Chapter 5
Everyone had taken a short rest before regrouping in the dining area.
Instead of tossing Mary straight into kitchen duty, Lucy and Sam had decided to put something together themselves.
It was not as elegant as Mary’s spreads, but it did not need to be.
The table brimmed with breads and cheeses, sundried tomatoes, olives, meats, and crackers.
Easy food, fun food, the kind that brought people together without fuss.
Once everyone was seated, the chatter dulled into a low hum, all eyes inevitably sliding to Lucy. She took a slow breath, her fingers brushing the rim of her glass before setting it down with care.
“There’s a lot I need to tell you,” She began. Her voice carried a quiet weight, enough to draw every gaze onto her.
She spoke of the company first, how she had taken control and how she had confronted her uncle. She explained the twisted truths she had uncovered about her parents, and how the life she thought was hers had been nothing but a fragile illusion. And finally, she told them what she was.
By the time she finished, silence hung over the table like smoke.
Sam’s knife stilled in her hand, the blade clattering softly against her plate. She narrowed her eyes at Lucy. “You are telling me you’re… what? An alien?”
Lucy let out a quick, nervous giggle. “Not exactly. I think I am from… beyond that.” She spread her hands a little, as if the words themselves were too big to hold. “I’m Nephilim. Which is… well, an angel of sorts. I guess.”
Nick leaned forward, “That does not make you different. You have always been an angel in my eyes. And honestly? I think it is incredible.”
Lucy’s chest eased, just slightly. “I’m still trying to figure out what it all really means.”
“And we’ll help you on that journey,” Nick replied without hesitation. “No matter what.”
Mary had not moved; her hands folded neatly in her lap. Her expression betrayed nothing, but Lucy noticed the flicker in her eyes, the faintest glimmer of recognition. Mary already knew.
“So,” Sam pressed, leaning forward, “Do you have any powers?”
Barnaby shot up half out of his chair before Lucy could answer, his enthusiasm bubbling over. “Oh, you are going to love this. Speed, strength, and something creepier. Show them, Lu and do not hold back.”
Lucy pushed back her chair and rose. “Alright. I’ll show you.”
In a blur of movement, she darted across the room. In one breath she was at the head of the table, the next she was behind Corey, who nearly tipped his chair in shock. Her speed left the air trembling.
Then she placed her hands beneath Damien’s chair, lifting him with ease before setting him back down as if he weighed nothing at all. “Strength,” she said plainly.
Sam’s brows rose, but her tone stayed dry. “Parlor tricks. Impressive ones, sure. But I’ve seen worse.” Corey Laughed, “as if you ever witnessed anything supernatural” he scoffed.
Barnaby practically bounced in his chair. “Wait for it. This is the best part.”
Lucy tilted her head. Her eyes flicked violet for the briefest moment. She turned to Corey. “Tell everyone you love them, and you’d be thrilled if they gave you a hug.”
“I’ll do no such thing” The words cut off in his throat and twisted into something else. “I love you all so very much, and I would be thrilled if you gave me a hug.” His face burned red as the words tumbled out.
Nick was the first on his feet. He lunged forward and wrapped Corey in a dramatic embrace, nearly knocking him back in his chair.
“Nick! Don’t,” Corey tried to fight it, but his arms betrayed him, locking tight around his brother in a warm, almost affectionate squeeze.
“This is beautiful,” Nick declared, milking the moment. “I’ll remember this forever.”
The table erupted into laughter. Even Lucy had to bite her lip to keep from giggling.
“Alright,” she said finally, releasing her hold. Corey’s body snapped back under his control, and Nick slid out of his grasp with a wink.
Corey glared at them both, his jaw tight. “That better not ever happen again.”
Barnaby was wheezing with laughter, practically folded over the table. “Oh, come on. That was amazing.”
Mary changing the subject, directed the conversation back to Lucy, “I have always known you were special. But seeing it now… it is magnificent.”
Lucy smiled. “Thank you. Well… I still need to understand who I am and Barnaby’s going to be helping me with that.”
Barnaby straightened up in his chair, a proud grin spreading across his face. “Helping you? I’m already ten steps ahead of you. Come with me.”
Barnaby had turned the east wing’s study into something halfway between a laboratory and a conspiracy theorist’s dream cave.
Every flat surface was buried under papers, half-sketched diagrams, printed articles, and a dozen open laptops all whirring at once.
Strings of digital code ran across one monitor, while on another, an ancient manuscript from an obscure monastery flickered in grainy high resolution.
“Nephilim, half-breeds, divine experiments.” he muttered to himself, dragging one hand through his already messy hair.
“Every culture has its myths, but they all point to the same damned thing, humans tinkering where they shouldn’t, angels interfering where they promised they wouldn’t and demons stirring the pot just for kicks. ”
Lucy leaned against the doorframe, watching him with both admiration and concern. He clearly had not slept properly since she revealed the truth about herself, that much was obvious. His face was pale from the glow of the screens, and an untouched cup of Bubble tea sat cold by his elbow.
“Barnaby, you’ll fry your brain if you keep this up,” she said softly.
He did not look at her. “Too late for that. And anyway, this is too big. You are not just some random miracle. You fit into something ancient, something they have been whispering about for centuries. If I can connect the dots, we’ll understand, who you are? why you are and what’s coming.”
On one desk was a map of the world, dotted with red pins. Over each pin, Barnaby had scribbled notes: flood legends, winged beings, hybrid children.
“What’s all this?” Lucy asked.
“Sightings,” Barnaby replied, tapping the map.
“Accounts of strange births, miraculous survivals, inexplicable powers. Most people dismiss them as hoaxes, but when you put them all together… patterns appear.” He leaned closer to the map, his finger tracing across Europe.
“Clusters in the Middle East, Northern Africa, and here” he points indirectly at the map.
“But all too spread out to be coincidence.”
Lucy’s brows knitted. “You think there are more supernatural beings?”
“I don’t think, I know.” He whirled around, eyes alight with a manic sort of excitement. “The question you should be asking is, who else is out there and where have, they been hiding all these years!”
His voice rose with each word until Corey appeared in the doorway. “Barnaby, breathe. She is still trying to grasp all of this; we all cannot take in as much information as you can.”
Lucy offered him a small smile. “It’s fine. Honestly… it is comforting. At least someone is making sense of all this.” Lucy turned back to the map. So, I am not the only one… The thought was equal parts hope and dread.
Later that day, Byron led Lucy into the training room. Sam was already there, standing in the centre of the mat with two of her throwing blades twirling casually in her hands. She gave Lucy a slow, assessing smile.
“Ready to get knocked on your ass?” Sam asked.
Lucy smirked. “We’ll see.”
The session began light. Sam moved fast, her strikes controlled but sharp, testing Lucy’s reflexes. Lucy blocked, ducked, returned a few clumsy blows. Her speed was undeniable, but her technique still lacked polish. Sam’s style was clean, lethal, and efficient.
Strike after strike pushed Lucy back. Her arms ached, sweat stung her eyes. Sam was not cruel, but she was relentless, and Lucy’s frustration grew.
“You’re rushing,” Sam snapped as she spun her blade in a tight arc that stopped an inch from Lucy’s throat. “You’ve got the power, but you’re not thinking.”
Frustrated, Lucy clenched her fist. Her heartbeat grew louder, her knees wobbled. The training room blurred.
And then...
She was gone.
Back in the void.
It wasn’t silent this time. A low hum thrummed through the air, vibrating in her bones. She turned, and there it was, the golden orb, hovering just as before. But this time it wasn’t alone.
A second orb shimmered nearby, smaller but brighter, silver light rippling across its surface like liquid metal.
Lucy gasped. “What are you?” she whispered.
The silver orb shot forward before she could move. It slammed into her chest, and her entire body jolted as if struck by lightning.
Her eyes flew open.
The training room reappeared. Byron and Sam gathered at the edge of the mat, watching Lucy intently.
Lucy’s hands burned, and in a crack of energy, two curved daggers materialized in her grip. They gleamed silver, edges glowing faintly as if alive.
Sam stepped closer, “Lucy… what did you just do?”
Lucy looked down at the weapons. They were light in her hands yet carried a weight she could not explain. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “They just… appeared.”
Barnaby was silently watching from the doorway, he clapped a hand over his mouth, his eyes huge. “Holy shit. Holy actual shit.” He stumbled forward, circling her like she was a museum artifact come to life. “You just forged a weapon from yourself.”
“Try to put them away.” Byron asked inquisitively.
Lucy hesitated, then focused. The daggers shimmered before melting into nothing, fading back into her palms.