“I see only an odd imprint every once in a while,” the dragon said, “as if someone has intentionally scarred the ground.”
A voice called out from somewhere unseen. “Follow it, Roxil!”
Timothy snatched a gulp of air. “Roxil!”
The dragon extended its wings and flew just above the treetops.