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Sons Of The Flaming Throne – Ch. 11 | KT OLLA

 THAT evening when Absalom had his eyes on the Flaming Throne, and fled—by the time he got home to rest, his whole being had caught the flames. And the Third One was on fire with ambition.

So, when it was time for bed, the prince’s eyes were flaming already. His head also pounded with thoughts, so much sleep was nowhere around it.

Therefore, Absalom left his wife’s side on their bed and went to the guest chamber to think. And all through the long night, he stayed awake and brainstormed on how to usurp David.

Absalom stood leaning on a wall as he gave it a hard thought for a long while. Then he sat down on the bed to brainstorm some more. He did that till his head ached.

No, there were no loopholes presenting themselves yet. So the prince worried that finding a crack in his flawless father would prove impossible.

His father had an unquenchable pack of 600 warriors for a troop. And himself was a killer beast when it came to the art of war. Therefore, no foe had ever routed his private troop; let alone capture the monster king himself.

Absalom knew King David was no weakling at all. Not on the battlefront, at the very least. And therefore, he turned to the man himself now. To find a fault.

Thus, the Third Son stayed quiet for a little longer, thinking about the matter. He knew his father to be an upright man in and out. He knew him to be one who loathed evil and injustice.

Again, David had so walked righteously that the God of Israel Himself appeared to him in a night vision, and declared him the man with a heart like His.

Yet concerning the matter where the king stumbled into serious sins of adultery and murder, and then sorrowed really bad, it was Yahweh again who Himself took over the measures of his penalty.

So, nobody dared interfere in that matter.

But these were the thoughts that pounded Absalom’s skull and blocked off any progress in his contemplations. And at this rate the young schemer couldn’t take things anymore.

He simply buried his head between his knees and mumbled a frustrated cry.

‘Why, oh why? Why must it be so hard? Why?!’

He threw his back on the bed now and just laid down there, staring at the roof and panting loads.

Thus, Absalom laid lifeless on the bed for an endless time; his burdened breaths only punctuating the fleeting moments. 

Yet within that long moment of stillness, the young man’s eyes were fire still. And no amount of respite would afford him a nap or sleep.

He was wide awake, and blinking. And he’d stay that way until he saw his dead end open up into a highway.

Yes, he’d simply stay that way, or die.

But then all of a sudden, the Third One jolted up from bed and sat upright. It appeared he’d just paved that forward path.

And here already was the highway.

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