Page 6 of The Legacy of Ophelia
“The seraphs were once warriors, former heir,” Damien explained over the rush of his power.
I gripped the bed frame as the force of Angellight multiplied. The seraphs werewhat?“No warrior in history had wings or this magic.”
“Not warriors as you know them today, but they were another race under the Angel domain. They were our personal defenders, friends, lovers. Much like the warriors, but without the call to guard and guide the powers retained within theBalance as your kind is. Instead, they wereourguardians when Ambrisk wasourrealm.”
Guardians of the Angels. Much like Echnid, that was something our legends never mentioned.
“What happened to them?” I gasped as the wind tunnel of Damien’s power burned hotter and poured into Ophelia.
The Angel grimaced. “When we were fooled into Ascending, the seraphs and all magical beings deemedtoo powerfulunder Echnid were banished, too. Some were locked in adjoining prison realms, some sent to their own entirely. The seraphs…they were slain.”
Slain.
My stare locked on Ophelia. An entire species was gone at the hands of the gods? But…what did that mean for her? Would the known gods place a target on her back? Would the Angels demand more of her? I didn’t fucking know, but she needed to wake for us to find out and fix it.
Open your eyes, Phel.Fight. I tried to send the plea through our broken Bind.
Hollowness echoed.
“Why?” I swallowed the fear thickening my throat. “Why were they slain?”
“Because seraph magic contained one key factor that set them apart.” Damien’s wings beat viciously at his back as he called up more and more light to devour Ophelia’s limp body. It pushed on the surfaces of the bedchamber, crackling and buzzing. “As our guardians, seraphs could harness an Angel’s light, display their power on a muted scale. And Angellight is pure, raw ether, given from the earth.”
My eyes widened. “That’s why Ophelia can wield Angellight?”
“You misunderstand,” Damien said through clenched teeth. “Each seraph was connected tooneAngel, as the warriorsare. They could harnessonefacet of the magic ofoneof us. Ptholenix’s fire or Gaveny’s rolling tides.”
My nails dug into the wood as I remembered the light of seven Angels whipping around Ophelia, streaked with each signature color of their ether.
“She can access them all,” I breathed. Ophelia was not just any seraph; she was one with a power never seen before. Something that had woken thanks to the myth magic she and Jezebel retained combining with the legend of the Angelcurse and Godsblood.
A concoction not even prophecy had foretold.
One not even a god predicted.
And that raised the question: What threat did she pose to them?
Damien’s confirmation was a growl as he sent sheets of light wrapping around Ophelia. He called up more and more, the roar in the room deafening. I clung to the bed, forcing myself not to look away.
Ophelia was a seraph, a mythical being who could command and thrive on the power of the Angels. Damien’s light would restore her. It had to.
We stood there for what felt like hours, watching her unconscious form. I leaned my elbows on the mattress, stare locked on the girl I used to love, hunting for even a flutter of her wings, a blink of her magenta eyes.
“Come on, Phel,” I growled. “Fight.” I pushed against the slip of her soul tied to mine in our broken tattoo, begging. Raging. She was at the other end. I could sense her, distantly as it always had been, but she was there.
We waited until even Damien was exhausted—until he’d dug up the depths of his power and fed them into her. Until every fucking beat of my heart was another fruitless tug against the Bind.
And still, she did not wake.
All at once, Damien’s light shuttered out, retracting into him with a crack as Ophelia dropped down to the bed. His chest heaved as he watched her. The minutes ticked by like centuries. Color had returned to her cheeks, and her breathing was stronger, but her Spiritsdamned eyes remained closed.
Finally, Damien turned to me. “I am sorry, Malakai.”
And he left.
Chapter Four
Ophelia
