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.