Page 251 of Spring Guardians & Songbirds

She closed her eyes and huffed a sigh. “No. I meant guardian. Guardian like me.”

“Do I look anything like you, lady?” I looked around. Was this some sort of test for the sceptre piece?

“We come in many shapes and forms. Sometimes we are made of the purest elements, some are born into this life either by being a child of a guardian or a lower god, and some simply carry the bloodline of a distant ancestor. And that last one would be you.”

I was starting to think this wasn’t a joke. “What distant ancestor?” Some form of panic began curling in my chest. I was an Aura—a hybrid Aura. No one had told me anything about any ancestors.

“Zephyr. You might know him as the first king of Olympia, but heavens referred to him as the great guardian of lightning, second to Nubil. He descended to Numen centuries ago when gods still walked the realm. He fell in love with a human woman. Because of what happened with Aurora, Nubil was forced by Fader into giving Zephyr an ultimatum. Either leave the woman, return to Caelum and never see her again, or lose his wings and live here to die his human death. Because he was the last to carry the power of lighting in Caelum, the decision had to be met with much more sacrifices. To not lose the heritage, his bloodline would continue carrying the Elding bloodline. To live as Aura amongst the other magic folk, but not quite as such. The Elding were never gifted their magic, they were born out of magic. It is why the Skygards were the only to possess the magic of lightning. This bloodline would carry other guardians of lightning to preserve the ancient magic. And return to Caelum to retain their seat as Nubil’s second, if they ever desired to do so—if you ever desire to do so.”

My knees weakened a little and I stumbled a step back. No, I would have known. Someone would have known. I was not…I am not a guardian. I am an Ybris. Someone would have known. It would mean that my uncles, my grandfather, all my ancestors were of heavenly blood. But they had been Aura. Our holy script said so, too. The Elding were Aura. “What did you mean to live as Aura, but not quite as such?”

“You’re not part Aura, Snowlin. You’re fully Aura, as you are fully a guardian. Your blood is of heavens.”

“I’m an Ybris,” I said as if I was trying to convince myself that everything I knew was a lie.

“Correct. The ultimate one. Aura and guardian.”

“Meant to destroy the realm, lady. The prophecy says so.”

She frowned and it suddenly seemed like the skies frowned too because they dimmed with grey clouds. “The prophecy does in no manner indicate so. It sings to the power you and your siblings carry. It sings of your might. It was a signal of your birth, of your existence. One that has not occurred ever before. Guardian and Aura, a blessing. A miracle either heaven expected and no other realm has seen.”

“Miracle?” I asked, my nerves pinching tight. “Did my father know this?”

“Which father?”

A shaky bitter laugh left me. “Alaric knows?” She nodded and the solid ground beneath my feet turned to mud. Is that why he didn’t want me to make the climb? “And Silas?”

“No, not fully to comprehend the true amount of power you possess or that you are a creature of heavens. But he was aware of the power of your bloodline when he sired you three, if that is what you are asking.”

“Creature of heavens?” I asked, irate. “I’m cursed to carry some old bloodline, cursed to bear the reality of a monster only to find out I am a divine one.” The skies thundered mimicking my fury and she flinched a little.

“It is beyond us to control human nature and their reasoning for fear.”

“It is in your divine preaching!” I shouted, thunder crackling.

Her white eyes lifted heavenward for a moment before she answered me. “All written by men and heard by human ears. We do not interfere in their way of belief, only judge the way they adhere to it. Faith is personal. Something you share with yourself and the gods alone. If they chose to fear you because of shared belief, they have lost that bond. What you are is far from monstrous. Your existence is not blessed, it is the blessing itself.”

“I’m no blessing that I can assure you.”

Her stare drooped with what resembled pity and it made me sneer. “Unfortunately, fates and gods have a way of testing the goodness out of us. To make sure you carry their expectations with the best of intentions and prosper under the weight power bears on one's shoulders. Your fate writes you to be great. A hero to your realm. But as all heroes—”

Laughter bubbled out of me and her words were cut in half. A hero? All heroes were saintly martyrs. When I died, it would be with a stomach full of vengeance and blood. The gods expected me to be rained on pain and walk myself to sunshine? I had to suffer so I could thrive? They made me something of fear and carried no responsibility for it. “I need the sceptre piece. It is attracting unwanted attention to my kingdom.”

She blinked astound for a moment before lifting a hand toward the skies and a silver rod materialised from thin air in her grip.

I extended a hand to her. “Throw it.” Not planning to go anywhere near her.

Her white brows rose. “You want me to throw the sceptre piece?”

“Heard me right.”

Surprised, but she did as told. The moment the metal touched my hand it flashed and the three same runes glowed bright on it. It triggered my magic in a way of warning. And the same excruciating pain throbbed in my veins that cursed with electricity.

“You have affinity with it. Like calls to like. Make good use of what you are able, guardian,” she said, inclining her head in a bow.

Guardian. Ybris. Human. What in the hells was I? Perhaps I was a bit of all—the worst bits of all three. “You underestimate how human I am,” I said, taking a step back and then another. Calandra’s eyes bore an understanding of my thoughts even before I spoke them. She read it in my smirk, felt it in my raging gaze. I pointed an end of the sceptre to her and her great wings shuddered just a little. “You underestimate just how unforgiving and immoral humans are. You underestimate a part of me, a small part, truly. But that is not the worst of me, believe it or not. You don't know how rotten the divine is—your sort.” I chuckled. “I mean, our sort. Selfish. Greedy. Those are the tip of it. Your—our kind—is what brought this reign of terror in this realm in the first place. To ask of me to fix your mistakes just doesn’t seem fair. Now watch the flame you lit feed on kindling you forgot under it.”

“Snowlin,” she warned, stepping from the gate podium to me and the barren stone sprouted with life. White anemones grew under each step she took.