House Of Legions (The Angel Descendants book 1) Chapter 54 (Clare)

A loud siren was what sprung her up, almost falling off the bed. Clare woke up to a familiar place, but
not familiar enough. It wasn’t London, it definitely wasn’t the holiday apartment she and her mother had
stayed a few nights ago. This was spacious, way too colourful compared to her mother’s white
obsession, and unreal, but it was no stranger to her eyes.

The soft cushions underneath her body were confusing as she was unaware of how she has gotten into
the king-size bed when she couldn’t recall leaving the floor.

The room was dimmed with rays of sunlight shining in through the slits of the red velvet curtains,
concealing wide stretched windows. She estimated their height of more than fifteen meters. The room
itself was bigger than her entire house in Cambridge.

Her gaze darted around the expanse, as she wriggled herself to the right side of the bed. Closing her
eyes, she prayed, “Please, let this be a really bad dream, please, I swear I’ll behave.”

Part of her knew what she’d find once she opened her eyes, so she didn’t need reality to sink in before
she flung the blankets off. Padding her way across the room she opened the curtains.

The siren stopped, but her ears still rang with the noise. Standing in front of a glass mirrored door that
led to a balcony, she stared at her reflection. Recognizing herself, the same messed up teenager, just
more messed up than before, because now she was motherless as well, but wait not orphaned,
because just before she lost her mother, she had found her father, what a happy story.

Hatred crept up into her veins at the ridicule of it. It all sounded like the perfect happily ever after, but
the reality of it sucked.

Why was she being punished, or was she?



She felt torn, because parts of her felt betrayed, lied to. Even now, things were kept from her, but there
were also the other parts, which never felt more alive, parts which craved to be like them, the
Lightwatcher’s.

Still wearing the jeans and t-shirt from yesterday, her hair tangled in a mass of knots, she looked like
shit, she felt worse. But she still opened the door and stepped onto the high balcony.

Whilst the suns heat penetrated her skin, there was not much warmth to work with, but it did the job.
Straight ahead, and directly opposite her, was a view of a tall grey stone mountain, solid rock but
smooth-surfaced like it had been sandpapered. Scattering her eyes around Khiron was the only thing
that seemed normal, the vision before she was anything but. The castles stood proud and tall and
glistened in the sun. She saw some people walk with laptops and others run past.

The grass and trees still moved, but there weren’t many people downstairs. She expected it to bustle
with people, but it seemed oddly deserted instead. Clare remembered that not many people lived there.

She inhaled the scent of musk mixed with something sweet, she couldn’t make out what it was, but it
didn’t stop her eyes from burning with the need to cry. Her body yearned for a seed of relief from the
horrifying image that held her mind prisoner when she thought of her mother.

The sights of Khiron was beautiful but tainted in her mind because she would always remember the
loss that had brought her here, the pain she felt when she lost her only love, her mother, the woman
who didn't love her back.

She willed herself, “Don’t cry, you have to be strong.”

The more she convinced herself, the harder it became to understand the reason to hold on, the reason
to be calm. It was one day after her mother’s death, and she felt frustrated, angry, sad, hurt, confused,
it was mixed up, all there, she needed to burst, or an outlet.



From the corner of her eye she spotted a vase on the balcony, she picked the flowery pot up and threw
it against the mirror door.

It felt good, exhilarating, so she barged into the room and started tippling everything she could find,
screaming and cursing, “I hate you, I hate you, COWARD, you kept this from me, you lied to me, and
then you left, you are a COWARD.” She threw the white side lamps on the floor that reminded her so
much of her mother, and basked in the small satisfaction she got as it hit the stone tub in the centre of
the room. She attempted to tear the curtains of the windows, but when it refused to budge, she instead
toppled the dresser.

Nathan barged in, “What in the realms are you doing, have you lost your goddamn mind.”

“Get out, GET OUT,” she snarled. Nathan completely ignored her and marched up to her in five long
strides. He locked his thick fingers into her bony shoulders and held her tight, forcefully crushing her
into his chest.

It was the last of her will gone. She surrendered into his arms and burst out crying, she gave him all her
heartache, all her pain, and discretions in those tears.

She yelled, “What am I going to do.” Her words sucked up by the tears, “How can I live on from this, I
have no one, she’s gone, she left me, she freaking left me.”

“You have me, sister, you’ll always have me,” he took her face between his hands, bent his head,
searched her lost eyes, “I promise you little sister that this heartbreak of yours will only be temporary,
there is a whole world out there waiting to bask in your light.”

Haunted by the utter surety, and finality in his words, she shook her head, “How could you say that.
Nathan, she’s your mother too.”



Nathan raised his voice, “Clare.” His eyes daring but firm in their gaze, “look at me, as long as my
blood runs through your veins little sister, you will be STRONG, you will show no weakness. Our
mother is gone, and the other’s are far away, so right now you and I are all we got.”

She looked at him, confusion masked her face, “Nathan what are you talking about?” He let her face go
hastily, his gaze downcast, “Nathan what is it, talk to me,”

“Caidrian, he left, he bailed ok, let’s just leave it at that.”

Clare was lost for words she needed comfort but so did Nathan, so she reassured him, “We have each
other Nathan.”

She embraced him for what seemed like forever, both not wanting to let each other go. He pulled away
first, took something out of his brown leather pants and handed it to her.

“My phone, how did you get it?”

He confessed, “Well, actually a friend of mine found it,”

She wiped her tears, tried her best to lighten the mood, “Your friend, Where’s this friend, so can I thank
him or her?”

He didn’t look at Clare, “Preoccupied, but you’re more than welcome.”

Clare could see his brooding eyes showed a certain crest of loyalty to this particular friend, she could
only guess it to be William, even though he stated that he didn’t like the Caster. He had the same look
on his face when he warned her away from William, it was a look of respect.


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