Not the One

A short story¹

When the leader of their group demanded we hand over the One, Sam stepped forward as if he had been expecting them. I had never seen him so bold or so sure before. He smiled benevolently and raised his arms halfway, palms-upward. He kind of looked like the images you see of Jesus, you know? I half expected a halo of light to start emanating from him.

The strangers took him at his word, and knelt, calling him Sire. What happened next was so confusing that I barely remember. They exchanged some words about a place I’ve never heard of and asked him if he was ready to “take up the mantle”. All he said was “I am ready”. Some light did end up emanating from them, from the staffs that two of them were holding.

A shimmering sheet formed between them, like molten gold if molten gold weighed nothing. It’s hard to explain. Sam walked through it first, then they followed him in ranking order. Finally, the two with the staffs raised and turned them. One full turn, and then they were all gone. Nothing was left. I didn’t even get that feeling you get when bright light suddenly appears and then turns off again, you know? It was as if it had never happened.

I don’t know what the others saw, because we never talked about it among ourselves afterwards. I think we were all too disturbed by it. Either that or too afraid to be called crazy. You all would know, though. I know the police talked to everybody who was there, took our statements and whatnot. So I’ll tell you what I told them when they came last time: it was magic that took Sam and it was magic that killed those people. That’s what it was last time and that’s what it was this time.

And I’m not talking about trick magic, I’m talking about real supernatural shit. I know it was because I know how it made me feel. It was only terrifying after it happened, you know? I mean, I was there, I could see that they were killing us, but it was beautiful while it was happening. Even the bodies: they had looked like fantasy dead when the magic was there, not real dead. For a second I could have convinced myself that I had just had a very vivid daydream. Reality hit me pretty quickly, though. Sam was still gone, and the dead were still dead. Only their bodies seemed a lot more gruesome looking down on them now, as if their death was more real. It took me a long time to get over that.

Anyways, it was through the same kind of portal thing that Sam came this time, only this time it was a blue-ish instead of gold and it was a circle. It was in the same hall, too. Hold on, maybe blue is the wrong way to describe it. It was the color an oil spill makes you know? That deep dark with a blue-ish tint, beautiful but also terrible. Don’t get me wrong, it was still magic but it was different this time. It was like he was doing it wrong; this time I was terrified right away.

He looked a lot less like Jesus when he stepped through, and a lot more like the Sam he used to be. Deep dark circles under his eyes, haggard, like he had been robbed of all the good things in his life. He left the oily circle half-hanging there when he came through, it didn’t fully close when he pull the staff out and pointed it at me. He hated me. You’ve got to understand, I never did anything to Sam, we barely interacted before he left. I don’t know why he hated me, but he was looking at me with more hatred than I’ve ever seen in my life.

I swear I thought I was dead. I closed my eyes and raised my arms to protect myself, as if that would help. There was a bright flash of that golden light, the same one as the first time. I know it was the same one because it disappeared the same way, without leaving any traces. I stood there for a while before I convinced myself too look. When I opened my eyes, he lying there with the same oily blue-ness oozing out of him. This time, the bodies looked dead right away.