I don’t think anyone lived through it. We slowly moved away from the wreckage and fire, because our bodies were destroyed, of course. One little child was still clinging to his body. There was not enough left of it for him to live in it again, and I helped him let go. A violent explosion consumed what was left of the plane. Nothing remained. I remember cars, and a truck or two, so maybe there was a road and some traffic there.
As we wandered away from the wreckage and out into a pasture, grazing cows stared at us from higher ground in the distance. Or at the fire, really, I doubt they saw us.
I noticed a man walking among the people, a head taller than anyone else, and as bright as the fire we had just left. He spoke to each one, and touched them, carefully and only once, as though he were conveying something specific. He wore a simple robe, and a quiet, almost hidden power was in him. A power you could trust, I thought, not a power to fear.
He looked at me, with eyes as deep blue as the evening sky just before the stars leap out, and a smile that would not be refused. His hand paused just before it reached me, as though it were only an offer, not yet quite given, a gift that needed acceptance. I found myself leaning into his touch, and in an instant peace flooded my heart. I relaxed and took a deep, deep breath.
He touched the last one standing there and turned toward the crowd that now was entirely focused on his face. He ignored the gathering cars, the fire engines, the billowing inferno, the sirens.
A thousand questions threw themselves into my mind. Where? Come where? After all the talk about life after death, after years of wondering and study and speculation and argument and chosen belief, I found myself with no answers at all. What was about to happen? Where was he taking us? Who was he, really?
“Come,” he said, and there was no doing otherwise. We came.
An excerpt from the Prologue of The Cords of Orion, Book 1: The Dominant Arise