A Hybrid's Destiny

Chapter 2

Aron sat back in the hard wooden chair and massaged his eyes after nearly three hours. The stacks of books, some opened to specific pages, some closed and towering atop each other, spread down the expanse of the long banquet table. All of the dusty, old tomes bore titles that were promising to provide information about the prophecy or Underworld, and although they did deliver on that, none of them provided new information that they hadn’t already uncovered the past month.

While looking around the vast upper chamber at the ledges upon ledges of old books, scripts, and rolled papers that lined the room of the church in shelves that crawled half-way up the fifteen-foot ceilings, a weight of overwhelmed exhaustion cinched a bit of the hope he had first felt when they had come to the old church. Initially, seeing all the old texts, he had thought at least one of them would point them in the right direction.

It seems vampire Elder Raith was very persuasive in making sure the clergy gave them all the attention they needed. The priest, who had led them to this restricted section of the church had seriously looked like he was going to have an aneurism or pass out while he quickly shuttled them here. By the way he acted, it must not have been standard procedure to let many people here in the archives, but he had been helpful and pulled many books from the shelves for them on the topic.

But so far, nothing Father Wesley pulled from the shelves was worth the time Aron had put into reading it.

Lifting the cover of the book in front of him, Aron shut it with a huff and pushed it up the table, though it moved only a few inches before butting up against another worthless book he had filtered through twenty minutes prior.

Looking up at the church’s stained-glass tracery windows arching up the ceiling, Aron tried to distract his mind with something else before he gave it a chance to batter him with how useless this all was, all had been, for the last month. Nothing they read, saw, heard had got them one step closer to getting into the damn Underworld. Sure, they learned a great deal about what was down there, but not how to get down there, especially with the Dèanadair having barred them from using the known gateways.

From a neighboring seat, Sébastien looked up from a page he had been pouring over, eyeing his brother. “Time for a break? We can go make a lunch run? I noticed some restaurants not too far away from here when we arrived.” When he sat up, he stretched his back a little. “It’s after noon and we didn’t really eat anything for breakfast.”

He looked at his watch, sighing. “Maybe,” Aron said after rubbing his eyes again. “You find anything?” He already knew the answer to that question. And he knew Sébastien would have let him know immediately if he had found anything useful. But he had to ask. The desperate hope that swaddled his heart had to ask.

“Just a lot of the same.” Sébastien said and Aron nodded. “Where’s Tate?” His eyes shifted and head bobbed a little as he tried to spy down a few of the aisles that he could see down.

“Said he was going to hunt down Father Wesley for some more books about ten minutes ago,” Aron shrugged. “I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

Sébastien shut his book and sat back, sighing. “Ok.” He continued to watch his brother as he shifted more comfortably in his chair. “So, let’s talk about all this. About what we already know. Get everything straight in our brain so we are ready when the time comes.”

Aron grit, “If the time comes.”

“Would you stop giving up already?” Sébastien hissed through angry lips, not daring to shout any louder. This was, after all, a church of the Christians, and he wasn’t one to disrespect places of worship, no matter what god it was dedicated to.

“I’m not giving up, Bastien.” Aron shot back. “I’m just...” What was he feeling then? Sébastien was wrong, wasn’t he? Of course he was! There is no way he’d ever give up looking for her, for them. He had to have hope to find Nevaeh and bring her home. Levi. His unborn daughter. “I’m—I’m just f*****g tired, is all.” He ran a hand through his hair.

“I know,” his whisper was more air than words. “But first thing’s first,” he looked pointedly at his brother. “And this goes for me, too. We need to start eating. Sleeping. It will help us focus.” He shrugged. “Maybe we’re just so damn tired that we’ve actually overlooked something that could have helped us already?”

Aron nodded, though he didn’t feel any weight in Sébastien’s words. There was no way he missed anything important, especially when all the books they’d read up until this point have been stuck on repeat. After a long exhale, he began replying to his brother’s earlier question. “We know the Dèanadair has the nal jealot moon blade, but we do not know exactly if he has Nevaeh or Levi. Not having them may be why he hasn’t activated the weapon. But, he could have them and is waiting for something else, but that something else hasn’t happened, as far as we know, because the damn apocalypse hasn’t hit the surface world. Yet.”

“And we’ll know when he starts his campaign because of an unscheduled eclipse, which is the first sign.” Sébastien nodded. “We also know that the gateways to all the realms are sealed, notably the one to the Underworld. This would mean even if Levi and Nevaeh were trying to come back home, they couldn’t leave. And it also means we cannot get to them either.”

Aron added, “Alpha King Blaez has also reported that the six portals to the Underworld Orașul Sângelui gateways are also blocked due to the Dèanadair, and his Arkadían Guardian warriors are all trapped down there as well. He lost all communication with them the same day we lost Nevaeh and Levi.”

“I believe Levi told me once that his cousin, Gabriel, is an Arkadían Guardian and on tour at one of those gates below.” His brows pursed. “I wonder if things have gone to s**t for all of them? I mean, if you’re a demon living underground and suddenly those policing the gateways are unexpectedly cut off from their home base...?”

Aron said, “I’d say it's a complete anarchy s**t-show for sure.” His frown deepened. “Which would make it all the worse for Nevaeh and Levi.”

“Well, even with how f****d up demons are, the Underworld has its own hierarchy. Its own quasi-government running things. Even if they leave a path of destruction in their wake, those in charge will want some sort of semblance of order? Not allow riots, per say?”

“When it comes to surface dwellers, I don’t think the demon lords give a s**t,” Aron shook his head. “Especially for the Arkadíans. Tate told me the Moon Goddess set apart the Arkadíans, people like Nevaeh, Levi, as guardians and protectors of the humans. Down there, I’m pretty sure they have a big target on their heads.”

Aron closed his eyes, allowing his head to fall back as he tried to relax. Thinking about a demon world hyped up in chaos wasn’t what he wanted to be focused on now. Not with his kamará trapped there. Sébastien knew not to bother him when he did this, knowing he needed a moment to himself to refocus.

Although he had done this many times within the past month while they were in Scotland, it has been a technique he’s practiced over the years as CEO of Nicolet National. Who would have thought the stress of battling corporations would have prepared him for the stress of battling demons?

After a few minutes, he opened his eyes and was facing up at the stained glass windows again. The muted colors, no doubt having faded overtime from too much sun, displayed three figures, most likely important to the Christians, looking to be caught in some sort of conversation. The one in the center was holding a book and was pointing off in some aimless direction while the other two looked to be intently listening. Having not really studied the God of the Christians that much, he didn’t know who the figures were, but they were dressed in robes and…

Aron sat up in his chair and leaned forward, his eyes squinting up at the mosaic. But that was no good; he needed to get closer! His abrupt push from his chair caught Sébastien’s attention, and he stood up with his brother.

Sébastien asked, “What? What is it?” He followed Aron’s line of sight. “You find something?”

“Look at the guy in the middle of the picture. Look at his feet.” He pointed upward, identifying the steel toe boot.

“He’s dressed in armor. A knight?”

“Yes. So, he’s sort of a holy man that fights. A paladin.” Aron pulled his chair over to the wall and jumped up on it to get in even closer. “Do you see it? That symbol on his boot.”

Sébastien refocused, his eyes growing wide as he noted a small circular cross with fire in its center. “It’s the Ignis Dei! The God’s Fire.”

“Yes, the symbol of the Order of the Sabaton.” Aron looked back up to the holy man, scouring over his image carefully. When nothing else popped out as unordinary, he refocused again on things that may look ordinary yet perhaps weren’t. For instance, the book in his hand. There was something on it, but it was too faint. The damn sun had faded it too much for him to see from where he stood.

Instantly, Aron’s bestial claws lengthened from his hands and he began climbing up the stone wall, flakes of stone chipping and dusting Sébastien below. When he scaled to the outcropping of stone at the window’s ledge, he carefully shifted himself onto it, making sure it could hold his weight before he allowed his full body to stand on it.

Being nearly at eye-level of the glass mosaic, the image was still faint. But Aron smiled as he was able to see what it was. “They're Lycan symbols… geata fo-thalamh."

Sébastien’s breath hitched, and he, too, smiled for the first time in the last month. “The gateway to the Underworld.” Anxiously, he asked, “What else? Do you see anything else?”

Aron’s brow pursed as he looked over the picture carefully, not seeing anything more. He nearly cursed, feeling so close and then not having anything else, until his eye caught the man’s finger again. He had thought the guy was maybe talking with his hands or something, so he hadn’t given it much thought before. But when he noticed the man’s eyes looking at his pointed finger as well, he knew there must be something with it. But what?

“Bastien, what do you think about his finger here? He seems to be paying attention to it.”

Sébastien folded his arms as he stared upward at it. “Is he pointing at something in the picture? Is there anything in the corner of the window or anything?”

Aron looked down, hoping Sébastien’s direction would pan out, yet there was nothing. But then something occurred to him. “What if… he’s not pointing to something in the window’s picture, but pointing outside the picture?” He looked down at his brother. “What do you notice?”

Sébastien’s eyes moved from the Sabaton knight’s finger and off of the window’s pane, keeping the trajectory in mind. Carefully scrutinizing everything in sight, his attention fled over the masoned stone wall and paused when one of the bricks situated about nine-feet up, right above the bookcase, was an off-color. He inched in closer to verify, and nodded when his observation was right. “That brick. It’s not like the others.” He pointed.

Aron leaned out from his perch on the window sill and looked down the wall. Without hesitation, he began to crawl along the top of the bookshelf until he found what Sébastien had indicated and noticed what had caught his attention. With his claw, he carved the mortar out along the rectangular stone until it was enough to wiggle the brick free.

The sound of grinding stone as he pulled it out chilled his skin, the sound reminding him of Cian’s temple and the traps that were associated with it. He shook his head to refocus and clear his nerves of the moment of anxiety as he removed the brick completely. Inside amongst the dusty cavity, he found an old parchment, rolled, and fastened together with a red wax Sabaton seal stamped in its center.

After tossing the scroll down to Sébastien, Aron turned, sitting on his haunches and prepping to leap down from the high bookcase. As he prepped for the jump, Father Wesley walked into their area, looking as if he were going to say something. When he caught sight of Aron on top of the shelving, his eyes popped, face paled, and his mouth opened and closed like a goldfish. Then, without a word, he spun on his heel and exited.

Sébastien looked up at his brother and they both chuckled, shaking their heads. After Aron joined him in an effortless drop, they moved back to the table, cracked the seal and opened the scroll. When they unrolled it, anxious for its contents, they noticed only one thing written, elegantly etched across the top portion of the paper in beautiful calligraphy. Other than that, the rest of the paper was blank.

Sébastien shook his head, “It’s just the Knights of Sabaton motto.” He frowned, “Why would they hide this away in the wall?”

“And what does it have to do with the gateway into the underworld?” Aron took the parchment from Sébastien to get a closer look, but in the end, it was what it was. “This motto was in the church where Nevaeh found the diary. And it was all over Cian’s temple.”

Sébastien said, “Yes. Its words were part of some spell to light the candles and sconces.”

Aron gasped, “Of course! Dark to light. It lit the chambers.” He handed Sébastien the paper. “Bastien, say the words. Out loud.”

“Tueri lux per viam gladii,” he said without hesitation.

As soon as the last word left his lips, the parchment began to glow in a crescendoing light that made the twins close their eyes and shy away for a moment. When the luminance ebbed, they looked again at the scroll, eyes wide as they noticed what was left behind. Aron read fast, his heart alive within his chest as the words poured from his mouth.

“The Knights made sure there was a fail-safe in case the Dèanadair sealed the Underworld. There’s a hidden gateway that cannot ever be sealed in the event that a Knight of Sabaton had to use it.” He nearly laughed as hope flooded his veins. “It’s located here, in the Highlands of Scotland…” his eyes bled over the words, anxious. “The faerie Ghille Dhu is its gatekeeper.” He looked at his brother. “We need find this Ghille.”