A heartfelt thanks to my family; Mark, McKenna, Sky, Madeline and Micah—my first guinea pig. Thanks for thinking Mom’s obsession was cool. Undying gratitude to my parents, Lynn and Glenda Vowell, for loving and encouraging me from day one. Thank you to Tawni and Mark, for putting up with your crazy baby sis; to Mrs. Barrett, my literary buddy, for all the time, tea, cake and excellent taste; to the Keefers, Vowells, Gilstraps, Dillahuntys, McClungs and Pannells of my family tree who raised up your kids to live for God.
Thank you to the many writers who inspired me through the years; J.R.R. Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, Gene Stratton Porter, Jane Austen, Catherine Marshall—the list would be unending. You inspired a little girl to dream and a woman to delve deeper.
A special thank you to our family at Real Life Church and our amazing Life Group. Thank you Brenda, Melanie, Tara, Jeanne, Emily, Dennis, Shannon, Lucy, Vicky, Jennifer, Amy, Terri, Gina and so many others who let me run-on about this story. Your encouragement is priceless.
As always, Robert and Andrea; yours is a world without limits. Adam and Michelle, you started down this path ahead of me and encouraged every step of the way. Cory and Vicki, you live outside the box and make it fun. Much appreciation to you, Jeff, for gushing about this idea when it was embryonic. Blessings on you, Janis, editor extraordinaire, for the word “Tolkienesque.” To the crew at Intermedia—Terry, Larry, Yvonne and Johanna—thank you for your expertise and professionalism.
Thanks also to the crew at Starbucks for the green tea, Chai, and office space! You really should be charging me rent.
Delirious, U2, Sting, Cold Play, S.C.C, Foo Fighters, Fleming and John, Mutemath, Switchfoot, John Michael Talbot, Dan and Leland, and so many others, thanks for providing uncomplaining accompaniment and inspiration no matter how early or late.
Special thanks to Pete Greig for his excellent book, Red Moon Rising, that helped me fall in love with prayer. This is just one of the results of that addiction.
Finally, thank you God for making the impossible reality. You were and are the best part of this journey, providing the adrenalin, perseverance, kick in the pants, pat on the head and anything else needed to see this through. You truly are the author and finisher!
C.L.K.
Table of Contents
Copyright
Chapter One—End of an Age
Chapter Two—Rebellion
Chapter Three—A Fresh Start
Chapter Four—Grace
Chapter Five—All Things New
Chapter Six—Begin Again
Chapter Seven—She
Chapter Eight—It Is Good
Chapter Nine—Sabotage
Chapter Ten—Corruption
Chapter Eleven—The Fallen Angel
Chapter Twelve—A Choice
Chapter Thirteen—Pain
Chapter Fourteen—Allies
Chapter Fifteen—Justice and Mercy
Chapter Sixteen—Out of the Womb
Chapter Seventeen—Sacrifice
Chapter Eighteen—Attack
Chapter Nineteen—Family
Chapter Twenty—Birth
Chapter Twenty-one—The Enemy Within
Chapter Twenty-two—Discord
Chapter Twenty-three—Brotherly Blood
Chapter Twenty-four—Mourning
Chapter Twenty-five—Sheatiel
Chapter Twenty-six—Death
Chapter Twenty-seven—Love
Chapter Twenty-eight—Rafe
Chapter Twenty-nine—Auda
Chapter Thirty—Finding Family
Chapter Thirty-One—Full Circle
Chapter Thirty-Two—Second Chance
The Story Behind Rapha Chronicles: The Fall
Study guide
Chapter One
End of an Age
There was a time they were best friends…
a distant memory almost forgotten. Almost.
It would be so much easier if he could forget.
Peace, peace, but there is no peace… Rapha clutches his head in his hands oblivious to the rare trace of fresh air and woodland noises around him, too lost in fractured, tortured memories.
A child’s eyes, wide with fear; a woman’s ripe belly, torn; screams and cries of anguish splitting the darkness of night; innocence lost; purity destroyed; life swallowed in death. And weaving through every image, the sound of cruel laughter—feasting on mankind’s pain.
That face. Rapha squeezes his head but the image burns clearer—a face bathed in shadows as fumes of death cast waves of beauty and horror, eyes of leeching evil. Those eyes suck him into darkness, willing him to join the nightmare.
With all the force of his formidable will Rapha wrenches his thoughts from that realm, forcing his eyes open to light and life. A flower—tiny, bright, thriving no more than a few brave hours—faces the sun’s feeble light. With a need for comfort, Rapha stretches face down, breathing in soil and weakly pulsing life. Although fires burn, smokes of destruction rise and death reigns, here is a patch of green. His fingers grip deep into soft earth as fresh pain rips through him.
Flashing, intelligent eyes; a carefree smile; beautiful hands gesturing with enthusiasm; boyish laughter filtering through a forest glade—ancient memories that bring unbearable torture.
Sobs rumble from the depths of the earth itself, erupting through Rapha’s muscular frame.
“I cannot,” he gasps, wrestling in his mind with an unseen companion. “It’s impossible. He’s gone too far for too long. There’s nothing, nothing pure—he’s made it so….” Rapha’s body writhes like a tortured serpent, with agony greater than he’s ever experienced, threatening to rip his immortal soul from