Immortals [ON HOLD]

Chapter 3:

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This chapter I'm going to dedicate to ChasingWavesX.

I mentored her and she taught me so much and we eventually became friends so this chapter goes to her because she is pretty great. You should also check out her new book. On with the story.

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I watched as Michael stood up and gave me one last hug. The fatherly gaze came over him again and I was sure he felt sad in what he had just done. He spread his huge brown wings and joined the flurry of angels in the high ceiling. It was then that I made my way back to the ward. My bed was just about in sight when I bumped into Raphael. He did the doctorly thing and used his stethoscope to listen to heart then he undid my blue hospital gown and stared at my chest. He reached out and put his hand over the gash. Instantly blue ice burst from his fingers and into the cut making it heal. I had seen many things in my long, drawn out life but this was new. Raphael then quickly did my gown back up. He ushered me out the door again telling me we could talk as we walked.

'I assume that Raphael told you to ask me anything so go ahead, this will help me with my spontaneous speaking,' Raphael said with his warm, light voice. He gave me a little wink just to let me know he was just joking around.

'Ok, why am I still alive? Shouldn't I be dead, didn't I get stabbed through my heart?' I asked for assurance.

'Firstly you were stabbed by the warrior Kemp. I know you are immortal but it was an angelic death duel so it can't be possible that your both still alive. But I propose as a medical student that your heart was a gift from your mortal ancestors, since angels don't have a heart, your other half of your heritage is angelic. Once your mortal components are removed, we have ourselves, an angel.'

I nodded trying to comprehend that but it was beyond comprehension.

'Of course,' Raphael continued,' it could be another powerful thing that I can't comprehend. Some weird prophecy or some ancient law that not even I know about. You will have to find someone smarter.'

I smiled at the way Raphael tried to make serious things lighter and happier. While we small talked about the weather we walked along the white, sterile corridors. It was so easy to get lost round here. Then something else came to me.

'Raphael, if you don't mind me asking, why am I going to a training camp for angels?' I asked him.

'Well,' he answered,'the truth is the angels need you. They need you to fight, because everyone knows you are the best. You trained in every martial art known to earth. And you have thousands of years to hone into it. Some of the things you learnt are so old, only old angels know that form of arts. Michael even taught you. He has taught no one else since. You are strong and of course the last nephilim. But that part I still don't understand; why everyone wants a nephilim. You are great and everything, but no angel. There is a myth you have not yet chosen which side you are on. Is that true?'

Raphael's fun loving gaze had turned into a hard knot; as if he was trying to understand something great. It was true everything he had said. It was as if for the past hundred years I had forgotten who I was. I was Trina, descendent of Eve, last nephilm, immortal, trained in every combat art, trained by Michael and the last one to be trained by him. I had never chosen a side to put my faith in. I don't know which side of the story to believe in. But I do believe in my story.

I nodded to confirm what he had said and he shaked his head sadly. My were eyes were only downcast for a few seconds before I saw all my belongings in the glass room Michael had talked about. Raphael pulled me to a stop before I could reach my belongings. It was then that I saw why. The were angels, or what I would call scientists, analyzing each piece of my belongings. My clothes were laid over a table under microscopes, my armour, being investigated with a series of machines. My sword, the sword of darkness was lying in an airtight tube in the middle of the room. Then I realized why. The sword could not be touched by angelic kind. It was crafted for demonic use, but only to the demons who had lost all angelic traits and likenesses. I turned to look at Raphael.

'I have to get it,' I pleaded. I watched as he used some sort of telekinesis to unlock the glass door into the room. Raphael released me as I pulled my white blonde hair out of it's pony tail. I shook it loose and charged into the room. There was no going back but those things were my things, and 'Rule Number 1' don't mess with me.