The interior of Marcus’
home surprised Michael. Roman shields
hung from the walls. Swords of various
sizes were displayed on racks. In the middle
of the room was the normal large cooking cauldron, but this was surrounded by
several small pots. It was then that
Marcus did something that shocked Michael.
He pulled out a long silver stick and placed it over an oil lamp. A spark shot from the stick and the oil
caught fire. Edric quickly looked at Michael,
whose mouth was agape. Marcus placed one
of the pots over the lamp to warm up some pottage from the cold cauldron.
Michael leaned
over to his uncle and whispered, “Did you see that?”
Edric acted
surprised. “What do you think you
saw?”
Michael thought
for a moment. Perhaps he had made a
mistake. “Nothing, Uncle,” he replied
quietly.
Edric circled in
front of Michael. “If you see something,
trust your eyes, not your mind.” With
that he drew his own silver wand and lit another clay lamp.
Michael eyes grew
huge and he backed against the door.
“How did you to that?!” Michael’s
voice cracked under the anxiety that flushed through his system. He had only heard of such magic in stories.
“Do not be
alarmed, Michael,” Edric said in a calm but firm voice. “It is not some sort of dark magic you are
seeing.”
“What is it then?”
asked Michael, feeling the for the door latch behind him.
“This is the power
of your ancestors, Michael,” Edric kept his distance, so as not to further
frighten his nephew.
Michael thought
for a moment. Was his uncle telling him
that he was from witches or elves? Why
did his mother never tell him about this?
“My ancestors…You mean my ancestors were elves or something?”
Edric sat down a
stool at the table. Putting his wand
back in the pocket of his cloak, he smiled warmly at the trembling young man. “Michael, you are from a great line of those
from far away. You are a Nephalite.”
“A Nymphalite?”
asked Michael. “You mean I am an elf?”
He was horrified at such a suggestion.
Edric rolled his
eyes. “Not a Nymphalite, a Nephalite.” He motioned to the stool adjacent his. “Come and sit, my boy.” Michael wanted to
unlatch the door and run home, but he instinctively trusted his uncle. Torn, he decided to sit.
You can read more here: Angel Blood: Family Secrets . "Look Inside!"
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