direction as Cassandra had said the battlefield was, but the wolf had gone a separate way. More interested in the wolf, Jordan followed the large paw prints.
He couldn’t shake the feeling he had made some kind of connection with the animal. Why had it looked at him so … intelligently? Why had it backed off when it saw him? Did the wolf feel the darkness in Jordan, the darkness that had been deepening and growing for years, making him feel isolated from the rest of his family? But it hadn’t feared his darkness as many animals—and humans—did when they sensed it. The wolf had almost seemed to protect him, changing its target from his sister and him to those two strange men.
Jordan growled at himself. It’s just a wolf. An animal. And I’ll slay it for making my thoughts sound like a madman’s. He quickened his pace.
The wolf prints eventually circled back toward the battlefield, but just as the trees began thinning at the woods’ edge, all evidence of the animal disappeared. No more paw prints. No fur caught on tree bark or low branches.
Jordan searched in a widening circle but all he eventually found, near a boulder only a few paces inside the woods, were human footprints. From Cassandra’s soldier? He peered out at the battlefield, where a dozen men carried their fallen comrades to a pile on the far side. Her soldier must be with them. Well, he’s safe now. As if he really cared.
He returned to where the wolf’s prints had left off but still found no trace. Frustrated, Jordan headed home and the closer he came, the more his anger at Father grew. The old man owed them answers. If Father was truly dying, he needed to explain himself—and everything about them—something he had refused to do all these years.
Jordan had developed countless theories, but the one that made the most sense—they were descendants of the gods everyone else believed in—conflicted with their own beliefs in one God. Cassandra rarely played his game of hypothesizing, telling him they should simply be grateful for the blessings God had given them. Of course, unlike him, she’d been kept from associating with other people—women didn’t belong in public places—so she didn’t fully understand just how different they were. How much better they were than all others.
“How is he?” Jordan demanded as soon as he burst into the hut.
Cassandra sat on the floor, next to Father’s sleeping form, her eyes wide and her body tense with the sudden intrusion. She blinked, then her eyes narrowed.
“You’re back already? What did you find?”
“Nothing,” he growled. “How is he?”
“Did you even look?”
“There were soldiers in the field, gathering their dead. I didn’t find anyone in the woods, so I’m sure he’s with them.” Jordan nodded at the sleeping form next to her. “What about our father? Shouldn’t he be your concern?”
Her shoulders sagged, as did the corners of her mouth.
“Nothing I do is working. He’s been sleeping, but fitfully, crying out every now and then. Mostly Mother’s name, but sometimes other things. But it’s all nonsense.”
Jordan removed his weapons and tossed them onto his bedding. He knelt on Father’s far side, across from his sister. “He must come around. He needs to explain—”
Cassandra was already shaking her head and Father, as if anticipating Jordan’s demand, silenced him.
“I … must … tell them,” Father croaked. “It is time.”
He fell silent again. Jordan exchanged looks with his sister, but she just shook her head. She brushed Father’s hair from his forehead, away from his closed eyes.
“Hush, Father. Do not—”
The old man’s eyelids sprang open and he glared at her with full alertness. “Yes. I must tell you. You need to know.”
He tried to rise, struggling to sit up. Jordan gathered more blankets and pelts and propped him up as much as possible. Father’s face looked haggard and his eyes pale and red-rimmed as they rested first on Jordan and then on Cassandra. He licked his cracked lips and closed his eyes. When he began, his voice suddenly came as clear and as strong as it always had.
“Your mother and I have told you the story of how we met,” he said. “How I remembered nothing of my life before. I’ve always said it was as though I’d never lived in this world until the moment I met her.” He opened his eyes and pierced them with his blue gaze. “Which, my dear children, is actually quite true.”
Jordan sat back on his heels as he listened to his father’s story, which felt so real and true the way he told it, but could not be possible. When Father was done, he closed his eyes again and sagged against the mound of blankets.
“I have told them. They know now,” he murmured, obviously no longer talking to them.
Cassandra looked at Jordan and he looked back at her with lifted brows.
“That’s it?” Jordan asked with incredulity. “All this time we’ve wanted to know what made us different from everyone else, and that’s his explanation?”
Jordan teetered on the edge of exploding. Cassandra shook her head violently. “Jordan, he’s very ill. He’s just delirious.”
“I would say so! What does he think we are? Children? Infants who believe in such nonsense?”
“Please, Jordan—”
Her plea for him to calm down was cut off by a gasp from Father’s lips. He gripped their hands with unexpected strength.
“You … must … believe,” he said, desperation filling his voice.
“How are we supposed to believe such a story?” Jordan demanded. His own theories had never been this outlandish. He’d always believed both Father and Mother were human—perhaps descendants of something greater, but still human. But what Father just said …
Suddenly Jordan could see nothing around him. Cassandra, Father and the entire hut disappeared, his vision taken over by strange images that were not his own. He saw a white-winged Angel who looked just like his father battling a demon with thin, black membranes for wings and horns protruding from its head. He also saw their mother lying unconscious on the bank of a stream. Then Father defeated the demon and fell to their mother’s side. He watched it all play out, the same story Father had just told them. Then just as abruptly as it had disappeared, the hut returned.
“What was that?” Jordan demanded. “Cass, did you see that, too?”
She blinked at him, her face twisted in a mix of emotions—the same wonder, disbelief and confusion he felt. She nodded. They both looked at Father. The corners of his lips lifted in the slightest of smiles.
“Just one of my abilities. I had to share.” He rose from his bed then, too strong for even Jordan to restrain. He rose above them both, until his head touched the ceiling. Jordan’s jaw fell as he watched thin, black wings spread from Father’s back, reaching the walls on both sides yet still not fully extended while his body seemed to fade into a dark shadow. “It is time for me to go.”
Chapter 3
Cassandra stared at Father, her mouth hanging open while bittersweet tears scalded her cheeks. She never thought she would lose him, convinced he would live forever after so many years as a strong and youthful man, but she knew he was about to leave her now. What would she do without him? Jordan liked his adventures too much to stay with her and she could never go with him—not that he’d even take her. She would be on her own now. How she would miss Father’s heavenly voice when he sang while they gathered fruits and olives, and their fireside conversations that could last for several nights. Her heart ached as sharp blades of grief and loneliness already stabbed it.
But at the same time, she could feel Father’s joy. He emanated a happiness she hadn’t felt in him since Mother died.
And he was so beautiful and glorious! Great white, feathered wings spread from his back, touching the walls, and his skin shone, bathed in a warm light. This is his true self. He’s going where he belongs. As much as
