Page 47 of Revelations

In empathy, the oracle took her hand. “Yes, child. I know your struggles. I have seen your pain. You have much more to face. Be reconciled that, although there is much left to do, the time will come when you will be able to rest.”

The words were reassuring and chilling at the same time; a lot more to do, and not a lot of time to do it. But it was the part aboutrestthat sent a shiver down her spine. Greylyn feared to ask for the details, but was that notwhy she was here in the first place?

“So, you can tell me about this prophecy and what I’m supposed to do and why? Can you also tell me how to stop it?” Greylyn held her breath, waiting for the answers.

“Now, child. I can’t tell you everything, only what has been shown to me. There is much more that I have not seen. But then, it is your journey. Yours alone.”

Groaning in disappointment, she braced for more cryptic answers—just like the archangel in the cathedral. She expected to be given the run-around yet again, leaving her with more questions.

“Well, how about we start at the beginning? Obviously, you know who I am. You know who my parents are; that’s something I didn’t know until recently.” Hearing their names for the first time had hit her heart like an arrow—Caderyn and Safiya. “More importantly, you know about the prophecy and my role in it. By the way you have this place locked up like Fort Knox from both good and evil magic, I assume that you didn’t want me to find you at all. Why?”

“Sometimes avoidance and doing nothing are the best policies. Others have tried to interject their will and failed miserably.” The oracle’s eyes darted upward. A frown pursed her lips. “Yes, a part of me didn’t want to be found. But, now that you are here, I am compelled to tell you what I’ve seen. But it will not be easy for you to hear. Now that you will know, it will only send you farther down the proverbial rabbit’s hole. Unlike Alice in the fairytale, you cannot escape. Once I speak the words, once you step on this path, it will take you only to your death…and possibly worse.”

Worse than death? A cold dread began to inch its way toward her heart. Apprehension. Anxiety. Outright fear. Greylyn did not want to hear any more. But there was no turning back; she had to know.

Determined, she whispered, “So let’s get it over with, then. Tell me. Everything.”

The oracle’s lips grew into a wide smile, but sadness radiated from her nearly black eyes. They looked like two shiny obsidian spheres. “First things first, then. You do not recall your human life, correct?” She did not wait for an answer, but continued, “You are the child of Safiya and Caderyn. Both Nephilim, different lineages.”

Greylyn wanted to skip that part of the explanation, as she had just heard it from Gabriel, but she feared to anger the oracle by interrupting.

“Caderyn was the last descendant of Haniel, an angel who was temporarily earth-bound to help God’s chosen people, and Nitza. She was human, of course. Your mother, on the other hand, was the last descendant of a fallen archangel, Amon, and an Egyptian girl, Tjepu.”

Thinking of the Egyptian tablet that she had recently pilfered from the Smithsonian, Greylyn’s mind began to draw lines between the dots to make the connection. Haniel … was he not an archangel? Or did she have her lore mixed up? Amon, was he not believed to be a deity in his own right? Even if being their descendant was the main reason for the current situation, she was actually impressed with her own heritage.

“You, my dear, are the by-product of both Heaven and Hell, good and evil. You see, that’s why you are the one chosen for the prophecy.”

Yes, she had heard that part already. Not really taking kindly to be referred to as a by-product of anything, she let it slide, as arguing with an oracle probably would not be the best idea. She had heard tales of those who had, or had gone against an oracle’s proclamations…it never ended well. Had not Alexander the Great opposed the oracle in his obsession to conquer the world? It had not gone well for him.

The oracle interrupted Greylyn’s raging thoughts. “Oh, where are my manners? Would you like some tea, honey?”

“Tea?” Here she had been half expecting the ground to open up and swallow her whole. Instead, the supernatural seer of all things was offering her refreshments.

Politely declining, the tale continued. But she also realized that her own manners were lacking. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even think to ask. Is there a particular name or title I should call you?”

“Honey, I have used so manynames over the years, that I barely recall what my real one is. You can simply call me Pythia.”

With formalities out of the way, the oracle continued, “Nephilim were closely watched since the beginning of time. They tried to hide but could never quite pull it off. The flood was supposed to eliminate them, but a few survived. The angel-blood was diluted during each subsequent generation. Over time, the Nephilim descendants became more human than angel. By the time your parents met and fell in love, they showed no obvious signs of their angelic heritage. No special powers or energies emanated from them to indicate they were…something more. Nephilim numbers dwindled as they were hunted down or died of natural causes. Your parents were all that remained of the offspring of the ‘sons of God’ and the ‘daughters of man’.”

The last of an entire species once revered as mighty men, giants even, had been whittled down to her parents? Now just her…or, according to Olivier, there were somehow two more descendants whom no one had counted on.

Pythia added, “Caderyn and Safiya knew their heritage, or enough of it to be aware of the dangers. They concealed themselves as best as they could, especially when they met and fell in love. They were so desperately in love that neither would consider leaving the other even if it meant stopping the prophecy. To them it was simply a ghost story, an urban legend to scare young Nephilim.” She shook her head sadly. “When your mother became pregnant, she felt your power growing in her belly and knew to be frightened for your life, and with good cause. Oral histories handed down through the generations spoke of the prophecy.”

A sliver of hope cut through Greylyn’s pessimism. “Then they knew what the prophecy was?” She leaned forward, her knees knocking into the coffee table, expecting the next words to be what she most needed to hear.

The oracle’s expression fell, and she pinched her lips together before continuing without answering her question. “During Safiya’s pregnancy, there was no hiding the power radiating from within her womb. Entities were drawn to you, intending harm and death. There were numerous attempts on your mother’s life, but your father was brave, heroic, and smart. He destroyed every being that so much as looked at your mother wrong. They feared that once you were born, they would not be able to protect you. So they sent you far away.”

The oracle paused as a tremor ran through her body. Her eyes rolled back in her head to where Greylyn could only see white in the sockets. “Someone—something—came looking for you. When your parents refused to admit that you still lived and where you were, he killed them. At that point, all knowledge they held regarding your whereabouts and any links to the prophecy vanished.”

“Who killed my parents?” A deadly calm fury wrapped around Greylyn for the villain who’d taken her parents’ lives, even though she had never known them.

Sad obsidian eyes peered at her from under the longest, thickest eyelashes Greylyn had ever seen. Pythia shook her head. “I’m so sorry. I do not know. The vision was cloudy. Could’ve been an angel. Could’ve been a demon. There was an extraordinary light, but a shadow surrounded it, blurring a clear image of the being.” Her long red fingernails tapped out a slow tune on the worn leather sofa. “Your father’s dagger, the one I believe you now possess, vanished at the same time. Whoever killed your parents, took the weapon.”

Pythia paused the story long enough to make tea for them both. Greylyn doubted that she could swallow a sip, as too much anger burned through her. However, the fragrant chamomile and ginger tea was too inviting to pass up.

At last, her hostess continued in a low voice as if conveying a secret that she did not even want the walls to hear. “Why did Heaven let loose a prophecy like this? I’m afraid no one knows. Rather smart of them to not write it down, but that still didn’t mean that it wouldn’t happen. Despite everything, neither Heaven nor Hell could stop it.”

She blew onto the hot liquid in her own cup. The steam danced away before circling back and forth. It took Greylyn a moment to realize that it was forming a sideways figure eight—the infinity sign.

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