Blade's Edge || Deception Book II ||

Chapter 46: The Claraphim Star Pt.II

A dead, but not gone, Ouranos. Gaea. Tartarus.

I glanced back at the epicentre of Chaos. Jets of black and red lightning kept on shooting towards Gaea but were pulled back at the last moment. And then, they vanished, sucked back into the swirling cosmos.

A flash of light shot out of the misty smoke and a glowing white ball of energy, flickering with colour and power, appeared before me before vanishing back into Chaos.

The illusions vanished again before solidifying once more to show flashes of a bloody world, Lightning flashed through the sky, the will of a god standing with his allies on a barren mountain as they faced a looming palace of black stone. A flash of a creature with the head of a hellhound, the body of a dragon, and the tail of a scorpion as it ripped its way out of a fleshy sack. The slash of a cold smile from a Titan with a bear-shaped helmet and a glowing blue diamond in his breastplate, and the release of the monster upon the world. Thunder boomed and lightning flashed as the sea rose over the world, and the only thing that remained was the black rubble and the fall of a mountain. I saw a gleaming white palace, twelve shining thrones, and then the world was plunged back into chaos as giants from the pits of Tartarus arose. Once again, war raged, lightning flashed, the sea surged, and the earth split. Arrows of silver and gold soared through the air, spears and swords flashed, and the hideous head of Medusa as a golden shield arced through the bloodbath.

Then, the world fell silent and everything vanished into black shadows. A pinprick of light appeared, that same ball of energy from Chaos, glowing brightly in the dark, and then the image of two immortal twins, one gold and one silver, manifested. A few moments later, the image of a goddess with grey robes and a spear and shield in hand materialized, followed by a goddess with twin torches and a god that wielded control over the dead.

Apollo. Artemis. Athena. Hecate. Hades. Thunder rumbled and a filament of light appeared, binding them in a circle around the star, and Artemis reached out a hand and flung it up to the shadowy darkness, where it blazed a trail of light before becoming a pinprick of light above the immortals. Slowly, the sky appeared, constellations gathering around the glowing ball of energy at the tail of a bear cub.

The sky swirled, becoming a vortex of stars, and then cleared, the mist forming the image of a familiar throne room, the same ball of energy at the centre. Fourteen immortals stood in a circle, and as I watched, they extended their hands one by one, glowing droplets of energy coalescing in their palms. Artemis was the first, releasing a teardrop of power that shone silver into the star. A flash of light in all colours of the rainbow, then Hecate stepped forwards, a cocoon of shadow in her hands. The mist dissolved again and reformed, this time showing a countryside home with white fences and a wooden porch. A man with chestnut brown hair was sitting on a chair in front of the door. Then a swirl of magic and Hecate appeared, the star in her hands. The scene changed again to depict a cozy-looking living room, the man and Hecate sitting opposite each other and the glowing ball of light between them. A flash of a blade, the trickle of blood from the man's wrist, and the drop infused inside the star. A flash of light, the wail of a baby, and then the man raised his head, wrist still bleeding, to meet my gaze. I gasped in shock. The green of his gaze was identical to mine, down to the flecks of hazel in his irises. Then, a voice, the voice of the oracle, a thousand snakes slithering in my head, hissed:

From the gloom of twilight, a star shall spring,
Birthed of Chaos and a gift to the Thunder King.
The jewels of the twelve shall be the spark
Of one who walks with the shadows and the dark.

A silver queen to the Golden King
Mist and magic against Time and evil things; 
Friend or foe will have to be seen,
Fires to walk through, battles to glean.

Once again, a choice will have to be made
At crossroads of fog and bonds that break. 
The Star shall be the key to ruin or salvation
And unlock chains of terror and destruction.

But when her chains of iron and silver shatter,
They shall weigh down heavier than ever. 
And what comes from the dark shall always return,
So all shall have light but the star who shall burn.

The mist coalesced one last time into a gloomy landscape. Where the sky should have been was a smothering grey smoke, and the only thing in the field of dark grass was a spindly, leafless black tree in the distance. The vision zoomed in and I fought down another gasp as the figure of a person appeared, dangling below the barren branches in black chains cracked with frost.

It was Luke. He raised his head, his formerly blond hair leached to grey like a black and white photo and opened his eyes.

They were gold, shining with cruelty and eons of hate, the only splash of colour in a world of grey. And then he blinked, and suddenly, colour started bleeding through the image, like someone had splashed it with paint. The grey sky turned blue, the field became a rich, vibrant green, and the tree sprouted buds, which grew into leaves. The chains holding Luke in the air vanished and he dropped to the ground, his hair sandy blond again. The last thing I saw before consciousness fled were his eyes as he raised his head to look at me.

They were now blue.