House Of Legions (The Angel Descendants book 1)

Chapter 33 (Clare)

The marble under the liquid gold was noticeable close-up, there was no sign of brick work. Stepping inside the automated door, it moved in an up and downward circular motion before it finally opened showing an empty space. Visioning high rise ceilings and gold brackets cushioning it in place, she paralleled her head to her feet and furthered her eyes to the marbled floor. Her jaw went slack, she was standing on no ordinary marble floor. This one was white with beige patterns moving constantly in the inside of it, making no permanent attached markings, but millions of intricate patterns.

She had seen Buckingham palace but that was merely an old faction of a castle compared to this.

Screening the place out, from the paintings to the fine craft, which positioned itself perfectly on a centre piece table that she had completely missed when she’d walked in. It was made of the same marble material as the floor. A sculpture of an Angel with wings that was too big for the small body, as little as the size of a kitten attached to it.

The sculpture was a work of art, the intricate details she saw from afar drew her nearer, admiration in her eyes, she could see the crafting of every eyelash and every line. Curiosity getting the better of her, she touched the Angel sculpture. C0pyright © 2024 Nôv)(elDrama.Org.

A flap of its wings, Clare stumbled and screamed, but not before its eyes opened, revealing big black irises. The sculpture was alive, there was no doubt by what she was clearly seeing, as its face twisted into a frown. It's mouth moved before it ascended toward the opposite side of the room.

Clare fell back, and looked up in terror as it flew around the room. Its body now grey, still sculptured like stone, but alive. Flapping across to the top of the hall, where a part of the rounded room was shown. Her eyes followed its out stretched wings, which appeared to be similar to an Angel, at least a sculptured one.

“ISADES.”

Clare turned to the commanding voice, “It got a name?”

Nathan walked into the room, as the sculptured Angel settled on his arm, looking at Clare, “Yes, one you should respect, he’s small but a real Angel.”

“Angel? OKAY.”

“You do know Kalbreal is an Angel right?”

Clare’s ears itched, she couldn’t say she didn’t believe it, because she did know, and Kalbreal as an Angel made sense. “So what Angel is ISADES?”

“He’s a protector, he’s given the Moonstones protection for a thousand years, a debt which was paid months ago, but he still chooses to stay, he won’t say why.”

Isades pierced her with his eyes, pitch black beady things, it got to her, like it knew something she did not.

The staring was broken at the sound of Caidrian, “This is our home, made by the Angel Gabriel, the marble alone is a protective seal so if our invisible seals got destroyed we can still seek shelters in our homes.”

“Seals? Verses? This all seems confusing.”

Caidrian explained, “Verses are like spells, it’s Angelic in nature, those from the Book of watchers, the Igori, and seals are Verses mixed with the souls of our dead, or blood of the living, it’s an offering for protection, only those of Angelic presence has them, you find them in stones as well, or appearing on our body.”

Nathan’s confidence screamed heart robber, he was gorgeous, well built, which she noticed was a common factor among the men she’d met in the past twenty four hours, “It’s much more than that, a

whole lot more, Calub is good at explaining that kind of stuff.”

She spun herself around slowly, absorbing in her surroundings, inhaling the lingering smell of musk mixed with cinnamon.

“Come, you need to get ready for the crescent ceremony, you have tomorrow to admire the place.”

She looked at her brother who was leaning against the wall cutting a mango, as he spoke, “When one of our own dies in battle.” Nathan’s voice echoed in the open space, like a wave of sounds, “We preserve their soul until we absorb the Gazool or energy in english, of the deceased, unfortunately Calub won’t be able to join in.”

She looked at the floating lights just beneath the ceiling. They were small and bright, drifting in the air, with no destination, three across the entrance hall where she stood, “What’s up with the floating lights?”

“We’re Lightwatchers.” Nathan’s eyes weary, “Everything about us is light, we just verse a stone and it comes to life, simple.” Her brother held a piece of cut mango to her as he spoke melodically, but she could feel the hurt and pain that strained his heart, she could see it behind his eyes, the longer she looked at him the more sorrow her own heart could feel. Unfortunate that it was sorrow for him and not her mother.

How might he have felt seeing his mother, after so long and losing her on the same day. Smiling, she walked toward him, she didn’t want him to feel like she hated him, because she didn’t, she had a feeling that if she knew him, she’d love him.

He looked just like his mother, the big oval eye shape, his straight dark hair, even his sharp chin. She leaned in, attentively thinking how similar he was to Michelle- Franchesca, EXCEPT the eyes, “You look a lot like our mother, does Calub look like her too?”

“No, he looks like you actually, you would think you look like our aunt, but you’re more like our grandmother than anything else.” She didn’t know how to talk to Nathan or what to say, now that she knew he was her brother.

Put blood into it and everything becomes complicated, she huffed inwardly.

What would she have said to Phillip?Could she talk to him and tell him about all of this?What would she say? If she could tell him, would he even believe her?

Did they tell humans about this stuff? obviously not, or else they wouldn’t have all the secrecy.

Would she even see him again. Her stomach toiled at the idea of never seeing him again, she didn’t get to say goodbye the day her flight left for South Africa.

Phillip, her best-friend for six years strong and she always knew what to say to him. They were both rude and impulsive, but not much else in similarities, nonetheless, comforting him would have been as easy as walking. But here he stood patiently, her own flesh and blood, her heart softened with how his resemblance brought up her mother, but the words got stuck. The tightness in her jaw and flex of her chin, she looked away from him, as if his face had burnt her, which wasn't too far off the mark, as she Silently cursed herself. Her thoughts sobered as she heard the tap of a boot, and realized she was staring, awkward, “Nathan, nice name! Why couldn’t I get a name so cool, Gabriella, urgh.”

He laughed, “Yeah, that’s a bit hectic, but unfortunately choosing random names doesn’t work around here, tomorrow’s a birth at our family house, I’ll take you with me.” His voice seemed different now, more relaxed after Caidrian had left with Isades.

“What do I have to do to get ready for the moon ceremony, is there a bathroom I can use? And a glass of water.”

He pointed, “Turn right down the passage, second door on the left, I’ll make you a sandwich and bring the water.” he paused, “Use the room on the right across the bathroom, I put a robe on the bed.”

He turned to leave through another open area instead of the passage, and paused, “Oh and you might want to shower, you stink.”

She walked down the passageway directed to her, smelling under her arms, he was right she hadn’t smelt so bad since she went to the farm and slipped in horses dunk. The scent of musk carried through the air never lessening or increasing. Floating lights lit her way, through the expanse as her mind wondered.

What should she make out of all this. The things Caidrian had told her, to this place, wasn't something she could just digest and move on from, her entire life had changed. She was going to need days to process, and it wasn't starting now. At least not with the pain poking in on her stomach, reminding her of her mother’s death, a mother who lied about her name to her child. And not only child, apparently, because she now had not one, but two brothers. What was next, since she’d seen these people, it was like she was pushed into a maze of dreams, curved out of a gruesomely ancient and horrific Grimm’s brother’s tale.

She should hate her mother, but she couldn’t. Franchesca never loved Clare but she cared for her enough to sacrifice her life. Getting her heart ripped out of her like she was nothing, such a quick death, yet so violent, and honourable.

Clare shuddered at the thought, and willed herself to an excruciate level not to break down, not to lose her strength, to remain pensive. There would be a time to break, just not NOW.

She opened the bathroom and took in the smell of lemon, and orange. Inhaling the welcoming scent she shut the door.

A stone toilet, and grey moon shaped built in sink took the left side corner. Above the sink was a round mirror with no edging, and behind her was a shower fit for three, with black tiles on the floor and white tiles on the one wall, the rest was open, interesting she thought, and tsked at the shower beams which peeped from every direction, this is going to be interesting.

Next to the shower was a dozen of neatly stacked grey turkey cottoned towels, picking one from the pile, she opened the shower, and looked down at the scar that marked her skin, but it was already gone, almost no sign of it left. Caidrian was right, she thought, shaking her head, of course he was, she was standing in the proof.

As the water hit her skin, massaging her muscles with its powerful jet, she thought of how she was going to save her brother, she couldn’t even remember him, not one single memory or emotion attached to him. She knew she loved him, but Nathan, she considered him, he stood a stranger to her eyes, but he resembled her mother, right to her heart, she should trust him. There was that spark when they spoke, ten minutes ago, but she wouldn't fall for it, not yet.

It was a task knowing what was real when she just saw her mother become a celestial being in front of her very eyes, and then death. Unimaginable death. Those memories would haunt her until her own death became her, it was something she feared, she just hoped her subconscious had prepared.