Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 121324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
He held out his hand. “Come take a walk with me.” It warmed him that she didn’t hesitate to stand and place her hand in his.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.” In silence, Cain led her out of the rear of the Keep and towards his garden. He took care of the padlock, opened the gates, and then again retook possession of her hand. He drew her down the twisting path and over to the temple.
She spared him a quick look. “We’re going inside?”
“Yes. It’s time I told you a few things. First, though, I need your solemn oath that you will not repeat a word of it to anyone else—not even to your coven.”
Her expression sober, she said, “I promise you I won’t pass on whatever you tell me to others.”
Satisfied, he nodded. They ascended the pitted steps and then walked between the main stone pillars and into the temple. The scents of dust, cold stone, and mildew hit him straight away. A flick of his hand lit the wall torches, illuminating the large space and shining light on the cobwebs and dust motes that danced in the air.
As she took in the sculptures and statues, he asked, “You remember I told you not to ever run from me, yes?”
She frowned. “You’re so sure I will? Have a little faith in me, would you?”
“I have plenty of faith in you, sweet witch. We wouldn’t be standing here right now if I didn’t. But I know that all I’m about to tell you might be difficult to digest. My monster . . . it wouldn’t understand what reason you could possibly have to not easily accept what you hear. If you ran, you would not only alarm it, you’d trigger its predatory instinct to pursue.”
“I won’t run,” she swore.
Having no choice but to take her at her word, Cain walked along the sculpted archway and deeper into the temple, conscious of her following him. Their footsteps echoed on the stone floor as they bypassed marble pillars, carved animal totems, and the dark hallways that branched off the one they walked down.
“You will have heard the stories of the Earth’s early days,” he said. “It has been told that God’s first creations were angels and monsters.”
“The Aeons explained it was metaphorical; that it simply meant beings that harbored both goodness and cruelty,” she said.
Halting, Cain turned to face her. “The Aeons lied.” He gestured at the old, rudimentary carvings on the wall to his left. “God created cherubs and monsters. Light and dark to please the cosmic balance. Such balance is essential.”
He paused as she leaned in to study the carvings. Most were symbols and not particularly detailed, so the tale they told would be difficult to understand without someone verbally adding to the story.
“You hear cherubs, and you picture small, plump, winged children,” Cain guessed. “In truth, they do not remain children. They grow as all people grow. They are much like most other celestial beings. They have wings, they can wield a lot of power, and their holy blood does not make them innocent as most humans believe.”
She licked her lips and looked back at him. “Okay.”
“The cherubs—or guardians, as they were mostly referred to—were made in God’s image. The monsters, better known as gatekeepers, were created in the image of what would be His complete opposite.”
“Guardians and gatekeepers,” she said. “What exactly were they all supposed to be protecting?”
“The original resting place of Eden, God’s consort. That was why He didn’t create them to be weaker beings than Him. He gave them godlike powers so that they would be strong enough to keep her safe while she slept for centuries on end. The only ability He denied them was the ability to create complicated life-forms—it was all that separated them from deities. Later, He regretted making them so powerful. But in the beginning, it suited Him.”
“So the biblical Garden of Eden is in actuality a resting place, and it’s located beneath Aeon.”
“Yes. She no longer uses it, since God long since washed His hands of His first creations. Things might have been different if the lesser deities He’d instructed to watch those creations, enforce His rules, and keep the peace were more vigilant. Nyx, Nemesis, Apep, and Kali did as they’d been assigned to do most of the time. But not always. And they paid less and less attention to their charges as the eras went by. They weren’t very impressed with them or this realm, so you could say they often slept on the job.”
Wynter’s eyes flicked back to the carvings of the guardians and gatekeepers. “You and the other Ancients . . . you’re not like the Aeons in many ways.”
“Because the Aeons are celestial beings, and we’re not.”
“So they’re the guardians?”
“Yes. At one time, we lived together in Aeon. My kind, the gatekeepers”—he tapped the carving of a snake-like being—“was the underground city’s first line of defense. The two species didn’t get along well. The guardians felt they were far superior and didn’t particularly wish to share Aeon with us. But the two species were united by one thing.” He gestured to a particular carving.