Einstein's Compass E-Book

Grace Blair

• Herausgeber: Modern Mystic Media, LLC
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

"...a riveting fantasy about soul-searching and growth which will keep young adult readers engrossed to the end." —with credit to D. Donovan, Senior Reviewer, Midwest Book Review

How did Albert Einstein come up with his wondrous theories of light and time? 

In Einstein's Compass: A YA Time Traveler Adventure, a young Albert is gifted a supernatural compass that allows him to travel through time and space. He finds wisdom in other dimensions, like the lost city of Atlantis, but evil forces seek the power of the compass, including a monstrous, shape-shifting dragon from a different age. 

Can the compass protect Albert from such villainy?

Leseprobe

A YA TIME TRAVELER ADVENTURE

EINSTEIN’S COMPASS

Copyright © 2019 by Modern Mystic Media, LLC

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without theexpress written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

ISBN: 978-0-9988308-8-9 (paperback)

ISBN: 978-0-9988308-9-6 (ebook)

ISBN: 978-0-9988308-7-2 (audiobook)

Names: Blair, Grace, 1950- author. | Bright, Laren, 1950- author.

Title: Einstein's compass : a YA time traveler adventure / Grace Blair & Laren Bright.

Description: [Lubbock, Texas] : [Modern Mystic Media], [2019] | Interest age level: 012-018. | Summary: "How did Albert Einstein come up with his world-changing theories of light and time? Did he explore spiritual realms and other dimensions, go back to an ancient lifetime on Atlantis, and escape the clutches of a giant evil, human-dragon who was after his compass? Did his supernatural compass guide his discoveries?"--Provided by publisher.

Identifiers: ISBN 9780998830889 (paperback) | ISBN 9780998830896 (ebook)

Subjects: LCSH: Einstein, Albert, 1879-1955--Juvenile fiction. | Atlantis (Legendary place)--Juvenile fiction. | Supernatural--Juvenile fiction. | Time travel--Juvenile fiction. | CYAC: Einstein, Albert, 1879-1955--Fiction. | Atlantis (Legendary place)--Fiction. | Supernatural--Fiction. | Time travel--Fiction. | LCGFT: Paranormal fiction.

Classification: LCC PZ7.1.B57 Ei 2019 (print) | LCC PZ7.1.B57 (ebook) | DDC [Fic]--dc23

Table of Contents

Prolog

Chapter 1: A Gift

Chapter 2: A Friend

Interlude

Chapter 3: The Dark Lord

Chapter 4: Raka’s Transformation

Chapter 5: Triangles

Chapter 6: A Miracle

Chapter 7: Oktoberfest

Chapter 8: Called to Task

Chapter 9: A Dream (Or Was It?)

Interlude II

Chapter 10: Hate

Interlude III

Chapter 11: Hope

Chapter 12: Twist of Fate

Chapter 13: Farewell

Chapter 14: Garden of Remembrance

Chapter 15: Raka Recruits

Chapter 16: The Spider Spins Her Web

Chapter 17: Werner’s Attempt

Chapter 18: Dragon Disappointed

Chapter 19: The Spiritual Compass

Chapter 20: Confronting Authority

Chapter 21: New Beginnings

Interlude IV

Chapter 22: Thought Experiment

Chapter 23: Raka’s Progress

Chapter 24: Mileva

Chapter 25: Grasping at a Straw

Chapter 26: Raka’s Discovery

Chapter 27: Intervention

Chapter 28: Arka

Chapter 29: Victoria’s Plan

Chapter 30: An Invitation

Chapter 31: Cat and Mousetrap

Chapter 32: Raka’s Plans Go Awry

Chapter 33: Time Revealed

Chapter 34: Relinquishing the Compass

About the Authors

"There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle."

Prolog

Circa 10,400 BCE – The Islands of Poseidon

The earth tremor stopped Raka in his tracks. The Atlantean healer priest raised his right hand over his violet eyes and searched the landscape for signs of disturbance. He shrugged when he discovered nothing amiss, then continued his way toward the council meeting. What Raka did not understand was that the jolt he felt was not an earthly shudder, but a spiritual one. He had started walking toward the darkness that was the Sons of Belial, and with his first step, the door of the inner Temple of Light had slammed shut to him. So, began his journey as a fallen Angel of Light.

* * *

A brisk summer afternoon sea breeze from the east puffed out Raka’s shoulder-length blond hair. At more than six feet tall, the bronzed man of twenty-five was handsome, and he knew it. He smiled as he swept a hand through his hair, then patted a hidden pocket in his cloak to check the vial of DNA he had stolen from the Temple of Healing.

The feel of the vial triggered memories that he found less than pleasant. His hands curled into fists as he felt a strange rage build in the pit of his stomach. All I do is run around as an errand boy for Uncle Thoth and my brother Arka, he thought angrily. Why won’t UncleThoth showme how the fire crystal works? He never includes me in thecritical discussions. Until I can control my “impulses,”they won’t let me be privy to themore buried secretsof Light.

His lips curled into a snarl at the thought. My grandfather was the mighty god Atlas!Admittedly, I am meant for greatness, like him.

Raka had been entertaining thoughts like these for months until they had finally consumed him. His Consciousness of Light had constricted as the negativity grew. Eventually, his anger and frustration had built to the point that they overshadowed his judgment and propelled him to action. Thus, the dispirited Prince of Light was on the island of Aryan to meet with the Council of the Sons of Belial. He hoped to be placed in an elevated position in their council in exchange for betraying his Atlantean brethren. But if he wasn’t received in the way he deserved, he had a plan B.

Aryan was a military complex and the promised land of power, pomp, and ceremony. The Temple of Darkness was established by former Angels of Light who, like Raka, had become jealous of the energy in the Temple of Light that they could not access. They had rejected the discipline of the Light of God. The veils of Light that once surrounded the Angels of Light dimmed and the angels became as asleep to the Spirit within. The gross heaviness of fear descended around their bodies.

Throughout years, those attracted to the Temple of Darkness increased in number. Their separation from the Light created trepidation among the people of the world. As their following grew, the Council of the Sons of Belial and its army sought to insulate the five islands of Poseidon from outside invaders. The Atlanteans, following the inner spiritual Light, left the struggles for worldly power to the Council of the Sons of Belial and its warriors.

Atlantis, with The Temple of Light, was a garden of God’s loving and a sanctuary from worldly stresses, a flourishing place of divine innocence and healing. People from the surrounding islands and the world at large came to refresh and restore themselves in body, mind, and spirit. The Sons of Belial knew the real driving force was the Spirit of life that lay on Atlantis. The invisible emanation of the Firestone crystal was the energy source of the planet. Thanks to it, the circling satellites in space recharged the temples and cities around the world. The Council of Five of the Sons of Belial had their own ideas about what could be done with the planet’s most potent energy source and lusted after the fire crystal.

General Tora-Fuliar was the leader of Aryan Island. Seven feet tall, blond and blue-eyed, the fortyish man was typical of his race. He and his cohort of four colonels had agreed to meet with the priest-scientist cum spy Raka, ostensibly to discuss his joining them. But their real purpose was to use his knowledge to wrest control of the Firestone crystal from the Atlanteans, whom they considered weak and inferior. The secret meeting would take place in Belial, the cliff fortress with towering walls that overlooked the Atlantic Ocean.

Arriving at the fortress, Raka was met at its massive twin gates by four Aryan soldiers who had been told to expect him. As they beckoned him inside, the priest of Light saw carcasses of wild boar strewn across an enormous marble altar and recognized what they meant. He held his breath as the stink of foul, stale blood and dark purpose filled the air. The blond, blue-eyed warriors checked Raka for weapons, and he smirked as his precious vial eluded their search. The guards escorted Raka through a second gate inside the fortress to the southern tower. He was led into a vast, foreboding, windowless chamber that had been carved out of the island’s living rock. His eyes narrowed at the pentagram painted in blood in the middle of the torch-lit room. The dark energy of the animal sacrifice held during the full moon of the previous night lingered in it.

At the far end of the war room, the symbol of the Black Sun hung behind the general’s massive desk, which was hewn from dark obsidian that had been formed in a volcanic cataclysm eons ago. Covering the fifteen-foot-high walls to the right of the writing table hung maps of the world. The general and his colonels were seated on severe, straight-backed ebony chairs around a polished black marble table. Dressed in black linen trousers and tan shirts with the Black Sun symbol on each collar and black alligator boots, the five somehow managed to appear casual despite their rigidity.

Raka strode up to the black table to greet the ruling council of the Sons of Belial. Taking in the scene, he thought to himself that while the five appeared relaxed, there was a tension in the room. To Raka, they resembled nothing more than a pack of wolves ready to leap. He straightened his golden silk garment and smiled, nodding to the general. “I am honored that you agreed to meet with me, General.”

As the general stood, he sniffed as if taking in Raka’s scent, then inclined his head. “Welcome. We have been looking forward to this meeting.” He motioned to Raka to sit down across from them. Raka’s eyes scanned the room as he settled warily into his chair. The dark and barbarous energy of the council made him uncomfortable. The general forced a smile that didn’t reach his eyes and began. “We understand you want to help us.”

Raka inhaled profoundly and adjusted his energy field to withstand the negative force emanating from those present. Nodding, he replied, “If you recall, at the Temple of Healing I used energy healing stones to alleviate your pain a few months ago. You had sustained a back injury in a rather unfortunate incident.”

The general frowned but grunted in agreement.

“You stayed with us on Atlantis for several days to recuperate, and each time I came to treat you, you questioned me about the Firestone energy crystal.”

The general nodded. “I did.”

“Its value is obvious, but tell me what your interest in it is.”

The general was not about to reveal his real intention to an untested outsider, so he said, “The firestone crystal is possibly one of the most important artifacts on the planet. You Atlanteans are focused on research and your sciences and arts. You are ill-prepared to defend the Firestone from those who would use it for their own gain.”

Raka nodded in understanding as the general continued. “We Aryans are strong. The Firestone should be guarded by our soldiers. After all, it is the energy source for all of the planet.” The general leaned in as if to thrust his argument forward. “The council and the Sons of Belial are best suited to protect the crystal and you healers of Atlantis. We know that unless we are taught the mysteries of the crystal, disaster could be imminent.”

Raka saw the energy around the general’s body turn dark with flares of red, and he recognized the lust for power. He was also aware the general was not telling him everything. No surprise there. The healer was not some ignorant novice; he knew the warrior wanted to use the firestone crystal to enhance the Aryan’s military might—and his own power. He was aware that with the Firestone, they could be invincible. And that they could and most likely would use this power to attempt to control the Atlanteans and take dominance over the entire planet. Despite his hopes for forming an alliance with the Sons of Belial, Raka now accepted that it would be a long time before these people trusted him—if they ever would. He wondered if he would even survive after he delivered what they wanted. He sighed inwardly, conceding to himself that this was not going to go the way he had hoped.

Still, he would play along for a while. Looking the general in the eye, he said, “General, I believe I could assist you in gaining access to the firestone crystal.”

The general and his colonels nodded with interest as Raka continued. “But there are other things I might do for you. I noticed the beasts you have sacrificed to absorb their power. What if you could have even greater physical power than that you leech from the boars you kill?”

The colonels murmured, and the general’s eyes narrowed. He glanced at his minions, who could barely conceal their grins as each entertained his own twisted fantasy of power.

Raka continued with a sly smile, “Yes, I assumed you would be interested.” He leaned back, appearing casual and said, “Of course, if I were to assist you, then I would want something in return.”

The general leaned forward. “Of course. What do you want?”

Raka pulled the vial from his pocket and held it up as he said with a sneer, “I wanted to be a part of you. But how can I trust any of you when you lie to my face? I am not about to turn over the power of the crystal to someone who would deceive me.”

The general’s face darkened, but before he or the council could react, Raka pulled off the vial’s stopper and downed the contents in one gulp.

In truth, Raka was not sure what to expect. The vial had been received from a planet in the Draconian constellation with which Atlantis had become allied. As part of their treaty, the Draconian had been supplying the healers of Atlantis with a solution of their DNA. Mere drops mixed with herbs could regenerate a limb or restore the nearly depleted life force of an injured or sick patient. The amount Raka had just swallowed had never been tried before.

The instant the liquid touched his tongue, Raka’s body began to change. The five Sons of Belial were frozen in place as Raka’s body began writhing and twisting.

A scream tore from deep within Raka’s throat, and with a shudder, the healer of Light’s form began to shift. His soft human feet started to swell and extrude wicked-looking claws. His skin became rough and toughened. The thick leather straps of his sandals burst with a snap. His legs contracted and bent into a reptilian shape, even as his torso elongated and a tail sinuously extended from the base of his spine. His pink flesh turned a greyish green, then scales emerged from his chest, arms, and neck. His supple lips thinned, and a long serpentine tongue darted out from between them. He tasted the air with his new senses. As he transformed, his airways and throat opened wide. Raka collapsed to the ground, shuddering in ecstatic agony as the pain of bone, sinew, and flesh reconfiguring itself consumed him.

Finally breaking free of their horrific fascination, the council reacted, and the war room erupted into pandemonium. Drawn by the shouts, a score of soldiers bearing spear and shields rushed into the chamber. It was a credit to their intensive training that the scene that greeted their eyes caused them but a moment’s pause. With crisp precision the soldiers spaced themselves around the writhing reptile and thrust their spears forward, their points forming a 360-degree-barrier.

But they were already too late; Raka’s vulnerability had passed. His transformation into a twelve-foot dragon was complete. He was fully awake and ready to take control. The former Healer of Light felt intoxicated with raw power and luxuriated in it. Almost casually, he stretched out the reptilian claws at the end of his fingers and with a flick of his arm sliced open one of the warriors from chin to belt. His long, slithery tongue sensed the blood and offal much more thoroughly than before. With his reptile vision, the dim light in the room became bright. Awed beyond belief, Raka began to realize what his quest for power had wrought. He threw his head back and laughed as the guards’ spears bounced harmlessly off his thick, scaly hide.

The air was electric with his power. He glanced disdainfully at his attackers. Sneering at their puniness, he walked toward the warriors. With a swipe of his tail, he knocked the legs out from under several of them, sending them crashing to the floor. As the others slowed to avoid tripping over their fallen comrades, Raka inhaled, then spewed a blast of fire that blackened and crisped the skin of the soldiers remaining at the front of the charge.

Despite his momentary victory, Raka knew more troops would soon descend upon the chamber. Enough of them, and he might be subdued. With bursts of fire blazing from his mouth, he cleared a path for himself. His eye sought the general and his colonels and found them huddled behind the stone table, which they had upended. “Now you see the power of Raka!” he exulted. “I will be back to claim my seat at the head of the council once you realize you have no choice but to kneel at my feet.” Letting loose a final blast of fire that was absorbed by the thick marble tabletop, Raka ran from the room.

Raka fled through the rock hallways of the fortress until he came to the far wall that rose out of the eastern edge of the island. He gazed over the edge and found himself looking into the angry breakers crashing into the jagged rocks more than a hundred feet below. There was nowhere else to go. Cursing himself for not studying the island better, he prepared to defend himself. As the soldiers started pounding toward the parapet where he stood, Raka saw he had no choice. Exhaling a last massive blast of flame to buy another few seconds, Raka jumped up on the low wall and flung himself off into the air. He appeared to hover there for a moment before plummeting down and out of sight.

A cheer broke from the soldiers’ throats but was quickly stifled as the irate general stormed out among them. “Where is he?” The soldiers feared the general’s reaction, but one finally pointed to the far ledge.

Shaking his head in disapproval at the soldiers’ incompetence, he strode to the parapet and stared down at the rocks below, hoping to see the ruined remains of the dragon’s body. But he saw no trace of Raka’s remains. He turned and screamed for the soldiers to get down to the rocks and find the dragon’s body.

Sometime later, an exhausted captain of the guard hesitantly approached the general. “We’ve searched every nook and cranny below the cliffs, sir.” The general raised his eyebrows in question. The guard captain shook his head and looked at his feet. “Nothing.”

The general snorted but did not appear too surprised. Heartened by the lack of response, the captain frowned and said, “I thought we brought a priest in to see you, sir. Where did the dragon come from?”

The general’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not the question, Captain. What you should be asking is, where did it go?”

* * *

Swimming furiously under the water, Raka tried to process what had taken place. His jump from the cliff had been a risk, but it had paid off. After just a moment of unconsciousness after the impact, his body had quickly restored itself enough for him to escape into the sea. Now he found himself barely bruised. He was shaken from his meeting with the Sons of Belial and wanted nothing more than to sequester himself for a while and consider his new body. He also needed to plan his next moves. The remote caves of Aryan Island would suit that purpose, he decided.

With his new strength and supernatural speed, he quickly arrived at his destination; an underground cavern near the shore where he and his brother, Arka, had camped when they were children hunting for crystals. Dragging himself to a pool of water fed by a natural spring, Raka stared at his image. The once handsome, blue-eyed priest/scientist with shoulder-length golden hair was now a twelve-foot-long, flesh-eating changeling. His beady red eyes widened as he shook his head in disbelief. He snorted at his grotesque body. Unsure of what to expect, he gently touched the black four-inch horns on the top of his head. Spongy, he thought. He gazed with some approval, though, at his massive arms.

He turned to find short, black, spiny wings on his back and a long tail protruding from the base of his spine. With his razor-sharp alligator talons, he jabbed and pinched his armored dark-greenish skin. No tenderness, no marks or blood surfaced. He opened his mouth to examine his long, rough, but slimy reptilian tongue and the wickedly sharp bony ridge behind his lips, more like a raptor’s beak than anything else.

His quick self-inspection complete, Raka found himself both horrified and fascinated. He now had so much raw physical power, but... At what cost? His mind reeling, the dragon paced. “Can I fix this and return to normal?” He considered everything he knew about the Draconian DNA, which had been used for healing and even regeneration of organs and limbs. In every case he had studied or been involved with, there had never been a report of reversal of the effects it produced. As the consequences of his rash actions finally dawned on him, Raka collapsed onto the cavern’s sandy floor and sobbed. When his frustration and grief finally dissipated late into the night, he succumbed to his exhaustion and fell asleep.

* * *

Raka sat in his grotto on a battered wooden armchair that had washed up on the shore of his hideaway cove. For the last day or so he had done little but experiment with his new form and new powers. He had begun to develop a healthy respect for his strength and the seeming indestructibility of his body. He had come to grips with the realization that there was no going back.

Truth be told, he was beginning to think he wouldn’t have wanted to go back even if it were possible. He had not been appreciated. Neither his uncle Thoth nor his twin, Arka, had ever recognized his promise. “If only Arka had let me practice the mystical arts with him, I would have shown him what I could do. Fool! It’s his fault I am here,” Raka muttered to himself.

The day before his meeting with the Council, reflecting further, Raka remembered his quarrel with Arka.

Arka pointed to the container on the counter. “Where were you today? You were supposed to take the ruby crystals to the Temple of Healing. We had to cancel the treatments when they did not arrive.”

Raka petulantly stared at the ground. “Something important came up.” Then he looked up at Arka defiantly. “But I told Prensa to take the crystals to the temple. It’s his fault the treatments werecanceled, not mine.”

Arka frowned. “Prensa? He is our cook, not your servant.”

Arka shook his head as if to disperse Raka’s weak excuse, then changed course. “The temple guard said he saw you walking with a female member of the Belial Brotherhood near the gardens. What were you doing there with her?”

“Shewanted to know what we did in the Temple of Healing,” Raka lied. “I showed her around the temple grounds.” That wasn’t all I showed her, Raka thought to himself with a lascivious smirk.

Arka could only shake his head in resignation.

The memory aroused Raka’s anger, which brought him crashing back to the present. “I am meant to do important things, not just be an errand boy!” he shouted at the rock walls of the cavern.

With thoughts of revenge seething in his mind, he snatched at a rat that had the misfortune to scurry past. It was the first sustenance he’d had since the transformation—he hadn’t really been hungry. He angrily tore a leg off and took a bite, the first food he’d had since changing form. As he swallowed, he felt something a transformation begins—short, gray hairs started to replace the scales on his arm. Raka stopped chewing and watched the shift. He was a changeling, he realized, but the transformation didn’t end with his dragon form. Tossing the still squirming rat aside, he plucked a beetle off the cave wall and bit down on it with a sickening crunch. A moment later, his skin began hardening into a chitinous shell. Concentrating, he found he was able to control, or even halt, the changes to his structure.

The thought of changing into other forms intrigued him. His mind flooded with information he had learned in his healing energy classes. Raka felt something else as he sorted through what was happening. It was a sort of knowing, an intuition. Could be this be from the dragon DNA he had ingested? He thought back over his transformation.

He discovered that his eyes were now acutely sensitive. He could see in total darkness and normal light. His memory, too, had sharpened. He could repeat his entire meeting with the council verbatim. His memories were much more vivid. He recalled his rage at his uncle and brother and felt it with new intensity. In fact, he could muster no feelings of compassion or love at all. Glancing at the writhing rat whose leg he had bitten off, he studied its suffering. This excited his killing instinct. It took an effort not to inflict further pain on the creature. He craved more of the rat’s blood, and he speculated that human blood and organs would be a delicacy. A burst of intuition revealed that eating an entire human body and drinking its blood would transform him into a doppelganger of that person. He would have to test out how long this would last, but he suspected it would hold until he decided to take on another form.

As he discovered more of the strengths his new form provided, Raka reveled in the thought that he had nothing to fear. Then, an ancestral memory—perhaps connected to his dragon DNA—flared in his mind. He saw many of his fellow reptiles trapped in a burning structure, writhing in agony. Fear welled up in him at this vivid memory. He had at least one vulnerability: fire. Raka tore himself away from the vision and shakily drew in a deep breath to calm his trembling body. “Enough wasting time on what I fear. Now it’s time to plan for the future and my revenge on Arka and his ilk.” That is the task worthy of my new, transformed self, he thought.

* * *

Since Raka’s meeting with the council, the focus of the Aryan laboratory had moved to DNA and using it for transformation. General Tora-Fuliar envisioned an army of Draconian soldiers with which he could conquer the world. The council leader visited the lab each week for a progress report and was increasingly frustrated at the lack of results. DNA experiments required creative scientists, and creativity was not something the militaristic Aryans were noted for. It was evident that the best talent came from Atlantis. An aggressive recruitment campaign was mounted there.

The Light healers on Atlantis were primarily motivated by their desire to serve the higher Light of God with love. This intention provided them with the clarity to heal from a pure state of giving. Loving came forward and lifted the healer and the patient. The healer’s material needs—food, shelter, and clothing—came as a part of their serving. The glamour of substantial gains and recognition offered by the Aryans, however, began to distract them from the reward of serving. Increasingly generous offers seduced the Atlantean Light workers away from the healing temples to the Aryan DNA research labs. Even some high priests sold their knowledge and healing secrets to the dark empire.

The DNA experiments on Aryan required a high-quality controlled food source. Scientists used everything from cows to mice. But thetrialswere not without challenge. The Aryan’s successes in cloning had sparked fierce debates among scientists and the public.The people of Atlantis questioned the moralityof cloning plants, animals, and possibly humans. But few knew that cloning was just a cover for a secret project of DNA experiments combining animal and human DNA. On the surface, it was producing novelty animals that had becomebigbusiness on Aryan. Wealthy families and even countries were buying hybrids like Minotaur and Centaurs.

The clone business on Aryan also played into Raka’s plan for revenge. Once he had become adept at using his new body, he made his way back to the city. He set up an observation outpost in an abandoned structure in the remote industrial area where the DNA research complex was located. Now that he had a plan, he could afford to be patient. For several weeks he watched the movements of the scientists, military, and guards.

The general routinely showed up alone in his golden anti-gravity vehicle at the end of the workweek, parking away from the building to avoid attention. He appeared to be meeting with Dr. Aimee, the director of the science facility, for progress reports on his new military species.

As days—then weeks—passed, Raka’s patience started to wear thin. If progressweren’tmade soon, even the general would realize that he wasn’t going to be able to produce an army of warriors like Raka—an army Raka fully intended to take over. Pacing in his ramshackle hideout, with aheightenedawareness of everything around him, Raka sensed the time was approaching for him make his move. He felt increasingly impatient, believing he would soon know the moment to strike.

By the time the general returned to the facility, Raka was nearly bursting out of his skin. It took incredibleself-controlto hold himself back andmerelyobserve. His senses perked up as he saw the general storm out of the facility. The man appeared furious, a sure sign he had received more bad news. The irate general made his way to his flyer and slammed its door. Raka couldn’t believe his eyes; the general had caught his hand in the door. Even from this distance, Raka could hear the general bellow in pain as he jumped out of the vehicle, blood spurting from his self-inflicted wound. Raka immediately smelled the warm,preciousblood, urging him into a frenzy. The general’s screams pushed Raka over the edge,andhe burst from his hiding place, streaking across the open field toward the wounded, infuriated man.

The general was not aware of Raka’s presence until it was too late. A brutal blow from Raka’s tail rendered his victim unconscious. Raka with hisrazor-liketalons grabbed the general by the collar. With his brute dragonstrength, the dragon pickedup the generallike aragdoll and flew back to his hiding place. Inside, he threw the general onto a battered table. The stunned man moaned as he struggled back to consciousness. When the general’s vision cleared, his eyes grew wide at the sight of the dragon standing above him, foul saliva dripping from the creature’s lips fell on his head. “Wha...”

Raka grinned and put one of his talons to his lips. “Shhh, General, not that anyone can hear you in here.” He reached out a hand-like claw offering to help the general sit up. Reflexively, the general grasped Raka’snailand struggled to a sitting position. Raka slowly placed his otherclawon the general’s shoulder. Then, with a ghastly smile, Raka viciously yanked the general’s hand and ripped the general’s entire arm from its socket. As his victim screamed in terror and agony, Raka regarded the arm thoughtfully. He began to gnaw on it with relish. The general lived long enough to see Raka devour his other arm and start on his legs. He did not live long enough to see Raka transform into a perfect replica of the man he was consuming.

As Raka finished licking the last of the general’s blood from the floor, he heaved a contented sigh. He lay down to rest and recover once the transformation was complete. He closed his eyes, reveling in the thoughts of what he could do now as the head of the Aryan Military Council.

* * *

1446 BCE – Egypt

Concealed by the dark of the new moon and disguised as members of the Pharaoh’s Imperial Guard, Moses, with his two priests, furtively made his way toward the most sacred sanctuary of the temple of Thebes. His eyes darted here and there as he scanned the corridor. He knew the consequences would be grave—likely deadly—if they were caught in the forbidden area. Even so, he would not be deterred. The stakes were too high. He must secure the holy relics if the Israelites were to have a chance of surviving the exodus from Egypt. Despite the high risk of his task, he found the calming techniques he had learned in his studies assisted him in staying focused and reasonably calm.

The three men clung to the shadows, silently moving along the temple walls from the main sanctuary, crossing the twelve smaller rooms toward the Mother Sanctuary. The scent of sandalwood greeted them as Moses opened the door to the forbidden room and the three slipped inside. The incense and a single lamp burned to clear the sacred chamber from the rituals of the day. Carefully closing the door behind them, Moses wiped the sweat from his brow on the sleeve of his robe, then paused as his eyes adjusted to the dim light. From across the chamber, he could feel the radiant energy of the precious Shamir Stone contained within the golden chest he had been instructed to construct in a dream. He had no idea what the box would be used for, but the vision was so profound that he did not question it for a moment. For now, keeping his people’s holy relics in it seemed appropriate, though there was plenty more room inside the chest.

Illuminated by the light of his lamp, statues of men with the heads of beasts, each representing an Egyptian deity, lined the walls on either side of the chamber. Starting with the figure on the right, Moses and his companions bowed low, placing the palms of their hands-on top of their feet. They paid their respects to every figure, starting with the wall to the right and moving in order around the temple until they stood before the altar.

As Moses ascended the alabaster steps to the altar, the golden headdress and cloak of the Imperial Guard protected him from the potent and dangerous energies of the God Stone within the chest. Used in the art of healing, the power within the Stone contained all the colors of the spectrum. Only an experienced hierophant of the temple could touch it. An Atlantean priest had inscribed upon the Shamir Stone the whole of the symbolic esoteric teaching throughout the ages of man as well as the force to vanquish any enemy of God.

At one time in his learning, Moses had been in service to the Temple of Isis, where he had learned the ancient Atlantean teachings, language, and hieroglyphics. As he approached the golden chest, he raised the palms of his hands toward it and began to chant the ancient names of God inwardly. With each sacred name, his vibration grew until his wave matched that of the precious God Stone within the chest.

On the altar near the chest was a covering with hieroglyphics meant to keep the stone’s energy safely contained within the box when it was transported. Moses, now in harmony with the relic and still chanting, reverently began dressing the golden Ark. To his right, he noticed a small, round, shiny object. Curious, he picked it up. There were twelve small, brilliant gems in two conjoined loops atop the circular device. He could feel the pulsing energy in harmony with that of the stone within the Ark. With no time to determine how—or if—the round device was connected to it, Moses secured the object alongside the golden chest with the threads attached to the covering.

Jehovah said to Moses, “Tell the people of Israel that everyone who wants to may bring me an offering from this list: gold, silver, bronze, blue cloth, purple cloth, scarlet cloth, fine-twined linen, goat’s hair, red-dyed rams’ skins, acacia wood, olive oil for the lamps, spice for the anointing oil and for the fragrant incense, onyx stones, stones to be set in the ephod and in the breastplate.

For I want the people of Israel to make me a sacred Temple where I can live among them. This home of mine shall be a pavilion–a Tabernacle.”

After Jehovah inspected the building of the temple, He then said to Moses, “Put together the Tabernacle on the first day of the month. In it, place the sacred marble stone, the Ten Commandments; and install the veil to enclose the Ark of the Covenant within the Holy of Holies.”

~Exodus 25

A bead of sweat made its way down his forehead as the tension grew within Moses. He knew the neophytes from the temple would soon be coming to begin their day. Turning from the altar, he motioned for the two men to take their places at either end of the chest. Reverently, they approached and grasped the handles, then made their way carefully down the altar steps.

Though outwardly calm, Moses felt as if every fiber of his being was tense and tuned for the sounds of people approaching. The men’s disguises would do them little good if anyone saw them carrying the chest. Moses paused at the door and carefully peered down the corridor. The false dawn preceding the morning had not yet appeared. Yet. But Moses knew its arrival was imminent.

Taking another calming breath, Moses motioned for the men to follow him and they retraced their steps. Scant steps away from the archway that opened to the desert and their freedom, the men froze at the sound of movement nearby. A heartbeat later, a rat scurried across the corridor and disappeared into a crack in the stone wall.

Moses let out a breath he had not been aware he had been holding and motioned the men forward through the archway. In moments, they had disappeared into the early morning blackness.

* * *

70 AD – Jerusalem

The Temple Mount was enveloped in flames.

Blood covered the floor and poured down the steps. The number of the slain was inconceivable. There were so many grotesquely butchered bodies littered about that the attacking soldiers had to climb over them as they chased the few locals who still desperately tried to flee, their flickering hopes of survival brutally extinguished at the points of Roman swords and pikes. The sickening-sweet smell of burning flesh and acrid smoke filled the air as the hellish fires engulfed the temple. It seemed as if the whole city was ablaze.

Cloaked on the astral plane, Ezekiel stood in the Atlas, his one-man golden craft, as it circled the ruined city of Jerusalem. The messenger of God gazed through the Crystal Lux Portal, a doorway that opened to the inner dimensions of light. While Judea was in a battle for its life against Rome, the Traveler of Light and Wisdom was on a mission to keep the contents of the Ark of the Covenant safe. Resolute, he tightened his grasp on the controls of the Atlas, knowing he must secure the Ark before it was too late.

Ezekiel had drawn the plans for the Temple of Solomon. He knew in which secret tunnels lay the Ark of the Covenant, the chest Moses had been instructed to construct in a dream. The Holy of Holies had been forty cubits square and lined with gorgeous cedar panels. Now the wood had been reduced to char. There were exquisitely carved figures of cherubim, palm trees, and open flowers overlaid with gold in the chamber, the metal becoming too hot to touch. Chains and bracelets of gold closer to the flames were already melting into puddles of molten metal that leaked through the ruined floor of the Holy of Holies. Beyond the gaping, charred remnants of the olive-wood door sat the Ark of the Covenant. On the alabaster altar, it lay untouched.

Hidden within the gold-plated acacia chest rested the Shamir Stone. Next to the supernatural God Stone lay the tablets with the Ten Commandments Moses had received from God. The blue cloth covering the twin-winged cherubim was somehow still intact as if protected by a benevolent hand.

Before the Ark stood a living Draco Reptoid, a lean, towering Angel of Darkness. Twelve feet tall, his thin, bony wings furled midway up his back. Between his brow and the top of his skull were two chitinous horns. His burning, red eyes were riveted on the Ark, and an ichorous liquid escaped his lips as he salivated in anticipation. In one swift movement, the dark angel grasped and effortlessly lifted the Ark.

Before the creature could escape, Ezekiel uncloaked the Atlas, exposing its Light from the Holy of Holies. The demonic angel of darkness sneered as he turned, cringing from the Light, as Ezekiel uttered his prayer: “I ask for God’s Light of the Holy Spirit to surround, fill, and protect this Ark of the Covenant and all its contents.” As if stung, the angel of darkness dropped the Ark, but a beam of light from the Atlas caught it and held it suspended in midair. Raka raised his clawed fist in anger, spitting fire in contempt. His crimson wings unfurling, the dark angel cursed, “I will have the Ark. What I did with Atlantis will be nothing compared to what I can do once I possess it!”

Ezekiel touched the screen activating the Crystal Lux Portal. The holographic Portal opened, and the illumination beam pulled the Ark through the astral door. Distracted, neither Ezekiel nor the dragon saw a small, round brass object with twelve gems tumble from where it had been fastened to the cloth cover of the Ark.

The golden ship vanished as the tiny brass treasure tumbled below the floor into the dark abyss as the temple burned, then collapsed into itself.

Chapter 1Spring 1885 A Gift

The sun shone brightly, melting away the remnants of the dreary days of the Munich winter. From the arbor on the front porch of the Einstein home, fragrant purple wisteria blossomed. The garden was bursting into a riot of color with red tulips, yellow roses, blue cornflowers, and a multitude of other blossoms of various hues.

Albert had been down the street at his aunt’s house. It was 1885, and the family was celebrating his cousin Benjamin’s sixth birthday. Alberthadturned six the month before and was therefore far worldlier than his “little” cousin, at least to his way of thinking. But he loved his cousin—almost as much as heenjoyedhis aunt’s apple strudel. In fact, he loved the pastry so much, he ran home after dessert and got sick all over the purple crocuses in his yard.

Pauline Einstein, young Albert’s twenty-six-year-old mother, noticed him struggling to climb the porch stairs. Her brow furrowed as she opened the front door. His chubby cheeks flushed, Albert looked up with a sickly gaze and grasped his mother’s hand. “Mama, I don’t feel good,” he moaned. Pauline knelt and kissed his head, then paused, frowning. “Albert, you’re burning up!”

She pulled back her long muslin skirt, then scooped the boy into her arms and carried him upstairs to his bedroom. Albert had his own room, a pleasant chamber with tiny-blue-flowered wallpaper.

Albert fussed restlessly as Mama pulled off his necktie, ignoring the smell of sour vomit on his starched white shirt.

As Albert removed his pants, Pauline moistened a cloth from the washbasin and wiped Albert’s face and hands. She dressed him in a long cotton nightshirt and tucked him under the covers. Albert fell asleep the second his head hit the goose down pillow. Mama sat in the chair next to his bed and stroked his hair. “Sleep, feel better,meinliebst.” She stayed with him through the night, wiping his brow every few minutes to cool his fever. Albert slept fitfully, unaware of his mama’s loving ministrations.

The next morning, Albert did not join the family for breakfast. Hermann, Albert’s father, frowned at the dark circles under Pauline’s eyes. “Is Albert doing better?”

Picking at her food, Pauline gave a heavy sigh and shook her head. “I’m worried. Albert has not awakened since yesterday when I put him to bed. His fever is still the same. I’m going to summon Dr. Weiss to examine him.”