House Of Legions (The Angel Descendants book 1)

Chapter 33 (Clare)

The marble under the liquid gold was noticeable close-up, there was no sign of brick work. Stepping inside the automated door, it moved in an up and downward circular motion before it finally opened showing an empty space. Visioning high rise ceilings and gold brackets cushioning it in place, she paralleled her head to her feet and furthered her eyes to the marbled floor. Her jaw went slack, she was standing on no ordinary marble floor. This one was white with beige patterns moving constantly in the inside of it, making no permanent attached markings, but millions of intricate patterns.

She had seen Buckingham palace but that was merely an old faction of a castle compared to this.

Screening the place out, from the paintings to the fine craft, which positioned itself perfectly on a centre piece table that she had completely missed when she’d walked in. It was made of the same marble material as the floor. A sculpture of an Angel with wings that was too big for the small body, as little as the size of a kitten attached to it.

The sculpture was a work of art, the intricate details she saw from afar drew her nearer, admiration in her eyes, she could see the crafting of every eyelash and every line. Curiosity getting the better of her, she touched the Angel sculpture.

A flap of its wings, Clare stumbled and screamed, but not before its eyes opened, revealing big black irises. The sculpture was alive, there was no doubt by what she was clearly seeing, as its face twisted into a frown. It's mouth moved before it ascended toward the opposite side of the room.

Clare fell back, and looked up in terror as it flew around the room. Its body now grey, still sculptured like stone, but alive. Flapping across to the top of the hall, where a part of the rounded room was shown. Her eyes followed its out stretched wings, which appeared to be similar to an Angel, at least a sculptured one.

“ISADES.”

Clare turned to the commanding voice, “It got a name?”

Nathan walked into the room, as the sculptured Angel settled on his arm, looking at Clare, “Yes, one you should respect, he’s small but a real Angel.”

“Angel? OKAY.”

“You do know Kalbreal is an Angel right?”

Clare’s ears itched, she couldn’t say she didn’t believe it, because she did know, and Kalbreal as an Angel made sense. “So what Angel is ISADES?”

debt which was paid months ago, but he still chooses to stay, he won’t say why.”

his eyes, pitch black beady things, it got to

was broken at the sound of Caidrian, “This is our home, made by the Angel Gabriel, the marble alone is a protective seal so if our invisible seals got destroyed we can still seek

This all seems confusing.”

our dead, or blood of the living, it’s an offering for protection, only those of Angelic presence

among the men she’d met in the past twenty four hours, “It’s much more than that, a whole lot more, Calub

around slowly, absorbing in her surroundings,

ready for the crescent ceremony,

leaning against the wall cutting a mango, as he spoke, “When one of our own dies in battle.” Nathan’s voice echoed in the open space, like a wave of sounds, “We preserve their soul until we absorb the Gazool or energy in english, of the deceased, unfortunately Calub won’t

and bright, drifting in the air, with no destination, three across the entrance hall where she stood, “What’s up with the floating lights?”

the hurt and pain that strained his heart, she could see it behind his

felt seeing his mother, after so long and losing her on the same day. Smiling, she walked toward him, she didn’t want him to feel like she hated him, because she didn’t, she had a feeling that if she knew him, she’d

leaned in, attentively thinking how similar he

our grandmother than anything else.” She didn’t know how to talk to Nathan or what

becomes complicated, she huffed inwardly.

would she have said to Phillip?Could she talk to him and tell him about all of this?What

humans about this stuff? obviously not, or else they wouldn’t have all the secrecy.

of never seeing him again, she didn’t

her best-friend for six years strong and she always knew what to say to him. They were both rude and impulsive, but not much else in similarities, nonetheless, comforting him would have been as easy as walking. But here he stood patiently, her own flesh and blood, her heart softened with how his resemblance brought up her mother, but the words got stuck. The tightness in her jaw and flex of her chin, she looked away from him, as if his face had burnt her, which wasn't too far off the mark, as she Silently cursed herself. Her thoughts sobered as she heard the tap of a boot, and realized she was staring, awkward, “Nathan, nice name! Why couldn’t I get a name

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