Providence Ch. 02

Story Info
Futuristic portrayal of love through Destiny and Fate.
3.6k words
4.67
18k
3

Part 3 of the 18 part series

Updated 11/02/2022
Created 11/18/2003
Share this Story

Font Size

Default Font Size

Font Spacing

Default Font Spacing

Font Face

Default Font Face

Reading Theme

Default Theme (White)
You need to Log In or Sign Up to have your customization saved in your Literotica profile.
PUBLIC BETA

Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.

You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.

Click here

Aimee – French; Beloved Friend
Cora – Greek; Filled Heart
Dagan – Hebrew; Grain of Corn
Hallam – German; From the Hills
Juniper – Latin; Juniper Berry
Sunila – Hindi; Blue

Part 2

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After a restless dinner, Liz had finally found a fitful sleep on the tiny cot in her room.

Her room was basic, nothing extravagant or expensive. They had no money to spare on such things, let alone time to enjoy them. She had her cot, her books, clothes hanging neatly in her closet, and a rug on her floor. In a box next to the door were her weapons. Her laser gun, her sword, and a few other necessities. Not much else was needed on the planet of Cantu.

At least not for a warrior.

Once they had entered the house, Aron and her had remained mostly quiet, silently reflecting on the emotional conversation.

She had never known of the deception that Cyrus had instilled in the Duscha following. To be a prophet had been a great honor at one time, and many had sought guidance from them. She had always assumed the shift of belief happened naturally, as did many opinions. Changes in culture and generation usually meant changes in belief systems.

But, now that she knew the history of Cyrus, she feared for herself. Not from Aron – she trusted him with her life. She feared that the people of the Rylan system, Aevarians especially, would reject her, persecute her … or worse.

She had never had any choice when it came to her life. Liz was an oracle, a destined soldier. She was meant to fight evil and defend the weak and helpless. Aron had always told her that she was a gift, and that to fight Destiny would be the end of Aevar.

Yes, he had used guilt. But even she knew that her pride and stubbornness were at times resilient and impossible to compete with; guilt was a last resort. Liz had always been extremely independent, only ever being able to rely on two people, herself and Aron. Granted, those were the two people she ever had any direct contact with, but her isolation was for her safety.

Because of the hunters.

She knew of them. Aron had been very adamant about their presence and the need to be invisible. If the wrong people heard of her as a suspected oracle, they would do one of two things. Either laugh wildly in their face, or inform a hunter of their location. And she wasn’t particularly eager to be humiliated or dead.

The hunters only had one goal, to end all following of the Duscha, all spiritual teaching and study. They were salaried by Cyrus; she had always known that. Now she knew why. They were most feared by all Duscha allies, and more than likely theonly thing that Aron ever showed fear towards.

When she was twelve, they had made an outing to the small town of Hallam for supplies. Being a young, curious, and autonomous girl, she had been at times somewhat rebellious. On this specific trip, for the first time, she had talked to someone outside of the tight circle that Aron upheld. A young girl her age, named Cora.

On several occasions Cora had tried to speak to Liz, but Aron was always present, and the conversation was sharply terminated before Liz could utter a sound. She knew he wanted nothing more than to allow her to lead a normal life, but … he couldn’t. So much rode on her. It was far from fair, but who was he to argue with Fate.

But on the day in examination, she snuck away silently in the quaint shop that Cora’s mother owned. And for the first time, shewas a twelve-year-old girl. She giggled and whispered for several minutes, enjoying the newfound friendship. Cora’s smile and laughter were contagious, and soon she had forgotten about Destiny and Fate …

“How come you never talked to me before?”

Liz hesitated briefly. She wanted nothing more than to tell Cora her secret. She didn’t want to be different; she just wanted a friend. She wanted to be normal, even for a few brief, precious moments. And Cora had seemed so nice, with her inviting green eyes, and open, devoted personality.

“Aron says I shouldn’t. Its not safe.”

“Why’s it not safe? Nuthin’ happens on Cantu.”

“Some people don’t like us. We have to hide.”

Cora frowned and her golden blonde hair hung around her face as she leaned close, lowering her voice to match Liz’s. She sensed this was a secret between them. A really important secret.

“Don’ worry, I won’ tell nobody.”

Liz smiled her thanks, both unaware of the figure watching them from the shadows.

Cora leaned in closer. “But, how come they don’ like you? Who are they?”

Liz whispered very softly into her friend’s ear. “Hunters.”

Cora’s eyes grew wide. She knew of the hunters, everyone did.

“They don’t like us cuz I’m special. Aron says so.”

“So you’re … a … a follower,” she said as the pieces fell together.

Liz nodded in confirmation. “Aron’s a prophet.”

“Wow,” was all Cora could manage. Did she say nothing ever happened on Cantu? She was about to take it back.

“Elizabeth!” Aron’s muffled voice called. Both girls turned to the sound of his voice and knew their secret meeting was coming to an end.

“I gotta go,” Liz said as she stood from their spot on the floor. She straightened her cloak and secretly, unconsciously placed her hand on her concealed sword that was hidden away inside the folds of cloth. A die-hard habit of a soldier in training – always know where your weapon is. “Don’t tell anyone. Please?”

“I won’. I promise,” came Cora’s hurried reply. Liz gave a small smile in thanks and went off to Aron, who was becoming frantic with worry. She was already mentally assembling another plan to secretly meet with Cora again.

Neither of the girls knew the man in the shadows had heard the entire exchange.

Because of his training, only Aron knew of the trouble nearby. He could feel the evil in the air. A hunter…

“Liz, where were you?” he asked as she came into view from behind a rack of fruit.

“I was just getting the rice, like you wanted,” she said, supplying a large bag in her arms. She had eyed the bag as she had made her way to the front of the shop, and quickly took it to confirm her alibi.

Aron sighed heavily in relief, but it was short lived. “Come. We should go.” His eyes never stopped scanning the crowd. Someone was watching them; he could read it clearly, as if the enemy was right in front of him.

They paid quickly, with Cora’s mom, Aimee, smiling her thanks to her customers. Aron turned to make the short walk to their hovercraft, which was parked just outside of town.

Aimee secretly slipped Liz a sucker with a wink. She had noticed the little, dark-haired girl before and couldn’t resist giving her something to smile about. Liz self-consciously smiled at her and at Cora, who was sitting on the counter behind her mother.


She turned to follow Aron to their hovercraft, and once everything was loaded, she climbed inside, waiting for Aron to follow. When he didn’t enter, she turned and found him staring off with a blank look on his face.

“Aron?”

No response. Her damnable fear kicked in when she saw his hands quake with tension. “Aron?” her voice trembled.

“He’s close,” he said quietly. His eyes met hers, and she could read his terror clearly. Something was very wrong; she could feel it in her bones. “He knows. Liz,” his voice broke with emotion. “We’re being hunted.”

Her body trembled with adrenaline and horror. She frantically searched around them, her eyes scanning for the hunter Aron spoke of. Her throat was immediately parched, and she struggled to swallow the lump that was rapidly forming in her throat.

Unseen by her, Aron drew his sword standing ready to fight. The hunter was too close for them to escape or flee. It was inevitable. A confrontation would take place, and he could only pray that, if he was killed, that Liz would survive. She was so important, more so than even he could grasp. Her life was more precious than his, he knew that. And he was willing to fight for her, and if needed, die for her.

“Elizabeth, stay down. Don’t move.” She turned to Aron about to protest, when she saw the hunter. The dark figure, no more than a few feet away from them, stood in shadow created by his cloak. His face was masked, all but his mouth, which was upturned in a malicious smile. He stood tall, towering over Aron, as the hunter slowly took steps toward the hovercraft.

He wore the sign of a hunter, a black cloak with the symbol of Nero resting on the chest – a silver and red triangle, three corners representing the kinship of the three strong dune planets, Nero, Juniper, and Dagan. These three dune planets cared nothing for Cantu, the weak, smallest planet in the Rylan system. Only the strongest survived in their heartless affiliation. The walked with a purpose, like a predator stalking his prey, and Liz unconsciously cowered in her seat. Evil emitted from his very being.

His voice was low, harsh, riddled with malice. He continued his quest, as Aron turned to face his opponent. “I saw you in the market, prophet,” his last word spoken harshly, as if merely saying the word brought him injury. He drew his sword, and the metal glittered from the suns’ rays. The sand sparkled, the heat waves emitted from the ground, the sticky, humid air clung to Liz’s skin. But all she could see was the hunter’s mouth. His teeth were black and gray, and his evil grin sent shivers down her spine. “Are you prepared to die?”

There were only a few second of silence, as the two wordlessly faced off. Then the swords met in fury. Liz slumped in her seat, her knees drawn up to her chest, her eyes closed tightly. She couldn’t bear to witness the battle, knowing that hunters were expertly skilled in hand-to-hand combat, and that Aron hadn’t fought in years.

She was mentally willing the battle to be over. The clanging of bladed and colliding of metal resounded for what seemed like hours, an eternity even but she couldn’t bring herself to look.

It was her fault the hunter found them. She should never have told Cora. She had been careless and unknowingly put Aron’s life at risk. Now they were sure to die because of her.

She rocked in her seat and clumsily brought her tiny hands to cover her ears. Fright and dread raced through her veins, and she prepared herself for her death. Sobs escaped her tight throat and parched mouth.

Regrets ran through her mind. Liz had always wanted to see Aevar – its beauty. She had read books of the trees, and flowers, and birds. She wanted to swim in the blue waters of Sunila Lake by the palace. She wanted to feel Aevarian silk on her fingers. She wanted to hear the songs of the exotic birds that only lived in the Aevarian forests. Tears streamed down her face as she mourned the life she was never going to have. And the world that she would be letting down.

Aevar would parish because she had told their secret. She had been so selfish …

A hand clasped her on the shoulder, and she shrieked, trying to climb away. The hands held fast, and her fists punched and beat the body in front of her, keeping her eyes closed. She couldn’t see his smile again, the gray teeth or the spiteful smile. Behind her eyes, she was laughing and swimming in the crystal blue lake on Aevar, not on the dune planet about to die a horrible death.

Sobs escaped her as she pleaded with the hunter, “Please, no! I don’t want to die! No, please don’t hurt me, please! No …” Her sobs were near uncontrollable, her body tensing in anticipation of the blow that she was sure was to come, that would end her life.

“Liz …” his soft voice penetrated her haze of regret. She slowly stilled, stopping her tiny fists from impaling the chest in front of her. Surely her mind wouldn’t be so cruel as to conjure up his voice in place of the hunters. Aron must be dead, she knew it.

Her chin quivered, and her hair was in disarray from the ordeal. Strands blew across her face as she summoned the courage to open her eyes. Unhurriedly they pried open, and she half expected to see the hunter and his rotting teeth mocking her in an evil grin.

She was only met with the loving, tearful eyes of Aron as he embraced her. It was the first and only time Liz had ever seen him cry, and the only time Liz ever cried in front of him. But they wept together that day, clinging to each other, seeking comfort in each other’s arms.

He stroked her hair and whispered reassuring words into her ear, silently thanking Fate for their lives. She clung to him, her fists clutching his robe in a desperate attempt to keep him and his never-ending comfort near. After several minutes Liz drew back.

She saw the blood splattered across his tanned skin.

She saw the small gash on his left cheek.

She saw the sand sticking to his sweat-ridden clothing.

Even with the battle wounds, they were still alive and she couldn’t help but be relieved that the hunter was dead. Her breath remained erratic as she desperately tried to calm down. The adrenaline that was just moments ago running freely through her veins was now tempering off, leaving her sated, exhausted, lethargic. She needed confirmation that the hunter was dead; just to see Aron before her wasn’t enough. Liz’s mind would never be able to rest peaceful without closure. Slowly, she turned to her right.


She saw the headless body of the hunter lying in the sand.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Aron stood in the doorway, the candlelight softly flickering his shadow against her wall. He stood guard, watching her as she slept, marveling at the power in the petite, young girl that slept before him. He sipped his tea and thought to himself.

He had still so much to tell her, so much to teach her. But he knew that the appropriate time would come. He knew he must wait for Fate to guide him. It did not matter how he desired to reveal the truth of her Destiny. He was a father, a teacher, but above all he was a servant. And so he waited and prayed that every decision he made was the correct one.

Elizabeth had always been so strong and yet unsure in her capabilities. He knew she was afraid of Destiny and what it would mean fore her. It did not help that the prophecy given to him had been ambiguous and vague. However, Fate had yet to forget him, and so he held fast to his faith, and lingered further in his state of limbo.

Today had been an important day, and it was no wonder she was exhausted. He had half expected her to fight sleep tonight, knowing that the soft voices would likely keep her awake, if not drive her near crazy. But after their dinner, her energy proved low and she had retired to her room early for the remainder of the evening. He knew that the presence of the Duscha would be calming and soothing, but with Elizabeth’s stubborn tendencies, he would not have been surprised to see her fight exhaustion and his recommendation to rest.

He sighed heavily in the dark doorway, turning to the living area. He was in unfamiliar territory, he knew. Few were still alive to tell of the success of the first oracle, and to talk of the second was taboo. So he had received little preparation for his task, and had become accustomed to the spontaneous.

Aron hated withholding information from Liz. She was an oracle and deserved to know all the information he had, but this was not his prophecy to control. He was merely a servant, dutifully carrying out a mission, and could only hope that all turned out well in the end.

He had to be very careful with what he said; saying too much could lead to disastrous effects. So much was at stake, even their lives. He still was unsure how the hunter had found them four years ago. His training was tested to the brink, the hunter had been artfully skilled and if it had been any other circumstances, he would have complimented his opponent on skill and technique.

He had killed that day, not for the first time, and certainly not the last. But the event was always fresh in his mind, the sounds and sights extremely clear. The fear he had seen in Elizabeth’s eyes was all too real and he knew it had been mirrored in his own.

He shook his head, willing the images away. He wanted nothing of ill memories tonight.

Today had been a good day, so much accomplished. But with each new discovery came more questions, fewer answers, and much more to hide. With the one incident four years ago aside, Cantu had been an extremely safe haven for them.

Aron reclined slightly in his chair, the steam from his tea and smoke from his pipe mingled in the candlelit air. All was quiet, except for the deafening commotion in his own head. Questions and insecurities plagued him now that Elizabeth had been awakened. For so long, his primary goal was to prepare her. Then, for the past year, unknown to her, he had cautiously started her ascension with small tasks that he knew would open her mind and prepare a place for the Duscha to reside.

Now that she was bonded with the Duscha, his next step was unclear. He was sure that she needed to enhance her powers, strengthen her concentration. That had always been his role – the mentor, teacher, guide.

But now with Elizabeth’s awakening came uncertainty. He didn’t know how to discover her power, how to strengthen them, he didn’t know how to do anything when it came to the Duscha. Few alive did, and the monk that he had spoken to month’s before Elizabeth’s birth could only give vague descriptions. The only awakening that had happened in this galaxy, in this generation’s lifetime, had been a forced, failed attempt. And of the scattered few that still had faith, even fewer believed in prophecies.

Cyrus had ruined so much with his treachery. But Aron kept his resolve with a heavy sigh and a deep drag from his pipe. Fate would not abandon Aevar, he knew. Nor would Fate abandon them. Elizabeth was much more special than anyone realized.

Her whole life had been filled with secrets and hiding. But Aron had his secrets too. He knew how important she was. No one knew of the prophecy given to him. The people in the Rylan system had always assumed he left to pursue enlightenment. And while many had laughed at the irony and danger he put himself in, few questioned his decision. For every one person that accepted him as a figurehead, there were five that wished for his death, and even more that didn’t care one way or the other.

He had always been a friend of Eamon’s, even as children. But when Cyrus had forced Shaun’s awakening, Aron had feared that the death of all prophets would be ordered. After all, the brother of the King had been killed, a member of the royal family nonetheless, and retribution was expected.

But Eamon’s father had done no such thing. He saw the death for what it was – a murder at the hands of a madman.

The King had refused, much to the dismay of the people, to pursue the followers as a whole, punishing all for one man’s deceit. And much to Aron’s surprise, the King had given Eamon permission to promote Aron as chief advisor, an unspoken declaration of acceptance of followers.

Seeing his good friend in mourning for his uncle’s death had been difficult, and Aron aided Eamon all he could. But Aron was keener than Eamon, and knew that the people’s acceptance of a follower was thin. So, while he advised Eamon through their adolescence and eventually Eamon’s integration to King, Aron was careful to always advice on the people’s wishes and complaints. Hence Aron’s popularity grew.

After most had lost their faith, Aron was careful to never become too controversial. His ideals and opinions he lectured on where ambiguous and adhered to socially accepted guidelines, and soon most forgot his role as a prophet and saw him merely as a royal figure. He kept his personal, controversial beliefs secret. He never told anyone his belief of the second, doomed oracle’s role.

He never told anyone that only he had seen the insufficient evidence that Shaun was the second oracle. Even though he had been a young prophet and relatively new to the teachings, he had seen the holes and deficient proof given by Cyrus before the committee.

12