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The 25-foot giant was tasked to look after Scribu, for she was all alone, orphaned, and outnumbered.
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Skal's minions tried, night and day, to ambush her, even attacking her in her sleep.
They had not succeeded.
Stone was with her.
This Alabaster Angel was not about to let her out of his sight.
She was too precious.
She was the dream warrior and visionary – the faithful one.
Scribu asked for nothing.
She had G.o.d, that much she was sure of, and because she had G.o.d, she had Stone, too.
I mean, how many faithful ones were left?
Ah, but this girl left a light – a candle burning each night for The Son.
She was without wealth, penniless, and fortunately, not yet homeless, but this kid was a joy to look after.
She was obedient to her heart – the heart with two pillars where G.o.d could be found.
She needed all the help she can get for she was the Prized One.
Her soul was much sought after by Skal.
That's why the wily one was in a rage, frustrated that he can't get at her, knowing she was being protected, but by whom?
Stone was careful he never dropped his cover.
Sometimes, he took on human form.
Most of the time, he merely blended into the shadows, careful of detection.
Scribu knew she was being protected, even as she never saw Stone, but she did have that dream of alabaster Angels.
One even swooped so low over her head, that she instinctively ducked.
And they seemed to be guarding a Throne.
This girl could SEE.
That much he knew about her.
Surely it was a gift.
How else could she do that?
Pluck the schemes from Skal's brain as manifested in her dreams.
No human could read Skal's mind.
To the great rage of the chief demon, of course.
Maybe this girl was part-demon, yes?
How else could she know Skal's schemes for humanity?
Who was letting her in on it?
But he was tasked with her, by The Most Holy One.
He was not one to ask questions, really.
He merely took orders, and that was that.
Angels are not like humans, not given to doubt or sentimentality.
He was Chief Warrior Angel, and Scribu needed him for the task at hand, for the wheels of the world were turning, the creaky gears moving in a direction humans may not want to know or speculate on, much less witness.
There was only one faithful left – SCRIBU.
And there she was, reading the Bible.
A most-recent task she took on, as if triggered on purpose.
Oh, the little, faithful child of G.o.d.
So loved and yet so endangered.
The fate of the world hung in her hands.
She was the key.
