Bright Eyes

24. Bloody Monday

"What makes you think he might be a Servant of Elohim?" asked Sander, pushing his hands into his pockets. "For all we know, he can be anything, considering the fact thousands of worlds exist."

    Damien, Sander, Max, and Lyn were walking to the academic building that Monday morning, talking up on the things of yesterday afternoon. The sky above them was painted a light gray, clouds enshrouding the distant dream of summer azure, as in those days of late September—the gloom the quaint little town of Waltervere was known for. The air held a chill that nipped at their exposed skin, the kind that can lull someone to sleep, yet prick anyone awake when underdressed. Each of them wore another jacket over their Ravenwood Academy blazers—Damien in a white Adidas zip-up, Sander in a soft green plaid jacket, Max in a black All Time Low hoodie, Lyn in her overused black denim jacket. And, as autumn fell upon the town, some of the trees had begun to dress themselves, slowly and gradually, in shades of orange and gold, the warm hues a stark contrast against their verdant friends.

    "There seems to be no other option we know of," replied Lyn. She blew out a breath, watching steam unfurl past her lips. "If he's not Crystallian, he's probably from the Realm Beyond. Anyway," she said, "it's just a theory Mister Bato and I agree on. Nothing proven."

    Max's blue eyes lit up at a new theory, one drawn from a memory. "Okay, okay," he said, walking ahead and turning around. He then started walking backwards, slowly, his hands held out to his friends. "You remember the night my family and I were attacked by those bad guys, the night I told you about in The Raven's Nest after we met Mister Brighteyes for the first time?"

    Damien, Sander, and Lyn nodded, remembering.

    "Yeah, what about it?" asked Damien.

    "Okay, okay," said Max, excitedly. "He was shot. He took the bullet for my mom and sister, and he bled. He bled. And I saw it myself, the blood dripping from his hand to the asphalt, the stain he left on one of the bad guy's faces. He even showed me his scar the night we first met him."

    "Max," said Sander, running a hand down his face, "I still don't think he's a special kind of Crystallian. Mister Bato said no Crystallian can produce the simulation he did, nor can any of them teleport himself or anyone else to another world. It'll take too much out of a Crystallian that the overuse of his Essence will kill him."

"I know, I know. But," said Max, "what if Mister Brighteyes isn't entirely a Servant of Elohim? And what if he isn't purely Crystallian, either?"

Damien chuckled. "So you're saying—"

"I'm saying, what if Mister Brighteyes is half-Crystallian and half-Servant-of-Elohim?"

They all considered this. Max turned around, and walked alongside them again.

"Like the Nephilim?" said Lyn, after a while.

    "Yeah, like the—Hey, you know about the Nephilim!"

    Lyn shrugged. "Surface-level knowledge. Nothing much."

    "What's the Nephilim?" asked Sander.

    "The sons of God saw that mortal women were beautiful," Lyn recalled, her eyes gazing up at the elegiac expanse. "And the sons of God fell in love with the daughters of men, and they became their wives, and they had children with them—"

    "And the children were known as the Nephilim," said Max, with gusto.

    Damien's brows knitted in confusion. "What?"

    "Fallen angels came to earth, and fell in love with beautiful women, and had children with them," said Lyn.

    "So half-angel and half-human," said Sander.