Chapter 2 Bechora
Horse-drawn carriage wasn’t how I’d expected we’d travel to Abel’s archives.
At least the clothing we’d been provided with was something familiar: jeans and a soft t-shirt, with a light jacket in case I got cold.
Even Gabriel and Zypher were dressed casually, and I couldn’t keep my gaze from roaming over them. They looked downright edible in jeans.
“We have arrived,” Zypher spoke, pulling me out of my ogling.
The carriage slowed to a stop in front of a castle that looked like it had been pulled directly from the legend of King Arthur. Zypher exited first, extending a hand to help me down, with Gabriel following close behind.
“This is…” I started, not really sure how to express my awe. I’d never seen a castle in person before. The gothic buildings of the Academy seemed dull in comparison.
“Abel has quite the flair for the dramatic,” Zypher replied, gently tugging me forward by the hand.
As we drew closer to the large, arched wooden door, they burst open.
A man in deep-blue robes, a tall, pointed hat of the same color, with long white hair and beard, strolled toward us.
I blinked my eyes, certain I was imagining him.
Just like the castle, he too appeared to have come straight from Arthurian legends.
“Holy shit, it’s Merlin.” The words slipped free before I could stop them.
The man laughed. “Indeed, I am. Though, that is only one of my many names. I’ve been called Merlin, Thoth, Hermes Trismegistus, even Quetzalcoatl once, but you may call me by my true name: Abel.”
“Stop messing with the girl,” a male voice called from the entryway.
My eyes flew to the source. He leaned against the open doors, arms crossed over a broad chest. His black hair looked like someone had run their fingers through it, leaving it intentionally messy, and his brown eyes crinkled in amusement.
The rough-spun tunic and leather pants he wore made him look like a rake that had just stepped off the pages of a fantasy book.
“Always ruining my fun, Cain,” Abel grumbled.
“Consider it payback for convincing an entire realm to create a religion where I murdered you.”
I blinked. “ What ?”
Abel grinned at me. “You’d be surprised how long eternity can feel when you’ve read every story, written most of them, and lived through the rest. I found the human realm… entertaining. It was quite fun to inspire them.”
Zypher snorted. “You meddled in their history, cousin. That goes beyond simple inspiration.”
“I simply planted the seeds,” Abel replied, glancing back at me with eyes that gleamed like silver. “They needed something divine, something tragic, something they could believe in. So, I gave them stories. What they chose to do with them after…”
“Back up,” I said, throwing my hands up. “You’re Abel, and that’s Cain. Are you telling me that you’re the Cain and Abel? Like, from the bible? And you made it all up?”
Abel’s grin turned sharp, wickedly amused.
“Ah, that one. Yes, well… that story was a touch of pettiness on my part. My dear brother cheated during a celestial game—used time displacement to move his piece after I’d played mine.
So, I told the humans he’d murdered me in a jealous rage.
It was supposed to be a cautionary fable about cheating. ”
I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “You made the Bible’s first murder a bad sportsmanship story. Do you realize how many holy wars happened because of you?”
He shrugged, utterly unrepentant. “The mortals were hungry for meaning. I gave them something they’d remember.” His gaze drifted up toward the shimmering archway of the Archives. “And now, you’re here, Starcaller—the one they’ll write about next.”
My stomach tightened. “I’m not anyone’s story.”
“Everyone is,” Abel said gently, turning back toward me. “But you, Bechora Knight… you get to choose how yours is told.”
“Don’t let my brother fool you,” Cain interjected from where he still leaned against the entryway. “If you let him, he will spin your story into something beyond recognition. Though, I wouldn’t blame him if he waxed poetic about your beauty.”
Zypher and Gabriel snarled beside me as I gaped at Cain. “Are… are you…”
A roguish smile split his face. “If you’re asking if I’m flirting with you, little Starcaller, I am. Although I think your mates may be taking offense.”
“Ignore him,” Abel frowned. “My brother is nothing if not a rake and can’t seem to keep his thoughts to himself in the presence of a woman.” He paused, turning to Cain. “Find somewhere else to be, brother. The Starcaller and her mates have limited time and answers to uncover.”
“I’m glad he’s not one of yours,” Gabriel muttered, glaring daggers at Cain as he kicked off the doorway and turned to stroll into the castle.
“Agreed,” Zypher replied. “Cousin or not, he’s not suited to our Vinculum.”
“Come along,” Abel called out, before I could reply.
Zypher and Gabriel fell into step beside me as we followed Abel into the castle.
The moment we stepped over the threshold, Abel’s robes shimmered, and his appearance changed.
He no longer had the long white hair and beard that made him look like Merlin.
Instead, he bore a striking resemblance to his brother.
Short brown hair, a clean-shaven face, and striking, cognac-brown eyes.
There was no denying they were related, though he now wore jeans and a long-sleeved shirt rather than the tunic and leather pants his brother wore.
It took me a moment to register anything else after his sudden transformation.
When I finally did, I noticed the interior of the castle didn’t quite match what I’d expected when we stepped out of the carriage.
It looked cozy . In place of the stone walls I expected were walls painted in soft, inviting colors.
Paintings of landscapes that could only be from the supernatural realm were interspersed along the walls between overflowing bookshelves.
The deeper we moved into the castle, the more frequently I noticed comfortable-looking chairs and study tables.
Miles would have loved it, and the thought sent a twinge of worry up my spine.
Whatever answers the archives held, I needed to find them quickly so I could return to my friends.
“Here we are,” Abel spoke, stopping in front of a wooden door that seemed to appear out of nowhere. “These will be your rooms while you’re here. Settle in, and I’ll be back to retrieve you later to begin your search through the archives.”
I wasn’t certain how much time passed before Abel returned.
It was enough for us to clean up in the attached bathroom, and for me to take a much-needed nap.
He led us to a room with rows of bookshelves organized more like a traditional library than what I’d seen so far, with a large, round table that I was fairly certain was the round table from Camelot.
There was a stack of books positioned in front of one chair and a spread of meats and cheeses on the opposite side of the table.
“I’ve pulled a few texts for you to begin with,” Abel said, gesturing toward the pile. “And if you need more to eat, simply ask. The archives will ensure your needs are met while you’re here.”
“Thank you,” I replied, moving to settle into the chair by the stack of books.
Abel nodded, slipping away into one of the rows, as Gabriel settled in beside me and Zypher started filling a plate with snacks.
Days quickly bled into weeks as we worked our way through the ever-growing pile of ancient books and scrolls that Abel pulled from his expansive collection.
No mention of the Starcaller was too small for us to investigate, though I was starting to think whatever it was I was supposed to find here didn’t exist. So far, we’d only found a few half prophecies, fragments of celestial charts, and maybe four surviving accounts from women who’d carried the title before me.
My frustration grew with each dead-end. My need to return to my friends and Caulder was a constant itch beneath my skin.
Even Zypher and Gabriel were on edge, though I suspected that had more to do with Cain’s insufferable flirting than the need to return to the Academy.
I leaned back from the desk and rubbed my eyes. “If I read one more line of ancient script about celestial threads and divine resonance, I’m going to start resonating with a migraine.”
“Patience,” Abel spoke, appearing from another row of shelves with a scroll in hand. “Power reveals itself when you stop chasing it.” Easy for him to say—he’d been Jesus once.
Zypher’s quiet laugh brushed against the edges of my exhaustion, warm and grounding. “You’ve been at this since dawn, Dilectus. Even gods need sleep.”
“Good thing I’m not one,” I muttered, flipping the brittle page anyway. The script shimmered faintly under my touch, the ink pulsing as if it breathed. “You’d think for all his ‘infinite wisdom,’ Abel might’ve stashed away something useful.”
Across the table, Gabriel looked up from his stack of books, one brow lifting. “Careful. He can hear you, you know.”
“I can,” Abel drawled, closing the distance to the table. “And I agree. Most of what I’ve collected on the Starcallers is tragically unhelpful.”
“So… everything we’ve been reading could just be wrong?” I asked, flipping through a page that was more hole than parchment.
He smiled faintly. “Not wrong. Just incomplete. History is a game of whispers, Bechora. Every time it’s told, something is lost. Something else is changed.”
Gabriel muttered, “That’s comforting.”
A lazy clap echoed from the archway behind Abel. “Beautiful speech, brother mine,” a voice drawled. “Truly riveting. But if I have to hear one more lecture about patience and cosmic balance, I might set myself on fire just to liven things up.”
Abel didn’t even turn. “You won’t. Fire doesn’t suit you, and you wouldn’t dare risk it in my archives.”