{ Angels are Bright Still }

I slipped on silent wings through the shadows and darkness of the trees and plants that grew thick and lush, as if no such disaster had ever occurred, as if they rushed to cover the earth with their natural beauty once more and hide the scars like battle-worn wolf beneath the thickness of his pelt. The plants and trees had created a garden, an oasis untouched and unexplored and in these past few days I had been driven into the depths of the land time and again, whispering softly across the earth on limbs now so long and yet even within the dark I could not hide so well. Shafts of light filtered through the canopy above and each touch of seeking sun lit my pelt to the fine white-gold my family was so famed for, the Angel Mark of scarlet and charcoal burned down my spine like a beacon, a reminder that even purity can burn when the sky falls. We all bore some Mark, some touch of divinity and proof of a bloodline still so strong. Only Heyel and Calista remained untouched by these scarlet hairs, though I had come to learn through my growing years that this did not mean them lesser. Their Marks were simply hidden where none could see, the Angels had touched such wolves on their very souls- or so Father would have us believe. I had always liked the stories, the pleasantness of them, the knowledge and belief that perhaps we were something more, something greater and yet, wether this was true or not Heyel had made each of us feel so special and unique, as if each of us were important in some way. Family was everything and in the end it had seen us all survive- almost. I had twelve siblings and two parents before that day two years ago and I had lost two brothers, Kael, Lucifer and my Mother. Each was a wound within myself, a scar that bleed at the lightest touch. I would never forget my Brothers, would honour the name of my Mother in all I did.

I would cherish those I had left. That is why I moved towards the pair in this moment, deep violet eyes all flecked with emerald falling upon the sight of my second youngest brother, his pelt as white as snow, his Angel Mark stretching delicately across his face and eyes like a mask or the blended tears of one who cried blood. I had always believed Seraphiel to have the most beautiful of the Marks. The way the scarlet stretched across his eyes and fell to his cheeks was unique and special. I too adored the Mark of Sinopa, the way it burned upon her chest and yet of Seraphiel�s I had always felt perhaps a little envious. I strode forward and into the space occupied by my younger sibling and a child of black and coal, violet eyes falling upon the dark creature with the gaze like the pink of the coming dawn, to offer a smile so light and gentle that danced upon my delicate features as I settled my tall and powerful frame into a seated position, offering the strange girl her space before my gaze returned to my sibling.

�Frater quoque petis. Quid introduxerit te tam procul a nostra familia Pack? Si diutius torqueri pater isset. Sane et hoc pretned unbothered est, sed scire sese cursu nonne frater, donec revertaris conqueruntur. Perhas debemus adduc aliquos cibum pro aliis, immo?�
(My brother, you are looking well. What has brought you so far from our family Pack? Father will be worried if you are gone to long. Of course, he will pretend he is unbothered by this, but we know the truth, don't we brother- that he will pace and grumble until you return. Perhaps we should bring some food for the others, yes?)

I laughed lightly, the sound light and lilting through the trees as my attention lingered upon my sibling a moment longer. We had both lost so very much and yet we had been so fortunate in how many of our family and those still loyal to it had survived. Father had lost his Mate and our Mother, but he had not lost his ability to draw others to him and indeed he had claimed a space for us upon the outer ridge where our family and many of Trenus wolves thrived together and yet he would worry, despite himself, if Seraphiel were gone to long. Perhaps he was getting older then he would have us believe. I turned my attention once more to the dark girl, head dipping in greeting, soft tones slipping from between my lips, voice still so accented with the latina of my blood.

�I am Isola and this boy who howls is being my brother. If I may say it, you indeed have beautiful eyes young one, like the rising of a dawn or the breaking of the dusk. I have not seen such eyes before. From who where you born?�

I asked gently, head tilting slightly as the breeze toyed with the thick, fineness of my pelt as I regarded her. Heyel had always spoken of the truth of eyes. Coat colour may lie he had said, but the eyes of a child never fail to show their true blood. Another shaft of sun passed through the canopy, ringing my pelt in fine white gold once more as I waited for the girl and my brother to speak.

5 Years || Heyel X Zeivah || Mate of Kane || Soul of Finley

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