Peniel

[Patricus I]

The blink of an eye crossed paths with an eternity. Their foursome was united, backs to backs, each defending their own ground. Philip was useless in the melee. He all but dropped the gun into Rowan’s hands and vowed to never touch the sickly object again. He would forever feel the heat of it and remember the power pushing against his palm.

Eventually, the screeches and howls dissipated like a fog retreating upon itself. He was exhausted and shuddering in his own skin. Once the clear was called, he hurried toward where the pilot was last seen. There were no remains. It was strange how the loss bit to the bone over a man he barely knew. Perhaps that was the meaning of guilt, a selfish emotion.

He was recovering the red saturno cap that he favored so much. At least it wasn’t a total loss, he thought to himself, as he bent to retrieve it. Except, when he picked it up, what lay hidden beneath made him gasp.

“Armande,” he called for the other man to bear witness.

If the monsters were disturbing, this discovery was downright chilling. There in the grass lay the exact replica of the object from the dream. He dared not touch it, but his willpower was overruled by the pull of morbid need to comprehend.

“I’ve seen this before. At the Four-Way Pillar. These,” he turned in a circle, visualizing the lay of the land with hidden eyes, and proclaimed, “are the remains of paradise.” A paradise tainted by evil.

“The key of cunning,” he said barely a whisper as his fingers grazed the holy object.  Turning it over in his hands, he realized something he hadn’t noticed in the dream. There were slits on the end as though made to join into a mate of matching pattern. The four keys connected in some way. In a way that would save everything.

His penetrating gaze swept their immediate surroundings. “Somewhere in this wasteland we will find the pillar, but I can't say I care to continue sightseeing.”