Many, many times, and each time he grew more and more attached to the woman who held his heart. The woman he would bind himself to forever.
She was lying across his naked body when she whispered, “I am with child.”
“Impossible.” Sariel shook his head. “We are not human.”
Already he’d told her too much, about the heavens, about the stars, about his race.
“It is possible. It must be.” She touched her belly. “Already I feel his movement.”
“And how do you know it is a boy?”
“Is it?” She smiled brightly and Sariel caught on to the excitement, pressing his hand against her stomach in joy until the destiny of the child played out in horrific visions of the future.
With a gasp, Sariel pulled his hand back. “He must… not be born.”
Nephal jerked away from Sariel. “How could you say that? This child was conceived in love?”
“This child.” Sariel shook his head. “Will be hated… scorned, constantly surrounded by darkness.”
“Darkness?”
“He will never experience true joy or contentment, constantly pulled between two planes, between immortals and mortals alike. He will know division and darkness, the darkness and cruelty of the human race will be his lover, his companion. I cannot allow him to be born. My love for him, for you, is what guides this.”
“Never!” She shouted, tears streaming down her face. “If you touch me I’ll kill you!”
“Nephal—”
“Go away!”
Sighing, Sariel did as she asked.
And didn’t return until the babe was born.
That night, with Bannik at his side, he entered the tent, ready to destroy the abomination, when his eyes locked on the child’s.
Bannik tensed next to him and then uttered, “I cannot kill our flesh.”
“He is…” Sariel swallowed down his emotions. “He is part of us.”
He joined Nephal on the bed as Bannik looked on.
And then a great thunder sounded.
Bannik sighed, his eyes heavy, his heart heavier. “They’re here.”
And as if the sun had descended to earth, a legion of Angels landed in the camp, shining bright with gold and silver armor. The Archangels joined the first part of the ranks, while the rest of the soldiers fanned out around the tent.
And one hundred and ninety-nine of his brothers, marched down the mountain, for the last time.
To their death.
Sariel wrapped Nephal in one arm protectively while hovering over the child.
“Cassius,” he whispered. “We will name him Cassius.”
Nephal nodded, tears streaming down her face.
The tent door was opened.
“Creation is forbidden,” the Angel said in a booming voice. “What, brother, have you done?”
Bannik stood next to Sariel’s side, hand on his sword.
The Angel held out his hand. “We did not come to fight. We refuse to fight our own blood. We came to pass judgment, but what are we to do with a young child? Innocent in ways of the world? Innocent in ways of humanity and immortals alike?”
Sariel stood to his full height. “I could not…” He lost his voice and tried again. “This is my sin, but I cannot punish him for it. I could not.”
“Nor would it be asked of you,” the Angel fired back, his eyes blazing like fire. “Children will always be protected…” He sighed. “But this child or any born in this way, will forever be cursed.” The Angel’s eyes went black. “He will carry a darkness, and every day it will try to consume him. If he gives in, he will be killed. We will have no choice, for he has the knowledge of the heavens and the power to command at will. If he gives in to the darkness, there will be no saving him from himself, for he will be pure evil.”
Cassius, the child, cried.
Sariel nodded. “I will train him.”
“Your punishment.” The Angel spoke low in his throat. “Your curse… is that you will always carry the weight of his decisions. Sariel, we leave you twelve brothers, to help you keep the immortals and humans in balance. Now that you have mixed the blood, we are no longer at peace.” The wind swirled, nasty and angry. “But, brother, a lifetime of war. Between the races. Between each other, for you have created, and that is beyond our realm. It is forbidden.”
Lightning flashed as Sariel made his way out of the tent.
Two thousand Angels stood, ready to fight as fire struck down from the sky, destroying the mountain where the brothers had watched.
A deep sadness ripped through Sariel as most of his brothers, the ones who were awake, were commanded to sleep, and fell to the ground.
“They will slumber,” the Angel commanded, “until their penance is paid. As for the rest of you.” He pointed at the twelve remaining brothers and spread his hands wide. “Do not fail again.”
In another loud clap, the Angels returned to heaven.
All but one.
He was small.
Like a child.
Slowly, he took a step forward and held out his hands to Sariel.
“We give second chances.” He nodded. “To our creation.”