09-17-2009, 04:45 PM
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After death there were other worlds. Ezekiel knew that earthly things were temporary, and that the just would be rewarded. In the aftermath of a final fall all would be confronted by that decision. No doubt many would fall. But in his world, there was no place for those who did not believe. They became the things that made him up—ghosts, these long dead memories—and they would not be allowed to rest. The dead man in his smile was no different than her father. Both lived on through the children that they had sired; both had made themselves immortal.
That was why he smiled so certainly at her now. “In my world the wicked are punished, and the just are saved.” A choir of angels may not come to his side, but he believed they were real. Cwmfen, in his eyes, was one of them. She had saved him from the demon that was her father. This was why he trusted her; and trust was something that the coyote did not grant easily.
She picked up on what he had not said, and the golden boy smiled softly. Even that trace of cruelty faded from his eyes—like a shadow passing from the sun. “I’m going to find my sister,” he explained firmly. “I owe her that much.” [/html]