Page 3 of Commanding Flame and Shield
Ansel eyed me warily before summoning the object back into position with a flick of his hand. Never one for emotional outbursts, his somber gaze drilled into me, full of concern and disapproval.
As we all were, Ansel was beautiful, a marble statue of symmetrical features across unearthly, pale skin. His full, fair lips contrasted with a perfectly manicured black beard and slick hair that waved like sand across dunes. Piercing slate-colored irises bored into mine beneath dark, impeccable brows and flawless, long lashes.
“Pull it together, Alvara. He will not elude us forever. Don’t lose faith.” He shook his head reassuringly, running a hand through his hair.
I massaged my temples as Alec shifted forward and Aren walked to my side, wrapping his immense hands around my biceps to pull me into him. Grounding myself in the familiar steady rhythm of his heart and warm, comforting scent, I fought the stinging in my eyes.
Have faith,echoed the thoughts of my family, each of them feeling the agony threatening to break through the bones in my chest.
It wasn’t every day we were called to awaken one of our kind; some never received such a summons. And the weight of it, the responsibility of finding a lost soul before the enemy could...it was crushing. Knowing that a spirit weighed in the balance—not a life, not a vessel, but the soul itself.
“Take a moment to pray for what you need.” Aren tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, and the group echoed their prior sentiment.
Together, we inhaled deeply. Each of my five soulmates surrounded me, resting their powerful hands on my body, reaching down into my energy. Mercifully, I could feel Alec’s gift wash through me like an emotional anesthetic, forcing my pulse to steady, and the pounding in my mind and the tearing in my ribs to cease.
I shook my head, clearing the cloud of panic they reached past.Faith,I echoed weakly.
Aren leaned back to nod at me as a gentle, unwavering smile crept into his eyes.
* * *
Warm,shimmering light reverberated off every edge within the temple—the ornate paintings across the ceiling, the gold emblazoned over so many edges of the room, of paintings, of frames, of the metal trim in the stained-glass windows and scattered over altars. It danced across every color in the vast, domed space, and filled even the air with warmth.
We abandoned our camouflage, trading combat boots for sandals, and denim for spirit armor. Lacing the gladiator ribbons up my legs, I was grateful my fingers were no longer shaking. Together, we stood and walked toward the altar. We humbly and hungrily approached the marble steps, moving in unison, and lowered to our knees to pray.
I inhaled the familiar aroma of incense and bowed further into my meditation, trying to silence my racing mind and keep my heart level. Anchoring myself in the stone's chill beneath my legs, and the song that hovered in the air.
Beyond the blessed connection to our source, the silence in the temple's heart was a luxury rarely granted anywhere else. Especially for me. Each soul was created with our own gifts, and mine was a far-reaching clairvoyance that often left me deeply overwhelmed as I attempted to discern meaning from the babble.
But there, in the glittering temple, the ability to just be...myself. Justmythoughts and emotions for a moment. That was priceless. Like the first gasp of air after being held underwater for too long.
And I was just as desperate for answers that evening as I would have been if I’d fought my way free of being drowned. I needed to address my fears and countless questions.
It felt like I spent hours listing gratitudes. Hours requesting wisdom. Hours begging for guidance—in spite of myself—and asking for protection for the lost soul. For the man whose face had haunted my dreams, carved in my vision for what felt like endless months. For the soul that somehow remained hidden, no doubt plagued by the shadows nipping at his heels.
Some days, divine energy moved through me like water breaks from a dam: direct, overwhelming, and unarguable.
Some days, there was only its absence.
That hopeless afternoon, it was mostly the latter, and my resulting distress made it hard to quiet my mind long enough to tap into what was rightfully mine. The connection I was born to wield.
I continued to push thoughts and fears aside, stuffing memories of past failures back into the dark prisons they belonged in.
I could not, would not, fail asoul.
Just as I prepared to rise, to take my blessing and leave, resigned to the silence, I was given a single word to cling to like a life raft.
His name.
And the moment I received it, a vision came in like a tsunami.
My heart descended into my gut.
I rose to my feet, spinning to Aren, eyes widening with fear.
We’re too late.
TWO
