Venezuela - 1758

Alexander took a seat on the floor. Across from him sat a man whom he easily label as a savage. The man was of short stature compared to Alexander’s European heritage, and his skin dark. But he wasn’t here to pass judgment. Alexander had placed his superficial nature aside, along with most of what he came to know of the world. He even turned away from popular dress. No more itchy wigs, silk stockings, or tight, stuffy coats. It had been six years since the death of his wife, six long years to discover the true nature of the world.
     In his pursuit of this new knowledge came an obvious fact; in his lifetime, he will never find the justice he sought for his wife. Life was too fleeting for the task he devised. So his mind shifted.
     Within the first three years of his new life, he heard a story about an ageless man, and then spent the next three years for him. He left his son in the governess’ care and began his search. Traveling from one remote village to the next, word spread about the Englishman’s quest. Alexander soon meet a local man in Venezuela who said that he could help. Accompanied with four other men that shared Alexander’s mission, they moved up the Orinoco River and deep into Venezuela, far away from the Spanish colonies.
     And there he sat, his four companions waiting patiently outside.
     The shabby hut appeared to be held up by prayer alone. On the walls, crude, yet ornate, items hung. To Alexander, it was the furthest from the civilized world as one could get.
     The mysterious guide took a seat near odd man.
     He was a shaman. Or what Alexander called a shaman. The term “witch doctor” also came to his mind. Ungodly people in his eyes, but he had to set aside his prejudices in order to find what he so desperately searched for.
     The shaman began to speak. His words were foreign and almost hypnotic.
     The second man acted as a translator.
     “He wants to know what tragedy sent you here.”
     “No tragedy,” Alexander corrected, “just a chance to set things on their proper course.”
     The interrupter spoke to the shaman then replied with his answer. “A man who seeks life beyond life is a man who has seen death in others.”
     Alexander kept his eyes on the shaman. “I have not seen death in others. I have seen Death himself.”
     There was more speaking from the shaman.
     “You wish to destroy Death by first destroying your own?” the interrupter asked.
     There was a short pause from Alexander. “I have seen creatures in this world that should not exist. They feed off of the innocent without remorse. An utter degradation I cannot ignore.”
     The interrupter returned with the shaman’s acknowledgement. “You speak of the Ancient Ones and their brothers who guard the moon. They have shared this world with the innocents since the dawn of our time. You wish to wage a war against them?”
     “I will not sit idly by while I know they freely walk the world,” Alexander said as anger began to tremble his voice. He took in a calming breath.
     “You must prove yourself,” the interrupter said, grabbing a knife from his side. “Words can be manipulated. Blood speaks the truth.”
     Alexander glanced at the dirty blade then reluctantly held out his hand. If blood was needed to prove his worth, he would gladly spill all he could.
     The shaman laid a dark clay plate before him and waited for the blood to fall.
     Grimacing, Alexander felt the knife cut into his palm. The interrupter then placed the Englishman’s hand into a fist and squeezed. Blood moved quickly from the wound and onto the plate, sending a dull splattering sound to Alexander’s ears.
     The shaman lifted the plate to gain a better look. He placed a dusting of dark green powder onto the blood and with his small finger he began to mix the two.
     Disgust came over Alexander as he saw the shaman raise the plate and taste the mixture. He tried to suppress repulsion to the best of his abilities.
     More hypnotic words came from the shaman.
     “He’s sees your path in life,” began the interrupter. “He will teach you the secret you search for.”
     “Permit me to ask a question,” Alexander said, holding his injured hand close. “How will I know if this will work?”
     The interrupter replied, “The man you see before you has lived for one-hundred and seventy-three years.”