Things Not Subject To Gravity - Chapter 14: Chapter 14

Sybil turned his head to look at his edgy guest as a soft chuckle escaped his lips. He let it out, pleasantly surprised by his own unexpected reaction.
The name Set, known as referring to the Egyptian god, seemed to be an undeniable fit for its current bearer. However, Set was also the name of Adam's third son, the father of Gnosticism and the Archetype of Rosicrucians. This lesser-known figure was mentioned in Adam's prayer, inside the Sepher Raziel HaMalakh* -- Book of Raziel the Angel – a grimoire that Sybil had studied and that reproduced for some extent the text he was currently using. Sybil had moved onto Sepher Ha-Razim – Book of Secrets – because it was an older grimoire, reporting more accurately the angelic hierarchy and the instructions on how to interact with angels.
It could've been a mere coincidence, but coincidence was one thing Sybil did not believe in.
On the other hand, Voland was an ancient German term that meant devil or evil spirit. It might've been a subtle way for a demon to address himself. That would've been an interesting outcome as Sybil's most favorite tool was the Lemegeton, or Clavicula Salomonis Regis*, that bore the list of the infernal hierarchy and its related instructions.
Either way, Set Voland's name was too peculiar to be overlooked.
Sybil wanted to know all about his new guest. Still, he was aware that, by being too pushy, he would've made the boy run for good. So, he decided to take a roundabout approach and slowly enjoy the pleasure of discovery.
As he smiled, Sybil's gaze lingered over the boy's pursed lips.
"You are drunk," he stated in amusement.
For a split-second, confusion crossed Set's face, but he kept his ready-to-fight stance.
"What the fuck does it matter?" he snapped. "Do you w-wan' to kill me or not?" he asked deadly serious.
The question was somehow naïve. If The Oracle really had any intention to dispose of him, there would've been no way for the boy to avoid it. Certainly, no need for a second meeting. Sybil felt a pang of tenderness and gave in to the impulse of reassuring him.
"I've no wish to hurt you," he said in his softest tone.
Set averted his gaze, and his hands let go of the table. He let them rest on his lap as if he'd suddenly become aware that he had overreacted.
"Anyway, it's just a dream, isn't it?" the boy asked cautiously.
"It's a prophecy."
"How do you know?" Set inquired, wide eyes back to Sybil.
"Because I can see the future." Sybil's mellow voice sounded like an adult explaining to a child.
The boy seemed to think about it. His eyes narrowed and he scratched his beard. "Well, can't you change it?" he burst out in the end, slapping his palms on the white tablecloth.
"Perhaps," conceded Sybil, feeling the tingle of another chuckle about to come.
Thanks to Solomon's ring, the Oracle had regained the memories of his past lives. The death of his body had always been foreseen so that his essence could peacefully accept the transition into the next vessel. Sybil knew the past and the future, and their unraveling in the wheel of Existence. He had a subtle understanding of the dynamics of the Four Worlds*. Most importantly, he had experienced the Fifth one – Adam Kadmon*, the emanation of Kether*. The Everything which is the Absolute Nothingness, beyond the illusion of the transformation of events and the flow of time. In other words, Sybil Vain knew the Truth.
As such, death wasn't the issue for him.
His concerns were for the ring and for the boy. Sybil couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to keep them safe, regardless of their seemingly conflictual future. Since their fate rested on his hands, his heart was torn.
His emotions were a fundamental element in the play of life, and they couldn't just disappear. They would waver, at times rippling and expanding to the point of engulfing him, then shrinking to calm until the next tide. They had astounding rhythms and dances of their own.
"I suppose you could change the future for me." He found himself saying the unexpected.
Set pulled back from the table and showed his palms. "Hang on man, I'm not as nuts as you." He shook his head. "If you got mental issues, like persecution complex and such, you got to find a way and snap out of it. See? Not go around and messing with people." His hands fell back on the table and he bit his lip, hesitating for a moment. Then, his eyes narrowed. "Why does it have to be me? I don't even know you. Are you fucking kidding? Seriously, what the fuck?" he rambled, squinting at him.
Sybil's smile didn't falter. "In the dream, you are the only person I can see, so I assume you might be the only one who can change that moment," he said honestly.
Set didn't counter. He leaned back in his chair with a frustrated snort and crossed his arms. Swept by a light breeze, the flame of the candles wavered and a shiver ran through Sybil's body. It started at the soles of his feet, which were resting on the cool wood of the patio, and crossed his skin that tensed under the light cotton of his white robe. He pulled his legs in the half-lotus posture and closed his eyes.
He observed his thoughts as they rushed in the screen of his mind, one after the other, asking what was the real reason that led him to allow Set in his house, and providing dozens of possible explanations. He watched them as they pooled in and bustled about until they quieted down and the screen was black and silent again.
Then came the sound of the wind rustling through the plant leaves, accompanied by the distant roar of car engines, and somewhere close by a cricket singing. A faint tapping of steps took over before more cars came on the way. A hushed chattering surfaced, but it was cut by windows sliding and followed by a TV buzzing from downstairs.
Sybil took it all in and savored the sweetness of that spring night before he was drawn in by the deep thump of his own heartbeat. The steady pace vibrated through his body in a soothing, peaceful melody.
Then, his breath became the only sound, and as the air rhythmically filled his chest, everything else disappeared into it. Slowly, his consciousness was lifted over his head and sank into the silent, bright, darkness that was his true self. He rejoined with the Ain Sof Aur* through Kether's door.
When Sybil opened his eyes, his heart was as wide and clear as the morning sky. Yet it burst with a divine-like love that filled it like a prickling, gentle, electrical current.
The boy sat still, with his knees held to his chest and his fearful eyes glued to Sybil's face. He had that stray puppy's face – big round eyes, sunken cheeks, and messy hair – like one of those dogs living on the streets in India. Malnourished and filthy, yet wearing their dignity intact – they held eyes of such purity that it could shame the most gracious of the saints. When he'd lived there Sybil used to feed them his leftovers, but even after he'd left the monastery, he couldn't take them with him. Things had changed though, he was free to do as he pleased and could afford it too. Also he wasn't afraid to acknowledge his own inclinations.
"Listen, Set. I like you and I don't feel like leaving you on the road. I want you to stay here." His eyes locked with the boy's as the soft-spoken words rolled gently over his tongue. "If you are fine with it, you can use the spare room."
Set took a deep breath and his shoulders relaxed. His face looked younger and his eyes became languid.
"Are you serious?" he asked, almost whispering.
"I am," Sybil replied, granting him another smile. "Welcome home, Set,"
The ring gave off a little flicker and The Oracle knew that he just put in place one of the pieces of the improbable jigsaw that was his life.