He opened his palm containing the key. Its radiance dispersed into the wards, and they flickered, allowing him access to the sanctified space with its labyrinth of knowledge and secrets.
The Watchers, he sent out the thought as he walked the path in search of the history of the formidable angels. While he scanned the shelves, he let his psyche—his spiritual energy—traverse beyond the planes, back to the mountains in Romania.
She was alone now, settled in bed, her phone in hand…and safe.
The key glowed brighter.The row of Aeon.Finally.
Lore slowed his steps, picked up a scroll, and perused its ancient writings…
Every item he touched and the info he absorbed was about their jobs before being tasked to watch over fledgling humanity—not what he required—specifically about their mates and offspring, especially the offsprings’ descendants.
While the key had shown him the cache of manuscripts on the Watchers, the specific volume he sought wasn’t going to simply hand itself over. He would have to scan for it manually.
As he worked his way down the row, that part of him he couldn’t seem to bolt down returned to Nia, tracking her again. She was in the courtyard with Race now, practicing with a sword. He watched her for a second. With each thrust and parry, she appeared like a beacon of light, riveting him.
The sound of her laughter jolted him out of his thoughts. He shut off the sight and focused on the job.
As he neared the end of the row, a volume on the top shelf caught his attention—a massive leather-bound tome inscribed with runes. A dim glow emitted from it, impossible to miss.
Lore picked up the ancient book and settled it on a pedestal. The light from the key he still held shimmered over the runes, and they swirled in a cascade of golden sparks before fading.
This has to be the one.
The compressed volume eased open. With care, Lore turned the yellowed pages, searching for the time before the Watchers’ annihilation. While he had ensured the order was carried out,watched it happen, and understood why it had come to pass, there was more to uncover.
There.
He read the section.
…they bore two genera: Nephilim and Psionics. The Nephilim were monstrosities effectively annihilated along with the Watchers. Their mates and the weaker psionic offspring were pardoned and allowed to live upon the condition that their powers be bound.
However, there were the rare few Psionics who exhibited powers beyond the extraordinary. Posing an immediate threat to the Celestial Realm, they were exterminated… A watch must be kept over the awakening of Zarias’ accursed line. For those of unbound powers are a danger to all that is…
He was aware of that.
He scanned through more text…and found a prophecy written in ancient Enochian.
Frowning, he read it.
O’ Zarias, O’ Fallen One, slain in ash, thy seed freed…
Hidden inthe blood of time.
The Impure One will find in twilight and in dusk, the once forgotten line, and awaken the lost ones once more.
The Trinity united. The sacred line protects all…
Beware, O’ wary Executioner, for the once reaped innocence…
He turned the page and found nothing more of the cryptic wording. Only discolored blank pages remained. Someone had obscured the rest of the text.
A mental knock in his mind had him frowning. He allowed it.
A moment, Loráed,Chamuel, the Supreme Seraph, telepathed.
Lore closed the book and dismissed the volume. It settled back on the shelf, the glow receding to dullness.
He flashed to the place where most of the meetings with Chamuel occurred—the Serene Gardens—and strode across a sweeping meadow, lush with a brilliant carpet of tiny blue flowers. The blend of quiet whispers and resonant chorales marked a nearby waterfall, so unlike its noisy counterpart on Earth.
