Chaser of Faith

“Can you, uh, pass the defftha?” I asked, trying to project my voice over the deafening silence of the dining room. My voice echoed through the room.

Simon looked from me to one of his Enforcers on the wall who quickly moved to the table to pick up the pitcher of deff juice before coming over to my end of the table to fill up my empty glass. I cleared my throat, muttering a thank you. He put his hand on his arm again.

“Nevat,” he said politely. I didn’t know what it meant, but he sounded sincere. I gave him a confused smile.

He placed the pitcher back where he found it and went back to his spot along the wall between his friends. I stared at the line of Enforcers and sipped at my tangy, sweet juice. I put my glass back down on the table, and looked down at my plate, playing the fabric of my dress. I had on a plain, long, black dress with plain black slip-on shoes. The Enforcers wouldn’t let me leave my room without putting on something ‘suitable’ for his majesty.

The night Simon proposed to me- the night before, after he left me alone to cry in my room- I spent the night trying to pull myself together. My room was a mess, and it began to eat at me.

The crown he gave me remained untouched on the table next to my bed. The plush carpet was stained with my blood. Even the door was splattered with blood and covered in bloody handprints. The bathtub was lined with dirt and rusty red blotches. It was hard for me to feel control there- which is something I desperately needed. So, when the Enforcers came in with my breakfast, I told them that I would no longer be staying in that room. And I told them that I would no longer be eating alone. They had to clear it with Simon, but… he had no problem with it.

This breakfast was our first meal together. The odd thing was that I was sitting about fifty feet from the front door… And I had no desire to leave.

“I want to know more about your father, Simon,” I began gently, looking up at him bashfully. He didn’t seem surprised. He put his fork down and dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a napkin. It was hard for me to look him in the eye. I tried, believe me, but whenever I looked into his eyes, all I saw was the fearful desperation that I had seen the night when he proposed to me. I could hardly stand it. I swallowed to try to clear my throat and took in a deep breath. I looked back up to him and met his gaze.

“How much do you want to know?” I pursed my lips, frowning slightly.

“Everything,” I said confidently. “Is he an angel? Or a god? Did he overthrow this planet? What about the symbols in our skin? Why are they there?” After my barrage of questions, the room fell silent. Simon looked over to his Enforcers and motioned with his head to the door. My hard expression dropped and I felt my fear creep into my throat from my stomach. The Enforcers left the room one-by-one, following each other stiffly. My wings drew close to my body, caressing the wooden frame of the chair.

Was he going to get angry?

I looked down at the table, waiting for him to speak or yell or charge me. He said nothing for what felt like forever. He sighed suddenly.

“Before he became Rohathro San, he was Sandalphon. And before he became Sandalphon… he was the prophet, Elijah.” I lifted my head slowly from the table and looked to his eyes.

“He was a prophet- just a human? So humans do become angels when they die?” Simon shook his head, expressionless.

“Prophets can become angels, but ordinary humans cannot. Sandalphon and his brother Metatron were both prophets in their human lives. But before ascending to Heaven, however, they needed to die for another.”

“Another?” I asked cautiously. “What do you mean?”

“They had to die saving someone.” Simon had his eyes fixed on the far wall, as he was remembering the stories of his father’s life. “Elijah died to save his whole world,” Simon added with a nod. I raised an eyebrow.

“Earth? How? What happened?” He looked back at me suddenly, holding my eye contact. I was afraid to look away, but his stare made me so anxious. His eyes seemed to move even while they were fixed on me- as if he was taking in every detail of me. I grit my teeth and swallowed again. “What?” I insisted. Simon looked away again quickly, shrugging. He took his cup of tea and sipped at it.

“He foresaw a great and terrible threat, and took care of it.” I scrunched my eyebrows together.

“What? What threat?” He was holding back again, but I didn’t understand why.

“Have you ever heard of the titans?” I pulled the corners of my mouth sideways, thinking.

“My grandmother used to tell me stories like that when I was a kid.” A smile slowly grew on his face.

“I’m sure.”

“But they’re Greek myths. They… they can’t be real.” Simon took another sip of his tea.

“There was once a titan named Perses. A god of war. The titan of destruction.” He set his cup back down. “The ‘dog star.’” He leaned forward with his elbows on the table and his chin leaning against his hands. “Perses was looking for his love.” I couldn’t stand looking into his eyes anymore. They were too observant today. “He came to Earth to search for her. He didn’t know that Asteria had killed herself.” My stomach did a flip.

“Was Asteria human?” I asked, still looking anywhere but at Simon.

“No. She was the titan of the stars. A goddess of the night…” He paused before continuing. “Zeus, however, also fell in love with her. He was a powerful god. He took what he wanted, and no one could stop him. So, when Zeus set his eyes on Asteria and her ethereal beauty, he pursued her.” He paused again. “But, in order to escape his torment, Asteria threw herself into the Aegean Sea.” I frowned, shaking my head.

“So then… what did Perses do? What did Elijah do?”

“When Perses found her body on Earth, he went on a rampage. He set fires, started floods, and murdered hundreds as a wolf- his other form. He would have made it much further than Greece, had it not been for Elijah. Elijah used Nythen magic to seal Perses into a mirror. But, the problem with Nythen charms is that… they always come with a price.”

I remembered Cal’s words to me when I first met him. I remembered Cal’s dead and bloody body, staring at me…

“In order to seal the life of a titan in such a prison, Elijah had to sacrifice his own life.” I felt chills run down my spine, making me shudder. I shut my eyes as something scratched at the back of my brain.

Prison…

I put a hand to my head as it began to ache slightly. I leaned my elbow on the table.

“Are you okay, my goddess?”

“I’m fine,” I said, bringing my arm back down and shaking my head. “Please stop calling me that.” My wings stretched out.

“So Elijah spilled his own blood and successfully locked Perses away for eternity. He saved the world, but lost his life.”

“And he became an angel,” I said softly. “But how did he become a god?” I asked, finally looking up at Simon once more. His face was grim and his gaze was aimed down at the table.

“He didn’t.” His eyes suddenly met mine and a chill went through me. “All that I tell you, you must never repeat.” I struggled with my words, opening my mouth and shutting it again. “Claire,” he began. Hearing him say my name felt oddly satisfying. “All that I tell you is in confidence. You must promise that you will never tell another soul.” I couldn’t look away from his intense eyes. They were a bright green and shone like emeralds against his smooth, tan skin.

“I promise,” I whispered. He suddenly stood, startling me. His chair scratched the wood floor. I stood, too, nervous of what he was going to do, and stepped behind my chair so that it was between us. He moved in front of me and held out his arm to me. I stared at him, contemplating refusal. Still, I hooked my arm in his, letting him lead me away from the table and out into the halls. I scanned around for any Enforcers, but saw none.

“My Enforcers come when I call,” Simon said, leaning down to whisper to me and answering my question without me asking. I looked up at him out of the corners of my eyes. The memory of him kissing me flashed into my head and my throat went bone dry.

As we walked down the hall, we passed the front door. I stared at it as we passed, but did not move from Simon’s side. When I looked back at him again, he was still looking down at me. He smiled and I quickly fixed my eyes on the wall at the end of the hall.

“Have you given my proposal anymore thought?” He asked suddenly, breaking the heavy silence. My stomach twisted with anxiety.

“No,” I told him simply. I looked up at him in my peripherals and saw that his smile remained. We took more twists and turns through the halls. “Where are we going?” I asked him stiffly.

“To see my family,” he replied, giving me a near-heart attack. I gawked at him.

“What? What do you mean?” He chuckled.

“Ha vex,” he replied. I didn’t know what that meant, it could have been Nythen. “Don’t worry.” He stopped us in front of a corridor, letting me peer in before we entered. I stood in awe of the portraits that lined the walls. “They’re not very talkative.” I let go of his arm, walking into the room on my own. There could have been a hundred portraits. Each painting was life-size, and each one had an elegant golden frame. There were at least fifteen large windows on three walls that let the natural light flood into the room. The sunlight made the room warm and comfortable. I closed my eyes, relishing the warmth.

With closed eyes, I remembered laying in the grass with Adriel, learning Sanen, and enjoying the fresh air and company. It was a painful memory that I didn’t quite understand.

I’m too nostalgic today, I thought.

I opened my eyes again and continued to take in my surroundings.

“This is my brother, Jey,” I heard Simon say from a few feet behind me. I turned around to face the wall along the door. Simon stood in front of a grand portrait of a young Nythiat man with white wings and a young woman with no wings. “He’s a good man.”

“Is that his wife?” I couldn’t remember her name. “Is she human?” They looked happy together. Jey looked to be middle-aged. He had the same olive skin and dark hair as Simon, but Jey had bright blue eyes, whereas Simon had green. “You two look alike,” I noted.

“We should. Our mothers were twins,” he added nonchalantly. I frowned, looking up at him. “That’s his wife, Halle. She’s a Pentixiat.” I licked my dry lips, biting them anxiously.

“What’s that?” He put his hands behind his back, folding them.

“A Nythiat-human hybrid.” I raised my eyebrows.

“Why doesn’t she have wings?” I asked. “You have wings, even though you’re only half Nythiat, right?” He smiled at me.

“Good question. I’m not sure why Pentixiats are not born with wings. It could be because of the relations that Nythiats and humans share. Humans cannot inherit Nythiat traits, perhaps. They do, however, live for hundreds of years. Pentixiat means ‘those of long life.’” I let this new information sink into me. “These are their children,” he continued, moving on to the next portrait over. Above these two portraits were others, similar but older, when the children, and the king and queen were younger. They had been taken over many years. There were four children- three boys and one girl, in this most recent picture.

“And my eldest brother,” he said, walking to the other end of the wall, on the other side of the door. “He is living in the same city as your friends.” I followed him, finding myself in front of the cruel king. His face was hard. He was sitting in a chair and next to him was a beautiful woman with large white wings and shining honey blonde hair. She looked somewhat sad. I remembered Nicholas telling me about her. “His name is Ymet, and his wife, Lillian, is a Nythiat. And, they have twelve children.” I widened my eyes.

“Twelve? Twelve children?” Simon nodded, still smiling, amused. “No wonder she’s so sad,” I muttered, barely whispering. Simon laughed.

“Oh, she has many reasons to be sad. But, her children are none of those reasons, trust me.” I looked down the wall, looking at all the different pictures of his nieces and nephews, and brother and sister-in-law.

“What I really brought you here for,” he began, moving once more. He started down the center of the room, to the wall directly opposite the door. “Was for my father.” I followed him, still looking at all of the members of his family that surrounded us. I didn’t really want to see his father.

“My father was not a god.” My stomach turned again with the continuation of this conversation. I had forgotten why we had left the dining hall. I looked ahead to where we were walking. The largest painting on the very center of the wall was who I assumed to be Sandalphon. “Sandalphon was obsessed with the gods. He had died because of them. His namesake as an angel was being the brother of Metatron. And, because of the connection between ‘rethro’ and ‘rohathro,’ he began to see himself as something… greater than just an angel. He thought his name meant something more than just brother. He wasn’t just Sandalphon, the brother. He saw himself as Rohathro San. As the All-Seeing King.”

We stopped in front of his portrait. He looked like a young Ymet. His hair was dirty blond. His white wings were spread wide; powerful. He was alone in the portrait. What stuck out most to me in his picture, though, was the marking on his chest. Scarred on his chest was a Nythen symbol. ‘Rohathro,’ as Simon had told me.

“Every day, Sandalphon carved that symbol into his own flesh.” My blood ran cold and my muscles clenched. I snapped my gaze up to Simon.

“What?” I felt queasy. The room felt too warm suddenly. “Why would he do that?” I asked, remembering the searing pain that came with the scar.

“Because that symbol resembles a mark of the gods.” Simon turned to me fully. He put his hands on my shoulders, brushing my hair back. As the strands of hair grazed my bare skin, it sent chills down my back and gave me goosebumps up and down my arms. I wanted to step away from Simon. He was too close. I had no control.

“What do you mean?” I put my hands on his upper arms, gripping them tightly and trying to push him back. His hold on my shoulders was strong, but he didn’t hurt me.

“Gods are born with Nythen symbols.” His voice was calm and straight, but I was starting to feel panicked.

“Gods? Gods are born with Nythen symbols?” I shook my head, pleading with him with wide eyes. “I don’t understand, Simon.” He took one hand off my shoulder and held my hands, and took his other hand and put it on my neck. He traced the outline of my scar, giving me another hard shudder of fear and repulsion.

“You were born that night. You were reborn, Asteria.”

My breathing sped up and my head ached. I felt that familiar feeling, and before I could react, the same spot in my brain popped. I widened my eyes, and Simon’s face changed. This time, though, everything was black.