Page 142 of Eternal Obsession

Father Jake had interpreted the inscription on the ring. He relayed the ancient words he had deciphered. I immediately comprehended them: “Fabian-eternal leads you.”

Leeds Castle, six miles southeast of Maidstone, was cradled in the English countryside, a paradise of the past. I had known of this fortress since I was a child, though this was my first visit. It had earned the reputation of being the “ladies’ castle” due to its numerous female royal residences. Catherine of Aragon had resided here, first wife of Henry VIII. Elizabeth I had walked the very path where I now stood. After she was freed, darkness had befallen the grand manor. Its reflection shimmered in the dark water of the river.

Back in Salisbury, I had tried to reassure Ingrid I could be trusted, even after everything she had witnessed. The only way to protect her was for her to make certain she protected herself.

When she had finally fallen asleep I watched, fascinated with her dreams that provided a myriad of images, impossible to grasp or even interpret. Had I once dreamed in such a way? I could no longer remember. While she slept, I read the book she had somehow found, Necromancing the Stone, scribed by Fabian Snowstrom. Shocked by what the words had relayed and still reeled from his prose.

I had scanned the pages of Fabian’s book, looking for anything that would be a clue to the Alchemist’s whereabouts. Then I stumbled on a paragraph so profound that I almost fell off Ingrid’s couch.

I recalled Fabian’s words:

My dear friend, Jacob, had sought out the Servants of the Stones—the chosen ones tasked with assembling the ashes and pouring them into the stones. He had bribed them with vast sums of money, ensuring they would fulfill his wishes. He knew many of the noblemen from when he was a member of the Royal fraternity himself. They had no idea he was a vampire.

To be honest, many of them doubted the validity of the ceremony and believed that once the vampire had been stabbed or staked through the heart, they could no longer be revived.

In fact, it was assumed that this and not the light was what caused their demise. Burying them within the stones was considered passé, just part of the ritual, and deemed no longer necessary by the younger men. Though it was of course still carried out.

They envied the Stone Master, who obviously took pleasure from drinking the sacred blood. They coveted their master’s role. They too wished to experience the rapture of the drink. Therefore, they obligingly gathered up the vampire’s remains and delivered them to Jacob just as he had requested. More money paid for their silence. In the end, he had obtained quite a collection.

Looking back at those years, he realized his foolishness. For what use was such an endeavor? Yet at the time, outwitting Lord Archer Artimas and his descendants, who also held the title Masters of the Stones, had provided some solace for Jacob, some retribution for the loss of Lilly, his mortal bride.

I was stunned.

Would Fabian know where Jacob had stored the ashes, and could Sunaria’s be among them? Perhaps, I considered, it would be possible to retrieve Sunaria’s remains and make a deal with Orpheus—exchange her ashes for the safe return of both Catherine and Alex.

Could it be this easy?

And here I was now, in Snowstrom’s supposed domain, ready to ask these very questions to him.

I entered the castle with caution through a turret. Then silently descended the winding stairway until I found the huge library. On the many shelves was an assortment of books rivaling my own collection. The immense catalog of novels and manuscripts were interspersed with a rich collection of compendiums. High arched windows with their richly stained glass obscured the night. Their colors would be exquisite in daylight. This was the room in which my search would begin. But where, I pondered, was my first clue?

At the center of the athenaeum stood a large antique oak table. Three leather-bound chairs were pushed up against it. Upon the table lay a book, out of place in this organized and cataloged room. I picked up the timeworn volume and read its title: Mao Lou and His Insight into Inner Truths.

From within the first page, a small white card fell out and onto the floor. I picked it up, examining the writing, and noted the style of italic script written in fine black ink, though it was the words themselves that stole my attention. What sleeps yet to be awakened.

“Consciousness,” I said. “The answer must be enlightenment.” I understood this was a trial. If proven worthy, I would meet with Fabian. I wondered how many clues I was going to have to put together to find the elusive nightwalker who was toying with me. Studiously I walked by each bookshelf, scanning the titles until I found a book entitled Enlightenment: A Seeker’s Guide.

I eased it off the shelf, prying open the dusty cover, delighted to see another white card, the familiar script written upon it. I read the words, fascinated: The one who is able to still the water will see below and view his inner being. I understood.

I was enthralled. Who was this Fabian? I was impatient to meet and converse with him. Looking around, another volume caught my eye, high upon one of the corner shelves, the title’s relation to water a distinct clue: Aquarius’s Existential Effects. I opened it quickly, pulling another familiar white card from the bindings and reading the inscription. What distracts the searcher from the search?

Speaking aloud to myself, it was easy to comprehend the philosophical notations. “Along the journey on which we search for the truth, we can be caught up within the journey itself.” Travel, A Life Well-Spent, was the next book. My head spun. The letter within it was addressed to me.

Jadeon,

You have done well, but I knew that you would. I am Fabian, the one whom you seek. We shall meet soon, for I have much to teach you. I have lived for over three thousand years, traveling this strange earth. I was a shaman when I lived in the rhythm of the sun. I have been watching you for many years, and I want to share with you my knowledge.

We have nothing but time and love, and therefore it is with these words that I continue to guide you to me. Are you worthy? We shall see. There is a Zen expression fish weir. As we search for the experience, we must let go of the techniques and practices that lead us there. We must let go of the concepts and methods. It’s a bit like getting out of our Jaguar, so to speak, and leaving it behind after we have arrived at our journey’s end.

My head jerked up. I looked around the silent room. Was Fabian watching me even now? I was sure of it. I continued reading.

If we cling to our past and our former lessons, how can we truly appreciate the experience when we have arrived at our destination? We must make ourselves available to the reality of enlightenment.

The fish weir is there to catch the fish, but when we have caught it, we must keep the fish and let go of the weir. As Chuang-tzu explains so well, “Words are there to convey a profound meaning. We should keep the meaning and forget the words.”

Jadeon, your next clue is as follows: “And lo, thou shall be seated at the King’s table, and he shall serve you till the end of his days, and he shall call you master, as you will him.” Good luck.

Yours Forever and Eternal,