by Emma Hamm
Raphael didn’t know if he should look up. What if this wasn’t the home of his brother? What if he was mistaken?
Soft footsteps approached, although they paused far away from him. An equally soft voice said, “They’re from Omra. Ocean stones. They’re much more pleasant to walk upon than gravel, don’t you think?”
He hadn’t expected a voice like that. Female, quiet, but not afraid of him at all. Why wasn’t anyone here afraid of him?
Raphael looked up to see a stunning woman, perhaps even rivaling his Danielle.
She was slight and petite, although her arms were much larger than any noble woman he’d ever seen. Her heart-shaped face was kind. She’d pulled her chocolate-colored hair back in a loose bun, and curls fell down around her face haphazardly.
He thought for a moment she might be a servant. But her blue dress was cut to her form and the silken fabric was far too nice for a maid. Still, the dirt smudges on the hem were confusing. If she were the lady of the chateau, then wouldn’t she have someone to clean or garden for her?
Raphael realized he’d crouched on the ground at her feet for a long while, gaping up at her. He knew better than to be such a fool, and Danielle would’ve been horrified at his actions.
Woodenly, he stood and snapped his wings tight against his back. “My apologies, m’lady. I was not expecting to see someone like you here.”
The hesitant expression on her face melted into a smile. “Don’t apologize. I feared for a moment you were one of the Dread who’d lost all sense. I can tell you aren’t from here, am I correct?”
Lost all sense? The Dread didn’t lose their senses unless they were startled, and even then it was only for a few moments. Furrowing his brow, he stepped forward with his hand outstretched for her to shake, “I’m not from Little Marsh, and I have a feeling you can answer many questions for me. My name is-”
Before he could touch her, another hand wrapped around his wrist. The punishing grip was a warning but it wasn’t the hand he’d expected.
Instead of claws, this hand was far more human. In a sense. Where he had expected stone-like skin, the hand was golden, as if dipped in metals. His fingertips were completely metallic, whereas the skin only held the quality of metal, glimmering in the sunlight.
A snarl ripped through the air. Raphael gazed at the man who held onto him. And then, very quickly, realized it wasn’t a man holding onto him at all.
This was a gilded god. White wings spread out behind him, far larger than Raphael’s and infinitely more beautiful. His eyebrows were gold leaf, his lips decorated in metallic pieces, even his eyelashes were metal. His hair was white blonde, with thin gold strands running throughout.
This wasn’t his brother. The man before him couldn’t be related to any of the Dread. Where Raphael was the darkness, this man was the light.
The woman let out a soft sigh. “Alexandre, please. He wasn’t trying to hurt me, he would merely shake my hand.”
Alexandre?
He watched in shock as the man turned to the woman, opened his mouth, and not a single sound came out. Alexandre frowned, tried to speak again, only to realize his voice had disappeared.
Raphael tried to speak to him as well, but his own throat closed.
Stunned, the two men stared at each other until the woman finally spoke again.
“Oh,” she said. “Well this complicates things a bit.”
So the woman knew what was happening. Interesting. Raphael turned to her because he knew they could speak. They’d already done it.
“His name is Alexandre?” he asked, his throat loosening the moment he was no longer trying to speak with the other man. “I was told before coming here that Alexandre might be my brother.”
“I suspect he is,” the woman replied. “My name is Amicia. Alexandre is my husband, and the man standing next to you.”
Raphael looked over the gilded man again and shook his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t see how he and I could be related.”
“Perhaps we should all go inside,” she replied. “It’s a long story to tell, and you look as though you’ve been traveling for some time.”
He’d like nothing more than to stay with these people forever. He wanted to ask her a thousand questions, get the answers to all of them, and then sleep for a hundred years. Overwhelming amounts of emotions welled in his chest. Hope. Happiness. Anxiety. So many things he couldn’t control a single one.
And yet, he didn’t have the time to stay here and ask all his questions. Danielle was back in the palace with her family who would do whatever they could to make her life a living hell. He had to return as soon as possible.
“I cannot stay long,” he replied. “My people need me.”
“Your people?” She looked over to Alexandre, and they shared a knowing look. “You’re rather intelligent for a Dread, wouldn’t you say? Different from the rest of your creations?”
Once again, he didn’t understand what she was trying to say. It was if everyone here thought the Dread were mindless monsters. “No,” he replied. “My people can speak just as intelligently as I can.”
“Well that’s also different.” Amicia frowned, then turned toward the house. “Whether you have the time or not, I think it’s important for all of us to talk. And I for one would prefer being comfortable.”
It appeared the woman decided for them. Raphael and Alexandre stood for a few heartbeats more, staring at each other.
There were questions burning in the gaze of his brother. Raphael could only imagine what they were. Why were they so different? Why was one brother gilded and beautiful, while the other was more monstrous than a nightmare could birth?
Wincing, Raphael shouldered past his brother and started after the woman. If the siblings couldn’t speak to each other, then he wanted answers from her. She seemed to know just as much as Alexandre, anyway.
The interior of the chateau was just as beautiful as the exterior. So many windows let light flood through hallways filled with golden threads and fabrics. His eyes almost couldn’t take in all the beauty. Not when there was so much gleaming in every corner.
Raphael was used to earth, furs, and fire. This place wasn’t meant for a man like him.
He trailed after the woman to a library with a wall of windows four men high. All the shelves were filled with books, perfectly kept and likely holding more secrets than he could imagine.
Two tables were in the center of the room, each covered in mountains of books. A few of them were left open, their pages pristine and crisp white.
“Forgive the state of the library,” Amicia called out as she made her way to the windows. “We weren’t expecting visitors today.”
“I don’t know how you get visitors without a bridge,” he mused, staring up at the crystal chandeliers. It must take hundreds of candles to light this place in the evening.
Amicia chuckled. “There are such things as boats. Raphael, you said?”
“Yes.”
Alexandre settled in a plush chair next to the windows. He crossed one of his legs over the other and steepled his fingers, narrowing his gaze at Raphael.
He’d thought perhaps his brother’s voice would remain locked, however, Alexandre looked to his wife and said, “Do you still have the volume here, or is it home in the kingdom above?”
That voice. He’d heard it before.
A memory appeared in his mind. A memory of Alexandre in the air with a sword in his hand, laughing. Raphael’s side hurt, and he pressed a hand against it.
It was an ache he recognized, because he’d made many of the Dread suffer such an ache long ago. The slap of a sword against ribs were the only way to bruise someone like that. And he’d done it training his army. Before he’d given up fighting. When he was still under the alchemists spell.
“He taught me how to fight,” he murmured.
Amicia froze and Alexandre closed his eyes, as though an old pain had lanced through him as well.
Before Raphael could clarify, Alexandre
spoke again to his wife. “I had forgotten, but I remember now. Raphael was one of the younger Celestials. He should be in chapter eleven, perhaps twelve.”
“I’ll get it.” She ran away from them, climbing up a ladder with surprising athleticism.
Raphael stood frozen in the middle of the library. Celestial. Where had he heard that word before? Had the alchemists said it? No, they wouldn’t have. They didn’t say pretty terms like that, and he would have remembered such a strange word.
He’d heard it before. Almost as though the word were imprinted on his memory and driven deep into his skull.
Celestial.
Heavens.
Gods.
He gasped, the sound bursting forth from his chest as though he’d been run through with a sword. “Celestial. I’m a Celestial.”
Amicia returned to his side with a golden book in her hand. “Bravo,” she said, tilting her head to the side and eyeing him. “I think you’re the first to think of that on your own without someone helping you get your memories.”
“Someone helped.” Danielle’s visage burned in his eyes, her silken hair sliding over his hands in a phantom touch.
“Ah.” Amicia returned to her husband’s side with the book and thumbed it open. “That seems to be repeating as of late with the Dread. Come sit, Raphael. There’s much for us to tell you.”
He approached their seating area in a stupor. He fell onto the cushioned seat with little thought of how he might break it. The legs creaked under his weight, but he didn’t care.
He wasn’t one of the Dread. All the creatures he’d made, those weren’t children or people he was saving. He’d spread a disease.
Amicia stopped searching through the book and slammed her finger onto a page. “There he is. Raphael, Bringer of Light and Keeper of... darling, what does this say?”
Alexandre leaned over. “Not Keeper. Watcher.”
“Of what?” she snapped. “Don’t correct me, Keeper and Watcher are similar enough.”
“No, they aren’t,” her husband replied, amused. “Watcher of History.”
“Ah. So he was a historian then?”
“Similar.”
Raphael held his hand up, fingers shaking. “Stop, stop. What are you trying to say? I can’t... I can’t follow either of you.”
The lady of the chateau flinched. “I’m sorry, I forget this is all new to you and I’ve been so excited. Would you like some water?”
“No.” He leaned forward in the chair and braced his forearms on his knees. Suddenly faint, he didn’t know how to tell them to slow down. He needed to think. To breathe. “Just tell me what’s going on.”
Amicia slipped from the chair and knelt in front of him. She reached out and placed a hand atop his. “You are one of the Celestials, a group of god-like creatures who came to Ember to help unite our kingdoms. The alchemists cursed your kind into monsters, wanting to use you to create armies. They desire to recreate the world in their image. I suppose you know who the alchemists are?”
“Of course.”
“And you know they are evil?”
Gooseflesh rose over his arms. “Most assuredly.”
“Then you’re on the right track.” She squeezed his hand. “I arrived here running from the Dread. I don’t know what your people are like where you’re from, but in Little Marsh the Dread hunted humans like animals. They had no memory of who they were. Most couldn’t even speak. They were feared.”
So that’s why everyone wanted to know why he was different. Raphael shook his head. “Not in Hollow Hill. The Dread are still intelligent creatures. They decide what they want to do with their lives, most remain with me, however.”
“Because of the way they look?”
He nodded. “And humans in Hollow Hill are ruled by a corrupt king who wants nothing more than to kill us. We were... not kind in the beginning.”
Amicia glanced over her shoulder at Alexandre. “Did the alchemists want you to kill humans?”
“First to turn them, then to kill the rest. Yes.”
“Did you?”
He thought back to those dark times. When war, blood, and violence had been all he wanted from life. “Yes. Some. But I realized rather quickly that wasn’t the path I wanted to take. I removed myself from war and dug into the earth with my people.”
“What made you stop?”
Raphael swallowed and looked up into the golden gaze of his brother. “The human king caught us unaware. He made me bend a knee to him and sawed off my horn as a trophy. He made me listen as he killed the rest of my company but let me go to tell the others to leave.”
Alexandre bared his teeth in a snarl reminiscent of the Dread. “Why would he let a monster like us go?”
The question was directed to his wife, but Raphael knew it was for him. “He wanted me to lead the Dread in one final battle. I didn’t take the bait, instead, we all disappeared.”
A soft, choked sound echoed through the room. Amicia squeezed his hand again. Her eyes filled with tears. “You’ve confirmed so many theories and you’ve only been here a few moments.”
“Theories?”
Amicia pointed to the book she’d left in her chair. “We believe the Dread created by Celestials mimic the one who created them. Alexandre was a general and a warlord, he only knew battle and fighting. Thus, the Dread of Little Marsh become monsters who only wanted to fight. You were a historian! Your Dread don’t want to fight or kill anyone. They only want to be left alone and remember history.”
He shrugged. “So?”
“So the discoveries you made will only help us as we search for more of your siblings. We know that every kingdom will be its own...” She searched for the word, waving her hands in a circle. “Bubble, so to speak. A different challenge, but not all the Dread will be hunters. Not all of them will be shy and hide away. This is a wondrous discovery!”
Discomfort made his chest ache. He rubbed at the sudden hurt before replying, “I’m glad you’re so happy, but I came here for a reason.”
“Which is?” Amicia asked.
Alexandre leaned forward and placed a hand on his wife’s shoulder. He pulled her back toward him so they both could listen and see Raphael’s eyes.
He blew out a breath. “My kingdom suffers. The Dread. The humans. All of them under the might of a king who wants to kill us. His daughter, the princess, she is a... a friend.”
Amicia grinned. “Of course. A friend.”
His cheeks burned. “Regardless, the alchemists came to me and claimed this kingdom was under the curse of a witch. They desired me to continue with my purpose and when I told them no, they tried to kill the princess. I don’t understand why they would try to kill her, and not me. But I wanted to see what happened in Little Marsh for myself. I wanted to know the truth here.”
Alexandre looked down at his wife. “You are the reason I am no longer a Dread. You were the one who freed me from myself and from the alchemists.”
The woman?
Raphael was more confused than ever. “You saved him? Are you a witch then?”
She shook her head. “No, I’m no witch. I’m just a woman who knew how to love a man.”
“We aren’t men.”
Once more, she reached out and took his hand. “You are to the right woman. The alchemists want to kill her because they want you to remain a Dread, under their control and powerful beyond measure. That’s what they tried to do here.”
Raphael curled his clawed hand around hers. “Tell me everything.”
Chapter 32
Danielle stepped into her mother’s room with her stomach in her throat. What had they done while she had been gone?
The lights were still out. The curtains were drawn so tightly she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face, let alone anything else in the room. A familiar smell permeated the air, like stale wine and mold. But the eerie silence was new.
“Mother?” she whispered.
A faint rustling was the only sound to give her a clue
someone else was in the room with her.
Danielle gulped. This was the first time in a long while she’d been frightened. Truly frightened. Not of monsters or nightmares, but of what she might have lost.
“Mother?” she tried again. “It’s me. It’s Danielle.”
Again, fabric rustled, then she heard the faintest groan.
If that was all the sound her mother could muster, then perhaps things were even worse than she thought. Danielle made her way across the room to the window.
She reached up her hand, grasped the curtain, and pulled so hard the fabric ripped at the top. Light flooded the room, blinding her for a moment. She lifted her arm to protect her eyes, took a deep breath, and steeled her heart for whatever sight awaited her.
Danielle turned around. Dust covered the furniture in a thick layer of grime. No one had come into the Queen’s quarters to clean in a very long time. Piled plates filled with rotting fruits and meat sat next to the bed and spilled onto the floor. Some plates were empty, others teeming with flies which burst into flight as Danielle approached. Their annoying buzzing overpowered the weak sound of her mother’s breathing.
The Queen laid under a mountain of blankets, which were likely the only way she stayed warm. Who knew how long she’d been stuck here in the darkness with nothing but the flies to keep her company.
Danielle’s hands shook with rage. She wanted to wrap them around her father’s neck and squeeze until he turned blue. She wanted to hear him beg for mercy and she would give him none.
“Mother,” she said again. “What have they done to you?”
Her mother rolled toward her and opened her eyes. Her face was too thin, skeletal and so frail the outline of teeth pressed against her lips. Eerily similar to her father’s face.
“Danielle?” Mother whispered. “But you’re dead.”
“No, I’m not dead. Not yet.”
“They told me the monsters killed you.” Her mother slid her hand out from the covers and reached for her. “Have you come to take me away?”
Tears burned her eyes. “Yes, Mother. We’ll leave this place together.”
“Are you sure?” her mother whispered. “I didn’t know if it was my time yet.”