Overcomer - The Journey by Judy Colella (top 10 non fiction books of all time txt) 📕
Cian MacDara, born in Donegal, Ireland in 537 a.d., has a destiny that will take him across time and continents. To fulfill it, he will need the help of Druids, angels, and some pretty special friends from modern-day Connecticut. But before his ultimate purpose is achieved, he must survive a journey through extreme adversity and overcome the darkness that wants to destroy him.
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- Author: Judy Colella
Read book online «Overcomer - The Journey by Judy Colella (top 10 non fiction books of all time txt) 📕». Author - Judy Colella
“And yes, Celeste, she did seek you out; the Darkness learned of my absence, and became more persistent than usual, giving Celesta no respite. To ease her labors, she sought a companion with whom she could share some of the beauty she’d known as a celestial being, which is what her name means. You were the one she chose while I was away helping that man and his family to find a safe haven. He had to be moved about often, since Moloch would occasionally make a massive effort to locate and destroy him.”
“That’s the other name for the Irish god creep, right?”
“Yes, Katie. And the term ‘creep’ is beyond kind. Now eventually, I settled the family in a little village on Donegal Bay about two hundred years before Cian would be born. There, they were left alone by that evil one, and there they prospered.
“When I returned, Celesta told me what the Great Magistrate – also known as The Creator – had asked her to do with my help. Moloch had been overstepping its bounds with its pursuit of Cian’s ancestor, and needed to be punished. As an eternal creature, it can’t be killed, but it can be contained in a place called The Outer Darkness, a kind of prison for rogue spirits. Only, no human had the skill or legal right to send it there at that point. Thus we were tasked with finding and training someone with all the right characteristics to face Moloch in battle and defeat it.
“As you have probably surmised, that person would be a descendant of the priest – Cian. He was to be given instruction in the use of the weapons that would prepare him to wield the only thing able to stop that evil creature – the Sword of Light.
“Celesta told me this boy would have inherited a characteristic from the maternal side. ‘His great-great grandmother,’ she said, ‘will join with a human male of unusual beauty. Because of this, some will even call him a god. Their sons and daughters will also be beautiful, and through the loveliest of them, this boy’s genetics will blend to create a person of unparalleled magnificence. No one who sees him will be able to look away.’”
Cian shifted and Celeste allowed herself to look at him. He had closed his eyes, shaking his head. That embarrassed him! But why?
“I asked if it might not be better to have someone more normal-looking so he wouldn’t be so noticeable,” Croghan was saying, “but she explained that he must be immediately recognizable as one who has been chosen for a special purpose.”
Celeste realized she was still staring at Cian and quickly looked back at Croghan.
“I asked what else she saw about him that would make him the right one,“ Croghan continued. “She told me that in addition to physical strength, emotional determination, and the capacity for loving greatly, he would also have the right kind of intelligence to be taught how to fight the darkness.” He smiled at Celeste. “And then she said, ‘I have also found another – she can be his Celesta. How wonderful that her name will be Celeste! She will be possessed of a natural musical ability and great beauty.’”
Celeste felt the warmth of a blush ease up her throat and into her cheeks, and understood why Cian had looked so uncomfortable.
Eileen patted Celeste’s back. “She was right about that, too.”
“Mom – stop it!” Celeste hissed. Would anyone notice if she slid under the table and hung out there for a while?
“The next thing Celesta told me was that this young lady would be from neither the same place nor time as the priest’s descendant. Therefore, I was to return to Earth as Croghan the Bard and go to the boy’s cottage, which, having settled his ancestor there, I knew well. I would bring him into the Hub through the Door closest to Donegal, and from there, arrange for him to travel the pathways to various times that were future to his own so he could see the progress of mankind through the ages. Once this was accomplished, Cian would be brought to the same time as the girl and left there with those who know and help us, who would care for him until he was grown, continue his training, and make sure he never forgot his destiny.”
“Who are those who know and help you?” Katie poured more tea, brows raised.
“Another excellent question! Among every generation are those humans who are made aware of us. We call them Servant Helpers, and they volunteer to lend assistance if and when necessary in their time. They can enter a Door or Portal to escort someone to the Hub, or even to another Door in safety. Without their help, the Darkness that on rare occasions creeps about in the Halls and on the paths near these places of entrance will destroy any human caught there. Before you ask, it is possible to fall in through a Door or Portal by accident.”
“I’m getting a headache,” Donal muttered. Then louder, “This an awful lot to take in, Mr. Croghan.”
“I know, but you must be made to understand why I’m here, why Cian is here, and why we need Celeste’s help.”
Celeste had been contemplating these things while trying not to miss anything, but was coming up with more and more questions with each answer. “How does this Hub work, anyway?” she blurted out.
“All right. I use relative terms like ‘he will be’ or ‘there shall be’ only to help you maintain an order in the tale. At the Hub, Time stands still, you see, so while the former priest was coming through his Door onto one of the pathways with Amergin, his descendent, Cian, was already alive and thriving on the other side of another of the Doors. This is how the Glorious One can be with so many at once. He, too, exists outside the strictures of Time.”
From the other room came the sound of pounding footsteps, and a moment later Tara burst into the kitchen again. “Listen, Mom, I’m really sorry to interrupt, but we are soooo hungry! It’s way past lunch time, so can we please eat?”
Eileen looked up at Tara, gasping, and stood. “She’s right! Everybody out of my kitchen. Go sit in the family room while I make lunch – and no stories until after we eat,” she added, leveling a sharp look at Croghan.
With a slight nod and a big grin, he got up, the others doing the same.
Part of her mind still on the story, Celeste trailed out of the room behind the rest. She’d been chosen to be Cian’s helper… it was hard, but she managed to contain the sudden urge to execute a fist-pump and a loud, “Yessss!”
THIRTEEN
Georgia – One Year Earlier
“How in the world could you let this one fall through the cracks?” Mr. Bell, head of the Foster Care Department, ran a hand through his hair. “And for six years! I mean, what are the chances we’ll find him, or that he’s all right?”
Fuming, Felicity Markwood got up from her chair and crossed her arms. “Okay, look. Get something straight, sir. I was not even employed by this agency back then, so don’t you dare point your finger at me and accuse me of ‘letting’ anyone ‘fall through the cracks’! Second, I was the social worker who found the discrepancy and reported it, so if anything, you ought to be saying, ‘Thank you, Miss Markwood – if it hadn’t been for your efforts, no one would even know this child was missing from the system.’ And third, the whole reason this happened, which I just discovered, was because the boy’s case worker was killed in a freak accident on her way back from dropping him off with his new foster-family!”
“I heard about that, too.” Mr. Bell nodded. “A tree limb broke and went through the roof of her convertible, killing her instantly. Weird.”
“Yes, it was.” Felicity sat back down behind her desk. “And because of that, we got no report on what these people were like or even where the boy had been taken since for some reason, she never entered their information in the system. Had our new Director not given me authority to search, this boy’s existence would still be unknown. However, I was able to access the holding room of the Police Department in the County where the accident occurred and find the woman’s papers – my own idea, I might add.”
Spring had finally come to Atlanta after a harsh winter, and the office windows had been opened that morning. An early mosquito buzzed in, its tiny racket distracting Felicity enough that she glanced out at the silver-green of new leaves brightening Peachtree Street. Already the air was filling with the lovely fragrances that marked the demise of winter and she took in a deep breath through her nose.
“It certainly is nice,” remarked Mr. Bell, his tone dry.
She turned back to him with a sour smile. “Yeah. Anyway, what exactly are you here for, besides yelling at me?”
“I didn’t yell, but I’m deeply disturbed by what our research on this case has turned up.”
“Your research? Excuse me, but I believe all of that research is nothing more than copies of what I sent to you. So I know what’s in it, and believe me, I’m more upset and disturbed about this than you could possibly know.”
One eyebrow shot upward toward the man’s receding hairline. “And why is that, Miss Markwood?”
Her shoulders dropped in exasperation. “Look at the extent of all the mistakes! First, the foster father was the one who took all the required classes, not the mother – she never showed up at all, yet there was no investigation. Second, the home he showed us wasn’t even theirs, but belonged to some friend of his in Albany, but nobody double-checked the address until recently! And third, when he died under suspicious circumstances, his wife never contacted us, so we had no idea where they really lived, or that he had died. That was another new revelation! For some reason I can’t fathom, no one looked into any of this, a fact that cost the last Director and his staff their jobs!”
“Worse than that,” Bell added, “the boy had been staying at the home of a woman who worked at the Center for Resources and Support, one of our main divisions, until she and her husband were brutally murdered. The boy should have remained here until the investigation ended, but instead, the case worker left with him the next day – ”
“And placed him with the new foster family, driving him to a house she never had a chance to register, out in the middle of nowhere, um, in…” She leafed through a stack of papers in front of her until she found the one she wanted, ran her finger part-way down the page, and
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