A little kid, a girl, with light brown short hair, smiling at a lady and a man, who sat on a bench in the
middle of a snowing seasoned park, she didn’t recognize these people, and focused on the girl as she
said, “Ok mama and papa, I love you.”
Her mind moved quickly to an older girl about seven or eight, whom she recognized as herself, except
the girls’ hair was black and her eyes… Clare couldn’t make out her eyes, but they weren’t green, was
it her? She looked similar to Clare, but the girl was engaged in martial arts, with a young version of
Caidrian and a little boy, who looked similar to herself that she knew now, with brown hair and green
eyes.
Flashes and glimpses of her brother Nathan when he was younger soared through her mind like a slide
of clips, first, a teenager sparring with the girl she presumed must’ve been her. His scratchy voice,
“Sister, sister, be strong, the stance determines the skill.” He glided his feet and swept her legs off the
ground.
The images faded like dust, and another appeared of her mother so happy, chasing her around a big
wooden-floored house, and then, she spotted Raphael teaching her knife throwing and angelic words,
“Armah, water, remember that one Ella and you get chocolate.”
Another glimpse with Raphael, his kind eyes looking to the ceiling as a young Clare called to him, and
ran into a lounge area, squealing, “Uncle, uncle,” he grabbed her around her waist, like a little doll
when she jumped on top of the brown leather sofas and tickled her. She wailed, screeching in delight,
“Uncle, I swear it was Nathan.”
Something about him was different, yet there was a familiarity to him, a softness behind that hard
exterior, not the cold Asguardian that cursed at her with the stench of venom on his lips.
She flashed to encounters with Caidrian, the scenes didn’t play out, but she was remembering, a shrill
of hope sparkled inside her, as she recalled him taking her to an abandoned building, things went
wrong that night, and they were attacked.
Caidrian fought two demons, shooting them with guns. She was scared at first that night, she froze up
until she thought they were going to die, then a dim light shone around her body. She flashed and
caught an image of her ten-year-old self, as she gracefully glided a sword through the air, slicing
meaner demons head off.
She seemed fearless, her moves faster than she could catch on a blind eye, her reflexes were
amazing.
The memory quickly desiccated into another vision, one more real than the next, (her mother sitting
with Calub, helping him with his trick cards, she saw her little brother, his innocence to the world
reflecting through her mind, his magician tricks in the lobby of the faculty always well served).
She then saw the training room, with different sections, she recalled her mother telling her, “People
can’t know.” and a door opening into darkness
Then everything slowed and played out, “Let’s go, come on guys, UNCLE,” She was ten, her hair was
black and her eyes covered by an extremely long fringe, as she screamed from the bottom of the stairs,
Raphael walked past her and touched her nose, “I’m out, Ella girl, enjoy.”
Franchesca walked downstairs slipping on a pair of black pumps, “Where’re your brothers?” Ten-year-
old Clare rolled her eyes, “Calub’s in his moods, Nate’s pretending to be sick so he can see his
girlfriend, and uncle’s out.”
Caidrian was driving, and Franchesca sat in the front seat, Clare sitting at the back with her head
peeped out between the two front seats watching Caidrian drive, she remembered that she really
wanted to drive, but Caidrian refused, so she watched him instead, so when Nathan finally took her
secretly she wouldn’t disappoint.
The traffic was light that evening, the cold stifle. Caidrian brushed her hair back and blessed her with
his rare smiles. On a sharp left, a bright light blinded ten-year-old Clare’s eyes for a second, it took her
a good couple of seconds to recover, but she knew instantly that it was no car or any earthly thing, no it
was an Irin a powerful Angel, who stood in the centre of the road.
Young Clare was excited, “Mom, that’s an Angel.”
Franchesca yelled, “Put your seat belt on honey, sit back.” Her mothers’ voice was scared, nervous,
she had never heard her mother frightened before, but she did it, and just as she locked it, the car was
flipped.
Young Clare felt her head hit the windscreen, and the Angel was right there, reaching for her with his
hand. When she felt the heat and saw an orange flame behind the Angel, it was another Angel, she
saw widespread wings licked with flecks of fire, before young Clare was out, unconscious. Waking up
to a familiar voice,- Kalbreal, he said, “They want to kill her I can’t hold them off forever.”
She remembered him touching her head, all her thoughts sucked out, vanishing, gone. The pain of
something been ripped out of her, the hollowness, the feeling of loss, she saw him, removing all the
past of her life, so they could make a new future, “I suppressed her abilities and hid her gifts, they
shouldn’t be able to track her, I also removed her name, to be sure. She can pass as a deceptor. I don’t
know for how long but it’s longer than she will get if you don’t run.”
She heard someone else there, another man, but she felt herself waking up from whatever spell she
was under.
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