Eclipse

8.

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Black blood bubbles through his lips as he tries to speak, and his skin starts the fracture and crumble under my touch. A tear falls from my cheek, splashes against his skin, and all of a sudden he crumbles, disintegrating into dust—

I jerked awake to the nightmares that had constantly haunted my sleep since that night two years ago, my hands trembling. I'd gotten used to the sleepless nights, but now, with the new knowledge that Leo was in fact a Nephilim, the dreams had surged in occurrence and were more terrifying than ever.

I huddled against the headboard amidst the blankets, tempted to position toothpicks under my eyelids to keep myself from falling into the depths of those night terrors again. I glanced at the luminescent clock beside me, which told me that it was four hours past midnight. There wasn't the slightest chance that I would be going to sleep anytime soon, nor was there one that Kieran was awake. My eyes drifted to the book on the bedside table, its letters glinting temptingly in the faint light that seeped from under the thick curtains. Eh, what the hell, why not?

I leaned over and picked up the book, flipping to the first page after switching on the bedside lamp. The first page held a picture, an intricate painting of delicate strokes and combined textured that formed a beautiful woman with vivid red curls, olive skin and stormy grey eyes. Her colouring was odd, but she managed to pull it off, looking incredibly beautiful. The woman stared through the papyrus-like barrier with a cold haughtiness, but her eyes were vacant and lifeless. This was no doubt an excellent artist. Below the picture was a short caption written in elegant calligraphy, reading, Larentia Accalia, the mother of the Lupi.

I gulped nervously at the thought and hurriedly turned the wafer-thin pages, and began reading before I could lose my nerve.

⤜◯⤛

Many millennia ago, when our world was still young, there lived a young babe who had been abandoned by her mother in a wolf's den. Rather than being killed or devoured, she suckled on the she-wolf's teat and grew up along side the cubs, until one day, humans slaughtered the pack, believing that the wolves were in fact a danger to the young girl, who at the time had been no older than four summers old. She was then raised as a human and forced out of her previous life as a wolf cub, but her wolf-mother still had a place in her soul that was neither touched by words not fire. The humans named her Larentia Accalia and taught her the ways of the humans. Larentia learned tons peak the language of the humans, their mannerisms. Larentia once more became human, as God intended her to be despite her ill-intentioned birth mother.

Many summers later, Larentia grew to become a beautiful young woman of astounding beauty. Larentia's hair was of flaming curls of fire, and her eyes were orbs of silver. Larentia was tall and slender and invoked lust an love in all men around her, but none caught her eyes or drew her attention. To many men, Larentia was an isolated oasis many thousands of paces away in a parched desert. Larentia was their cloud hovering seemingly whispers away from their fingers, when in reality she was too far to touch. Larentia was untouchable.

Summers flew past, until one dire winter, when snow buffeted Larentia's people's shelters ruthlessly. A ship sailed by, laded with bloodthirsty and merciless men armed with daggers and knives and axes. Larentia's home was plundered and pillaged. She was stolen, taken away from her people, whose heads were ripped from their necks with our a mere wince nor blink. Larentia's beauty enraptured the marauders, convincing them to take her with them aboard their mighty ship. Larentia's beauty led to suicides and desperate confessions of fabricated unconditional love. Larentia's beauty led to the kindling of the dark creatures that inhabited the darkest depths of the hearts of the raiders, and her beauty soon led to her abuse.