Prologue
Leela
War is coming.
I can feel the violence buzzing down my spine, the savage need to slay a tangible tickle against my ethereal feathers.
We’ve reached a point of no return. The prophecy will soon be realized. And all of us will be forced to choose a side.
I’m a Seraphim. My allegiance should be clear. But everything I’ve seen throughout my very long existence has left me conflicted.
My kind do not feel. They’re stoic beings who make practical decisions, not emotional ones. Humanity means little to them. Humans are a burden more than a gift. Toys that die too easily. Beings far beneath their superiors.
As the daughter of the fertility line, I often find myself immersed in mortal nature. Sex fascinates me. Love, too. And I love watching humans fulfill their dreams.
That’s partly how I’ve ended up in this mess, choosing a side no one would have expected. However, the Seraphim Council’s penchant for destruction terrifies me.
They want to exterminate all of Hydraian and Ichorian kind. The immortal beings are seen as abominations because Osiris, the Seraphim of Resurrection, made them through his powers to re-create life.
And Osiris is an outlaw.
He was banished from the Seraphim nation, sent to live among the humans, as a punishment for something not even I understand.
So he built an army. An army he intends to use against the Seraphim. It’s why he’s spent the last three or four thousand years ensuring his creations have the best combination of powers.
Human life comes from Seraphim existence.
Which means every mortal is born with a natural skill—a skill that is enhanced upon rebirth into an Ichorian existence.
And when an Ichorian mates with a human, they create a Hydraian, thus giving the child two gifts.
Plus immortality.
Of course, Ichorians need human blood to survive, therefore marking them as slightly less resilient than their Hydraian offspring. Hydraian blood is also toxic to Ichorians, which is another fault in their programming. But Ichorians prevail in strength, age, knowledge, and the mere fact that they’re the parents of the Hydraians.
For years, Osiris has pitted the two kinds against each other, ensuring only the strongest of both lines survived.
The Treaty of 1747 put an end to the battles.
But the angry feelings remain.
Which means we’re in for the fight of our lives. Because neither side is going to want to work with the other, but the Hydraians and Ichorians are about to face a common enemy—the Seraphim—who want to kill them all.
Hence, I’m on the wrong side.
I should be fighting with the council, trying to take down all of Osiris’s abominations.
Except, some of those abominations have become my friends. Family, even.
I’ve spent the last two decades protecting a prophecy. Guarding Sethios and Caro’s child—Astasiya. Or Stas, as she prefers to be called.
Stas is our salvation. Our hope. Our future. She’s power reincarnated, the daughter of two very powerful Seraphim lines, and her entire life has been molded by humanity.
She won’t bow to the council.
She also won’t bow to Osiris.
Our whole lives are about decisions, each one dictating our future path.
