Chapter Text
Kaecilius, the man had said. What a strange name.
His yellow outfit stood out in the plain, wood-panelled room that was Cal's office – a stark contrast that looked straight out of a Kung Fu movie. But that was not the most eerie thing about him. His eyes were. Not the color – a warm amber tone, serious, yet soft – no, it was the skin around them. Some of it was simply gone, leaving a dark membrane in its stead, black and blue and pink like space itself. The remaining skin looked cracked, or dried up maybe, like curd too long out of the fridge. Green, almost like snake scales. He looked otherworldly, as if he had seen something forbidden.
Cal felt safe next to him.
He had cried for help and help had come. He had doubted; he had lost hope in the Light. He had been drunk for much of the past few days, but he knew this was real. Someone had been sent to guide him through the darkest of times, to help him ascend further.
The stranger strolled around the room, looking out the window or at random pieces of paper, before he stopped behind Cal’s desk in front of the wooden eye. He examined it with a frown. The red symbol on his forehead crinkled.
»The Third Eye? Or the Eye of Agamotto?« he asked.
»The what of what?«
Kaecilius turned to look at him. There was an energy about him – a sparkle in the brown of his eyes that spoke of deep wisdom. He stepped closer.
»You have the eye as your symbol and yet you see nothing.«
»I have strayed from the righteous path,« Cal admitted. »But I wish to understand. I wish to reach the Garden.«
»Then you shall.«
Kaecilius extended a hand and touched Cal's forehead. Something happened and at first Cal thought it was the touch itself that provoked the reaction of his body. His belly fluttered; he felt light as a feather, detached from his physical limitations. As if Kaecilius and he had a special sort of connection. But then he realized that it was something else entirely – that he was literally floating in the air, away from his body. He saw himself fall in slow motion.
»Your mind is open to the vastness of space, but your head filled with wrong ideas, crafted by human hand.« Kaecilius' voice rang in his head and his words were like a melody, drawing Cal in.
He was pushed back, or so it felt, and suddenly he found himself rushing through open space, his body left behind in Upstate New York. Cal screamed and cried and spun round and round; left the earth, flew toward the moon, further still, into the galaxy. No ladder to hold on to. He saw colors and shapes, inconceivable pictures that extended everything he had ever thought possible. A hidden door opened in his mind and he felt knowledge flood him like ocean waves. And at the end of it all, there was no light – there was darkness.
Cal had led so many into the Light. Prisoners, caught in their limited versions of reality. And now his situation was the very same. In the back of his head, Plato asked if he would condemn Kaecilius as Satan himself, accuse him of lying and retreat back into the cave.
Another touch and he was brought back into reality. Cal was on his knees in front of Kaecilius – his body had hit the floor without his presence. His own body felt like a prison now, strange and ill-fitting like a pair of shoes that had become too small. Kaecilius thumbed his cheek, wiping away the tears that were falling silently from his eyes in astonished wonder.
»See?« he asked.
His touch felt grounding. Cal never wanted it to end. He looked up at the stranger and swore allegiance right there.
»Yes.«