Page 18 of Archangel’s Lineage

Raphael looked and found not a single sign of Qin’s more than decade-long residence. It didn’t matter that his fellow archangel had come out of Sleep with nothing—he was a member of the Cadre, with access to resources endless. All of Astaad’s wealth would’ve passed to him, for one. Archangel to archangel, that was how succession functioned when it came to the Cadre.

He should’ve acquired something to place inside his private quarters.

Aegaeon picked up a conch shell, held it to his ear. The peace that softened his expression was a thing startling. “This land calls to me always, but I will not take it, not even now.” Putting down the shell with care, he met Raphael’s eyes with those of an intense blue-green. “It would be dishonorable to my short association with Astaad.”

“I think we’re going to have a problem getting anyone to take it,” Raphael said. “His was the most spread out of the territories, and not one easily accessible to an archangel already handling another territory.” Raphael had no idea how they’d divide matters, but it’d involve significant movement. “Several of us may have to take pieces.”

“Not ideal”—shoving a hand through shoulder-length hair the same shade as his eyes, Aegaeon blew out a breath—“but yes, that might be the only viable solution if we’re to stop any further disruption.”

The general stopped again before Raphael could reply, this time in front of a simple white door wide enough for a single angel to pass through. “No one has been inside since I last saw the sire.”

Stepping forward, Raphael put his hand on the door.

A sigil—waves that glowed unexpectedly in the hues of the aurora—lit up the center of the door, confirming the general’s statement.

Sucking in a breath at the sight, that loyal man went to one knee. “Sire,” he said, his voice choked up.

That this hardened general who’d known Qin such a short while would mourn him told Raphael that Qin had been a good leader. But, in the end, he hadn’t been a good archangel.

“You may leave us now,” Aegaeon said to Atu. Then, in another unforeseen burst of complexity, he gave the general the respect of an explanation. “He was your archangel, but this is Cadre business.”

Rising, the general nodded. He sent one last long look at the spot where the sigil had glowed before leaving the suite.

Raphael waited to open the door until after his departure.

He and Aegaeon stepped through, one after the other.

Within was a small study with only a lone narrow window to let in light. And though Raphael had never before been inside Astaad’s private quarters, he knew instinctively that this space was Qin’s. No books on the walls, and only an envelope addressed to the Cadre and a piece of art on the desk—minimalism painful in its clarity.

Yes, that was Qin.

The desk was of glass modern and clear, its legs silvery metal. Behind it sat a chair of an equally modern style. Modern but not severe. The lines of the furniture flowed like the water from which Qin had risen.

That single—striking—piece of art was a sculpture made of an opalescent stone that glowed with the colors of the aurora. A mere handsbreadth in height, it was of a woman laughing, her hair flowing back and her hand outstretched as if to a lover. “It is Cassandra.” The beauty of her captured in jeweled tones.

“I’m surprised he left it here,” Aegaeon murmured, not touching the object, either. “Such is the kind of treasure I would’ve expected him to take into Sleep.”

“Perhaps we will find an answer in this.” Picking up the creamy envelope that sat in the center of the desk, Raphael removed the single sheet of heavy paper within.

The words written across it glowed with the colors of Qin.

Aegaeon sucked in a breath. “I did not know he could do this.”

“Neither did I.” He filed away the memory to share with Elena, even as the colors faded to reveal a letter penned in a script as fine and as otherworldly as Qin himself.

My fellow members of the Cadre, if you are reading this, then I have made the decision I have struggled with since the moment I woke into this world wondrous and new and made of steel and glass. I have gone into Sleep.

I know you will rail against me, and you have that right. I make no excuses save one: I am only half a being without my Cassandra. I do not exist in truth in this world when she does not. My mind is an organ split in two, while my heart lies beneath the earth.

The vampires who I am tasked with controlling have begun to sense that. They know my will is not in this existence. I have done my duty. I have kept them in check. But I fear for the years to come, as I become less and less without her. I foresee a time when I will not care to keep a hand on them at all... and a time where I, too, will become a mad being.

This is a piece of my history that you do not know, for you are all too young. I tried to live without her once before. I made it two centuries, but by then I was so mad that the only reason I survived is because my two closest archangelic friends cut me up into tiny, tiny pieces and buried me in a cavern deep in the ocean.

They knew even an archangel would take time to recover from such an annihilation.

Time enough to regain my sanity perhaps.

They were right.

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