by R.K. Charron
The Cup, always filled with ever-potent blood-red wine, had changed through the two millennia as it appeared unnoticed upon cluttered tables in celebratory events in hundreds of countries, vanishing just as quietly. None had touched it since it was last set down. Until now.
Jaxon grinned at the bride and groom dancing in the center of the crowd-filled dance floor, lost in each other. He looked around at the fancily-dressed women dimly lit by the ballroom’s chandeliers. With a slight shake of his head, he looked down at his empty glass. Parched, Jaxon noticed the crystal goblet filled with wine to his left. Quickly glancing around at the near-empty table he reached for it. Fingers closing around the chill crystal, he brought it towards him, feeling the strange heft. With a smile, he leaned back, bringing the cup to his lips.
Jaxon tasted the sweet elixir and was suffused with Comfort and Love, like a child being held after a bad dream, which burnt away all his fears and doubts.
Thunderous came the voice in his head, “This is My blood of the covenant.”
Looking around at the revelers, Jaxon could see darkness coating some and white light gleaming from others. He had to rid the soul-stain. He had to give the Message given unto him. He put the Cup down, and stood.
On the table the Cup vanished yet again, un-remarked.