I remember when I was learning about the Fallen from Orison, I didn’t think much about Disasters. He described them as small creatures whose power is to use objects from nature to cause trouble. At the time I did not think that they rated their name.
I was wrong. Everything is interconnected in this wonderful, maddening world that our Father created, and hatred when used with cunning is always dangerous.
Thankfully I was with Freya this evening—she had something of a stressful day at work, and I was with her as she drove home, helping her to calm down. It was a fine evening, cool and golden with a soft breeze blowing. Freya was just reaching out to turn on the radio when there was the shrieking of brakes ahead of us, and the car in front of Freya suddenly loomed large in her view.
Somehow, though my heart was frozen in terror, I managed to get my hands on the steering wheel and wrench Freya’s car out of the path of danger. It was only a two-lane road, however, and another car was coming on. Freya slammed her foot onto the brake and her hand onto the horn at the same moment. I vividly remember that long instant where her face was suddenly brilliant with light—she squeezed her eyes shut, and I threw myself in front of her, as if that would do any good.
But the other driver also wrenched out of the way, with greater consequences—their car tumbled into the ditch alongside the road, turning over and landing with a heavy crash on its back.
And then there was silence.
I could feel Freya’s life like a flame at my back—she was unharmed, and though upset and shaken, she retained enough self-possession to immediately grab her phone and call emergency services. I was not so fortunate. I could only stand motionless, staring down at the car, at the stillness inside it. My heart was full of needles, and once again it was as if I stood helpless at the scene of Shannon’s death.
It wasn’t precisely the same, of course. The driver of the other car was a stranger to me, and they were not killed. The EMTs who arrived a few minutes later removed a young man from the car, and while he was badly injured, Brid assures me that he will make a full recovery.
It could have so easily have been different, though. If he had not been so quick to turn away, he and Freya would have hit one another head-on, and both of them could have been killed. I would have been unable to do anything to help.
And how did all this come about? It happened because the car in front of Freya slammed on its brakes when a broken branch fell onto it. And according to Orison, that was no accident. The branch was healthy and strong, and the wind would never have been able to knock it down. Orison and Ophell are even now trying to track the creature, but they were not optimistic. Such a small creature will not leave much of a trail.
This was an attack. Yet another incident caused by the Fallen, which no doubt can be traced back to Asoharith, and thus to me.
Is this really my fault? Could it be that through the hate of this one enemy, I have become a curse on those whom I love? Is it only a matter of time before being close to me will bring Freya to ruin, too?
Maybe it isn’t Asoharith. After all, Shannon died long before she set her sights on me, and I couldn’t save her. Maybe it’s just me.
No, that is the fear talking. I can and will protect my people from this. I will bring an end to this peril, one way or another.