32. Chapter 32
Chapter thirty-two
With my destiny discovered, I feel a shift inside me, almost a flutter of an artistic wing that paints the light where the dark had been. I’m no longer in denial of who and what I am, and as Micah had predicted, my magic flourishes.
By sunrise, I’m dressed in jeans, a thin sweater, and combat boots that I’ve simply willed into place, and I don’t bother knocking on Micah’s door or attempting the walk down the ever-expanding hallway.
I pull on my jacket and think myself to the beach with the ease of someone who’s mastered the skill over a lifetime, and I do so with barely a thought but then I’ve gotten used to the house gifting me what I want.
I’m not even sure this counts as me rifting.
It’s more like the house rifted me. Though truly, I’m not sure if the magic of Elysium is aiding me or if I’ve simply unlocked my “assets,” as Micah calls them.
I stand on the rocks overlooking the ocean and the lighthouse, the wind rushing through my hair, and I can’t help but notice that the salt on my lips tastes as normal as Olive Garden did last night.
I’m living a double life, and that might be the problem.
There’s only one life—my new life as a Nephilim and Crystal Seer.
As the Aza, and I’m still not fully sure what that means.
For now, I live in the moment, the magic of this world vibrating through me, seeping into my pores, awakening my soul.
I’ve never actually seen a lighthouse in person, and my eyes lift and catch on the giant structure where it sits on a slightly higher incline, the reddish shade kissed by the wear and tear of salt and sun.
I wonder why a world without people needs such a thing, but I’m drawn to it in some deep, unexplainable way, much like I am to Micah.
It calls to me, beckoning me, and I travel the rocky slant up the hill and cross the smooth stone of the ledge to the stand at the base of the tower that’s closer to the edge of the cliff than it had appeared from below.
The view is stunning, miles of bluer than blue ocean, stretching eternally it seems, the wind tossing around my hair and kissing my skin.
Considering his fear of heights, Oliver would be freaking out right now while I laughed my ass off at him, the way he laughs at me for my fear of spiders.
Please let this place not have giant spiders.
I claim the bench beside the aged wooden front door and accept my friendship with him is over, praying that he really is one of the good guys, as I’d proclaimed to Micah.
At this point, I’m not sure I can assume anyone is what they seem.
Micah casually appears beside me out of nowhere and offers me a ceramic mug with steam piping from the top. “Morning.”
His dark hair is thick and rumpled, his blue eyes as stunning as diamonds glistening under the perfect light.
There’s an angelic quality to him in the new dawn that somehow contrasts with all that I am and that I’m intended to become.
Maybe that’s why he’s the one who had to come for me.
He’s the light to the darkness I don’t want to consume me.
I accept the cup, our fingers brushing, a jolt of awareness between us that shakes me to the core, but I’m not sure that’s a bad thing anymore.
I don’t think I need to protect myself from him. I think I need to protect him from me.
With that thought, and my uncertainty on how to do that, I cut my gaze, my legs shifting away from his.
“Thank you,” I murmur and sip the coffee, and concerned he’ll read my uneasiness, I fill the space with chatter.
“Surely, there are no boats seeking a shoreline in the stormy nights since there are no people,” I say, glancing over at him.
“Does it even storm on Elysium in the first place? Does it have seasons?”
“Yes, we have seasons, but they’re more like San Francisco—subtle shifts and moderate temperatures. This is winter, which means mid-fifties. And no, there are no ships, but the lighthouse is symbolic of the war against the underworld.”
I turn his direction again, my knees sliding right, my body angling with them. “In what way?”
“Demons hate water. We have no idea why. We’ve yet to find any text that explains it. It won’t kill them, and you can’t use it as a weapon. They’ll laugh.”
“Then—” my brow furrows, “what do you mean they hate water?”
“They will not go near a large body of water, which is why the Overseers all have safe haven lighthouses in their territories with magic-driven underground facilities.”
“You do?”
“I do. I’ll take you there one day soon, if you would like.”
“I would like it,” I say, “but maybe wait until we know I’m the right person to share your secrets with.
” I set my coffee down and stand up, walking until I’m at the edge of the cliff, where I sit down on a boulder.
The wind is wilder here, lifting my hair off my nape, goosebumps lifting on my skin, as Micah sits down next to me.
“How far did you read?”
“Far enough,” I say.
“I told you not to take a portion of what you read as the word. You need to read it all for context.”
“I have context. The Aza is evil.” It’s not a question. “You knew this when you saved me from the cabin, right?”
“I did not. After the Eagles told me about your eyes, I started watching you and believed you to be exactly what I told you when we first met—a Crystal Seer abducted and corrupted by a demon.”
“Why didn’t that immediately say the Aza to you?”
“The Aza was hidden away for safekeeping at birth, and not by demons. It was, and still is, illogical that you ended up being raised by the Corrupted. And back on topic, the Aza will become the ultimate warrior for good or the ultimate destruction of good.”
“Therefore, evil,” I say, way beyond mincing words.
“Quite the contrary. The underworld fears you. We do not. It was always believed that you were hidden until you came of age to ensure you couldn’t be killed by the underworld before you could fully realize your potential.
And so that you couldn’t be corrupted before that point, either.
Your development being guarded was critical. ”
“Who hid me away?”
“I don’t know, and I’m treading cautiously in case it’s a corrupt angel that needs to be brought to justice. I think it’s more likely the Corrupted that acted as your parents pretended to be Eagles.”
“That makes the vetting process a disaster.”
“There is no doubt a lot was broken for you to end up where you did. And don’t assume anything about yourself without reading the entire book. There are subtle messages in that text that deliver a completely different perspective.”
“And ten thousand years from now, I will have read enough to find my perspective.”
He shrugs out of his jacket, making a big deal out of it, and tosses it to the boulder. “You’re angry,” he observes. “You’re frustrated.”
He’s right. I am. And the fact that I can’t take my eyes off his body, or the angel wings peeking out from his T-shirt sleeve, which I’ve never noticed before, only drives that emotion tenfold. “You seem to want that from me.”
“Maybe I do,” he says, using his fingers to motion me forward. “Let’s see if you can fight without the serpent.”
“I don’t want to fight you.”
“You’re afraid you’re nothing without it, then?” he taunts.
“Damn it, Micah.” I turn away from him.
He catches my wrist and pulls me around to him, throwing a punch that I dodge. I counter with my own, and he throws another one that lands in my palm. I find it remarkable that I’m capable of catching a blow as powerful as his. “Do you want to hit me?” I demand. “Is that what this is?”
“I wanted to know if you could stop me.”
I glower at him. “And if I couldn’t?”
“But you did.”
I growl low in my chest and try to knee him, but he captures my leg and then sweeps my calf, and I tumble hard and fast. Self-preservation kicks in, and somehow, I rift before I fall, landing in the center of the ledge overlooking the water.
I’ve barely set foot on the ground, still wrapping my head around what I’ve done, when Micah appears in front of me, his fist rocketing toward me.
I rift again, but he anticipates my move, and he’s in front of me the instant I reappear a few feet away.
He grabs me, and his legs tangle with mine.
I land hard on the ground with him on top of me, gasping at the dagger that appears in his hand, his fingers wrapped snugly around the hilt.
Adrenaline surges through me, a tornado roaring from my depths, and I can feel some unknown part of me come to life, primal and fierce.
He intends to kill me, and I will not die.
As if in confirmation, the blade slices through the air, and with a strength I didn’t know I possess, I shove him away.
He lands on the rock and layer of dirt beneath us, rolling away from me, but the moment he’s on his back, I act.
I’m on top of him in a flash, straddling him, but in the next moment, he’s flipped me over, and his big body slants over mine, pressing my back to the hard ground, and just that fast, the blade swipes through the air.
I gasp as he slams it into the ground next to my head, and either the dirt is thick and deep, or he’s strong enough to plant it in stone. “What did you see?” he demands.
“What the hell are you doing?!” I shove at his chest, and when I start to rift away, he captures my wrist and demands, “Don’t rift, or I swear I’ll bind your damn powers, which I can do in Elysium. What did you see?”
He means my familiar, the one beat up and destroyed by the serpent inside me, and realization washes over me, much like a cool wave burning away the heat on the sandy beach. “I didn’t see it,” I whisper. “I felt it.”
There’s the tiniest hint of what I think is relief in his eyes, gone before I can be certain. “What did you feel?” he presses.