The Academy

A boy applies for a prestigious academy to fulfill his sense of destiny. We later find out who his people are, and what it really means to be victorious at the academy.

THE ACADEMY

By

Ryan Joseph Coombes

    Ezekiel sat restlessly at his desk, longing for the lesson to be over as the teacher stood in front of the room, blabbing endlessly in another language. The words buzzed through his ears like static from a station he was not tuned to.
     Ezekiel’s frequency was instead tuned to the Pamalona station"a girl he had been admiring for some time now, who sat just three desks away from his in front of the window, giving him the perfect view of solar light shining through her long curly golden hair. They hadn’t ever spoken, and Ezekiel feared that she was into a man of higher caliber. A man of courage, heart, strength, and gusto. A man like Variel.
     Variel sat just behind Ezekiel, with broad towering shoulders and crimson red hair that hung to his cheeks in a wavy yet sophisticated manner.
     Variel had been ranked second in the last cycle’s championship at, The Academy. He was only one spot away from achieving total victory, and was the heartthrob of every girl and the envy of every guy in school.
     None other had come close, and since there could only be one champion every cycle, he promised to all that this cycle the title would be his for certain.
     Only a select few had ever even applied for The Academy, for it was extremely dangerous and almost taboo among the simplest of folks. Some say that it was quite possibly the biggest risk one could take in their life, and there were numerous rumors and horror stories spread about of those who had fallen, failed, and never made it back.
     Variel was the only one in their entire school who had ever applied, let alone been accepted and come as close as he did. Though he fell just short of victory, there still wasn’t a single man or woman known among them who stood a single chance at besting him.

     Ezekiel continued staring on at Pamalona, whom he prayed had not yet noticed, and the bell suddenly rang as the teacher dismissed the class. As he collected his things into his satchel, Variel walked by his desk, bumping his scroll to the ground and the ink from his quill holder spilled all over his lap.
     “Well look at this.” Variel announced pompously to the class as he held up Ezekiel’s scroll, bearing a drawing of Pamalona.
     The rest of the class giggled mildly as Variel bent down to whisper in Ezekiel’s ear.
     “I shall have you know that you needn’t waste anymore fantasy upon Pamalona. I’ve chosen her for my own, and when I reign champion from this cycle’s Academy and return from mastering my mission, I shall have her for my wife.”
     Ezekiel sat in a state of awkward shame as the rest of the class exited the room, cleaning off the ink from his satin white robe with a silk scarf his mother had given him.

     He walked mindfully down the hall, his eyes glued to the floor, his hands burrowed into his pockets. He half believed that what Variel said was true, and he woefully succumbed to the idea that hearts such as Pamalona’s belonged only in the arms of true champions, of which he was most certainly not.
     As he continued walking he heard a voice bellowing loudly through the halls, and looked up to see a large man standing in front of a small table, preaching to the students as they passed by him, pretending not to notice. He wore a dark green robe trimmed with golden embroidering and had a long silver sword fastened to his waste, buried in a shining polished sheath that bore a dragon emblem upon it. Long thick brown hair curled around his ears and dangled to his broad and busty shoulders. His face looked as if chiseled from stone and bore an expression of great duty and conviction.
     “Come, all who feel called to a higher destiny. Come all who wish to endure the most sacred and powerful experience imaginable. Apply for the Academy and evolve the state of your life eternally. Ascend, transform, and serve in the greatest, most honorable way of all!”
     The man’s words rang deeply within Ezekiel, and in that moment he felt crazy enough to believe that all the mundane, inferior worries of his life could be solved with just one act.

     “Hello there, brilliant young soul.” The man said as Ezekiel walked over towards the table.
     “Do you feel you’ve got what it takes to answer to a higher calling?”
     “I don’t know...” Ezekiel said, suddenly starting to second-guess himself.
     “Well I do.” Said the man with stern assurance.
     “It is no random coincidence, or thoughtless act of spontaneity that you are here. Yes, I see the flame of your soul burning through your eyes like the heart of a thousand rubies, with the strength of a thousand giants, and the wisdom of a thousand dragons.”
     Ezekiel was speechless at the notion. He couldn’t help but feel like the man was just egging him on, the same as he would anyone else stupid enough to give his voice attention.
     “Have you ever gone...?” Ezekiel asked sheepishly, feeling it somewhat of a redundant yet necessary question.
    “To the Academy? Oh yes.” He hollered with great joy.
     “I was the victor of The Academy and went on to master my mission cycles ago. And here I am! Fit as a lion--wiser, stronger, and more powerful than I ever could be.”
     Ezekiel peered into the man’s eyes, somewhat in awe and somewhat in disbelief.
     “It’s not true what they say you know, about some never coming back. I know I’m the only one standing here to prove it. But I tell you, we all come back, eventually, in our own way.”
     Ezekiel didn’t know what to make of that last comment, but there was a certain aspiring brilliance about the man that excited him"a testament of true victory. It wasn’t just the way he spoke, or how he appeared. It was in his eyes, the way he moved, and how he smiled"the smile of a man who truly believed in himself with all of his heart. Ezekiel wanted to smile like that. He wanted to see the fire in his eyes in the same way that the man saw it.
     The man stood in silence for a time, assured that he had planted a seed, and Ezekiel nodded his head, pulled his quill from his satchel, and signed his name on the thin blue lapis lazuli tablet propped on the table before the man, under a line that read “Academy Applicants.”
     Ezekiel lit up briefly as the man rested his hand on Ezekiel’s shoulder. He put his quill back in his satchel and ran all the way down the hallway, through the fields of golden sunflowers, giddy with a sense of glee he did not yet understand.

    He raced through glistening fuchsia meadows of amber blossoms and valentine willows. He reached his arms down and grabbed handfuls of velvety soft pedals and leaves to throw up toward the cathedral of luminescent clouds that sprouted through every corner of the star white sky. The lush green satin wilderness blanketed in the distance sparkled around him and he circled an elder tree, humming a joyous tune as he reached his arms up toward its towering branches that sprang up in every direction in a gesture of power and liberation.
     He could not describe the sensation that had suddenly come over him, and his mind was overcome with a sense of fear and wonder. But for the first time since he could remember he felt alive and on the verge of something that would change the course of his life forever.
     The man in the hallway had struck a chord in him when he spoke of a higher calling and of destiny. No matter how mundane and ordinary Ezekiel felt his life had been, he knew that in numerous ways he was different from most of his kind, and it had always comforted his heart to feel that sense of a higher purpose singing within him, no matter how softly.

     As he continued on home, his blissful jaunt turned into a steady walk. He began to feel nervous and uncertain of how he would break the news to his family. They had never seen any sense in The Academy, and were practically governed by the overwhelming degree of myth and propaganda that had been spread about it. Nevertheless, Ezekiel had made his mark. Regardless of the man, his family, Variel, or Pamalona, he had already begun to feel a sort of transformation transpiring from within him, and he knew he had done it for him and no one else.

     He decided to keep it a secret for now. If and when he even got accepted would be the appropriate time. There would be no sense in causing a stir just to find out that he didn’t get approved.
     He got home to find both his mother and brother sitting around a crystal table, engaging in their daily activities. His mother, Evalona, with long sunset brown hair and rosy pink eyes, sat weaving a beautiful and vast tapestry, illuminated with vivid designs and symbols of every color, shape, and size.
     His brother, Boriel, thick and bulky in stature, with short black hair, sat drawing a huge mandala with various and odd little tools and instruments.
     “How was your lesson sweet heart?” his mother kindly asked him.
     Ezekiel panicked for something to say as if suddenly needing to make something up. It wasn’t that he couldn’t remember his lesson, but that he couldn’t get The Academy out of his head. He had never kept a secret from his mother before, and he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to last as long as he hoped without telling her.
     “I applied for The Academy...” his voice said before his brain had time to give consent.
     His family immediately stopped what they were doing and gazed at him with frozen expressions. His mother looked back down at her tapestry, unable to think of what to say.
     Boriel’s face grew quickly with anger as he spoke.
     “Why in the heavens would you ever go and do something like that?” he yelled with a passionate fury.
     “Are you mad with us? Have we done something to offend you? Is your existence here with us simply not enough for you anymore?”
     Ezekiel felt paralyzed in a state of guilt. The voice that had so rebelliously spoken up just moments ago was nowhere to be found.
     “Everyone knows that joining The Academy is pure pointless suicide. The only one bigheaded and haughty enough to consider, let alone re-consider, is Variel, and we all know where he’s going to end up.”
     “And where is that?” Ezekiel asked, suddenly feeling more engaged in the debate and strangely defending Variel’s pride.
     “Fallen, like all the rest of the Cadets, into the mouth of hell itself. You have no idea the unspeakable horrors that go on in these missions. And to think that"“
     Ezekiel cut him off, now becoming angered himself.
     “Neither do you!” he shouted, feeling more justified and empowered.
     “Have you ever been?” He asked accusingly, now looking over at his mother.
     “Have you? Do you know anyone, know of anyone, or know of anyone that knows anyone that has ever been, known, or seen what goes on in these missions?”
     His requests were met with silence, and he continued, growing louder with every word he spoke.
     “Well I have!” Ezekiel exclaimed.
     “I’ve met a man who’s not only been on a mission, but has mastered it and returned. And the light in his eyes was brighter than any I have ever seen in any being before.”
     “You mean that loon who stands in the halls of your school, day in an day out, preaching in vain. If you’ve fallen for his words than you’re more of a sucker that I could have ever imagined.”
     Ezekiel grew silent for a moment, apprehending his anger, collecting his cool.
     “Well I’m not doing it for him. I’m doing it for me.” He affirmed strongly.
     “Don’t you ever feel that maybe we have a greater purpose than just weaving or sewing or planting or singing or any of the things that we do? Haven’t you ever felt a voice burning inside you, beckoning to be fulfilled with adventure and meaning? A calling to be of true service, possibly the highest there is?”
     “There is no higher service.” Boriel barked back, almost before Ezekiel finished speaking.
     “Our work is fulfilling. It does have meaning. Anyone who can’t see that is a thickheaded, ungrateful fool!”
     Just as Ezekiel was ready to get up and leave the room, his mother chimed in.
     “Oh Ezekiel dear. The work and service that you do is admired and appreciated by all. And we love you just exactly the way you are. You have nothing to prove to anyone. There is no shame in being a great singer or sewer, we all play our part in the grand tapestry of existence and everyone’s role is just as essential as anyone else’s and plays a key part that the grand design could not be complete without.
     “I know mother.” Ezekiel said, feeling his emotions begin to slowly simmer downwards.
     “And some may feel called to sing or to sew, but my heart sings a different song that my mind cannot ignore.”
     “Oh Ezekiel.” His mother said, feeling that her words were said in vain.
     “You are still such a young soul, you have eternity to discover what your heart desires.”
     Ezekiel only nodded his head and walked solemnly back to his room, knowing they would never understand.  

     The next morning Ezekiel awoke and somberly made his way to school without the attention of his family, slipping through the back porch. He decided he would give them a chance to cool down and re-evaluate his decision, then move on as they had with any spectacle he had ever made of himself.
     He sat idly in his desk, doodling a picture of the sword he had seen on the man’s waste just yesterday, straining his mind to remember the details as he drew.
     This day’s lesson was of Sacred Geometry and the cosmic structure of the universe. Upon the board the teacher had drawn out several planets and stars with lines going through them that correlated to energy centers in space. Ezekiel had heard it all before, and considered it to be practically stone-age by his standards. He continued scribbling upon his scroll, occasionally leering out the window, when suddenly a large man walked into the room wearing a bronze suite of armor, holding out a blue lapis lazuli tablet in front of him.
     The teacher was shaken by his arrival and immediately instructed the class to quiet themselves as the man in armor began to speak. Everyone sat in total confused silence, except for Variel, who rubbed his hands together excitedly and shouted out in joyous exclamation, as if he’d just won a prize.
      “I have in my hand, a list of all applicants who have been approved for partaking in this cycle’s Academy.” He spoke slowly with much deliberation and seriousness. All were startled by the sheer force of his presence.
     “May I please have a Lord Variel come forth.” The class awed monotonously as Variel made his way to the front of the room, clapping his hands together as he walked.
     The man placed a small badge of two wings on Variel’s shoulder and instructed him on where to go the following morning.
     As the class began to woo and cheer in Variel’s name, the man in armor made one abrupt noise and the class was again silent in an instant.
     “May I also have a Lord Ezekiel come forth.” The class made no awe, woo, or noise of any kind, and simply sat in shock and wonder as Ezekiel walked forward. The man placed an identical badge on Ezekiel’s shoulder and instructed him to meet at The Temple of Nikademas, behind Sylph’s peak at the moment of first light.
     Ezekiel was washed with a sensation of worthiness and honor as he gazed perpetually through the man’s eyes. He stared back at him with a similar expression of reverence and with one nod of his head he had sharply turned 45 degrees to his left and was out the door.
     Continuing silence followed moments after Ezekiel’s approval, and in an attempt to break up the flustered bewilderment of his peers, the teacher dismissed class early and sent everyone on home.
     
     Ezekiel stood there for a while, practically stupefied with acclaim. He did not notice at all the look Variel had given him as he exited the room, and just as he made his way to leave himself, a soft angelic voice came after him from behind him.
     “Ezekiel.” The voice said, in the most enchanting tone he had ever heard his name spoken. He turned around to see that it was Pamalona.
     “May I walk with you?” she asked. And immediately he felt the effects of his decision begin to pay off.
     “Of course!” he said, trying not to sound too anxious, but failing.
     As they walked through the emerald feather trees and down an onyx-stone path, being careful not to step on the multitude of moonflowers that sprouted in between, Ezekiel felt a long last sense of relief, that he would finally have a chance to connect with the girl of his endless affinity.
     They moved slowly and gracefully in perfect harmony with each other. Who knew that all it took was being accepted into the Academy to finally have this moment, he thought fondly to himself. Pamalona cupped her hand into his and nestled her head into his shoulder. Just as Ezekiel was about the say the first word, Pamalona cut him off, speaking first.
     “I don’t want you to go to The Academy,” she said.
     Ezekiel was greatly amazed by the request, and nearly took a step back.
     They had stopped walking at that point, and stood facing each other, eye to eye, her hands clasped around his between their chests.
     “But...I don’t understand. I thought that’s why you and Variel"“
     “Me and Variel?” She bocked, almost in disgust.
     “No, there’s nothing between us but his delusional obsession of having me as his wife, which couldn’t be farther from what I want.”
     “And what do you want?” Ezekiel asked, half afraid of what she might say.
     “I want to be with you.” She said, with words that melted through his ears, warming the very core of him.
     “I’ve always admired your quirky sense of humor, your outlandish ideas, your wild sense of adventure. I’ve never had the courage to admit it, and now that you’re going I fear you will fall from my site forever and it nearly breaks my heart. All the time we could have spent together, all the moments we could have shared, all gone within the flash of an instant.”
     Ezekiel brushed her apple-red cheeks with the back of his fingers and held his hand back in hers.
     “Everything will be okay.” He said, now veering off the path and up a hill, guiding her by the hands. They sat beneath a grand honey leaf tree, embraced in a field of tall faerie grass.
     “I know that I have been called to this, that the universe is calling out to me. It chants to me in my dreams.  The same songmy heart sings to me every morning, and I cannot deny it.”
     “How can you know such a thing?” she professed, baffled and beginning to tear up.  “It is not the voice of the universe, it is the voice of madness, calling for you to join the legion of the fallen, to those who have been lost, damned, and forgotten since the beginning of creation, never to return.” Tears streamed from her eyes as she continued to speak, and Ezekiel wiped them from her face, imploring her to be calm.
      “Promise me that if you go, you will lose.” She said with great persuasion.
     “That you will retreat, like Variel has, so that you can return back to me.”
     In that moment Ezekiel held her head in his hands and kissed her, deeply. Her tears stopped and his heart paused. He could feel the blood in her veins pulsing through her lips, beating into his like a drum that coursed through his body, leaving him silent and frozen in the moment. He then removed his mouth from hers and spoke while her eyes were still closed.
     “If I fail, then it will be destiny’s choosing, not my own. And if I succeed, I shall return to you still, after mastering my mission, and I shall ask you to be my wife.”
     She attempted to smile as he gracefully took her by the shoulders and brought her to the earth, lying down beside her in a plump, gentle patch of faerie grass.
     They lay there for a time in silence, absorbing the nectar of each others company, until at last they both closed their eyes and fell asleep in each others arms.

     Ezekiel awoke immediately at first light, startled in a frenzy and fearing that he would be late for his induction into The Academy. He feared there would not be enough moments left for him to say goodbye to his family, and to cherish what time he had left with Pamalona. She lay there next to him, solar rays bouncing off her milky golden hair, illuminated in a precious state of peace and stillness. He kissed her cheek gently and hurriedly made his way toward The Temple of Nikodemas. (he just left her there?)
     When he arrived, there were about 30 some odd individuals standing before the gate of a large carnelian-stone castle, awaiting entry. As the gates opened, they all marched forward, timid and reluctant as a mouse toward a snake.
     Beyond the gate stood a lush green field of thorn berries and obsidian roses, surrounded by stone"thick walls of spindly griffin vine. At the center of the field was a large podium, behind which stood the man that Ezekiel had spoken with in the halls of his school. He commanded the attention of the masses before him and they all gathered around his voice in silence as he spoke.
     “Greetings, fellow Candidates, and welcome! We all know why you have gathered here today, and it is my great honor to be the first the bid you pardon through the gates of The Academy. My name is Uriel, and I will be your personal mentor during this arduous and rigorous training process.”
     Certain individuals began fidgeting and bickering silently among themselves as Uriel continued to speak, all faces he had never seen before, except for Variel’s, who stood in the front of the crowd smirking at Ezekiel.
     Some looked much older than others. There were men, women, boys, girls, beings of massive height and strength, and others quite short and scrawny. Some in armor, some in robes, others in uniforms and garments of a manner he had never seen before, all from different sects, all here for the same reason as he.
   “At the end of it all.” Uriel continued.  “Despite all of your valiant efforts, there shall be only one victor. I see many familiar faces. Those who have come close in cycles before and returned for another attempt, which all but one of you will have your chance to do next cycle. But enough reminiscing, let us begin the first test, shall we?”
     And in a flash Uriel had vanished, with no indication of where he had gone. The masses raised their commotion amongst each other, unsure of what to do.

     Suddenly the roses from beneath their feet grew to waist level, and a small voice spoke out from one of them, yelling “smell me.”
     The once collected group of individuals frantically scattered, circling around each other, pushing, shoving, crawling, digging, trying to find the answer of which there was only one clue.
     The flowers Ezekiel thought to himself, as he began to sniff each one. Some smelled of nothing at all, and others were quite pungent and intoxicating, but so far none of them smelled of what an actual obsidian rose should smell like.
     He remembered picking them in the field’s as a child with his mother, there was only one area in his village where they grew. It was rumored bad luck to taint with them, but he and his mother simply could not resist. He used to dry them out and grind them into powder, which his mother would use as elements in the tapestries she would sew.
     Finally he found one that smelled exactly of obsidian rose, and held it up in the air, as did a dozen other candidates moments later. Among them were Variel, a short, blonde haired girl in pewter armor, an exotic young woman in a dark velvet cape with long black hair, a stout young boy no taller than his shoulders wearing a blue robe, three chronish looking women in shawls, and four classic looking gentlemen in suites of a fabric foreign to him.
      The rest of the individuals were sent home, and just like that, the first test was over.
      Moments later Uriel appeared once again, just as sudden and unexpectedly as he had vanished.
     “Congradulations! Victors, please make your way through the first of the 7 sacred gates of the soul.
     Just then the flower in each of their hands sprouted a seed, singing “taste me.” As if emerged from the base of the rose.
     Ezekiel popped it in his mouth and closed his eyes, rolling it around his tongue and swallowing its nectar.
     “Raven’s willow!” he shouted out moments later, as similar outbursts arose from the cadets around him.
     “Valarian Root!” the girl in pewter armor yelled.
     “Copurnicus!” another one said.
     “Serpentina!”
     “Datura Stramonium!”
      “Black Alder!”
     “Wormseed!”
     “Witch Hazel!”
     “Motherwort!”
     “Hollyhock!”
     And so it went, until all had exclaimed their seeds, except for two of the four classic gentlemen in their refined, luxurious suits, who were promptly escorted off the premise.
     Soon after, the podium Uriel stood behind descended into the earth, leaving behind a hollow tunnel, just large enough to fit the lot of them.
     As they made their descent down the tunnel, one by one, the opening grew smaller and darker as they crawled further away from the light of the surface.
     Soon they were submerged in total darkness, and had lost all sense of space and distance. They could no longer tell if they were facing up or down.  They could not discern left from right. They knew not whether they were climbing, crawling, walking, or perhaps falling. All sense of depth and range eluded them. They could be in a cave, a tunnel, a well, or a room for all they knew.
     Suddenly a small voice chimed inside each one of their minds, saying, “see me.”
     They groped and grasped aimlessly, using all their focus just to gage their hands from their shoulders.
     Ezekiel found it pointless to go on in this way, and ceased all motion of his body. He remained completely still and strained to focus. Soon a faint grey outline emerged before him, though its distance he could not tell. It grew smaller as he made its way toward it, giving the illusion that it was moving farther away. The outline blurred into a foggy lining that shined around a dark circular shadow, and finally the shadow became a single bead of light, of which he poked his finger through, only to find his hand braced around a doorknob. He turned the doorknob and was washed by a flood of blinding light that swept through every pore and fiber of his being.

     He suddenly found himself standing in a stark-white room with 8 other individuals. All from before were there save for one of the three cronish women.
     Uriel stood in the center of them as they circled around him, bidding praise to all who remained.
     “You have seen the light!” Uriel stated, and guided them toward 9 diamond oak tombs lying horizontally on the floor. He instructed each one of them to lie down inside them, bearing blindfolds over their eyes as he closed the lids over the top of them, rendering them in total darkness once more.
     Before Ezekiel had time to meditate on what this test might be, a rush of chilling ice water poured in from the base of the tomb. Soon he was completely immersed head to toe in water cold as the arctic, til he eventually lost all sensation in his body. Immediately after he had gone entirely numb, a deluge of long coarse beetle snakes came pouring in, slithering around his bitter frozen skin. They dragged their jagged thorns across his flesh, binding themselves around him as he struggled desperately to fathom what the task might possibly be.
     Suddenly, in spite of his deadened senses, he felt a rather peculiar, metallic sensation at his lower back side. He wriggled his hand to the spot, and embraced a small metal object dangling from the neck of one of the snakes. He brought it to his other hand and all ten fingers worked in accord with each other to determine that it was a key. He recklessly plunged it forward with one hand, searching for a hole with the other.
     When he at last found it, he thrust the key through the lock and unhinged the device surrounding him. It decomposed itself in several pieces as the water and the snakes within it scattered in every direction along the floor.
     He sat up and unraveled his blindfold to see 7 other individuals drenched and panicked as he.
      The eldest of the crones had not made it, leaving only one left of her kind. Her tomb was removed from the room and Uriel promptly appeared to guide them toward their next quest.
     “Getting down to it, eh?” he said with a victorious smirk upon his face.
      Ezekiel sat feeble and defeated in a state of brutal exhaustion.
     What exactly are we training for? He demanded loudly in his mind. Wondering what terrible peril he would be faced with next.
     “Just wait for this next one.” Variel whispered, as if reading his mind, sitting to his left with a bold grin shining upon his face.

     Uriel guided the remaining 8 cadets down a long and windy corridor that gusted a breeze so strong that by the time they had reached the end they were all completely dry.
    They entered into a circular metallic chamber that rose up several stories high and domed at the top. Suddenly the apex of the dome opened and an innumerable amount of tiny black dots came reigning down from above. As the dots descended upon them, they became larger in size and a shrill, buzzing noise emitted from them. When they came closer Ezekiel could see that they were song sylphs, and the 8 of them covered their ears in agitation as the loud obnoxious cacophony of sound rang through the air like a thousand drills chiseling through steel. The sylphs flooded through the air in a black mass of wind, wings and noise.
    As they buzzed in various tones of frequency’s and vibrations, Ezekiel could subtly detect a distinct and familiar sound"it was his name. He could hear one of the sylphs calling his name in a sweet and soothing tone.
Each of the battalion of elemental beings looked absolutely identical in size, form, and shape, their only difference being the noise they made. He closed his eyes and scanned the room with his ears trying to feel for his name.
Suddenly he bumped into the girl in pewter armor with long golden blonde hair, and she smiled, apologizing politely, while continuing to do the same.
Soon enough he could hear it just to the left of him, and in a flash of pure instinct and intuition he reached out his left hand grabbed it. As a pocket in the chamber opened, the sylphs swiftly exited the room, and only 3 other cadets held sylphs in their hands"the girl in pewter armor, the woman with tall black hair, and Variel.
    From the same pocket the sylphs retreated, Uriel emerged, juggling four redwood boxes lined with copper italics. He handed a box to each one and instructed them all to open their minds, their hearts, and their souls to simply feel what was inside the box.
    Ezekiel closed his eyes and took long, deep breaths in an attempt to quiet the chatter in his mind. He suddenly saw various colors swimming around in his head"a vivid silky bright green, a dark royal blue. He also felt textures, both rough and soft. He tried tirelessly to discern his imagination from what he sincerely felt, and softly tuned in to the object between his fingers, listening with his palms.
    Suddenly a horn sounded, and Uriel came back into the picture, requesting from each of them the answer to what was in the box. Ezkiel felt a rush of panic and anxiety. He was not entirely certain of the contents in his box. He strained hard to think as Uriel approached them one by one, starting with the girl in the pewter armor.
    “Ummm…a seashell?” she said nervously, as Uriel took the box from her hand and pointed his index finger back toward the hallway from where they had come. She held her head down in defeat and walked slowly back down the corridor, dragging her heels as the clanked behind her.
    Next was Variel. He had a bright and excited smile across his face, and said, “A small horse with a grey knight on top.”
    Uriel smiled equally and touched the top of the box, opening its walls and revealing exactly what he had described.
    Then was the exotic woman, who stood with beady, studious eyes, crinkling one side of her mouth up towards her cheek.
    “I don’t know…” she admitted, not even taking the opportunity to guess.
    He took her box and she paced back down the hallway, her high heels clicking across the floor as the sound reverberated off the hallways.
    Finally it was Ezekiel’s turn, and he suddenly began to sweat ferociously.
    What do I know of that’s soft, rough, blue, and green? He thought desperately to himself. He then disregarded all that he assumed was imagination and said something completely otherwise.
    “It’s the badge, with two angel wings upon it, bearing The Academy crest in the middle.”
    Uriel starred long and hard into Ezekiel’s eyes and asked, “Are you sure?”
    Ezekiel bravely nodded his head and Uriel touched the top of the box, revealing the badge identical to his description.

    It was now just Variel and Ezekiel left for a final challenge. A large gateway manifested before them, opening up into a grand coliseum. There was nobody inside save for them, in fact it seemed as though it had been abandoned for quite some time. The sand and dust kicked up from the ground into Ezekiel’s eyes, causing him to squint as he looked up at the empty stone seats enclosed around them.
    On the other side of the coliseum were three small wooden doors, sealed shut with iron locks. And then suddenly, out of nothing more than dust and thin air, Pamalona appeared, accompanied by two other beings that resembled her completely.
    Three Pamolonas stood before both Ezekiel and Variel, clones of each other, or of one, it was hard to tell. Perhaps they were all replicas. They began to speak out to both of them, instructing them which door to go through. The one in the middle spoke first, addressing Variel.
    “Variel! These other two are fabrications. Listen to your heart and follow my voice. I know I have been hard to you, and have refused your hand in matrimony. But I have seen the warrior that you’ve become, how much you’ve changed and grown, how strong you are. Come with me, give up this foolish task, that we me spend the rest of your existence together.
    Variel needed no further assurance before deciding that she was the Pamalona of his choice. He walked hand in hand with her and the lock on the middle door opened, inviting him to the other side.
    Now there were only two Pamalona’s remaining, and Variel’s hasty decision had improved Ezekiel’s odds greatly. The one on the left spoke first.
    “Ezekiel. The one on the left doesn’t want you, but I do. I’ve accepted that you must follow your heart and fulfill your destiny. I support your cause and will wait patiently for you to return so that we can be together.”
    He considered her words strongly as they melted into the core of him. It was all he ever wanted to hear. He then looked over to the Pamalona on the right who remained silent.
    “Aren’t you going to speak?” he asked.
    “No. I’m not going to plead with you, because I don’t want you to go.” she said.
    “ I can’t bear to see you fall.”
    “I shall not fall!” he stated, trying to comfort her.
    “But you have no way of knowing that at all!” she shouted back at him as tears erupted from her eyes.
    “I want to be with you, but not like this. You have to make a choice. Either be with me now, or not at all. I will not wait for you.”
    As much as it hurt him to admit, he knew that she spoke the truth, and he would have to make a decision in that moment. He delved deep into his psyche and asked himself why he was here, what he was really doing this for. What he doing it for her? To win her affection, like Variel. He wished it were true, but he knew it was more than that. He knew that he was answering a call, and if he had to choose between the destiny singing in his heart and the girl of his dreams, he chose destiny.
    “As much as I have dreamed of spending every waking moment of the rest of my existence with you, I cannot deny the nature of my heart. I am here for a purpose and I feel compelled to fulfill that purpose. I do not want you to wait for me… I know that would not be fair. Variel is a great warrior, he would be good to you and offer you the attention you deserve.”
    She stood speechless in tears, frowning in disbelief. A look of shock and remorse in her eyes.
    “If you walk through this door, you may never come back. That’s it…”
    He walked toward her, smiling softly as if to embrace her for one last time, then walked passed her and through the door, knowing that it was good-bye.
 
    As he walked through the door, he found himself standing at the threshold of a golden pathway leading to the edge of a cliff, with legions of individuals standing on either side, cheering him on in his victory. Hundreds of chrome trumpets blared in sync with one another, as harmonious melodies of joy and triumph sounded skyward through the air.
    Among them was Variel, who stood silently with a stern sour look upon his face, as if he was forced to be there against his will. Eventually he smiled, in spite of himself, and gave one congratulatory nod as Ezekiel walked passed him, smiling back. Next to Varil was the girl in pewter armor, and the rest of the cadets who had not made it, congratulating him as he walked down the path. He felt a tremendous sense of honor and pride sweep through him as tears formed around his eyes. Beyond the cadets, standing in the front row stood his mom and brother, smiling tremendously with deep swells of emotion reigning through their faces.
    “I still don’t know if I understand all this, but I support you fully and am so very proud of you. I know you’ll accomplish great things.” His mother said, embracing him warmly as his heart pressed against hers.
    “Godspeed little brother.” Boriel said as he reached in to hug him.
    Waves of beings crowded around him, cheering sentiments of praise and approval. To the right of Boriel stood Pamalona, the real one. Without a word she pressed herself deeply into his chest as tears sprang from her face in a fit of remorse and compassion.
    “We will see each other soon, I know it.” She said, and he kissed her affectionately on the lips.
    At the edge of the path stood Uriel, donned in rich golden armor that covered him shoulder to toe, wrapped tightly over a long silk white robe. From his back sprouted a set of grand pearly white angel wings, their feathers flickering through the wind.

    “It is now, upon your victory, great angel, that I grant you your ceremonial wings and halo, which you shall use to descend over the edge and into the world where your mission awaits you. You have passed through the 7 gates of the senses--site, sound, touch, taste, smell, feeling, and intuition--which are tools you will need on your mission.” As he spoke, Ezekiel stood at the edge of the cliff, and Uriel applied a small set of gray-feathered wings to his back, and a halo at the crown of his head.
    “It is untold how long you will be gone, and unseen what your mission will be. But if you manage to master your mission, you shall return to this world, ascended and evolved"an Arch Angel"such as myself, and will give hand in succeeding the highest level of service an angel can perform.”
    Then he pointed toward Pamalona, who walked up toward him as if cued to do so.
    “It is clear that you two are fated to be with one another, so I have assigned her to be your guardian, guiding you on the astral and helping you to return.”
    He looked into her eyes excitedly with glee, then looked back at the masses, listening blissfully to their songs of cheer. In all his existence he had never felt such a sense of sheer reverence and reward. For the first time he stood tall, as tears of glory and eminence poured down his face. Though his journey had only just begun. He gave one last wave of goodbye to his family, friends, adversaries, then dove off the cliff toward an endless sea of sky, feeling Pamalona’s presence inside of him like a guiding light.
    Mountains of shimmering white clouds passed through him as he glided swiftly downward, falling deeper and deeper into the arms of the unknown. As he fell, the light of the celestial sky grew darker, and the vastness of the firmaments became less vast.
    The supernal divine below him tunnel into a well of space, which grew darker and smaller as he fell, until he was fully enclosed in a tube of pitch-black. There was no turning back now, whatever awaited him, he was ready with a heart full of faith and a mind filled with hope.
    Suddenly a tiny prick of light shone through the end of the tunnel, and he moved faster and faster toward it as the light turned to an opening. The opening grew larger and he suddenly felt smaller and warmer. He felt as though he could not move or breath, all his senses and abilities fleeted from him. He felt the memories of his existence flash before his eyes, and then vanish in an instant, along with the recollection of it. He suddenly began to forget his past, his name, and everyone in his life. They came like a movie reel spinning backwards behind his eyes, until everything he ever knew and had was gone.

    The doctor shouted encouragements as the woman screamed in agony and pain.
    “You’re almost there! Just keep pushing.” He said, then stood up holding the body of a newborn child in his arms. It screamed its first cry of real human victory through real physical lungs.
    “It’s a boy!” the Doctor said as he handed him to his mother, removing the cord.
    “He’s beautiful.” She said to her husband as they both looked into its calm majestic eyes.  
    “I think I’ll name him Zackary.” She said, while her husband nodded in approval. And they lay there for a time, together, cherishing the fondest moment of human existence as all time stood still.