Page 2 of Unshaken

I stand there, eyes fixed on the place where she was standing, just as my own gateway opens vertically behind me. A red hazy fog rolls over the roof top, circling around my feet, and I sigh, releasing my disguise, I let my true form take its place. Flexing my massive white wings behind me, I turn and cross over to the swirling vortex. My thoughts are of Verity and the tears in her eyes when she looked up at me.

Were her tears for what could have been? Or for the burden of the weight she now carries; the lies she must tell in order to protect what we’ve created? I wish she could have told me then, thrown caution to the wind and been honest. We could have defied the heavens together and raised this child as one. Those are heavenly dreams, those types of dreams never come true. Fuck it. All is fair in Chaos, Death, and Destruction. It’s one hell of game I love to play. The dice have rolled in my favor.

Only time will tell what will become of my child. Will they be a child of the darkness or a child of light? Or maybe both?

“I do love chaos,” I say to myself as I spread my wings wide and fall, the vortex swallowing me up and closing behind me.

One

MICAH

Twenty-three years later

“Move, Micah! Are you fighting or are you dancing?” I promise if he tells me to move one more fucking time, I am going to walk the hell out of here. My brother and I have been sparring for hours now. My father has been relentless with our training lately, well, no more than he has been every day of our lives. Especially me. It’s his favorite pastime. Let’s see how hard I can push Micah today.

“Watch your feet!” he yells. I sneer, making my brother laugh. I drop to my knees to deflect his next move, my brother’s fist meets air, missing me completely. My leg strikes out, sweeping his legs from under him, taking him to the floor next to me with a hard thump. He lets out an audible grunt of frustration, quickly rolling away from me before I can drop my elbow on his chest.

In an impressive feat of acrobatics, we both leap to our feet at the same time. He wiggles his brows at me, sporting a smirk that only I can see. Cocky asshole. I don’t respond, I give him nothing. The last thing I need is our father to call me out for not focusing. Not wasting any time on my attack, I charge my brother with a screaming battle cry, landing a series of coordinated punches and kicks that he blocks perfectly. Punch. Punch. Block. Kick. Kick. Block.

Sweat is dripping from both of us, we don’t dare stop the pace my father set us as we move through another combination of complicated choreography. We know this dance like the back of our hands. We’re evenly matched, but to be honest, this is Dad’s chance to see how much my brother has learned while he’s been away at his first year at Caelum Academy. The Academy that trains Light Guardians, the first line of defense against Supernatural evils of the world. My father, being the Chief Combat Professor, would be very well aware of how well Marcus is doing. No, this test is for me.

“Arms up, Marcus!” My father barks out at my brother, and I sigh in relief, ignoring the sting of the sweat that’s run down my hairline and into my eye. For once his ire isn’t aimed at me as I do a roundhouse kick straight into my brother’s stomach. With him being taller than me, it was more of a jumping roundhouse kick, but it does the job. I can’t help but smile at my perfect execution of the move, of course, my father stays silent. Before Marcus can recover, I follow up with a punch, throwing all my weight behind it. Satisfaction from my hand colliding with his ‘muscular six pack’ he brags about fills me with glee. Usually, he is better at blocking my punches. He’s a big boy, he can take the hit.

“Fuck, Micah! Pull it back a bit,” Marcus groans as his knees hit the mat and he sucks in a breath. His dark brown eyes are laced with pain, before his head drops down, his long dreadlocks fall into his face brushing the mat like a mop as he clutches his stomach. My eyes go wide in shock. Horror fills me at the thought I hit him hard. Maybe I over did it. I refuse to look back at my father to see the disappointment on his face. I would never hurt my baby brother. I know we are just sparring, but still, this is training, not real combat despite what my father tells us.

I rush over, sick with concern I actually did him some damage. But he finds his feet quickly, which causes me to scramble back in surprise. He sweeps his hair out of his face and smiles, the little shit. He steps into me quickly, taking advantage of the knowledge that he knew I would come running if I thought I’d hurt him. Jerk. Before I know it, he flicks his wrist, using his Air Elemental magic to send me spiraling through the air. My stomach cramps as I hit the mat hard, knocking the air from my lungs, and I gasp for breath. Now who’s hurting whom? Even in my breathless state I don’t give him a chance to take advantage of my vulnerability. With a shift of my brow, my Telekinetic power sends him flying back, knocking down three dummies like a big, brown six-foot-four bowling ball. Strike bitches. I huff and roll on to my back, trying to catch my breath my eyes close as I try to center myself. Damn, that was fun.

I open my eyes, only to find my father standing over me. The scar that runs from his eye to his lip pulls tight against the furious look on his face. Fuck, here we go.

“I said no magic.” He looks at me pointedly, brows raised, and I shove myself to a sitting position as my mouth gapes open in disbelief.

“Wait, didn’t you see—” He cuts me off like what I was about to say means absolutely nothing.

“I said no magic, Micah. Something that you refuse to hear in situations like this. No wonder you have been left out of the recruitment pool for almost three years. YOU DON’T LISTEN!”

I wince as he screams at me, but my own anger quickly takes over as I stand to my feet and march over the edge of the mat where my water and towel wait for me. Snatching up my stuff off the floor I turn to leave. I am not going to do this with my father today. I don’t need to be reminded of my inadequacies every fucking day of my life.

“Micah, wait,” Marcus calls out behind me, but I don’t listen as I wipe the sweat from my face and keep on walking.

“I hit her first, Dad. It was only fair that she hit me back,” my brother says, always the peacemaker. I have no doubt my father saw what he did; rules don’t apply to Marcus, but they damn well apply to me. I refuse to stand here and be berated.

“I told her no magic, and I meant it, Marcus. Don’t protect her. She needs to learn to fall in line,” my father growls out as he admonishes Marcus for his attempt at telling him nothing but the truth of the situation. Dad’s clear dismissal is what stops me at the threshold of the door. I am so done. I turn and I march back over to the mat.

“So, Marcus is fine with using his magic, but I can’t!” I shout back at Dad, something that I would never do. A part of me wants to run and hide from my disrespect, but in the dark recesses of my mind something wakes in me, reminding me that I am a grown ass twenty-three-year-old woman. I am not a child, and I won’t be treated like one. I clench my fists at my sides, water and towel tumble to the floor at my feet, my chest heaves in anger as the memory of every negative thing everyone has ever said about me floods my brain. I’m not a freak or a monster, and I am done with my own father treating me like one.

“Micah, come on, we’re done here.” Marcus grabs my bicep gently, trying to pull me up the stairs, away from my father. I know he means well, but I refuse to back down and feel ashamed about my outburst. I pull out of his grip, ignoring my brother as I zero in on my father.

“Nothing I do is ever good enough. I have done everything you’ve asked of me. Everything. I’ve been the perfect daughter even when the rest of our community whisper about my powers behind my back. I’ve made myself small, so no one notices me. I wouldn’t dare bring any more shame to the Jones family. When I didn’t get into the Academy when I turned twenty like every other Witch in our community, I worked harder, pushed myself harder, to prove to you that I wasn’t some kind of mistake in your eyes.” I can feel my emotions bubbling over inside of me, I’ll be damned if one tear falls. Not today, not ever again. I take a deep breath and steady myself. I watch my brother, his face crestfallen from my words because he has lived this right along with me. Now, he is the family golden boy, he has done what I could not. A shining example of a blossoming Light Guardian. I watch my dad’s face fall, I can see him battling with his own emotions, he opens his mouth to say something, but I won’t let him cut me down any longer.

“It’s been almost three years and the Angels have yet to call me. Do you know how that makes me feel? I have worked so hard to be what you and Mom want me to be, only to be slapped in the face with rejection year after year.” I huff. “I should be in my final year. I know I am not like everyone else. I’ve known that for a very long time. Hell, our family won’t ever let me forget it.” Marcus grabs my arm once more and I lock eyes with him as he stands beside me shoulder to shoulder, his back is to my dad.

“Let it go, Mi,” he whispers as my father stares at me with his mouth open like a fish out of water. I reach up and grab my brother's hand, giving it a squeeze, and I smile because no matter what I am proud of what he is doing. I am proud because he is a true warrior of the light. My heart aches because we were supposed to be a team, doing it together, he and I.

Marcus gestures behind him towards our dad. “He just wants you to be prepared,” he says, and I scoff in response, bending down I pick up my discarded water and towel. Turning swiftly, I march up the stairs away from my father and brother. I know Marcus is trying to diffuse the situation, but I am not going to roll over like normal and take the blame for my actions when I know they were justified. In any case, who wouldn’t want to use everything within their magical arsenal to defeat their enemies.

“No, Marcus, he wants to hinder me. He wants me to repress who I am so that I can be like everyone else,” I say, my voice carrying back down to them. I shrug as I put one foot in front of the other making my way up the stairs. “But I am not.”

“Micah Jones. You come back here. I did not dismiss you. Either of you.” My father calls after me, finally finding his voice, and I pause. It’s been ingrained into me to follow the rules, to never stray from what is deemed appropriate behavior, and to respect command at all times. Light Guardian parents begin teaching these principles to their children from a young age. So, it takes every ounce of rebellion in me to lift my foot up the last step. Once I do, it’s surprising how easy it is to keep going.

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