again.
The fact that he always died before his thirty-second birthday was his curse, each time fighting to protect his family and loved ones. He died in Louisiana in the swamps, fighting Cursed who tracked him down and wanted his pregnant wife. Another oracle he had found and loved in those dark times. He lost both her and his life, but not before he sacrificed his light as a Guardian and burned everything around him in the swamps. His self-sacrifice garnered him his rebirth as an Immortal: a downgrade for those Society snobs whoâd never set foot on a battlefield, but for him, an honor to get another chance at life. Running his thick tongue over his blunt teeth, he smiled; he did miss his fangs and Guardian ways.
Stepping naked into the shower, his skin sparked with Mystic currents as he turned the shower into a healing rain. Glowing water kissed his cocoa rich skin. Silky currents sank into his wounds, washing away the aches while it sloshed down his back, caressing the hard curve of his rear, then taut, muscled thighs and feet. Running his hands down his face, he lathered with cocoa, Shea butter, aloe, and sandalwood soap. His rough, large, cut-up hands slid over the plains of his flat abs. It felt good to wash away everything. The battle had him still amped. He went in head-on, ready to meet his end to only hit a rebuff. He was sure of it, that this was his battle, yet everything felt surreal. He was protecting his loved ones, fighting for their safety, for the protection of his cousin Sanna but it didnât happen.
At the end of it all, he stood watching the Medusa fall, her eyes locking on his. Something sparked in his awareness, connected to his spiritâs memories. He was going crazy, he knew it. Maybe this death would be at the hands of insanity because as the bitch fell, he swore he knew her as surely as he knew himself. She was the woman from his dreams, his lost bride. He also knew something else. While he watched her fall, satisfaction hit him, only to trigger that soul link and instinctively provide a bond of protection to cushion her fall. He couldnât believe that shit. It was eating at him as he thought. He saved her, and in rescuing her, he knew The Dark Lady was protected too and all of it by his hands. Yeah, he was going insane; he had to be. This was nothing but battle weariness, wasnât it?
Stepping out of the shower, he wrapped his towel around his waist then exhaled. He knew he had to talk with Sanna. After witnessing her power, he knew she would be able to help her big cousin for a change. In their Society, the rare order of Oraclesâor House of Aâlor, Valor in human tongueâhad levels, from zero to four. Though Seers and Mystics were never called oracles, their kind still either came from an oracle lineage or would produce a future oracle, which was why the Cursed typically targeted them first. Seers and mystics were level four. Level three belonged to Virtue oracles; these were typically oracles with a stronger gift and were also Guardians, like his lost love.
Level two was what Khamunâs mother, oracle Neffer, controlled as Eldress and formally the last of their regionâs oracles, Dominion. Dominions, if strong enough, could read oneâs soul. Tell you who your past life was and sometimes awaken your memories. It was restricted to do so, but in emergency cases, Eldress Neffer had done such. It was no secret that Dominions were the regulators and the ears of the Most High so they were very much revered. They were the only stable link to the Most High, the only ones who could hear him with a strong clarity and obtain orders.
Now with the revelation of his cousin Sanna being the Oracle, a being within Nephilim Society so powerful, it made him think of the founding tales of the First Ones he learned as a child. He knew everything was definitely about to change. Calvin had recently just learned from his aunt that there was a level none in history had ever
The fact that he always died before his thirty-second birthday was his curse, each time fighting to protect his family and loved ones. He died in Louisiana in the swamps, fighting Cursed who tracked him down and wanted his pregnant wife. Another oracle he had found and loved in those dark times. He lost both her and his life, but not before he sacrificed his light as a Guardian and burned everything around him in the swamps. His self-sacrifice garnered him his rebirth as an Immortal: a downgrade for those Society snobs whoâd never set foot on a battlefield, but for him, an honor to get another chance at life. Running his thick tongue over his blunt teeth, he smiled; he did miss his fangs and Guardian ways.
Stepping naked into the shower, his skin sparked with Mystic currents as he turned the shower into a healing rain. Glowing water kissed his cocoa rich skin. Silky currents sank into his wounds, washing away the aches while it sloshed down his back, caressing the hard curve of his rear, then taut, muscled thighs and feet. Running his hands down his face, he lathered with cocoa, Shea butter, aloe, and sandalwood soap. His rough, large, cut-up hands slid over the plains of his flat abs. It felt good to wash away everything. The battle had him still amped. He went in head-on, ready to meet his end to only hit a rebuff. He was sure of it, that this was his battle, yet everything felt surreal. He was protecting his loved ones, fighting for their safety, for the protection of his cousin Sanna but it didnât happen.
At the end of it all, he stood watching the Medusa fall, her eyes locking on his. Something sparked in his awareness, connected to his spiritâs memories. He was going crazy, he knew it. Maybe this death would be at the hands of insanity because as the bitch fell, he swore he knew her as surely as he knew himself. She was the woman from his dreams, his lost bride. He also knew something else. While he watched her fall, satisfaction hit him, only to trigger that soul link and instinctively provide a bond of protection to cushion her fall. He couldnât believe that shit. It was eating at him as he thought. He saved her, and in rescuing her, he knew The Dark Lady was protected too and all of it by his hands. Yeah, he was going insane; he had to be. This was nothing but battle weariness, wasnât it?
Stepping out of the shower, he wrapped his towel around his waist then exhaled. He knew he had to talk with Sanna. After witnessing her power, he knew she would be able to help her big cousin for a change. In their Society, the rare order of Oraclesâor House of Aâlor, Valor in human tongueâhad levels, from zero to four. Though Seers and Mystics were never called oracles, their kind still either came from an oracle lineage or would produce a future oracle, which was why the Cursed typically targeted them first. Seers and mystics were level four. Level three belonged to Virtue oracles; these were typically oracles with a stronger gift and were also Guardians, like his lost love.
Level two was what Khamunâs mother, oracle Neffer, controlled as Eldress and formally the last of their regionâs oracles, Dominion. Dominions, if strong enough, could read oneâs soul. Tell you who your past life was and sometimes awaken your memories. It was restricted to do so, but in emergency cases, Eldress Neffer had done such. It was no secret that Dominions were the regulators and the ears of the Most High so they were very much revered. They were the only stable link to the Most High, the only ones who could hear him with a strong clarity and obtain orders.
Now with the revelation of his cousin Sanna being the Oracle, a being within Nephilim Society so powerful, it made him think of the founding tales of the First Ones he learned as a child. He knew everything was definitely about to change. Calvin had recently just learned from his aunt that there was a level none in history had ever
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