fiery rings all around her body. The rings stroked her arms, like the baking rays of the sun in the upper lands, chasing away every chill. In the pool reflection, her skin blazed with fire, flames leaping from her face and hands, as though the halos had kindled an unworldly power within.
Some of the rings passed over the water, sending ripples across the pool that deepened with every stroke of the caressing red light. Soon the water seemed to dance, thousands of droplets jumping high and falling back to the pool like silvery baitfish fleeing a predator. A swirling breeze buffeted the flying waters, sending a spray across Sapphira, sprinkling her hot cheeks with soothing coolness.
She gazed at the sight in wonder, inhaling deep draughts of the fresh, cool air. As the droplets grew and began to coat her face, she spread out her arms, the Ovulum still pulsating in her hand as she whispered into the breeze. “Let the rain fall, Elohim. Let me drown and join all the others. I am Mara, a worthless slave, and I deserve to die.”
The rain dampened her hair and trickled down her forehead. The Ovulum’s warmth radiated through her arm, and as the heat approached her body, the sound of singing drew near, a man’s voice that seemed to travel along with the warm sensation. The voice crooned in her ear.
“Sapphira Adi,” it sang softly. “You are a precious gem. You are loved more than you will ever know. Bask in the warmth of Elohim’s love. Feel his pleasure in the coolness of his soothing rain, for this is not the rain of floods and destruction; it is living water that will heal your heart.”
Sapphira trembled. Tears flowed down her cheeks. “Who . . . who are you?”
With the cadence of a herald’s proclamation, the voice resonated in the cavern. “I am the Eye of the Oracle, the prophet who first told of the great flood. I am Elohim’s bard, the singer who foretells blessings and curses upon generations to come. And now I have a song for you.”
Sapphira swallowed hard, barely able to speak. “A song of blessing?” Her lips trembled. “Or a curse?”
A gentle laugh flowed through her mind, then a whisper. “Listen to the words of Elohim . . . and believe.” The voice sang again, this time in a beautiful tenor.
In days gone by the water fell
And draped the world in silent death;
A rain of judgment drowned the earth
Demanding life and snatching breath.
But now the raindrops fall afresh
On hearts rejecting hate and sin,
In blessings crowned with love and grace
To heal the wounds of soul and skin.
The one who loves is Elohim,
Rejoicing now in song and dance;
I shout for you to come and play,
Enjoying love, the great romance.
So dance, my child, and feel my love
In rain, the healing drops of life.
Forsake your cares, your toils and pain,
The wounds and scars of slavish strife.
O cast aside the chains of grief
And reach for heaven’s grace above;
Sapphira Adi, dance with me!
Enfold yourself in arms of love.
As the song died away, the rain began pouring down, drenching her hair and clothes. The coolness penetrated her skin and seemed to wash away every sorrow, every pain, every image of slavery that tortured her mind. She peeked at her shoulder, now exposed as the water weighed down her dress. The wound had vanished without a trace. Cool drops of tingling water trickled over her cheek. She touched the spot where the wound had festered, now soft and smooth, and pain free.
Clutching the Ovulum tightly, she lifted her arms and laughed, allowing the swirling breeze to catch her body and spin her in a slow pirouette. Lights twinkled through the prismatic mist, spraying her with a dazzling splash of rainbow colors. She closed her eyes and felt loving arms taking her into a tender embrace, and she returned the favor, hugging her image of Elohim, the God of love. As the bard’s song returned, repeating each phrase amidst the sounds of tumbling waters, she drank in every word, allowing her body to flow with the leading of her gentle lover.
And Sapphira Adi danced.
BOOK 2: TRANSFORMATION
Chapter 1
A NEW BEGINNING
But we all, with open face beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord, are changed into the same image from glory to glory, even as by the Spirit of the Lord. (2 Corinthians 3:18)
Circa AD 62
Makaidos flew high over the parched valley, buoyed by a hot, arid updraft. Sunshine energized every muscle and sharpened his vision.