8
As always, standing before the northern gates of Avena quickens my heart. Majestic and wondrous in height and width, and created by the hand of the High King himself, they are a kaleidoscope of colour, an infinitesimal number of constantly moving atoms too small for the eye to see.
But even in beauty there is danger, for to touch any part of these gates can prove as devastating as a thousand bolts of lightning straight to one’s heart.
It’s this beauty that reignites my love for my homeland, knowing that once the gates open all the natural wonders of Avena will unfold before my eyes.
Michael commands the Gatekeepers, and, even though I know what comes next, my breath still catches at the sight of the gates opening inwards and revealing a thousand glistening stairs spiralling downwards in a spectacular arc.
Stepping through the gates, I inhale deeply, the air thinner but purer than Earth’s atmosphere, and as I make my way across the arc each step allows my lungs time to adjust to the variance.
Arriving at the lower platform, which is still high above the land, Michael sends three Thrones on ahead to secure the road. They release their metallic blue wings, and plunge feet first off the platform.
I never tire of watching them. Such uniform precision is an impressive trait of this revered order. They land in soundless synchronisation, remarkable for their size, and immediately begin striding across the paved roads that lead to the city centre, checking buildings and side streets, their presence alerting the city of my return.
I take a deep breath as memories storm my senses. It’s always, always the memories that break me at this point, memories of a moonless night, deep in the Lavender Forest, and the unanswered cry of an infant’s first contact with the living world.
My parents were right to blame me. Even though I was only seven at the time, I knew better. Ebony’s kidnapping occurred because, excited by what she had just showed me through a mind-link before her birth, and eager to tell my father, the captain of security, who had not wanted me to be there, I rushed.
The birthing chamber was a temporary, dome-shaped structure, purposefully created to protect the imminent birth of a future princess. The chamber walls consisted of hundreds of layers of pure silk, intricately woven to keep light from showing through it and inadvertently revealing the chamber’s position. Security was high that night because the infant was already promised in marriage to a high-ranking prince, a future king.
But I foolishly allowed a splinter of light to escape the birthing chamber when I exited. That single glint revealed our secret location. And I will never forget the injured soldiers’ screams as they lay writhing in agony when the enemy’s fiery explosions bore down on us, burning their skin and melting flesh off their bones.
Michael doesn’t rush me as I prepare to reacquaint myself with my homeland. He sees my memories flooding in and out at staggering speeds, and slaps his hand down on my shoulder. ‘Easy now, cousin, remember who you are.’
But . . . Michael, who am I?
Placing his hands down on my shoulders, he turns me to face him. ‘You are Nathaneal, Seraphim Order’s highest-ranking prince, a future king.’
‘That’s not what I mean.’
He frowns. ‘What do you mean?’
‘The legend told about me . . . is there any truth to it?’
‘Oh, that thing written in hope and stardust before the Earth was born.’
‘Are you saying it’s nonsense, because I would be thrilled to know there is nothing in it and I can be free to live my life with my beloved Ebony.’
His gold eyes lose their playful light. ‘The legend says hope and stardust, our king says blood on a wall of stone.’
I stare at him a moment. I haven’t heard this before. ‘Are you saying my name is written on a stone wall in blood?’
He nods slowly. ‘As the One who will lead us in battle, defeat our enemy, and bring peace and unity to all the worlds.’
‘That’s all?’
He laughs, until I ask, ‘Whose blood?’
‘The blood of those who died in the great revolt.’
‘The first angelic war.’
‘Is it any wonder Prince Luca wants to eliminate you?’ he says.
‘But I’ve done nothing to justify being named this leader of angels who will unite the worlds in peace. That would be you, Michael. You’ve commanded Avena’s armies for three thousand years. What experience have I had?’
He gives me a sympathetic look. ‘You’re still young, Nathaneal. Give yourself time.’
‘What if I can’t be this defender, this champion of the people? So far I have only been a burden to Avena. What if I don’t have what it takes to be a king?’
He studies my face, golden eyes unblinking. A smile starts slowly and quickly grows. ‘You will. You just have to trust me on this. Can you do that?’
I look to the horizon where the Lavender Forest merges into the sky. When I think of home my thoughts turn to Ebony. In those fleeting moments before her birth, Ebony understood how destiny had entwined our lives. She shared those visions with me in a mind-link from her mother’s womb. But today she can’t remember the images or their importance. I’m asking her to trust me, just as Michael is now asking me to trust him.
I take a deep breath and nod at him. ‘I can do that.’
He thumps my shoulder. ‘Good.’
‘And you will be with me, cousin? Whatever happens?’
‘Always. Don’t ever doubt it. Just look to your left and I will be there.’
‘Why my left?’
‘Finally, an easy question,’ he jokes. And grinning, he says, ‘It’s your weaker side.’
‘What? I don’t have a weaker side.’
‘Yes, you do.’
‘No I don’t. Both sides are equal.’
‘Spoken like a future king.’