Divine Blood

by Beck Michaels

  Her mother’s faraway voice whispered in her thoughts the tales of old she used to tell her before bed, “Long ago, during the First Age, the Seraphim roamed Urn. They lived in the Kingdom of Hilos and were kind gentle beings.”

  But these winged men didn’t look kind or gentle. Harshness cut their sharp features; their glares as sharp as a blade’s edge. Fine, dark-green leather armor matching the color of the leaves molded their deft frames. A golden sigil of open wings embossed their chest plates, each one well-armed with sword and bow.

  A nervous pulse beat in Dyna’s veins. Recalling how evasive her cousin had been, Zev must have known about the Seraphim. Why hadn’t he told her about them?

  “How do you do … my lord?” Dyna tugged on her skirts, assuring she was covered. She didn’t know how to properly address him, regardless of hanging upside down. He must be the leader by the manner the others looked to him. “I’m sorry to disturb your hunting grounds. I, uh, was passing through to Lykos Peak.”

  His eyes narrowed on the glowing, black feather she still held. Dyna quickly let it go, and they watched it float to the ground.

  “Pardon me, I meant no offense. I’ll be on my way.” She reached into her corset for her small knife and worked on sawing through the rope.

  “You will not.” The leader’s voice was low and rigid. He glanced at another holding a gilded bow, giving a silent command. The archer nocked an arrow and aimed at her.

  Dyna’s heart lurched, and everything in her chilled.

  “You have trespassed into our land, human,” he spat the word. “And for that, you must be executed.”

  Executed? The word rang in her mind like a horrible echo carrying out her sentence. Wander in there about and you will never come out.

  “I only meant to pass through!”

  Her claim made no difference. With a slight nod, the leader signaled the archer. She cut the rope and plunged as the arrow whizzed through her hair. She landed heavily on an exposed root, leaving her stunned and winded.

  The Seraphim flew down. Dyna scrambled backward, pine needles stabbing her palms. The knife shook in her trembling grip as she pointed it at them. It was meant for cutting through stalks, but it was all she had.

  A Seraph snatched her arm and twisted it, making her release the knife. They tore away her satchel and rucksack to rifle through.

  “Don’t!” She tried to reach for them, but they kicked in her knees and shoved her down to kneel.

  The leader approached, his long strides graceful and soundless. They passed him the satchel, and he dumped the contents onto the ground. There wasn’t much: the journal, a small bound notebook, the jars, and a handful of copper coins. He emptied her rucksack next and her clothes and food hit the dirt.

  “Unhand my things.” She scowled at him, trying to appear brave, but it fell away when his sharp gaze snapped to her.

  The blade of his sword sang as he drew it free. Dazzling white flames burst along the length, and its staggering heat wafted against her face. She recoiled with a gasp. The Seraphs grabbed her and she screamed as they dragged her closer to the fire. Tears evaporated on her cheeks from the unbearable temperature, her hopes, and dreams disappearing with them.

  “No, stop! Please don’t do this! My family is waiting for me! My sister needs me!” Nothing she said softened his cold sneer. He meant to send her soul through The Seven Gates—Death’s Gate being the first.

  “To whom do you pray?”

  She looked up at him through her tears, wishing to have the answer that would save her life. There were many Gods. She believed in only one, but the world had erased his name.

  “The God of Urn.” It was a soft prayer and a plea.

  His stony expression didn’t change, save for the slight satisfaction in his glare. “Good. May He receive your soul.”

  Dyna buckled and kicked to free herself. They twisted her arms behind her back, forcing her to fold forward into submission. Was this how her aunt died, prostrated in the dirt?

  She wept, begging them over and over. The sword’s heat drafted against her exposed neck as it lifted above her head. She squeezed her eyes shut. Please!

  “Captain Gareel,” a new male voice said. “Do not kill this one.”

  Dyna peeked through her lashes. The Seraphim looked up at the Hyalus in angry disbelief. At first, she thought the tree had spoken, but another perched there on a branch. The glass leaves hid most of him from sight, except for an arm hanging lazily over a bent knee covered in white silk. A thin beam of sunlight caught on the flute he spun loosely in his fingers.

  The leader, whom she assumed was the captain, tightened his fist around the hilt of his weapon. “You know the law of this land, Your Highness.”

  “I gave you an order,” the other replied, his tone bored. “Release the human.”

  Captain Gareel glared at Dyna with enough hate to send her through Death’s Gate by will alone. She held her breath, awaiting his decision.

  After a short pause, he thrust the flaming sword in its sheath, extinguishing the flames. “As you command.”

  She wilted in relief. The others removed their vice grip on her, and she tumbled to the ground. Her numb limbs prickled as feeling returned to them. Dyna dove for the journal, shoving it into her satchel and holding it close to her chest. She didn’t dare reach for her clothes by Captain Gareel’s feet.

  He crouched in front of her and leaned in until the abhorrence in his blue gaze transfixed her in place. He spoke low for only her to hear, “The Nephilim may pity humans but hundreds of Watchers lay in wait in this forest. You will perish here before the sun sets.” His promise hung over her head as his sword once had.

  Clutching her shaking fists, Dyna lifted her chin. “Only if the God of Urn wills it.”

  The captain sneered and reached for the knife holstered on his calf. She threw up her hands, calling on her Essence out of instinct, even if she had no real magic to defend herself. But an unexpected current of scorching power surged from within her, coursing through her body with an uncontrollable force so painful she screamed. Green fire exploded from her palms and hit the captain, hurling him across the forest. He crashed into the Hyalus tree and fell as a charred heap over its roots. Dyna stared at the smoke billowing from the broken wings on his still form and at her shaking hands.

  The Seraphs gawked at her in horrified silence.

  What had she done? Had … she killed him?

  Captain Gareel groaned and twitched. He wasn’t dead yet. Dyna launched to her feet and bolted for the trees.

  No one stopped her.

  Thorny brambles slashed at dyna’s cloak and arms as she tore through the dense woodland. Her heavy breaths clouded in the air, a heavy chill embedding in her bones. She had never produced such power before. The blast of Essence left her weak, but she kept running. She had to escape this place.

  The forest was thinning. Beyond the branches, the sky merged into shades of blue, orange, and red with the sunset. Hope flooded through her. She crashed through a wall of bushes but came onto the boundary of a cliff and her toes teetered on the edge. She shrieked, arms flailing. Thrusting herself backward, Dyna fell on solid ground with a grunt.

  Her wild heartbeat drummed in her ears, and she gasped for air, placing a hand over her heaving chest. Her lungs screamed for respite, but there was no stopping. She staggered up and peered over the cliff. It rose hundreds of feet high, ending in a strip of sea. Roaring waves rammed into the serrated rocks below. Falling to her death would have been worse than the quick strike of a sword.

  Fifty feet across from her was another cliff with the ongoing dense woodland of Lykos Peak. She made it.

  Dyna dragged her pulsing feet north along the cliff’s edge, searching for a way to the other side. She came upon a wretched old bridge swaying in the breeze. Moss and vines choked the rotting planks. The rope had wasted away and was missing in a few places. It couldn’t have held Zev’s weight, but she moved to investigate further.

  “Stop!
”

  Dyna jumped at the unexpected shout. The Seraphs found her!

  She dashed to the bridge and ran across the creaking planks. It teetered with each rapid step. She reached the midpoint when a violent crack sounded beneath her feet. She stilled, but it made no difference. The rope slowly disbanded under her fingers.

  “No, please no,” she begged.

  A shadow fell over her and she looked up at the winged silhouette flying against the sun’s glare. “Take my hand!”

  She ducked out of his reach. “Get away from me!”

  “Take it or you will fall!”

  The bridge lurched, and wood splintered. It would not hold her much longer. Dyna whirled for the Seraph and reached out to him. Their fingers nearly brushed when the planks beneath her feet snapped. She dropped through the bridge. Her earth-shattering scream rang within the cliffs as she plummeted for Death’s Gate.

  The winged man watched her go, still holding out the hand too late to save her. Dyna closed her eyes and let herself fall.

  All she could see was Lyra sitting on their front step, waiting for her to return, not knowing she would never come back. She would die knowing one dreadful truth: she failed.

  Her descent came to an abrupt stop and the force knocked the breath out of her. The raging sea, inches below, splashed icy water on her battered legs. She stared down at the waves, finding herself floating in mid-air. A rhythmic whoosh filled her ears at the same time she realized strong, warm arms cradled her. The blaze of the setting sun masked her savior’s face except for the graceful black wings flowing behind him.

  The roaring wind bustled against them as they soared back up the precipice. She gripped his silken clothing, hiding against his chest, inadvertently inhaling his scent. It was unlike anything she had come across before. Otherworldly. Indescribable. But if she had to try, she would say it was almost ambrosial.

  Together they flew high in the sky, and the Zafiro Mountains rose in the distance. A sprinkle of red, orange, and yellow treetops dotted the forest among the endless pine trees and the rare indigo canopies.

  But Dyna couldn’t admire the sight when she was highly aware of the stranger carrying her. What did he plan to do with her? He wouldn’t have rescued her if he planned to harm her. Would he?

  With a steady flap of his wings, he flew them to a small clearing by the cliff. Neither of them spoke, and he didn’t put her down. Instinct warned her to be afraid, but she wasn’t.

  Dyna took a deep breath in preparation before she dared to look at him, sensing she would need it. The moment she met his eyes, gray like a raging storm, the air was once again stolen from her lips.

  The low rays of the sunset fell around him in a red, golden hue, accenting his silk black wings and striking features framed by hair so black it looked like spilled ink against his face. His pale skin had a subtle glow as if he harbored a light from within. He wasn’t real. How could he be? His kind no longer existed in the world.

  Not sure if she was dreaming, Dyna reached out to touch him, needing to prove he was truly there. The moment her fingertips brushed his cool cheek, a gentle electric current pulsed between them. He flinched, inhaling a sharp breath. His ethereal features tightened into a scowl, and he withdrew his arms, leaving her to fall.

  She hit the ground ungracefully. Wincing, she rolled onto her knees, inches from touching his toes nestled in the grass. Light caught on the silver trim of his silk robes as a cool breeze fluttered them over his legs, the hem brushing his bare feet. Sunlight gleamed on the sapphire ring dangling on a thin chain around his neck. But nothing compared to the magnificence of his black wings. She could not help but marvel at how the light caught on the sleek feathers.

  He was beautiful.

  His gaze swept over her, and his mouth twisted. She felt his disgust as much as she saw it. “You are an incredibly stupid human.”

  Dyna barely registered the insult, for she was too stunned by his voice. It was smooth, lilting, carrying a faint accent not spoken in the eastern quadrants of Urn—and it was the same voice in the forest who had spared her life.

  Chapter 5

  Cassiel

  Every curse known to man rang in Cassiel’s head. He groaned and kneaded on his temples. He didn’t expect much to happen when he’d been ordered to accompany the Watchers to the border.

  “It is time you learn the governance of our kingdom,” the High King had announced, “including the ways we protect our people from intruders.”

  But no one ventured into Hilos, not anymore. The bones of those who had rested beneath the roots of the trees. Yet Cassiel was now glowering at an intruder who gaped at him like a dead fish.

  She remained unmoving where she kneeled. Her dress was dirty and torn, cuts marking her ankles and hands. Tiny freckles speckled her flushed cheeks and the bridge of her perked nose. Her full lips were cracked and dry from thirst. She was young, younger than him, possibly. Her wavy tresses were the color of flames, the ends curling past her shoulders. His gaze fell on her eyes, and stayed there, bewildered by the stunning color. They were a deep green, rivaling the purest of emeralds.

  Gods, who cared about her eyes? By sparing her life, he broke laws that had been in place for half a millennium. He could lose his wings.

  Damn.

  What had overcome him? Why did he save her?

  Cassiel glared at the dainty human and rubbed his cheek to rid himself of the tingling sensation she left behind. It felt as if her hand had imprinted on his skin.

  The moment she touched him, it triggered a second sight, and he had seen through the blaze of her life force to her soul. It was a quick flash, but he didn’t perceive any ill intentions in her heart, only the terrible pain clouding it.

  He looked her over, searching for any hidden weapons. She didn’t appear to be armed or trained in any sense.

  She still hadn’t stopped gawking at him.

  “Have you lost the means to speak?”

  Awareness returned to her face and she smiled. “You were the Seraph in the Hyalus tree.”

  “I am not a Seraph.”

  She frowned and tilted her head. “Oh … are you the Nephilim?”

  By asking such a question, she as well as spat in his face. He had to tolerate the slur hissed at him by his brothers and other celestials, but he would not tolerate it from a human.

  “Call me that again and I will kill you myself.”

  She balked from his dark promise. “I—I’m sorry. I meant no offense. The captain, he …”

  Cassiel scowled at the trees. He had wondered what Captain Gareel whispered to her.

  Her brow furrowed as she glanced between him, and the forest. Did she not understand what she had said?

  “Never speak that word again.”

  The human nodded fervently. She studied him again, her eyes widening further when she took notice of the circlet resting on his brow. Standing, she bobbed in a clumsy curtsy. “It’s a great pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty. I’m Dynalya—”

  Cassiel raised a hand, cutting her off. This would be the last he would see her so there was no purpose in the acquaintance. Her name repeated in his head anyhow. Dynalya. It was the name of an Elvish flower, oddly enough.

  “I am not the king. Nor do I care to know who you are.”

  Her cheeks bloomed pink, and she fidgeted with her fingers. “Oh, well. Is the captain all right?”

  He frowned, surprised the human cared to ask. She had appeared helpless against the Watchers until she hit Captain Gareel with green fire. If Cassiel had not borne witness to it himself, he would have thought it impossible. Humans didn’t have magic. They were weak, pitiable beings. She too had appeared shocked it came from her.

  His feather.

  She must have absorbed its magic. It was the only explanation, but how did she manage to wield it?

  “His injuries may be fatal if not treated,” she said. “He needs tending.”

  Though Cassiel had enjoyed seeing him thrown clear across the fo
rest, the only injury Captain Gareel sustained was to his pride. Their kind was not so easily killed.

  “He will live.”

  “Why did he want to hurt me?” Her wide eyes searched his, awaiting an answer. Did she truly not know? Well, five centuries had passed since they had any contact with the outside world.

  “You should not be here.”

  She hesitated before asking, “Why?”

  He crossed his arms, contemplating how much to reveal. She was not a poacher, that much was clear. Regardless, Captain Gareel had been ready to take her head.

  Cassiel had not witnessed an execution before, but it had reminded him of the last trespasser who came through these woods two decades ago. The thought elicited a wispy image of a woman with black hair, calling his name.

  “This is Hilos, the high court of the Celestials,” he said.

  The girl canted her head. “In our tales of old, we refer to your kind as the Seraphim.”

  “Celestials and Seraphim are not one and the same. You’ll do well to remember that.”

  Her mouth opened, possibly to ask more about it, but at his glower, she bit her lip.

  “How did you cross the Realm as far as you did? You’re fortunate the Watchers have grown careless.”

  “The Watchers?”

  “The Celestials who guard our borders.”

  She lifted one corner of her cloak to show him the faded archaic runes sown on the hem. “I was not sure if the concealment spell weaved through it would still work. I tried to be quiet and not disturb the forest.”

  He hadn’t memorized all the runes and their meanings, but he knew a magic cloak protected the wearer. The tattered fabric seemed to be one color only to change when she moved, blending into the surroundings as though to conceal her from anyone looking too closely. Only the elves or the mages could make such cloaks, and they cost a small fortune. It was not something this human could possibly afford, even in its poor condition.

  “But then I heard the music,” she said, glancing at his flute.