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Back The Occurrence
Chapters (117)
  1. Cover
  2. Title
  3. Copyright
  4. Contents
  5. PART ONE: Up From Buried Light
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. PART TWO: Re-Entry
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. PART THREE: Convergence
  29. 22
  30. 23
  31. 24
  32. 25
  33. 26
  34. 27
  35. 28
  36. 29
  37. 30
  38. 31
  39. 32
  40. 33
  41. 34
  42. 35
  43. 36
  44. 37
  45. 38
  46. 39
  47. 40
  48. 41
  49. PART FOUR: Surrender
  50. 42
  51. 43
  52. 44
  53. 45
  54. 46
  55. 47
  56. 48
  57. 49
  58. 50
  59. 51
  60. 52
  61. 53
  62. 54
  63. 55
  64. 56
  65. 57
  66. PART FIVE: The Tablets
  67. 58
  68. 59
  69. 60
  70. 61
  71. 62
  72. 63
  73. 64
  74. 65
  75. PART SIX: The Trial
  76. 66
  77. 67
  78. 68
  79. PART SEVEN: The Cave of Memory
  80. 69
  81. 70
  82. 71
  83. 72
  84. 73
  85. 74
  86. 75
  87. 76
  88. 77
  89. 78
  90. 79
  91. 80
  92. 81
  93. 82
  94. 83
  95. PART EIGHT: Guardians
  96. 84
  97. 85
  98. 86
  99. 87
  100. 88
  101. 89
  102. 90
  103. 91
  104. 92
  105. 93
  106. 94
  107. PART NINE: Into Buried Light
  108. 95
  109. 96
  110. 97
  111. 98
  112. 99
  113. 100
  114. 101
  115. 102
  116. 103
  117. Acknowledgments

Called? Miracles? The land of magical thinking. This nonsense was why she’d left Cuzco.

She put her phone down, distracted with the preoccupation that grew inside her. Thoughts of her sister had come in streams in the past week, and she couldn’t dismiss the strange charge that had been running through her the past few days.

Isabel was the beauty, the motivated one with the drive to succeed no matter the cost, while Arama was the plain sister, happy to be of service to the poor and forgotten.

But for all her success Isabel wasn’t happy. Say what she would about Arama, dismiss her flights of fantasy, her magical thinking, but bottom line—Arama was the one at peace. If Isabel could admit it to herself, Arama had always been at peace.

Had Isabel yearned for the opposite of what she’d strived for? No matter how much she’d left behind and achieved, her sister hovered in the corners of her mind. She hated these doubts, and that she and Arama were, and would forever be, connected. Connected in a way that always pushed Isabel to the edge of some giant unknown. Unknowns she’d fortified herself against with all the might she had, and all the common wisdom in the rules and laws that were on her side—that this physical world was the one provable reality.

39

39

Vincente Salva hadn’t prayed in a long time, yet he was kneeling in the church of La Merced, Cuzco. Relics and remembrances of the impassioned lives of saints and saviors surrounded him. He thought about Jhana-Merise. She was not a saint. She was not a savior. She was a little girl. Yet he knew his mission was to protect her. He knew she was his for a short time. He knew she would never marry, never love another except her God. And this filled him with sorrow, yet he knew it was her destiny. He’d known it from the first time she spoke to him from his wife’s womb. He’d hated God for the gift of knowing. He’d hated God for taking his wife. But now on his knees he was asking for help. And as he prayed he realized it wasn’t God he’d hated, but the intermediaries who’d claimed to speak for Him, promising things they could never deliver. The ones who wallowed in gory details of sin and crucifixion.

Vincente had studied the lives of saints and kept up with news of visionaries around the world. It was part of his silent vow to know as much as he could to protect his daughter. He knew of the messages from Fatima and those of Medjugorje. Places where young children had claimed to be visited by the Virgin Mother. Places that had become shrines, and the children objects of adoration, and ridicule.