Sonja Ironheart had gone AWOL, and Alfred Bester, along with the Bloodhound unit of Psi-Corps, was determined to find her. His search led him to the home of Shannon Barnes, Sonja’s best friend.
Shannon, a telepath who had been ‘bought’ out of Psi-Corps, now lived free of their authority. The only stipulation of her release was that she report any rogue telepaths she encountered—a stipulation she had little intention of honoring.
Shannon greeted Bester at her door with a cold stare, making no attempt to hide her disdain. She was a striking woman with shoulder-length wavy blonde hair, piercing green eyes, and a warm, fair complexion.
“Where is Sonja Ironheart?” Bester demanded, his tone sharp.
Shannon smirked, her expression mocking. “I don’t know,” she said coolly, “and I’m glad I don’t.”
“You two were best friends,” Bester pressed. “If she planned to run, I’d think you’d be the first person she’d contact.”
Shannon’s smile widened, her voice dripping with malice. “Thankfully, she didn’t. Saves me the trouble of having to turn her over.”
Bester’s lips curled into a tight smile, masking his irritation. “You were one of Psi-Corps’ most promising telepaths. But you threw it all away for a mundane husband and rejected everything the Corps taught you.” His words carried a mix of anger and disappointment.
Shannon folded her arms, her gaze unwavering. “Let’s be clear, Mr. Bester. Like my parents—whom the Corps booted out for daring to think independently—I never bought into the Corps’ garbage propaganda. Being a telepath doesn’t make me better than anyone else. Maybe you and the rest of Psi-Corps need that delusion to feel important, but I don’t.”
Bester’s expression darkened. “I’ve never appreciated your tone, Shannon.”
“And I couldn’t care less,” she snapped.
Bester’s jaw tightened as memories of Shannon’s parents, Margo and Gerald Barnes, surfaced. Both were P10 telepaths who had relentlessly challenged Psi-Corps’ authority, breaking rules until they were officially expelled. Yet the Corps had offered to keep them on unofficially—an offer the Barnes had openly mocked. Their defiance peaked when they embraced Christianity, a belief system that clashed fundamentally with Psi-Corps’ rigid ideology.
Shannon was following in their footsteps. Her husband, Troy, a member of a traveling ministry, had been instrumental in her release from the Corps.
As if on cue, the front door opened, and Troy entered the room. He towered over Shannon, his long black hair, hazel eyes, and bronze complexion reflecting his mixed heritage. His presence was imposing, and his disdain for Bester was evident.
Bester shifted uncomfortably, sensing Troy’s unspoken hostility.
“I’ll be leaving now,” Bester said, attempting to reclaim authority. “If you see Sonja Ironheart, report her.”
Troy’s voice was calm but firm as he replied, “You’d do well to remember that you’re just a man, Alfred. God created everything—this planet, the universe, all of it. He’s greater than any government, including Psi-Corps. One day, Psi-Corps will fall, and you will answer for your crimes.”
Bester hesitated, searching for a retort, but the tension in the room was too heavy. Without another word, he turned and left.
Once the door closed, Shannon exhaled. “You know what’s amazing?”
“What?” Troy asked, his gaze softening.
Shannon grinned. “I have been in touch with Sonja. She sent me a telepathic message, and Bester didn’t catch it while scanning me. Hypocritical bastard.”
“Where is she?” Troy asked, his interest piqued.
“Somewhere near the Mojave Desert,” Shannon replied. “She’s joined one of the traveling ministries. Sonja told me she’s a Gifted One.”
Troy smiled. “As are you, babe. God’s only letting Psi-Corps be aware of you to serve as a distraction.”
“I know,” Shannon said with a smirk. “By the way, when you told Bester that Psi-Corps would fall? Sonja said the same thing. She even showed me. Those self-righteous, power-hungry fools have no idea what’s coming.” Her expression turned serious. “But until then, I’ll gladly play the distraction while God keeps hiding the Gifted Ones.”
“And when that task is done,” Troy said, his voice filled with conviction, “we’ll join the others in spreading the Good News. The universe better get ready—Jesus is coming back.”
Shannon’s smile returned, her confidence unwavering. “Amen to that.”
♦♦♦♦
In the Mojave Desert, a sprawling caravan moved steadily under the golden sun, voices lifted in harmonious praise to God. Among the travelers was Sonja Ironheart, her heart at peace for the first time in years. When they arrived at their destination – it was place that was unlike any other. A desert city of brick and adobe, sculpted from earth and sweat, yet crowned with domes and spires that seemed to rise not from human hands, but from prayer and promise.
Crosses stood on rooftops like sentinels, catching the golden light and casting long shadows across the desert floor. Wrought iron fences wound around gardens of cactus and wild bloom, their colors soft but defiant, like hope in a war-torn heart.
At its heart stood a cathedral—not by name, but by presence. Its stained-glass windows caught the falling sun, glowing with stories only the faithful could read. And above it all, a single crucifix reached skyward, weathered but unbroken, Christ’s figure bearing both the sorrow of the world and the mercy that surpasses it.
The wind here felt different. It carried psalms, not dust—the hum of voices in worship, laughter between children, the hush of prophecy too sacred to speak aloud.
They called this place Nevalah—Dwelling Place of God. Not a city built for the world to see, but for the called to find. It is a home to those who had embraced their their calling along with their gifts granted to them by God. This place is where the hidden – the Gifted Ones call home.
As Sonja entered her dwelling, the warmth of the adobe walls wrapped around her like a familiar embrace. She paused for a moment, letting the stillness settle over her. Her thoughts drifted—not with regret, but with reflection. She had left behind so much.
Yes, she was one of the Gifted Ones, called and chosen. Yet sometimes, doubts crept in—quiet, persistent echoes of the life she once knew. Psi-Corps had been her world. Its order, its discipline, even its deception… it had shaped her. But what she had seen since—Jason’s ascension, the fall that was coming, and the overwhelming presence of God Himself—that was real. That was Absolute.
Her mind turned, as it often did, to her companion—the one destined to walk beside her. She did not know his name, his face, or where he might be. And yet… something in her soul whispered that she would know him the moment their eyes met.
So, each day, she looked out her window. And each day, she waited—not in sorrow, but in quiet trust.
In the meantime, she filled her days with joy. She sang with the other Gifted Ones—songs of praise, of freedom, of deep and holy love. She prayed—not only for herself, but for all that God had made. And most of all, she gave thanks for one gift that still surprised her: the gift of weaving words.
She wrote short narratives and reflective thoughts, letting her spirit flow into ink and paper. These stories were passed among the Gifted and the Blessed—the ones who, though not gifted with sight or power, had been touched by God to see the unseen and feel the unspoken.
Some found comfort in her words.
Others found laughter, or hope, or something they hadn’t known they’d lost.
In every story—be it filled with comedy, romance, sorrow, or spiritual wonder—they saw the touch of God. They saw a woman who wrote with the kind of honesty that only comes from walking through fire and coming out with faith intact.
She was encouraged to write a book.
So she did.
A collection of stories, reflections, and fragments of her soul bound in a single volume. One of the Gifted told her, “God has something wonderful in store for you.”
And Sonja felt it in her heart and soul to be true.
She didn’t know what it was, or when it would come.
But she knew—when it came, everything she had lost, everything she had found, and everything she had become would make perfect, sacred sense.
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