The Elysium Covenant

By Chris J Berry

The little boy gazed up at Abigail as they walked on. Im sorry, he whispered. Hanzas statement almost brought tears to Abigails eyes. He seemed to apologize for his existence. For a six-year-old, the history and experiences in Hanzas short life seemed to have created a benign acceptance and realization in him that had sent him beyond his years.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Aug 3, 2018
• ISBN: 9781546295976

Chris J Berry

Since writing the first of his books, the author’s main objective adheres to his plan to try and help the creatures and people of our planet. Gazing across the world, nothing seems to change, with conflict the continuing trend on earth. Societies descend into violent confrontation, with factions fragmenting into smaller dependencies rather than seek to unite the nations of our world. Global weather extremes continue to fuel humanitarian crises, destroy food harvests, and desecrate their crop areas. The theme of this twelfth project, The View from Infinity, the sixth in the series A Voyage to Infinity, seeks to expand on the author’s suppositions of what the life beyond offers in the previous books. The introductions in this series, the author hopes, will provide clues that ask us to view life logically and consider the transience of life, our inevitable exit from it, and what that means in terms of the material wealth we strive to generate. Considering those factors establishes one fact—that nothing in the material world belongs to anyone—and poses the question, which then is the real world? He persists in his belief that the demise facing humanity can only be addressed by a united world. Remaining dedicated toward our Maker’s doctrines, the author seeks to abide by his ten laws to guide his life.

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© 2018 Chris J Berry. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Front cover design by Chris J Berry

Published by AuthorHouse 08/02/2018

ISBN: 978-1-5462-9598-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5462-9599-0 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5462-9597-6 (e)

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and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

THE ELYSIUM COVENANT

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CONTENTS

Chapter

Introduction

Preface

1 The Imperceptible Rendezvous

2 The flight of the Innocent

3 Celestial Providers

4 Hallowed Ground

5 Deliverance

6 Behold Woman, Thy Son

7 The Celestial Student

8 Abigail’s Independence Day

9 Distressed Presence

10 A New Concept

11 Glimpse Celestial

12 A Brief Analysis

13 Into the Halls of Knowledge

14 The Master Speaks

15 A Festive Respite

16 The Astrophysicist

17 The Doubting Syndrome

18 The Rude Awakening

19 The Celestial Intruder

20 The Count Down

21 The Heavenly Ark

About the Author

*   Bibliography

THE ELYSIUM COVENANT

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INTRODUCTION

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HAVING PUBLISHED FOURTEEN projects to date— a trilogy, an octology, my autobiography and a related book of tone poems for the piano, and finally, my mother’s little book of poems, I contemplated on whether I had now completed my task for the sources beyond. The notion I had in response to that thought was, while life existed, the task continued.

As I begin this introduction for the next project, the inspiration rising in me from my sources ignores colour, class or creed in humanity; simply requiring us all to recognise this and abide by the Makers Commandments. That no matter in which part of the world a soul incarnates, my sources sense into me the spirit within has no colour, class or creed, but is part of one Celestial brotherhood. It reminds me of past confrontations I have witnessed, where opinions condemned others because of colour, position in life or level of intellect.

In all my books I have laboured on the two irrefutable facts in life none of us can avoid, and I make no apology for their repetition here. In sight of those facts, can we justify totally basing our lives on the physical attributes available to us alone— the practical aspect they represent having no value in the dimension beyond? That thought in me provoked a response from my sources beyond, implying that we were all here to live out a physical life, and that how we used the physical attributes could determine the level of our future in the Great Spiritual Adventure beyond. My understanding of what my sources were telling me was: however we choose to view our lives on Earth, the theme of our conduct will be subject to our free-will. This aspect within me has certainly challenged my ability to recognise the rights of others over the years.

Now in the twilight period of my life, I have conceded to a persistent notion in me that I would spend my life on my own, and why it had to be so. As I set out on this next project, nothing changes in the purpose for my writing. Totally guided by my sources, they focus me on the deteriorating morals and mood in the physical world, and I endeavour to accurately pen their continuing message to us all. No matter how surreal the theme of my books may appear, I leave it to the ability of whoever reads them to accept what their free-will allow them to accept. With no means available to me to offer proof, I condemn no one for criticising my beliefs, neither do I believe that there will be an avenging God waiting to smack the wrists of those who choose to ignore Him. The purpose for all my books is to share with my readers what I believe I have been told, and how our lives here may influence the level of our existence in the world beyond.

During the early years, I freely admit my attitude to life was no different to anyone else’s, my parents pointing me in the direction they felt I should go. Whether or not the result of their teachings in me has achieved what they intended, I leave that conclusion to those who read my books. But when I reflect back over my life, I see how the discipline my parents applied developed a conscience in me, which I have been able to draw upon since to face life’s challenges. In thoughtful moments I meditate now on the time I wasted during the early years, and wonder whether there is still time to complete the covenant I believe was given to me. When I measure the speck of time we refer to as ‘three score and ten’ on Earth with the infinitive life beyond, the limiting period to seize opportunities is thought provoking… CJB.

THE ELYSIUM COVENANT

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PREFACE

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ON A WORLD CALLED Celestine, its title is worlds away from the genteel aspect its name appears to imply. It has entered the phase leading up to its second reset, and where a proven soul has been incarnated upon it with the task to save as many virgin souls there as it can. The odds are stacked against this soul, as it enters a third-world environment, but blessed with the power to view beyond the barrier dividing the Celestial and physical dimensions, the soul is given the ability to see into the future.

The story begins when a Nun recognises a little six year old boy sitting alone on the track as she sets off on her rounds. Familiar with the little boy and his mother, listed on her daily visits, she senses something is wrong from the lad’s manner. A visit to his home confirms the passing of his mother, and with no other relatives attached to him, the Nun realises it is yet another responsibility for the Convent to undertake.

The little boy called Hanza lost his father the year before, and now losing his mother, is taken into the Convent finding himself under the care of the Nuns. One particular Nun begins to sense from beyond that this little boy has a purpose in life, and sets out upon the task to help him develop that purpose. Though initially unaware of the nature of this purpose, she finds the little boy is beginning to look to her as a parent host. As a Nun she is celibate, but intuitively assumes the parental responsibilities, and together they develop a mutual bond that unknowingly prepares them to meet future challenges in life.

Aware of the danger lurking in the Evil One’s satanic crypts, the Nun, Sister Abigail, instinctively guides Hanza through the primary years and on into adolescence, gradually becoming more aware of the gift she felt from him earlier. But she is not the only entity aware of this little boy’s power, and senses the evil entourage in the satanic crypts plan their campaign to silence him. With the combined forces of greed and ignorance on the physical plane, and those in the satanic crypts, the development of Hanza’s task in life promises to be an uphill struggle for him.

DEDICATION

*

For

my great friend

Donald with thanks

for all the advice that

he gave me to write

my Books.

*

THE ELYSIUM COVENANT

THE ELYSIUM COVENANT

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CHAPTER ONE

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The Imperceptible Rendezvous

*

~1~

THE SUN SLOWLY PEERED over the horizon, fanning out golden rays across a paling cerulean sky. The picture it painted across the heavens and landscape could easily have portrayed a Shangri-La fantasy, but instead, momentarily masked a scene of belligerence and deprivation. No one was more aware of this than Sister Abigail, a dedicated Nun from the ‘The Celestial Sisters’ Convent. Set up, and supported by donations from across the globe; these dedicated Nuns risked their lives working for the Infinite One in this hostile environment.

Sister Abigail gazed out through her window at the gorgeous sunrise, the scene lifting her spirit each morning. She turned and looked around her small room, sparsely furnished with a small bed and table. Hanging upon one wall was a picture of the Divine Being: the story of his life and connection with the Infinite One told in the Sacred Book resting on her bedside table. She pondered the humble scene of her room— how it would portray her as destitute in the eyes of the majority in the western world, yet the lives she witnessed each day made hers seem luxurious in comparison.

The quest Abigail and her Sister colleagues faced was a formidable one, depending heavily on donations, and practical support from the Convent’s governing body based in the western world. From her home in the west she had responded to the call from the Infinite One, and much to the despair of her family, turned her back on a life of plenty and self-indulgence. She condemned no one for their choice of existence, believing in the need for two prominent directions in life— those to create charitable wealth, and those to implement it where needed. Following considerable soul-searching she saw herself as one who distributed it.

Sister Abigail donned her habit after washing and prepared to join her fellow Nuns in the Convent’s Sistine Chapel. Descending the stairs, she ran into the Mother Superior.

Good morning, Sister Abigail, greeted the Mother Superior.

Mother Superior, acknowledge Abigail with a polite nod.

The Mother Superior gazed hesitantly down the passage to some windows at the end. I wonder what tasks the Infinite One has lined up for us today?

Abigail followed her gaze. Whatever they are Mother Superior, He will provide us with the resources to cope I’m sure.

The Mother Superior turned back airing a vague reflection of scepticism in her expression. I admire your faith, Sister Abigail, but once again the relief convoy has been plundered, having to resort to the increased expense of flying supplies out to us.

Abigail smiled. Our crops are ready to harvest, Mother Superior, and if rationed they will help us.

Mother Superior gazed hopelessly at Abigail. Even so, it will still mean very meagre rations for us all, and our subjects.

Our Divine Being fed a host upon two fish and five loaves of bread, reminded Sister Abigail.

Mother Superior nodded with a smile. You are right of course, Sister Abigail. The pressures of running a convent can sometimes get at me.

Abigail shook her head. You do a wonderful job, Mother Superior— it is a pleasure to work under you. With that, Abigail took her leave and continued on to morning prayers. The Mother Superior gazed thoughtfully after her for a moment, as Abigail turned into the Sistine Chapel to join the other Nuns waiting on the Mother Superior to lead them in prayers.

Following prayers and breakfast, Abigail prepared to set off on her daily tasks. Despite the hostile environment, the community around the Convent applied themselves to farming the land, but constantly thwarted by crop failures, the inhospitable conditions led to copious demands being placed upon the Convent. Sister Abigail wandered thoughtfully out into the cloisters, gazing at the increasing queue filing up to the soup kitchen. A moment of hopelessness seized her, sharing an affinity with the feeling she had sensed from the Mother Superior earlier. Each day was the same, with no indication of any signs of improvement for the future; as if the part of the world they lived in was reverting back to its dormant origins. Abigail continued on past the queue, acknowledging those she had rescued during her previous daily searches. It seemed never ending, finding others in distress, some too late, sensing pessimistically this new day was never going to be any different.

Making her way out through the Convent gates, she set off along the track, passing more souls making their way to the Convent. Many gestured to her with respect, touching the sign of the Divine Being over their breasts and head. It promised to be another warm day, and would force her to take refuge from the heat during the hot hours of the afternoon. Continuing on, the resilience of these people never ceased to amaze her. They had nothing, some trying to claw a meagre living from the land, but with few resources and inadequate tools, it was in the lap of the Gods whether their crops grew sufficiently to harvest. She constantly prayed for these people, some more militant ones reaching the stage of taking up arms. She found herself unable to condemn them— the instinct within to survive, fuelling their belligerence. Once falling into that symbolic precipice, she knew they were prime targets for those in the satanic crypts.

Settled into her usual routine, the day, as she had feared, proved to be no different to any other, she, pausing occasionally to comfort poor souls making their way to the Convent. Walking on a little further, she recognised a little boy sitting upon a boulder by the side of the track.

Abigail smiled at him curiously as she approached. Hanza, she greeted softly. How is your mother today?… I’m on my way to see her now. The little boy simply gazed up at her in silence— the look in his eyes appearing confused. Hanza? she repeated. The little boy stared silently down at the ground, as if contemplating over what to say— his manner suddenly raising a foreboding feeling in Abigail.

She gently raised Hanza to his feet, and taking his hand led him off towards his home. His home, if it could be called such, was nothing more than a hovel boasting a single room within and rapidly falling into disrepair now, following the death of his father a year earlier. Hanza and his mother had lived in the shadow of the Convent since, relying on the good will of the Nuns. Hanza was close to his mother, and despite his age did his best to assume the family responsibilities now in the absence of his father. Here was one of many children who’d had to grow up quickly in an environment that grudgingly offered the means to exist.

Making their way along the track, they came upon Hanza’s home; Abigail, suddenly sensing an ominous atmosphere enshrouding the shack. Hanza stared silently up at Abigail, they, poised in front of the door. Abigail tentatively announced herself as she gently pushed the door ajar and peered in. A shaft of light pierced the gloom within and broadened out as Abigail opened the door further. Hanza’s mother lay motionless on a blanket spread out over the floor— her eyes staring blindly ahead. Instinctively, Abigail knew her spirit had flown, necessitating the need for another interment— in this torrid, hot climate, the bodies of deceased souls had to be dealt with quickly. Abigail gazed down at Hanza, the little boy having no other relatives to take him in. It was yet another demand placed upon the Convent, and like thousands before him, a demand the Convent was powerless to refuse. It was not the first time Abigail had taken a little one into care, but fortunately was able to pass previous children onto close relatives.

~2~

Walking hand in hand back to the Convent, Hanza gazed up at Abigail. Mammy gone to live with the Divine Being? he asked simply— the tone in his voice already seeming to accept the worst. Abigail nodded, she would have to get one of the Convent’s Doctors to confirm it, but she knew it was so, as the passing of souls in their community was a common, recognisable occurrence. But Hanza’s question seemed to have summed up life in their community— souls born to die. It was a horrific assumption to make, which focused Abigail on her background and place of birth. It reminded her of how her family had counselled her energetically on her decision to shed her future security: to throw away a life where resources to support her were plentiful, made no sense to them.

On reaching the Convent, Abigail initialised the process to deal with the interment of Hanza’s mother, and then approached the Mother Superior to discuss Hanza’s future.

The Mother Superior shook her head on the prospect of no relations to pass Hanza onto. It looks like we have another permanent resident, Sister Abigail, surmised the Mother Superior, elaborating on all the existing pressures the convent was under.

Abigail nodded. As usual we have no choice, Mother Superior… I will be happy to care for him— he having only just turned six.

The Mother Superior gestured approvingly as Abigail wandered off. Pray for him, Sister Abigail… called the Mother superior after her. We will help out where we can.

The little boy gazed up at Abigail, as they walked on. I’m sorry, he whispered. Hanza’s statement almost brought tears to Abigail’s eyes, he seeming to apologise for his existence. For a six year old, the history and experiences in Hanza’s short life seemed to have created a benign acceptance and realisation in him that had sent him beyond his years.

Abigail smiled down at the little boy. Come, Hanza, she whispered. Let’s get you cleaned up before lunch. Hanza’s eyes widened at the mention of lunch.

There was no sensitivity in Abigail bathing Hanza. For a six year old child in his situation, any embarrassment was non-existent. However, Abigail, having taken her vows, was conscious of her responsibilities towards him. After bathing the lad, her heart went out to Hanza at the sight of his frail little body, as she helped him out the bath and wrapped the towel around him.

Dressing him in clean clothes, she smiled down at him. Now let’s put some meat on these bones.

Over the subsequent weeks following Hanza’s mother’s transition, Hanza shadowed Abigail where ever she went. It raised a feeling within her that she had adopted a responsibility that leant towards parenthood. The doctrines she had pledged herself to required her to remain celibate, but now with the appearance of Hanza, she was beginning to view his presence as a gift from the Infinite One. The choice to give up the family prospect had been the hardest aspect to accept in her decision to join the Convent— the topic her family had laboured on. But now it seemed the Infinite One, in His wisdom, had placed a little soul in her personal care.

The change in Hanza as time moved on was remarkable, seizing what was left of his primary years to become a little boy again. Abigail continued on with her work in the Convent, noticing how, since Hanza had arrived, the Convent had fallen on to more fortunate times. The need to continue rationing remained, but it seemed a Divine Hand had passed over them where crops and the rest of the local farming fraternity were beginning to flourish. Discussing the Convents resources with the Mother Superior, Abigail raised the topic of its vague upturn.

The Mother Superior smiled. It is something we must not take for granted, Sister Abigail, only thank the Infinite One for His Blessings.

Abigail respectfully shook her head. It never crosses my mind to do otherwise, Mother Superior, but the Convent’s good fortune appears to have begun after Hanza’s arrival…

Tut! Tut! exclaimed the Mother Superior. Don’t… don’t try to rationalise the Supreme Being’s methods— accept His gifts and apply them to the needy. Abigail bowed her head, airing a squashed expression. The Mother Superior raised her hand in a gesture of humility. I’m not chastising you for your assumption, Sister Abigail, just expressing what I feel is right for us serving the Infinite One here.

Abigail watched the Mother Superior continue off on her daily rounds, feeling she had missed the point she was trying to make. Over the months since Hanza’s arrival, Abigail had begun to feel there was a purpose for his coming. It had been on one particular day she had ventured into the convents dining chamber, her gaze falling on Hanza eating his lunch. Her eyes became transfixed on him, noting around his head there was a strange glow. She searched around the chamber for the source, but found nothing that could have produced it. At the time she had contemplated it with a blend of intrigue and curiosity, but now, after her discussions over Hanza’s presence with the Mother Superior, Abigail was gradually becoming convinced there was some form of Celestial Interference taking place with Hanza.

One day, following evening prayers, Abigail found Hanza strangely silent, as he sat cross-legged on his bed in the corner of her room— he, gazing across at her with a faint smile.

Yes, Hanza? anticipated Abigail. You seem deep in thought there.

Hanza rose to his feet and wandered over sitting next to her on her bed. I’m afraid to go to sleep, Mammy, he declared hesitantly.

Abigail, taken aback by his statement, gazed curiously at him. That’s a strange thing to say, Hanza— none of us can do without sleep… what’s brought this on?

Hanza stared thoughtfully up at her. I see pictures that frighten me, he whispered.

Abigail smiled, slipping her arm around his shoulders. They are only dreams, Hanza… they’re not real.

Hanza gazed up at her again. But they seem so real. He turned and looked vacantly across at the window. I feel the violence of the wind and rain on me, and smell and hear the animals baying restlessly in their shelters.

Abigail stared studiously at him. For a six year old, his description was unusually graphic, and reminded her again of her thoughts on some form of Divine Covenant that could be responsible for Hanza’s presence.

Comforting him, Abigail smiled. There is nothing to fear, Hanza. The Infinite One is always present, and has given you into our care. You are no longer alone, and can take comfort in the knowledge that you can confide in me when ever you are afraid. Abigail’s pledge brought a smile to the little boy’s face as he hugged himself to her. Settling Hanza for the night, Sister Abigail blew out the candle and retired herself.

~3~

The following morning, Abigail rose early as usual— the picturesque sunrise once again sufficing to boost her morale sufficiently to manage the daily tasks ahead. She gazed down at Hanza sound asleep, reflecting on his description of the dreams he was having the night before. The dream-state was a much discussed phenomenon in the scientific world, with professional opinions believing it to be the mind recalling daily experiences. Abigail had held an open mind on the subject during her early years, but reflected back on a particular experience during her childhood that appeared now to refute those professional conclusions.

It was after one birthday that she had received the gift of a pendant from her mother. Over the years succeeding that birthday, she had worn it constantly day and night— it seeming to have become part of her being. Rising early on a Sunday morning, she gazed at her reflection in her dressing-table mirror, suddenly noting the absence of her pendant and chain. She stared at her reflection in disbelief, sending her into a frantic search of pulling the bed-clothes off her bed. She was at her wits end, finding no sign of it after shaking the under-sheet and duvet. She scanned the bare mattress thoroughly, but her search revealed nothing. Sitting down on the bed, she began to visualise