Here comes Saturday. After an exhausting practice and school yesterday, I am so glad it is the weekend. Today is also special because of the fact I’m going to be on a date I like to call it the friendly date; it is not a real date. As I look over my alarm clock, I sort of mentioned to Megan yesterday if it would be okay if I come and get her from her place.

She obliged in the most exuberant way. I called her, but I could not have known what facial expression she was doing while she was talking to me. She usually has her eyes widen and her lips semi-opened soon given way to her infamous smile. That is what Megan is still known for whatever she gets what she wants.

I admit it. I have some feelings, but it is not like Shakespearean romance as my English teacher tends to say. Megan is bonifide cute. A very likable girl; no wonder she is the most popular girl in school. Guys always flock to her like she was a beautiful model. Her father is most known because of his sugar manufacturing. One of the key commodities for Louisiana is sugar canes; Megan’s father’s business turns those canes into the sugar we use for coffee, cereal, baking, and other stuff. So to have a rich father is a plus and another plus that he has ties with the governor.

Liana would kill for some sugar cookies which are her absolute favorite. In fact, maybe I should go to the bakery to buy some sugar cookies and give it to Liana as my apology gift. However, trying to take the easy way out would be silly. But ever since the museum fallout, I tried to call her, but no response. I felt selfish in a way that I did that flirting right in front of her. I understand we have not been communicative as we have been yet the reason is mostly due to me still keeping the fact I’m a demon and if I show my powers Asmodeus and his lackeys could find me, mom, and Liana. 

Not trying to call her and leave her messages like she did when I could not answer her calls probably might make me feeble. And to make this even harder on myself, I know she wanted to do this mission to find that prophecy. If I did not hide anything from her, I would have let her join me and forget about dating Megan, but I need to do this myself, so I can complete the first trial.

Checking the time, I told Megan that I would pick up in a hour. I head to my closet inside my bathroom. As I open the door, I start checking out each article of dress shirts and notice the light blue. I like that.

I remembered mom brought me that when we had to go to church a year ago. I rarely wore it again for some strange reason. For any reason, I grab the shirt and sort of sniff if to see that it might be stinky. After a short whiff, I judge it as clean. I quickly grab the iron at the bottom of the closet; I lay the shirt on the bed, plugging the iron, I heat up the creases from the shirt. A minute later, I finish the ironing. I turn it off. Already putting on my dress black pants, dress shoes, and then I put on my light blue dress shirt.

Enclosing each button as the fabric lay on my chest feeling the warmth from the iron pressing. I look to the mirror glancing over my dark brown hair; I grab some gel from beneath the sink; take a good swoop and layer the gel over my hair and scalp. Rubbing the gooiness of the gel to my short wavy hair, it rounds the sides giving a neat and tidy edge; to give it some nice shine. Taking a look back, I see I did a fabulous job in smoothing my hair. I take a bottle of cologne and spray a tiny bit near my neck. I smell myself to see if there is no more stink. There is none.

Checking the time, I see that I have thirty minutes left. I swallow up my nerves and walk out of my room to proceed out of the house.

22 minutes later, mom gave me the number and cash I need for a taxi. Riding inside the back of the yellow cab, I sit patiently as I observe the taxi driver; he is Black and around his late 30s having six feet of dreadlocks that length to his rib area. I see around him, a Jamaican flag and a portrait of him and a female—could be his wife.

He turns to me slightly. “Where are you heading, young man?” He says with that cool Caribbean-like voice.

“Picking up a girl from this address.” I reply as I give him the directions to Megan’s place.

He looks over the piece of paper reading the address and nods his head back and forth very fast like he gave me a yes without even saying it. He then gives me back the paper.

“I know where that way be.” He says.

“Good.”  I say. “By the way, cool voice. You’re from Jamaica?”

“Thank you young man.” He responds. “I’m actually from St. Thomas of the Virgin Islands, but I grew most of my life in Jamaica.”

“Interesting.” I say.

The driver seems nice. Very relaxing; guess this is going to be a fascinating venture.

Almost ten minutes later, we reach to Megan’s residence in a very rich neighborhood. Surveying her place, I see it is a sublime mansion-like, two-story house with two big columns with the main door in the center bottom. The pearlish, white exterior colors kind of giving its gleam of wonder to how spectacular to have a man like Megan’s father.

A minute waiting until finally Megan comes walking out of front door seen wearing a smoking hot, light canary dress and white shoes. I get out of the cab to allow her to get in first. She waves at me.

“Hi, Caden!”

“Hi to you, Megan!”

She shows off that classic smile of hers as she gets inside the cab. I follow suit. Once inside, I close the back passenger door and signaling the driver to head out. He then tries to say something.

“Where to, young man?” The driver asks.

She looks at me wondering where as well hoping it will be that nice French restaurant that just recently opened, but I have a mission to do so I hope she understands when I say this.

“Take us to the Edith Library.” I state.

“Will do.” He responds.

Megan’s smile instantly turns to a frown as she shows a state of confusion and is very perplexed in what I said.

“What you mean the library?” She asks confound.

“I need to do something.” I reply.

“Something…something, what you mean?” She says raising her eyebrows and tweaking her eyes both showing expressions of anger and confusion at the same time.

“It’s going to be quick. I promise.” I say trying to make her relax.

“Already this date sucks.” She states as she slumps back-first to the backseat already ignoring me by turning her head to the left side of the window. Knowing this is my only way at best to find that prophecy without her finding out.

Thirty minutes later we reach near downtown Oakston as the university’s main campus is nearby. Oakston University is one of those schools the counselor and teachers has talk to us about to focus on as well LSU, University of Louisiana, and other state universities. The library is not typically a place for strangers to walk in and walk out, it is mainly use for the students that go there and the instructors that work there.

Approaching St. Mary Street, the cab drops us off here. I tell the driver to wait for at least an hour. He shakes his head yes and patiently waits. Megan trying to ignore me and forget the reason why she is here and not a five-star restaurant; I grab her right hand with both my hands.

“Listen I’ll be back, I promise.”

“Alright.” She sighs. She then looks over to see a coffee and smoothie shop a block away. She looks back at me, “Listen, while you do your thing, I’m going to head to the shop to get a coca latte.”

I nod my head back a bit acknowledging her that it is okay. “Go for it.”

She grins a bit, not her smile, but a very slight grin.

As she walks down the block to that shop, I turn back my focus right in front me where the library is. I walk forward to view the huge complex with the white dominant in the top with the slim, three-story windows—seven on each side, the bottom part all of red bricks. In the center, a three step-like structure where the bottom is curve out and at the top white long rectangular shape with a arch-like shape with red bricks in there. Walking over to the right side, there is a arch way with three arches of the red bricks standing by itself. I walk pass it until I get inside opening the first wave of clear multi-doors. First inside reveals what the front façade looks like, and see it predominantly silverish, white. I enter the second wave of clear multi-doors.

Finally inside the library section, I walk towards the Circulation desk where further away I could see a huge computer lab and young adults a bit older than myself operating there. I also see couple of students inside a room where copiers are held. Thinking about the Alpheus prophecy’s copy, I get one of the females working at the desk from where I’m standing. The sweet, white hair lady wearing eyeglasses comes over to recognize she has someone who needs of help.

“Do you need something, my dear?” She asks quietly with her light tone.

“Yes.” Responding back quietly. “Do you have copies of…um, of old documents? Like an old letter from the 1800s.”

“Ah, yes!” She states as she heads to a nearby computer doodling something as she types. And a few seconds later, she looks back at me. “On the third floor, there is a section we like to call our ‘Special Collections and Archives’.”

“And you said third floor?” I ask.

“Yes.” She replies. “But do you have a card?”

“I’m sorry.” I say.

“You need a card ID to access the room. It is a room where most of the state’s special documents are up there. Only instructors and students with IDs are allowed.” She says.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not a student.” I reply.

“Well I can’t do anything. Visitors aren’t allow unless you’re an active member in the university.” She says.

“You know what, that is okay.” I say.

“Sorry I couldn’t do more.” She says as she then turns back around.

I was about to head back outside, but then I slowly turn my head to glance at the librarian who just helped me and she is seen heading inside an office. I turn completely around to see the others near her occupied with someone else or is focusing on their computer screens. Seeing this is my only shot, I decide to forget this and march forward to the area where I could see a black spiral staircase. Making sure no one suspicious is watching me; I head upstairs reaching to the third floor.

When I approach the second level of the second floor, I notice a guy opening the door. I glance over to see he has his card id in his backpack side pocket. After hearing from the lady I need a card to get access to the archives room, I devise a plan. As the sandy brown guy approaches, with such force I use my strength to ram into him. We both fall to the floor and his backpack falling off him; seeing the opening I grab the card and put it in my pant pocket.  I look over at him helping him back up by grabbing his hand.

“Sorry about that.”            

“It’s okay man. No problem. Have I seen you before?”

Trying to lie, “No I’m new, and I need to do a paper on Louisiana music.”

“Well, the second floor I heard has some great books and info about the state’s music.”

“Thanks.”

The man soon uses the steps to go down to the first floor unaware I have his card. Seeing him not checking his card is missing, I head up to the third floor. Reaching to the floor, I open the stairway door. I walk and notice a map showing me where to go. Another few minutes, I walk towards two glass doors with the label “Special Collections and Archives” painted on the glass.

Gazing around to see no one inside, I open the doors where I make it to another door, yet is locked. I notice a black box near the door. I grab the card from the guy I luckily ran into; I then enter the card into the reader and the red light turns green. I take the card out and open the door where inside no one is there. When I finally get inside the room, I notice shelves fill with documents, rare books, files, and copies. Trying to search for anything relating to prophecies, I notice an area of shelves where documents are filled with archive books. I then see an old antique book with a burgundy-cover bound object and has gold painted letters as it reads.

“Προφητεία tou Ἀλφειός”

What is this?

Thinking about what are these letters as my mind starts to hurt trying to comprehend what are those letters represent. It seems to me it looks like Greek letters. But for a sophomore in a high school that does not take Greek classes, I’m very inadequate when it comes to translating. And just as if my hope has dwindles down, I start to hear that Middle-Eastern voice and then I turn my head quickly to see…Syril the oracle.

“Guess you’re lost in translation.”

“I can’t read Greek.”

She is amused a bit when she looks at me. “Well having known the Ancient Greeks, I can tell you I can translate for you.”

Seeing I have no other choice unless I ask the lady downstairs, who will probably be pissed to know I came here illegally. I look back to Syril and nod at her.

“So what does this mean?” I ask.

As she smiles, “Προφητεία means prophecy and Ἀλφειός means Alpheus.”

“Wait what!” Getting confused and bewildered, I look to the antique book and I could not believe that this is it. This is the Alpheus prophecy.

“You found it. I’m impressed, Caden, I almost doubt that you wouldn’t.”

“But you’re an oracle?”

“Sometimes, my visions don’t dictate everything. It tells me messages like you read text.”

Pleased she helped translate the title of the book and seeing it is the prophecy, I turn the book to see pages nearly hundreds of them blank. To my complete surprise, there is not one page as of yet to have a saying or anything until I reach halfway until I spot one message. One foreboding paragraph. All in Greek.

Προφητεία ότι ο Devos θα αυξηθούν κατά το σκοτάδι να φως ως καθαγιάστηκαν Λυκόφως ανατέλλει κοντά στην αρχή. Το ευλόγησε το λυκόφως δίνει αφορμή για την σπάνια. Η σπάνια ένας, ο Devos--μισό ενός ανθρώπου και μισό ενός δαίμονα--να αποκομίζονται πολλές εξουσίες, αλλά η εσωτερική πάλη θα θέσει σε κίνδυνο τόσο του τα μισά.

I have no utter clue what is this. I immediately turn to Syril needing her help.

“Please Syril! If you can help me, I need to know this.” I declare hoping she does something magical.

She stands there taking a quick smile and then snaps her right thumb and right index fingers. “Look again.” She says with mystique.

I glance from her spot back to the page. Then all of the sudden, the Greek words is translating into English.

Prophecy states that a Devos will rise against the darkness to give light as the Blessed Twilight dawns near to the beginning. The Blessed Twilight gives rise to the Rare One. The Rare One, the Devos--half of a human and half of a demon--will amass many powers, but the internal struggle will endanger both of his halves.

And just rechecking the rest of the pages, it is all blank. It seems whoever this prophet was probably left this only to be read by someone who knew to speak Greek and someone who knew about a Devos. My father, Dantailon, knew about this. I turn back to Syril to try to understand what this means literally.

“So was this it?”

“It only shows what you’re meant to see.”

“Wait, you’re saying you knew about this. You knew?!”

“Who do you think told your father to put the words Alpheus Prophecy in the journal?”

I look back at her and realize I cannot believe it. She was the one who told my father to put those words. That is how she was so quick to translate these Greek words. 

“Caden, I know you are displeased of how I told you this.”

“You lied.”

“You know now. Dantailon knew his fate when he wanted you to see this. I realize that you really need that journal.”

“Do you have it?”

“Of course not. Why would I steal something that was meant for you and there is nothing in there that I have already known my entire existence.”

“Do you know who has it then?”

“Time will tell. You will find that journal once you finish the trials.”

“So this Blessed Twilight the prophecy mentioned about; what it meant when it said it gave rise to the Rare One.”

“Because the night you were conceived was on a Blessed Twilight. In a rare chance a human and a demon will spawn a hybrid so unique that will center light and dark. The struggle that I have sense in you and that you have noticed is also part of the prophecy. You’re the only Devos in existence. You shape the struggle between light and darkness. Demons want that. They want imbalance.”

Digesting everything what she is saying, I look back at the passage of the prophecy then I look back to her.

“So what now?”

“Be prepare…for what’s to come.”

“What you mean?” Getting confused when she said ‘for what’s to come’.

Before I even get an answer, she smirks off kind of sinisterly and disappears from out of sight.

“Syril! Syril! I need to know what is coming!” I yell my lungs out trying to find out what she meant by that. After waiting for five minutes, she is not responding. After another minute to waste only to hear silence and no noise except me yelling, I realize Mal was probably right about her; she is tricky and could be talking about me to Asmodeus. Is she working for him? I hope not especially after the last thing she told me about being prepare for what is about to come.

Thinking people around heard me yell, I half to go. I completed the first trial. The prophecy gave me a lot to chew on… the Blessed Twilight, struggle between light and darkness, and internal struggle. I close the book, grab it, and put it back to where I found it. I then proceed out of the room straight to the stairs access. After heading down to the first floor, I notice I have to find out if Megan is waiting for me.

Before I even head straight to the clear doors leading outside, I notice the guy I ran into earlier is talking to one of the librarians. I get closer to over hear him fussing over that he lost his card and that he swore he thought he had it in his bag.

Seeing the security approaching from way to the back of the library to come here, I realize if they spot me I could be in trouble. So in order to make sure everyone will be happy, I reach into my pocket to get the student’s ID card and swiftly throw it in the air letting gravity taking over. I quickly walk out exiting out of a clear door, where I view the card falling nearby the circulation desk nearby the student’s left light brown boot. By the time, I reach to the foyer-like entry leading to the outside; I notice one of the guards picking up the card and give it back to the student.

Hoping the guard and the librarian tell the student he just did not look hard enough. I see him grab hold of his card and look totally confused that he could have sworn the card was not there. Maybe it is magic. I soon head out.