Prophecy

Chapter 56: War

*Xavia's POV*

The cabin deep within the forest was a picture of rustic charm, a sanctuary that seemed to have sprung organically from the earth itself. I hadn't yet seen a place—a home—that resembled something coming from the fabric of this realm. Tall evergreens surrounded the small structure, their towering forms creating a protective barrier against the outside world.

As Grace and I approached, the scent of burning wood greeted us.

The scene twirled lazily from the stone chimney, filling the crisp air with a comforting warmth. Years of footsteps had smoothly worn the path leading to the cabin, winding through the underbrush like an old, trusted friend of sorts. Though my mate and I had an apartment, seeing a home like this was something I also wanted to have with her.

Stepping inside, the cabin's embrace was immediate and enveloping.

Sunlight filtered through the various small windows, casting a golden glow on the rough-hewn beams and clean, polished wooden floors. The air was filled with the smell of freshly brewed tea, and the crackling of the fire in the stone hearth added a comforting tune to the scene. Handmade touches—like the quilt draped over a worn armchair and the shelf lined with weathered books and mementos—spoke of a life well-lived within these walls.

It's a beautiful home for this couple.

As we made our way further into the cozy space, the monk, now known as Zechariah, gestured towards two well-worn chairs. His warm smile was welcoming, and there was a sense of familiarity in how he moved about the cabin, as if every inch of it was a part of him and his partner.

"Please, make yourselves comfortable," he said, his voice rich and soothing. "Shall I put on some hot chocolate?"

Grace giggled at the offer, and I couldn't help but nudge her playfully, kissing her cheek.

She knows I want some hot chocolate, not only because it tastes delicious but because it helps warm me.

"Yes, please," I answered, my excitement bubbling at the thought of something warm to drink in this frozen weather.

Zechariah chuckled as he moved towards the kitchen area, saying, "Even as an angel myself, this cold weather still gets to me, believe me. My husband, however, is okay with the cold."

I blinked in surprise, looking between Zechariah and Grace.

"Your husband?" Grace asked, echoing my thoughts.

"Oh, yes, dear," Zechariah replied, a soft smile tugging at his lips. Once he finished his task in the kitchen, he returned to us and continued his thought, "In the eyes of the supernatural, we were marked—mates, lovers, and whatnot, but... to the humans, we were single, merely close friends, even. Back in our day, people like us couldn't walk in the streets holding hands with another person of the same sex. We didn't want to draw additional attention to ourselves because we weren't human. We had to wait to be married and recognized by the law of this world, and though times have changed, people of all kinds truly fear what they do not understand."

His words hit me with a mix of emotions.

I felt sadness for their hardships but also a deep respect for their strength and resilience.

"That's unfortunate, and I'm sorry you had to go through situations like that," I said, my voice soft but sincere.

Zechariah's smile was warm as he looked at me—he really looked at me—and added, "You're really kind and very open-minded, and... please forgive me, but... you being the devil's daughter... you're not exactly what we expected, given his severe cruelty to any form of life."