Free Flight into Darkness (Flight Trilogy, Book 2) by Mike Coe

the surface of the black river below, marking the location of boats. Twinkling red, amber, and white lights carpeted the once barren hillside rising from the river’s bank.
    Where there were lights, there were people—a city crammed with millions of people—all caged for the night, performing their nightly rituals of trivial tasks, like animals fighting to satisfy the cravings of their flesh: food, sex, drugs, and sleep; brains and bodies rotting from their nightly gorging of countless hours of television propaganda and junk food—a progressive atrophy of freedom, health, and independence of thought.
    At sunrise, the hopelessly lost souls would once again return to their pathetic jobs like hamsters spinning mindlessly on wheels going nowhere. Life without purpose was the ultimate example of a cold, void, useless reality.
    If it were not for his purpose, he would hurl the wretched body that enslaved him over the cliff and to its demise, returning his soul to the Spirit World for much needed rejuvenation.

CHAPTER 8
    Samael took a drink of his, now, cool coffee, and then placed the mug back on the table. The cover of darkness, sprinkled with stars, provided a comforting sense of protection. As he reflected on his three incarnations, Byzas, Mehmet, and Suleyman, his heart longed for Keroessa.
    Although his soul had embodied Mehmet the Conquer and Suleyman the Magnificent, two of the greatest sultans of all times, it was in the body of Byzas that he longed to return, for that was when he and his mother were last together.
    Usman asked, “Can you recall the physical features of Mehmet and Suleyman? I’ve seen renderings, but hearing it from you would mean much more.”
    “I’m aware of what history tells us about these great men and I am humbled by it. My regressions have only revealed fragments of their lives. In my research, I have uncovered much more. I must say that once I was certain of my incarnations in these men, the history books have come alive. The details of each regression have been easily confirmed with absolute accuracy. Both men were much alike, and interestingly, much like myself: tall, well muscled and strong with aquiline noses. Each had delicate complexions, their skin very pale; almost pallor.”
    “Were they albinos?”
    “I don’t think so. They each had sharp vision, which is not characteristic of albinos. Not only am I cursed with being a spectacle in my white skin, my vision suffers greatly.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “That’s fine. I’ve learned to live with it.” Samael had not yet shared with Usman his theories about his albinism. Before his first regression and the discovery of Byzas, he viewed his albinism to be a curse. After learning of the unnatural paleness of both Mehmet and Suleyman, and Usman’s explanation of how souls choose their bodies, he was certain his soul had specifically chosen the white-skin man for a reason.
    As they sat silently in the darkness among the faint conversations of other guests and the rustling of leaves in the trees, Samael noticed Usman wincing, holding his stomach. “Are you alright?”
    “Yes, I’ll be fine,” he groaned. “It’s nothing, just a touch of IBS.”
    “IBS?” Samael cringed at Usman’s contorted face, growing with agony. It reminded him of a pregnant woman in the midst of a violent contraction.
    Once the pain subsided, Usman wiped the sweat from his brow and replied in a soft voice, “Irritable bowel syndrome. Probably the coffee or milk. I love good coffee, but I know it’s not good for me. Really, I’m fine. Continue with what you were saying.”
    “My progression from Mehmet to Suleyman was indeed a great advance for my soul, but I know now why my soul chose to live in the body of Suleyman.”
    “Why?”
    “It’s more than his great military victories for the Ottomans. I learned in the history books that nearly 100 years after Caliph Umar bin al-Khattab took Jerusalem for Islam in the year 1537, Suleyman ordered the