The Last Ring of Skellig Michael

Hidden for two Millenia, the Messiah’s Ring has returned to Rome. 

 

Two identical Rings were cast weeks before the crucifiction of Jesus Christ. One bore the inscription Pilatus, the other, Messiah. The Pilatus Ring was buried in the tomb of Herod, the other taken by early Christians far beyond Judea. First to Greece where it was kept in the shadow of Mount Olympus. From there to Rome. Following the fall of the Roman Empire, Irish Monks tasked with its safekeeping sailed from Portus, on the Tyrrhenian coast, to Skellig Michael off the West coast of Ireland. There they founded an Abbey to safeguard the Messiah’s ring.

Throughout the ages, only two people carried the secret of its existence – the Abbot of Skellig Michael & the Bishop of Rome. When the Abbey became unoccupied in the thirteenth century, it was decided by the last Abbot and the Bishop of Rome, that a monk would be selected to help keep the ring’s location on the desolate rock in the Atlantic. Thus the intricate selection of Bishop and Monk has taken place beyond the knowledge of others. In 2018, archeologists revealed that a ring discovered in Herodium in 1969 quite possibly belonged to Pontius Pilate. The guardians of the Messiah Ring knew the ancient prophecy was about to be fulfilled. The Messiah would soon reveal himself to the world.

 

 

Exerpt from The Last Ring of Skellig Michael.

Recently appointed Cardinal Raul Gonzalez ran his fingers through his tousled hair. Medical equipment lined one side of the Pontiffs bed. Tubes, flashing lights and the irregular beat of the cardiac monitor. One mini stroke after another had proved to be early warnings for a heart attack that will prove fatal. Only divine intervention could now save the Pope. Raul prayed for a gentle passing for his humble friend and mentor. The ring of The Fisherman glittered, contrasting sharply with the opaque skin of the Pontiff’s wrinkled hand. Despite his deathly pallor, he exuded a serenity that could not be mimicked by makeup artists.

Raul dismissed the medical staff and sat. He eased his beads from his pocket and recited a decade of the Rosary in Latin. As he finished, the Pope stirred and opened his sunken eyes a fraction.

“Raul.”

Once a masterful orator, now his tremulous voice barely registered as a whisper. Raul drew closer.

“Si, Papa.”

“Have you…  made… the arrangements?”

Taking a hold of the Popes hand, Raul stroked it gently. “Your successor will wear the last ring of Skellig Michael.”

“And Xavier?”

“Yes, Papa. The Cardinals bite at the bit to champion their favourite. God’s will be done.”

“God bless, Raul. Care for Him… as you cared for me.”

“Rest, Papa.”

A gentle smile erasing the wrinkles on his forehead, the Pontiff drew a staggered breath and passed from this life to the next.