Penitence (Burning Beliefs #3)

Prologue

"What is your name?"

"Serena."

"And why have you come here?"

"I needed someone to talk to."

"You are always welcome here. Speak, child. What is troubling you?"

"You see, Father, it's not what's troubling me. It sort of involves everyone."

"Everyone as in...?"

"As in the entire world. Everyone. You, me, my family, the rich people, the poor people, the ignorant, and the wise. Everyone."

"Is this something I should know about?"

"No. No, it happened a long time ago."

"How long ago?"

"Ten years. Down to the day."

"I don't recall any major holidays."

"This isn't the kind of thing that would be written in history books. Human history books, at least. To the Angels, to the Heavens, it is something that surpasses even the Apocalypse."

"Would you mind explaining further, Serena?"

"It started off so innocent. Then it got vengeful. I guess I'm looking for penitence."

"This is confession, after all."

"My family isn't normal. According to your jurisdiction, we shouldn't exist. My uncles have gone into secret, even though they were thought to be destroyed, and my aunts grow old together in silence. My father is slowly getting worn down by the weight of the War; the war that ended today ten years ago. My husband always tells me to think positive, however. He tells me that I should be grateful for what remained after everything was destroyed. I should be grateful for our son, for my father..."

"You have a son?"

"Yes."

"What's his name?"

"Liam."

"Do you have any other children? Have you come hoping to receive God's blessing, for children?"

"No, that's not why I'm here, I mean... I'm pregnant right now."

"Congratulations. How many months?"

"Seven. Odd number, that is, seven."

"Why's that?"

"Seven years. The seventh day of the seventh month at the seventh hour. We were born at seven, my twin sister and I."

"Is seven significant to your purpose here, my child?"

"You could think of it that way."

"You appear to be stalling, Serena, and God appreciates no delay in justice."

"I am here to ask forgiveness."

"As every other soul."

"Yes, souls, but particularly from one soul. If she's even a soul anymore."

"Then speak to her."

"I need her to forgive me, and I need her to understand that I forgive her. For everything she gave up. She died for our destiny and I... God, I didn't think this through. I haven't spoken of her in so long."

"But you think of her every day."

"She's a part of me, what can I say?"

"Would you mind confessing what you seek forgiveness for?"

"Perhaps it's the words that were never spoken that would've made all the difference. The love I could've admitted to might have saved a life, many lives. My world, our world, revolves around the succession of dreams. Whose dream will surpass whose. Whose dream will undermine whose. It all seems a bit oppurtunistic, don't you think? That those who are born into fortune will receive more fortune than those who were born with nothing? Everything I've worked hard for seems to crumble underneath my hands. My life is falling apart. My dream is collapsing in on me, I'm being buried alive; it's like I can hardly breathe. I wake up in the morning, next to my husband, and I forget. I forget who I am and what I've done and who I've left behind. I simply exist, for just a few seconds, in a state of love and bliss. But then I remember. I remember the blood, and the light... I had dreams about the light. She said that we both did. It was so beautiful, so painfully beautiful when it overtook the world, on the seventh month after seven years on the seventh day on the seventh hour. The melody subdued the winds. All of the battling paused for minutes as the final casualty of the War wrecked those who began the skirmish. Skirmish. Funny term, considering its death toll. It's also funny to think about those memories and memories like it. Something exciting happens, and moments after it's gone, you can never relive it to its full potential again. It has purely slipped through your fingertips. Moments of pain, moments of abandon, of faithlessness and hopelessness and dreamlessness and recklessness. They all seem to disappear. Yet, I relive the battles every day. They are old. They have broken me and broken everyone, they are merely legends told to scare children, but behind my eyes, when I try to sleep at night, the legends plague my nightmares. I wake up screaming and crying and nothing appears to be right. Then I remember my husband, in the spot next to me on the bed, and my son in the other room, and the family that's out there somewhere. Why, Father, do I feel so guilty? Why is this pain overruling my entire life, my existence, the cause of this mess? All I ask is forgiveness. Please tell her to forgive me."

"You still haven't explained to me what you seek forgiveness for, my child. This is a matter that appears to involve more detail than normal."

"It is anything but normal."

"Paranormal."

"Some might even say supernatural."

"Then tell me your story, child."

"It isn't even my story. It is half of my story, so I can't tell you the other half."

"You must try your best."

"If you insist."

"Begin, Serena, please. The length of your story is of no concern; there is no waiting line for confession."

"Okay. But you have to be prepared, I am warning you right off-hand, that you aren't going to like what happens. You aren't going to know some of the things that happened and you may not even understand most of it, but I need you to respect it. The universe has its ways. Our rap sheet, my family's rap sheet, is longer than it should be. Some offenses are from before the story I am about to tell you, although for me, the story is everything. My life. My innocence, my vengeance, what I seek penitence for.

This is a story of a warrior princess with a magic necklace. She was chasing dreams. Or justice, it depends on your perspective. She caught it and she fought for it and she realized that the dream and the justice was a piece of herself all along.

This is a story of a reluctant Angel who was too righteous to bear the consequences, of a maiden who clung so strongly to her faith that when it collapsed she believed she had nothing; it is a story of love, of adventure, of fire and ferocity and peril and beauty and how, in the end, they meld together to form the bittersweetness that is existence in sadness and happiness.

I have never told this story before. I may never tell it again. For as long as I live, these events will define what I am and what I am not, what I feel and shouldn't feel, and the consequences of a love too strong too evade.

This is a story written to break your heart."