Celestial: Fallen

Chapter 35- The Awakening Glow

I was jolted awake by the annoying sound of my alarm. With a tired sigh, I rubbed my eyelids to clear the blur from my vision. I had fallen asleep waiting for Nick, but he still wasn't home. Michael and Rafail had already left a few days ago, and I missed them. It felt strange—like I had three brothers constantly around to bother me. A small smile crept onto my lips at the thought of them.

Slowly, I sat up in bed. There was something important I needed to do—I had to talk to Nick. I had to tell him what happened at school. A heavy sigh escaped me as I wrapped my arms around my waist, the memory of fear gripping me from that day. My body still shivered at the thought of it.

That day, I bumped into Diarmid. The urge to hug him had been strong, but something stopped me. It would've been weird, I told myself. He must have noticed my sudden distance—how I withdrew from him. I wasn't ready to open up, to let anyone in. I needed to heal first.

Shaking off the thoughts of Diarmid, I headed to Nick's room. I knocked gently, waiting, but after a few tries, there was still no response. Unease began to grow as I opened his door, only to find his room empty. Flicking on the light, I stood there for a moment, frowning. Where could he be?

I rushed back to my room, grabbing my phone. I dialed his number. Ringing. Ringing. Still no answer. I sent him a few messages, asking where he was, my anxiety creeping in. Each second of silence felt like an eternity.

Fear tightened its grip around my chest. I struggled to breathe, my vision blurring with unshed tears.

Nick... where are you?

I tried to reason with myself. It was too early to panic. I should wait, be patient—but that gnawing fear remained.

Suddenly, I felt a soft warmth on my left arm. My bracelet—it was glowing, a soft and gentle light twinkling like Morse code. My brows furrowed as I raised my arm to inspect it. I remembered Mom chanting something over this bracelet. Where's the notebook?

I scrambled to my room, searching through my things until I found it—the notebook where the story of Azrael and Talisa was written. I quickly flipped past the stories, looking for the chant Mom used. Finally, there it was:

"Tha mi a 'sireadh comraich bhon dorchadas, bhuaibh dìon gràdhach, a Dhia ghràdhaich..."

The words were familiar, comforting. I took a picture of the page and translated it through Google. A few minutes later, the meaning was revealed:

"I seek refuge from the darkness, from you, loving protection, dear God.
I seek refuge from the darkness, from you, loving protection, dear God.
It gives me breath and trust for eternity,
Our hope,
Our love,
Our protector,
Our faith,
Our light,
Our God, forever."

I slowly read the words out loud in English, but nothing happened. The bracelet stayed quiet, lifeless. My brow furrowed in frustration. Maybe it needed to be in the original language?

Taking a deep breath, I began to recite the Gaelic version, my voice shaky at first:

"Tha mi a 'sireadh comraich bhon dorchadas, bhuaibh dìon gràdhach, a Dhia ghràdhaich..."

Still, nothing happened. But I wasn't ready to give up. I closed my eyes, focused on the words, and spoke them again—this time with conviction, with faith. The warmth returned, stronger this time, wrapping around me like a protective embrace.

My eyes flew open as I realized I was glowing. A soft hum filled the air, and my bracelet glowed in harmony with me. It was alive with warmth and light, just as it had been when Mom used it.

A smile spread across my face as I basked in the glow, letting the warmth fill the fear and emptiness within me. For a moment, I felt safe—like nothing could hurt me.