The Light Warrior Files
Chapter 1, Part 3: First Meetings
By Chris Ward
At least he wasn’t kidding about the drive. Less than 10 minutes later, we pulled into a
parking garage and entered the apartment complex through the corridor. After taking the
elevator to the third floor, we climbed to the eighth. When we finally stopped, he rapped
three times on the door.
As it opened, he waved me inside. The main room of the apartment appeared spacious and
uncluttered, but also quite dark. Not quite pitch black, but more like that time of day when
you realize that you should start turning on lights. As my ability automatically compensated,
I looked around. There was little to see.
In the kitchen are there were all the normal items, as well as another small table. Although I
could tell it was made of wood, little else was visible as it was completely covered with
what appeared to be nearly every item to be found in a Radio Shack.
The living area was just off the kitchen. It had a couple comfortable reclining chairs, as well
as a large sofa. A decent sized entertainment center was along the wal opposite the sofa,
with a larger table than the one in the kitchen beside it.
“Have you brought him?” This voice, dry and husky, emanated from the farthest end of the
sofa, in the darkest corner of the room. Peering into the shadows, I saw what appeared to
be one of the most singularly beautiful women I had yet encountered.
“Yes, this is the one, Lady.” I wasn’t entirely certain what he meant by that.
“Good, does he know?”
“Not as yet, Lady. At least, not in full. I thought it best to bring him in first. He’s already
being researched.”
“That’s my job.” This new voice caused me to whirl around. It came from behind the mound
of electronics. As the speaker emerged, I found the voice to be a perfect match to the man.
Mousey, jittery and hyper, the boy could have been anywhere between 15 and 18 .
With a slight grin, Ishmael said, “Not just yet, Builder. Give him a chance to meet the Dark
Lady and learn why he is here.”
Although I tried, I was unable to conceal a snort of laughter. “Builder?”
With a grin, he turned to me and rumbled, “You’ll get used to it, if you elect to join us.
Names, aside from myself, are not used here. Instead, we use the terms given by the Dark
Lady .”
“The ‘Dark Lady’?”
“Come into the room.” Following him into the living area, I found myself in front of the
woman I had seen shortly after entering the apartment. No, standing directly in front of her
as I was, I was forced to amend my earlier impression. This was not merely one of the most
beautiful women I had ever seen, she was the most singularly gorgeous woman I had ever
encountered. Everything about her was perfectly flawless. Although the plain, dark blue
dress she was wearing was not intended to reveal anything, it was unable to conceal the
type of womanly body most men dream of. Her face contained that feminine perfection for
which wars are fought. Her skin, although of a shade lighter than Ishmael’s, was flawless
ebony. Her lustrous, waist long hair was such a raven black that it reflected a blue hue in
what little light there was.
All of this I noted in the first few seconds I stood in front of her. Ultimately, I made the
mistake of looking directly into her eyes. Due to a trait that I had not encountered among
those of African descent, at any point to that day or beyond, her eyes were shining emerald
in color, as perfect as the rest of her. What held me spellbound, however , was not their
coloration. Instead, I was captured by that eerie certainty I saw. It was the certainty of one
who has stared into the face of destiny, and has accepted her role without reservation,
casting herself completely into the crucible of fate.
As she held my gaze, I detected a searching, a subtle sifting. Without knowing precisely
how I knew this, I suddenly became aware that all my secrets were laid bare before this
perfect woman. Perhaps most astonishingly, I found myself uncaring that this Dark Lady had
invaded my mind in this way.
“Yes. There is pride. Pride in who you are and what you have done. There is love there
also. Love of life and living, yes, but also what looks to be the beginnings of love for a
woman. Hold those emotions, nourish them. There is greater strength to be found there
than anywhere else.
“There is also much pain. Bitterness, hatred and rage. Black and hot lie these emotions,
boiling within and barely controlled. There is much about your past which ever fuels these
feelings. Scars on your heart to match those on your flesh. Open wounds still within your
soul. Great wrong done to you by those who should have loved you. Greater wrong still by
those who should have seen and intervened.
“I will not say let go your pain, for it is our pain which defines us and motivates us.
Remember, though, never to give in to the pain. Do not allow these dark emotions to
control you. Although they are a source of strength, and a source of your greatest
motivation, they will destroy you utterly.” That tender voice, husky and dry as I had noticed,
but with the slightest trace of an unidentifiable accent, comforted and consoled me as she
continued to gently search my memories. Only then did I realize that I had fallen to my
knees, though I still found myself locked in her stare. Her hands, warm and tender, lightly
clasped each cheek.
Chapter 1, Part 3: First Meetings
By Chris Ward
At least he wasn’t kidding about the drive. Less than 10 minutes later, we pulled into a
parking garage and entered the apartment complex through the corridor. After taking the
elevator to the third floor, we climbed to the eighth. When we finally stopped, he rapped
three times on the door.
As it opened, he waved me inside. The main room of the apartment appeared spacious and
uncluttered, but also quite dark. Not quite pitch black, but more like that time of day when
you realize that you should start turning on lights. As my ability automatically compensated,
I looked around. There was little to see.
In the kitchen are there were all the normal items, as well as another small table. Although I
could tell it was made of wood, little else was visible as it was completely covered with
what appeared to be nearly every item to be found in a Radio Shack.
The living area was just off the kitchen. It had a couple comfortable reclining chairs, as well
as a large sofa. A decent sized entertainment center was along the wal opposite the sofa,
with a larger table than the one in the kitchen beside it.
“Have you brought him?” This voice, dry and husky, emanated from the farthest end of the
sofa, in the darkest corner of the room. Peering into the shadows, I saw what appeared to
be one of the most singularly beautiful women I had yet encountered.
“Yes, this is the one, Lady.” I wasn’t entirely certain what he meant by that.
“Good, does he know?”
“Not as yet, Lady. At least, not in full. I thought it best to bring him in first. He’s already
being researched.”
“That’s my job.” This new voice caused me to whirl around. It came from behind the mound
of electronics. As the speaker emerged, I found the voice to be a perfect match to the man.
Mousey, jittery and hyper, the boy could have been anywhere between 15 and 18 .
With a slight grin, Ishmael said, “Not just yet, Builder. Give him a chance to meet the Dark
Lady and learn why he is here.”
Although I tried, I was unable to conceal a snort of laughter. “Builder?”
With a grin, he turned to me and rumbled, “You’ll get used to it, if you elect to join us.
Names, aside from myself, are not used here. Instead, we use the terms given by the Dark
Lady .”
“The ‘Dark Lady’?”
“Come into the room.” Following him into the living area, I found myself in front of the
woman I had seen shortly after entering the apartment. No, standing directly in front of her
as I was, I was forced to amend my earlier impression. This was not merely one of the most
beautiful women I had ever seen, she was the most singularly gorgeous woman I had ever
encountered. Everything about her was perfectly flawless. Although the plain, dark blue
dress she was wearing was not intended to reveal anything, it was unable to conceal the
type of womanly body most men dream of. Her face contained that feminine perfection for
which wars are fought. Her skin, although of a shade lighter than Ishmael’s, was flawless
ebony. Her lustrous, waist long hair was such a raven black that it reflected a blue hue in
what little light there was.
All of this I noted in the first few seconds I stood in front of her. Ultimately, I made the
mistake of looking directly into her eyes. Due to a trait that I had not encountered among
those of African descent, at any point to that day or beyond, her eyes were shining emerald
in color, as perfect as the rest of her. What held me spellbound, however , was not their
coloration. Instead, I was captured by that eerie certainty I saw. It was the certainty of one
who has stared into the face of destiny, and has accepted her role without reservation,
casting herself completely into the crucible of fate.
As she held my gaze, I detected a searching, a subtle sifting. Without knowing precisely
how I knew this, I suddenly became aware that all my secrets were laid bare before this
perfect woman. Perhaps most astonishingly, I found myself uncaring that this Dark Lady had
invaded my mind in this way.
“Yes. There is pride. Pride in who you are and what you have done. There is love there
also. Love of life and living, yes, but also what looks to be the beginnings of love for a
woman. Hold those emotions, nourish them. There is greater strength to be found there
than anywhere else.
“There is also much pain. Bitterness, hatred and rage. Black and hot lie these emotions,
boiling within and barely controlled. There is much about your past which ever fuels these
feelings. Scars on your heart to match those on your flesh. Open wounds still within your
soul. Great wrong done to you by those who should have loved you. Greater wrong still by
those who should have seen and intervened.
“I will not say let go your pain, for it is our pain which defines us and motivates us.
Remember, though, never to give in to the pain. Do not allow these dark emotions to
control you. Although they are a source of strength, and a source of your greatest
motivation, they will destroy you utterly.” That tender voice, husky and dry as I had noticed,
but with the slightest trace of an unidentifiable accent, comforted and consoled me as she
continued to gently search my memories. Only then did I realize that I had fallen to my
knees, though I still found myself locked in her stare. Her hands, warm and tender, lightly
clasped each cheek.
