to disband HUMANITY, citing the violent ‘hate’ crimes his
group was responsible for. Did it matter that deep down he agreed?
Hell, no it didn’t. He was condemned by his blood into this life,
and he would live the way HUMANITY needed him to. There was no one
else to keep the Paramortals at bay. If he wanted the group to
continue, he would keep silent about who he really was. Sure, he
would be sorry, but that didn’t change his convictions. He was the
only defense humans had against their greatest enemy—sentient
beings who had no right to share the earth that God had ensured for the
creations made in His image.
His ancestor, Nathanial Parlinn, had
chosen his path, and his family had followed; it was all Michael
knew. It was a necessary evil to protect the humans, and it made
him wish she was human. Still, he couldn’t fight what he was, or
what she was, and he tried not to question the very nature of what
his father taught him.
That wasn’t his place.
They all die the
same.
* * * *
Mirage paced the length of her room,
unsure of what was making her anxious. She kept looking out her
window, an odd, itching sort of tingle between her shoulder blades,
almost like she was being watched.
There’s nothing out there;
don’t be silly, she scolded herself. That
did nothing to allay her irritating, pressing unease.
Lightning crackled through the air;
there was a storm coming. She could feel it. She imagined the
Children of the Breeze playing in the rising winds, their
incorporeal bodies fading with the rising gusts. The image was
almost enough to make her smile. Almost.
God, she didn’t know if
she could stand living in such a humid climate. Her Promised Lands,
settled comfortably in Ohio, were nothing like this warm Florida
weather. Even though rain pressed against her skin, it was little
relief. The trickle that had started about an hour before had quit,
although the clouds hung low with their burden. It wouldn’t be long
until they shook the weight from them, but it wouldn’t do anything
for the sticky heat that clung to Mirage’s skin. How did the humans
cope with it constantly? Better question; how was she going to survive
it?
There was no stopping the fact that
she was going to have to adapt. This was the only place she could
live now that she’d been exiled. Another flash of bitterness tried
to rise, but she squashed it brutally. She wasn’t about to feel
sorry for herself. No matter how unfairly she’d been treated by
Umbra.
“ There’s nothing wrong with me,” Mirage
muttered despite herself as she leaned her head on the windowsill.
She watched the sun’s colors steal the sky, imbuing the blue with
pinks and purples. The colors streaked through the palm trees’
broad leaves, etching lines across her rune-covered skin. The
clouds were bathed in a purple-red hue, ominous. She could almost
see faces of the angry gods that shook the water from within them.
She sighed, turning from the sky and thoughts of fictional
malevolent beings and stared straight ahead of her. The storm
dampened her powers, constraining them to her body. There was no
movement in the air, nothing she could listen to so she could calm
her mind. Perhaps that was the reason she was upset. Of course, it
had nothing to do with how betrayed she felt. Nah, that definitely
wasn’t the reason.
Mirage laughed sadly at her stupidity.
Above her, the gods quivered in their anger, echoing a ghostly
rumble.
* * * *
The thunder echoed, cracking in an
angry, almost-scream. Sweat beaded at the nape of Michael’s neck
and trickled down his back before soaking into his white shirt. The
humidity was nearly unbearable. It was made worse by the rain that
was thick in the air. A calm before the storm, the small rain
shower he’d sat through had done nothing to cool him down. After
living so long in Florida, he should be used to it. The thick
moisture hung heavy in the air, and swelled in the turbulent clouds
above him. The wind had
group was responsible for. Did it matter that deep down he agreed?
Hell, no it didn’t. He was condemned by his blood into this life,
and he would live the way HUMANITY needed him to. There was no one
else to keep the Paramortals at bay. If he wanted the group to
continue, he would keep silent about who he really was. Sure, he
would be sorry, but that didn’t change his convictions. He was the
only defense humans had against their greatest enemy—sentient
beings who had no right to share the earth that God had ensured for the
creations made in His image.
His ancestor, Nathanial Parlinn, had
chosen his path, and his family had followed; it was all Michael
knew. It was a necessary evil to protect the humans, and it made
him wish she was human. Still, he couldn’t fight what he was, or
what she was, and he tried not to question the very nature of what
his father taught him.
That wasn’t his place.
They all die the
same.
* * * *
Mirage paced the length of her room,
unsure of what was making her anxious. She kept looking out her
window, an odd, itching sort of tingle between her shoulder blades,
almost like she was being watched.
There’s nothing out there;
don’t be silly, she scolded herself. That
did nothing to allay her irritating, pressing unease.
Lightning crackled through the air;
there was a storm coming. She could feel it. She imagined the
Children of the Breeze playing in the rising winds, their
incorporeal bodies fading with the rising gusts. The image was
almost enough to make her smile. Almost.
God, she didn’t know if
she could stand living in such a humid climate. Her Promised Lands,
settled comfortably in Ohio, were nothing like this warm Florida
weather. Even though rain pressed against her skin, it was little
relief. The trickle that had started about an hour before had quit,
although the clouds hung low with their burden. It wouldn’t be long
until they shook the weight from them, but it wouldn’t do anything
for the sticky heat that clung to Mirage’s skin. How did the humans
cope with it constantly? Better question; how was she going to survive
it?
There was no stopping the fact that
she was going to have to adapt. This was the only place she could
live now that she’d been exiled. Another flash of bitterness tried
to rise, but she squashed it brutally. She wasn’t about to feel
sorry for herself. No matter how unfairly she’d been treated by
Umbra.
“ There’s nothing wrong with me,” Mirage
muttered despite herself as she leaned her head on the windowsill.
She watched the sun’s colors steal the sky, imbuing the blue with
pinks and purples. The colors streaked through the palm trees’
broad leaves, etching lines across her rune-covered skin. The
clouds were bathed in a purple-red hue, ominous. She could almost
see faces of the angry gods that shook the water from within them.
She sighed, turning from the sky and thoughts of fictional
malevolent beings and stared straight ahead of her. The storm
dampened her powers, constraining them to her body. There was no
movement in the air, nothing she could listen to so she could calm
her mind. Perhaps that was the reason she was upset. Of course, it
had nothing to do with how betrayed she felt. Nah, that definitely
wasn’t the reason.
Mirage laughed sadly at her stupidity.
Above her, the gods quivered in their anger, echoing a ghostly
rumble.
* * * *
The thunder echoed, cracking in an
angry, almost-scream. Sweat beaded at the nape of Michael’s neck
and trickled down his back before soaking into his white shirt. The
humidity was nearly unbearable. It was made worse by the rain that
was thick in the air. A calm before the storm, the small rain
shower he’d sat through had done nothing to cool him down. After
living so long in Florida, he should be used to it. The thick
moisture hung heavy in the air, and swelled in the turbulent clouds
above him. The wind had
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