Uriel: The Inheritance (Airel Saga Book Five)

Chapter II

Arabia—1232 B.C.

URIEL WATCHED FROM THE limbs of a tree high above as her father roared at the heavens in frustration. There was pain there, too. She bore witness to the undeniable fact that this pain was the final thing they now shared. She decided in that moment that it would be the last time they shared anything.

How can I explain myself to a man who refuses to listen, who refuses to allow me to be who I am and not what he wants me to be?

She thought back to all the misunderstandings, all her attempts at flight, thwarted by her father. Each time she tried to spread her wings, he was there to stop her. All he ever did was hold her back, and all in the name of keeping her safe.

I am not a child anymore. Quit treating me like I am made of glass.

She held her breath and closed her eyes, focusing on the thing she wanted most—to disappear, to leave. She knew enough of the shadowing gift to know how to draw the mists about her, as her uncle Yamanu had taught. In this, she had proven to be naturally gifted and able, and it had not occurred to her then that the expression on Yamanu's face could have been either shocked surprise or veiled fear when she had done it so easily the first time. She felt that the gift was different for her than it was for Uncle Yam, and his eyes had confirmed as much to her mind.

She was able, not just simply to call up a powerful spiritual fog, but to physically dissemble, the minutest particles of her body disbanding into the atmosphere. They were bound only by the invisible, her spirit, which, when she focused hard, commanded that the air into which she had dissolved would release the infinite specks that composed her. Then she would resume her natural form. She had scared herself a few times testing this new power, but in the end she reasoned, eagles must either fly or die. If an eagle cannot or will not fly, it really isn't much of an eagle, is it?

He would see soon enough that it was not she who needed protecting.

***

YAMANU WAS SEIZED WITH terror, which was not like him. He was customarily the one rational mind, the one trusting and dauntless spirit composing this angelic fellowship. But now his thoughts ran wild.

He decided he had to write to Kreios, tell him what he believed was true, and hope that perhaps he would be able to reach Uriel before it was too late.

Salutations, Kreios,

My kinsman and my friend, I fear this letter may reach you far too late, but I must tell you what I have witnessed here.

Your daughter came to live with me, as you are no doubt aware. She was a delight, but like you, she has her own mind. I sensed a change upon her arrival in Ke'elei. She had travelled so far, and I feared she had been compromised.

As you know, I believe neither in chance nor coincidence.

My kinsman, she arrived at the city already in a state of metamorphosis, though it didn't manifest in sickness until later.

She fell ill for a time. She took on new appetites and her hair changed from raven black to a lighter hue. The first day I noticed it, it took on a purplish cast, and from then on, it became bluer and bluer until she could hide it no longer and went about the city at all times with a scarf covering her head.

The Brotherhood possesses untold power and I began to suspect her change was instigated by a young man she was fond of—a boy named Subedei.

I prayed and asked El to confirm to my heart if she had been activated by the Brotherhood, but I did not receive an answer. I prayed again, but still, only silence.

She begged me to train her in the angelic arts and I, like a fool, began to teach her. To my surprise and dismay, her gift revealed itself as precisely that selfsame shadowcraft I have long possessed. I taught her one lesson. She soon surpassed me in both power and potency.

And now she has taken that immense untested burden and fled. I searched in vain, but she is like the wind. I ask for your mercy and forgiveness in this matter, as I have failed you. I shall live eternally with my regret if anything terrible should befall her.

Your humble kinsman and friend,

Yam

***

ALL KREIOS COULD DO was nothing, and it threatened to be his undoing. He wanted to fly over the earth and search his daughter out, rip the mountains apart by their roots and turn them to dust.

But he knew his kin was right—she would not be found until she desired such a thing.

He felt sure that he bore the lion's share of the blame for his daughter's waywardness. He had tyrannized her. He hadn't given her enough choices. It was inevitable that she would rebel—he had pushed her away.

Kreios moaned in agony, falling to his knees and touching his brow to the earth, his hands covering his ears in a vain attempt to blot out the sound of his own condemnation. His heart and conscience told him again and again that this turn of events had been of his making. He had backed Eriel into a cage, and in response, she had shaken what she could shake.

And now, as a Shadower, what would she do? Where would she go? This, the most powerful of the angelic arts, had been unlocked in her, and it was like touching a single burning ember to a field of dry stubble. What will she do with this knowledge, this power, completely unchecked by wisdom, without a mentor or teacher? The thought was too terrible to bear. Kreios knew his daughter would, as sure as the sun now sank below the horizon in the west, inevitably burn, that it would produce only more pain in her life.

He did not know how to pray. Should he ask for mercy or for punishment? She was out there on her own now. The thought made him groan in deep frustration.

He could no longer protect his own daughter. His one remaining passion and promise—failed.