Now, every Beauradèl alive would do the same.
“Yvette! This way!”
I whipped around, turning toward the sound. The voice belonged to a youngling. Full of life. Full of hope. Just like I had been on that fateful dawn. I snarled quietly, scanning the woods for the owner of the voice. Deep inside me, the accursed beast Nahomie had put to rest by her voice, her touch, stirred. Bloodlust coursed through my veins. Vehement rage overwhelmed my senses.
I drew on ethèr. Pulling on my powers, I used them to cloak me until I blended into the brightness of the sunshine like souls in daylight. I didn’t completely disappear, but I was camouflaged enough. Flying into the branches of the high-standing trees, I perched on a branch and looked down.
“Yvette! If we hide over here, Jacques won’t find us.”
Through the copse of trees, a youngling burst forth. He couldn’t have been over fifty cycles. Stars. He was a child. So young. Innocent. So carefree.
Just like I once was .
I watched the youngling. He was small, coming no higher than my knees. He had an adorable afro with tight curls that tumbled into his large hazel eyes. His mahogany brown skin was dewy, well oiled and moisturized, glowing beneath the sevensuns above the wood. He was dressed in a patchwork print shirt with matching shorts and leather sandals. His small, six pairs of wings flapped behind him. I could see him struggling with the weight of his growing wings. The muscles were still developing. The youngling wasn’t strong enough to fully carry them yet.
So naïve. So precious.
It was a shame he was going to die.
“Richard, come back! Papi said we weren’t allowed to be back here. You know the woods beyond the garden are off-limits.”
The youngling, Richard, laughed. Full belly and all.
I would break his joy before I ruined him like his Papi helped ruin me.
“Oh, come on! Papi isn’t going to be mad over a game. Hide with me.Please.”
The angel Richard called Yvette finally flew into the small clearing below.
I tilted my head, looking down at her.
She was a true Vainyen beauty.
Like Richard, she had a large afro with curls that fell in her eyes, reaching past her neck in full fro. Her eyes were a stunning hazel, like sand on the seashore; her skin a dark brown umber hue. She wore an ivory, ruffled, two-piece set; her off-the-shoulder cropped camisole hanging just above her high-waisted skirt. The specially woven set was trimmed in scarlet red stitching, and she donned golden sandals to match. Yvette reached Richard and laughed, ruffling his hair.
“You and these games. Don’t you grow tired of them?”
Richard scoffed.
“Tired? I’m only fifty. Why would I be tired? I’m not ancient like the rest of you.”
“Oh, my... rude!” Yvette shoved Richard playfully. “I just turned five hundred and twelve. I’m still very young.”
“Yeah, as young as a prized Zaur.”
“Eya! Easy.” Yvette crossed her arms. “What you’renotabout to do is call me a dinosaur.”
“Youareas old as a Zaur you know,” he retorted. “You don’t have a top lip like them, either.”
I snorted at the youngling’s brass. The two young Beauradèls began arguing back and forth.
I rolled my eyes, growing bored with this stupendous tit-for-tat among children. I was seven cycles from seeing my Second Millennia and I was still only entering my prime for an angel. Both of them were so young they were practically newborns.
The heat of the sunshine made me sweat beneath my obsidian layers, the fabric beginning to cling to my sweaty limbs. It was time to move this show along. For three centuries I had every one of my Gargorètti scouring the island for this family. Every village, tribe, region. Hunting them down. And for centuries, after my escape from Zemshaza, they escaped me.
Until now.
Blending in as best I could with the sunlight, I opened my mouth and let the accursed beast chained within my blood roar. I kept the volume contained to the wood so only the small angels below could hear. Yvette screamed, whipping her head to the side. She spun around, trying to find the source of the roar.
