Everlasting Fate (Third Book)

Chapter One

500 B.C., Alduin's Realm

I stood in the masked light of my chambers where the air twinkled with faery dust and a shallow casement in the ceiling was the only source of brilliant light. It poured over the pale body of a woman with pure, snow white wings that stretched outwards in glory. The room seemed brighter with her wings extended. Photons of gold dribbled from her downy feathers. She was completely naked with wispy, ethereal hair that fell in thin rivulets down her shoulders and over her chest. My room was cloaked in shadows and the ceiling was swathed in burgundy cloth. It was dark and cold, not friendly. When had it ever been friendly?

I gazed at my work in disbelief. Creating angels was much easier than humans. Then again, I was only still molding her body. Her soul was another matter entirely. Souls were taxing to create, even an angel soul. This one was the first angel I had ever attempted. It seemed everyone wanted to follow in the Christian God's footsteps when he modeled his first angels after my self-entitled younger brother Michael. He was the golden child, the first God born with freakish wing appendages. Instead of casting him aside and stoning him, he is cherished and marveled at. As if the first son of Artemisia was no longer alive. Infuriated, I wanted to drop him from my realm and see if those damned wings really would save him.

Then came the prophecy. The blasted Fates have to ruin everything. They had a vision of my brother eventually joining forces with a powerful woman to save the world. Joy. Another thing to love about the golden boy. Not only was he powerful with strong abilities to the weather and other unknown factors, he had wings and he got to save the world? Somehow those wenches left me out of the equation. Luckily this prophecy brought me some small measure of happiness. In order to one day carry out the Fates' vision, Cael has to have his memories wiped of his Godhood and he has to live centuries as my Right Hand angel, technically making him my first "created" angel. Of course, he's not really an angel, but that's something he won't know until the time is right. Until that time, I have the divine, beautiful pleasure of being his superior. The irony wasn't lost on me; perhaps the Fates had a soft spot for me after all.

"My my, what a pretty dearie. First angel always is." My mother's sickeningly sweet voice caused my head to throb.

My head wrenched up to see her slim figure lurking in the shadows. She stepped into the light toying with her waist length feathery black hair. Cael was a spitting image of her; dark hair, pale milky skin. I might as well be the bastard child.

"Hush mother, I need concentration. You know this work is exhausting." I demanded, refraining from calling her 'Artemisia'. If I did she'd know I was cross with her about Cael.

"No, I would not. I have no desire to entertain myself with creating such beings. They don't interest me whatsoever." She sniffed as if what I was doing was disgusting to her.

I growled under my breath and furrowed my brows. Something was missing with this angel. She was without a doubt beautiful. They all would be, but she lacked something important. I couldn't quite put my finger on it. I ran my hand along the air in front of her face and her eyes opened. That's it. Silver eyes, not blue. She has steel in her gaze. Not sweetness.

I groaned when my mother spoke again, "Her name?"

"Gabriela." I shivered when I said it, feeling something stirring within me.

My first angel. I felt bound to her, proud to be one of the first Gods after the Christian God to successfully create angels.

"I'd like for you to meet Mayarial when she is born. She is my finest creation. Her soul sister is still centuries from birth." My mother bragged.