Clare watched Caidrian walk leisurely beside her, at first glance he was the epitome of an underdog
warrior, long torso, solid statue, not too broad shoulders. One would think he looked very young to be
her father, but not to her, she could see the wisdom hidden in his eyes. The pain and loss which
hardened his features and emotions could only have come from years of horror.
“Stop staring at me Clare, you do that to the wrong descendant they'll see it as a challenge of
dominance.”
She was tired and her feet ached, applying unwanted pressure on the blisters forming underneath her
feet wasn't helping. Nor was Caidrian who carried on talking, expecting her to keep up, “The mark on
your stomach is a seal, most Lightwatchers have many of those if the demon dies the mark goes away
eventually, but a Tempters mark, never fully heals, so it’s not wise to stare, some are marked on their
faces.
Also, I must warn you, over the years our kind have mixed with other species, they called Fuized, but
our ANGELIC blood remains strong, no matter how different some may seem. Unfortunately, some
Lightwatchers don’t feel that way, so keep your mouth shut if you hear anything, or see one of them.”
She half-smiled, “Am I going to freak out, just tell me now, this place is sounding more and more like a
refugee camp.” Her throat was parched, which was totally understandable considering that she had
been walking for hours with nothing to drink. She looked at her packets, her eyes widening a fraction in
the hope of remembering the muffins she’d gotten, but she’d forgotten it in the car. And even if she
didn't they wouldn't have survived the treatment the clothes had gotten when they were discarded on
the floor earlier.
Thoughts back on the water, she welcomed the set of blue eyes that clouded her mind, as the
strangers words played in her head, “That princess is for you to decide.” What did it mean, was it really
all up to her, did he feel the connection as she did when he held her in his arms and kissed her head
with such tenderness. A contrast to the lethally cold killer that lived within him.
“Clare walks on, you’re wasting time.”
Ten minutes later they stopped, the view was magnificent. Virgin territory that went on forever, with
born landscapes of tall mountains clothed in green grass and shoed with sandy floors and generous
slopes, as they stretched over the hilltops covering the bottom. Parts of the mountain covered in forests
of greenery whilst others were embedded with solid rocks and caves. The sun touching on the tips of
the mountain beds as it set.
It wasn't long before a man appeared from behind the tree, attired in a white leather coat and a green
grass stick mixed with gold bindings attached to his left hand. Older in age, an easy fifty years or so,
his eyes, black, no eyebrows, instead of in its place were tattoos of small S’s locked in one another. A
bit dramatic in appearance to the common eye but beautiful to an artistic mind.
Clare greeted him but he ignored her. She brushed it off, not taking it as an insult more of an urgency to
avoid chit chat.
“Do you both confirm your status of Angelic descendants?” The man asked in a roughened voice, evil
with malice, causing her chills of grave displeasure. Clare followed Caidrian and vigilantly nodded her
head. The Caster hit his stick twice on the ground and a high stretched golden door became visible
before her very eyes. It was like watching a photo drawn from thousands of small dots joining together
to form an architecture that was exquisite and unexplainable, magical in its true form.
Sizing the door from the bottom to top, an easy thirty feet high and two meters wide, it was
discomforting. Regardless, the brilliant golden metal shined like it had been newly made, only just
minutes ago. It was what hid behind the big door that had her twitching.
Caidrian stared at her with a mysterious sigh, which challenged her to find out, join him, which she did.
Together they stepped inside a light flow fountain with blue crystallized liquid. Glittering specks of liquid,
full of multiple shades of colour covered her but didn’t wet her. The liquid, warm on her body as she
walked her final step into the unearthed area. Her first discovery was that her clothes were dry.
Clare’s mouth was wide open with the number of variables she collected in her mind explaining to her
what had just happened. Advanced species, way advanced she thought. Mouth agape, she moved
closer to Caidrian, who waited on the other side of the fountain, which had now taken its real shape of
a waterfall with steps moving right down to the bottom of this grand expanse.
Clare’s mouth shut, her eyes ravened, as Caidrian said, “WELCOME to KHIRON, Realm of the
Lightwatchers.”
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