Dark Origins

It must end tonight.

“Can you make yourself forget?” I ask out loud, his lips so close I can taste him. “If I do something you can’t undo?”

His frown is both lustful and adorable as he slowly nods his head. “I can force it, yes. The question is, will I want to?”

“The answer is, you probably should.” I smile.

He smiles right back, and I’m again struck by how gorgeous he is, my own personal angel who watches me from the mountain and saved my cousin—saved me.

“Shall I promise you then?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say quickly when I want to say no. “You’ll need to forget, just like I’ll forget the realness of this story but pass it on to my children.”

His smile falls. “You have children?”

“I will,” I answer. “That’s our way.”

His hand moves to my stomach, trembling, and then he touches it. “I wonder, what that is like, to bring life? To create it?”

“Painful.” I laugh. “I’ve heard it’s painful.”

Shouts come up behind me. “You should go.” He starts to back away, but before he can fully leave, I grab him by his golden armor as it slightly burns my fingertips, and I kiss him.

His mouth is still for one brief moment before his lips naturally start moving against mine. I meant it to be a short thank you kiss, but it’s turning into something else entirely as he presses me against the rock, lifting me into his arms; I wrap my legs around his hips.

He’s perfection.

He’s no angel.

He’s something more.

How does this feel so good?

His hips move against mine like it’s so natural when I don’t think he’s ever had a kiss before. His mouth is hot; it tastes like cinnamon, then berries. It burns down my chest then cools me off like a splash of cold water.

His tongue massages mine in a way that feels like it’s meant to be, and I suddenly see fast visions. A war, him fighting, blood, monsters, our village burning to the ground, people dying, and then I see other things, things that make no sense… Witchcraft? Beings that drink blood? More fighting. Gods among men.

And the word Genesis whispers into my brain.

He pulls back. “Are you a human?”

I nod, lips swollen.

More shouting.

I can tell he doesn’t want to let me go.

I want to stay in his arms forever, forever where I’m supposed to live, supposed to stay.

It’s like being ripped in half as he lowers me to the ground.

And like a knife to my chest, I press my hand to his, and as tears stream down my face, I whisper, “Forget me.”

He grips my hands.

“You must.” I nod. “It’s the way—”

“—of the Creator.” He finishes gruffly, eyes blazing.

I nod. “Thank you…” I sigh because I don’t know his name.

He leans in and whispers in my ear, “Sariel, my name is Sariel.”

He takes flight in the darkness of the storm, and since I have no time to lose and have already lost it, I run as fast as I can toward my cousin and into our tent.

My uncle sobs. “We’re losing her! Where have you been? You’re our healer!”

“No!” I shout, body still trembling because while Sariel can forget me—I will never in my existence forget him. “No,” I say it again, but it’s for me, not her, and I feel selfish. I reach into my pocket and shove the feather into her hand.

Immediately her eyes snap open; they flood with blue light.

Her skin returns to normal, her wounds heal, and she looks up at me with tears in her eyes and says, “I miss them.”

“W-what?” I ask.

My uncle’s confused.

I’m confused.

I shove everyone out of the tent and return to her side. “Who do you miss?”

“Them.” She points to the top of the tent. “I miss the men at the mountain.”

“How do you…” I can’t finish my sentence. “You’re having delusions; you’ve had a fever.”

“No.” Her eyes are still a bright blue and green I imagine they will never change; they will match the men who gave her this gift. “Blood, dear cousin, remembers all.”

PART TWO

THE DOWNFALL

SIX

Nephal

She tells me about him.

She makes up songs about the person who saved both her life and mine—and I fall in love despite my girlish fantasies. Years go by, and as war strikes again, I look to the mountain and whisper the name she was never supposed to share.

Sariel.

Sariel.

Sariel.

I see something shift in the line of angels on the mountain forever watching, waiting, and then I watch as my cousin falls to the ground in an effort to protect one of her children.

I’m the new healer of the village, and I try my best, but I have no magical feathers… I have only my hands.

And once we win—despite a heavy loss—I can’t save her sixteen-year-old boy. Maybe I can’t save anyone. Sometimes I wonder why I didn’t inherit my cousins bravery as I stare up at that same mountain.