StarChild

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Short Story by Kassidy Pace
The hot sun beats down on me, roasting my flesh, boiling my spilt blood and giving me a suntan. I laugh. What does a tan matter? I don’t have too much time in this existence, in this body. In a few short hours I will be born into the form of a squalling child. It will be the latest of many lives since I was born as a half-breed. There is a pull at the edge of my consciousness dragging me towards the field of stars, and my next life. I willingly oblige and slip out of my former body, and begin to float through a dark sky filled with billions of blue-white stars, weightless and formless.
Oh. Wait, you probably want to know what is going on, right? Well then, let’s start at the beginning….
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My name is, was, Eleanor “Elle” Orson. Lame right? I had wondered why my parents named me something that was so ordinary. I now realize that it was the best name that anyone could have given me. Something ordinary, something commonplace, something that won’t get you hunted by your father’s enemies. I had a normal if boring life. I was in my freshman year of high school, and change was in the air.
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“Hey Elle,” I heard a male voice call out.
I looked around the crowded hall for the owner of that voice, and eventually my eyes settled on a lanky sophomore. The boy had an androgynously feline, symmetrical face; one electrum and one blue eye; blue-black hair; pale skin; and a slight, cat-like, I-am-better-than-you-but-you-still-kick-butt  smile at the edges of his lips. Even though he was thin, the muscles on his body had a slight definition and rippled under his hoodie, blue jeans, and graphic tee shirt as he slinked over to me. His beautifully uneven eyes were partially covered by his straight, surfer boy haircut. I smiled as he arrived at my side.
“Hey Sam,” I casually greet him with a smile on my face, “What’s new with you?”
“Nothing much Elle, only the world ending – again,” he replied, copying my smile with a hint of arrogance added to his own and pronouncing my name like the letter “L”.
I laughed in response and we began to head toward our shared study period down the hall, in the Library.
“Now really, in all seriousness,” I ask with frank tone, “What is going on with you?”
“Ah, nothing really. I’m really kinda boring when you get down to it,” Sam answered me, shrugging, “I got my character in COTS to 15th level, and that took effort.”
COTS was the online game that we loved to play. The name stood for Children Of The Stars, and in the game you played a half human, half angel who was fighting the binary coded forces of evil. I was a cleric-mage in the game named Celeste, and I had reached 20th level a few days ago. The game was one of the many things we enjoyed together since we had met each other at the age of 9. We had immediately bonded and become best friends to the point of being inseparable.
The door to our Study Hour was to the immediate left and we entered. Both of us aced our classes due to our near genius IQ’s (my IQ was 134, Sam’s was 138) and didn’t need to take the class. The only reason we had marked the classes was to have time together without our parents. Since we had nothing to do in the class, we played The Image of Star, the game that COTS was based on, and talked about our lives, dreams and anything else that we wanted to. It was our own little paradise, free of burden and trouble.
The library was spacious and maze-like, with tables interspersed through shelves of literary tomes. Sam and I moved over to an ornate table made of dark wood to the left. The table’s smooth surface had been polished smooth by hundreds of arms, notebooks and backpacks, and oiled by thousands of hands and snacks. We loved the table, and even though there were no assigned seats in the class, that table was understood to be ours. Sam and I pulled up chairs, sat down at our table, spread out our Image of the Star materials, and began to game.
During the session’s second battle, Sam stopped and looked down, his silent signal that he wanted to ask a question but feared my response. I stopped and looked at him. His eyes had a distant look in them and he had folded his hands, showing that my answer might change his life. I carefully considered what I should say that would tell him of my willingness to answer. I settled on silently taking his hand into mine and smiling. Sam gave a soft sigh and opened his mouth to speak.
“Elle,” Sam hesitantly asked, “When you went through that craze about the supernatural that you experienced in middle school, did you ever actually contact anything or anyone?”
I was taken aback by my best friend’s indiscreet question. My craze had nearly destroyed every relationship in my life and had resulted in a month long stay in a mental hospital. Afterwards, we had sworn never to mention the event ever again.
“Yes,” I confessed with a tremble in my voice, “I did, once.”
I still remembered the beauty of the spirit as it tried to kill me, the hint of music in the air when it appeared, and the absolute bliss I felt in its presence. The one séance that worked. The only séance that something tried to kill me. The séance that convinced me to give up the supernatural. Sam had found me and saved my life from the spirit. I had then sent myself to the mental hospital for help.
“I know that this might be hard to talk about, but what exactly did you see?” he asked.
I took a deep breath and recounted that night.
“ I don’t know what it was that night that made the séance work. I called for a spirit, any spirit to come. When it came I tried to speak to it. It refused to communicate, but started to manifest in front of me,” I described to Sam, “It looked like a man created with spider web-like strands of light. He had long hair and his face reminded me of the face of a fox or a cat. Thinking back he looked like he might have been related to you, He smiled when he saw me. I smiled back and he placed a hand on my chest. When he pulled his hand back I felt like my soul was being ripped out. I didn’t fight back; I felt bliss that dulled the pain. As I got weaker and weaker, I began to hallucinate that I was in a field of white grass. You were running towards me, and I blacked out as you said something. I woke up to you sitting on the edge of my bed praying that I would wake up.”
Sam nodded and the edges of two fingers in the shape of a gun on his lips in a thoughtful pose. His brow crinkled, and he looked at me intensely.
“What do you think it was that you summoned?” he asked.
“I don’t want to know,” I growled. Sam was pushing the topic a little too far.
Oblivious to my hostility, he continued.
“Have you ever heard the legends of the Fallen Angels?” he probed.
I nodded and glared at him.
“Their children, the Nephilim?” he inquired.
“What??” I shouted.
I had never heard of Nephilim. The other students glared at us, but I didn’t care. Sam had officially crossed The Line. It was enough that he had pushed about my experience, but now he was talking about nonsense theory about what had happened. I stood up, pushed in my chair, and started to walk away. Sam almost stood up and followed me, but he knew which line he had crossed, and that I needed alone time.
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I didn’t talk to Sam for two days. Even though he was my best friend, he had committed a taboo. He had apologized time after time for probing to far, but I need time to forgive someone. It was awkward for about a week after we started talking again, but we had the uncanny ability to not stay angry at each other. The incident made us grow closer as friends, but we never crossed into Boyfriend/Girlfriend territory. I now realize that he was trying to save my life.
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“The slaughter of millions of Jewish people in German…” My history teacher droned on and on.
It had been two weeks since me and Sam had gotten back together when things got weird. Satanist Graffiti started popping up at school with the names of Sam and I mentioned several times. We had to assure our parents and school staff that we were not part of a cult/the illuminati, but the student gossip still spread through the school like wildfire. To protect me, Sam started to walk me to class, and included me in his geeky, eccentric group of friends. I was gladly welcomed by the other kids, who were just as weird and funny and smart as I was. I felt more at home with them than I ever did with my earlier friends, and I was counting the seconds until I could spend more time with them.
“What do you want to say, Kevin?”
My teacher’s voice broke me out of my reverie. I looked at Kevin, who had been raising his hand for 15 minutes at that point. He bared all his teeth in a grin and leaned forward.
“I think,” he purred, his voice awakening primal fears in my brain, “That the Jews deserved to be massacred.”
The entire class was aghast. Kevin normally was the most kind and compassionate student in class, inviting the unpopular kids to his bar mitzvah.
“Kevin,” a girl gasped, “what are you doing?”
Kevin’s blue eyes changed to a golden yellow and he laughed.
“I think you all deserve to be massacred,” he screamed, “Especially the half human harpy.”
Kevin’s body was torn to shreds by the gigantic monster that crawled out of him. The thing could only be described as a demon, with a turtle-like body, canine head and a barbed tail. Surprisingly, my first instinct was to attack the creature, but fear rooted me in place. The demon roared and sprung to attack the girl who had spoken out. It jumped on her, biting and clawing. She was killed upon impact, her breath leaving her in a strangled cry. The demon seemed to smile and began to feast upon her corpse. I knew I was going to die.
At the edge of my vision, I saw three figures speed towards the demon. The blurs attacked the demon, causing long cuts to appear on the demon’s body. One particular blur turned into the image of one of my friends wearing leather armor. She shot a few arrows into the demon with the bow she was holding and shimmered back into a blur. The demon gave a sudden scream and one of the blurs jumped away from the creature’s head. The demon’s head fell off, and one of the blurs materialized and thrust his sword into the ground. He smiled at me and it was several seconds before I recognized him. It was Sam.
I took a few steps back and looked into my best friend’s smiling face. The other blurs materialize into every single one of my friends. My mind failed to process what had just happened before my eyes. I tried to stutter out something, anything, but I was too shocked. The world seemed to spin and I fell to my knees, rapidly blinking. I sat up, put my head between my knees, closed my eyes, and let the world slow to a halt.
“Don’t worry,” Sam assured me, his voice seeming distant, “Your reaction is normal.”
I struggled to speak for a few minutes and then gasped out a single question: “What are you?”
I felt Sam’s smile turn into a grin. The image of him in the silvery field as he saved my life flashed through my head and I remembered the words that he had said as he ran towards me: “Leave your daughter alone”. I quickly realized the truth and amended my question.
“What are we?” I asked, my voice growing stronger.
“We are Nephilim,” he revealed, “the race that was created when angels bred with humanity. We are stronger, faster and smarter than any human. We live longer, can endure more, and heal quicker than humans. Our souls were created thousands of years ago, in the time of Grigori, the fallen guardian angels, our first lives were slaughtered by angels and we have been born in mortal body after mortal body. But you are someone I haven’t seen in a very long time.”
Somehow I was able accept the glut of new information without any problem. I knew that if any other person received news that themselves and every friend they had weren’t human, they would have mentally shut down and gone crazy. I still had questions.
“Who is your parent?” I inquired to Sam.
“My father was the leader of the second rebellion, Samyaza,” he told me, “You can instantly tell who the parent of any Nephilim is by their name. It will sound similar to the angel’s domain or role and/or name. For example, Lily’s mother is Lilith. Duke’s father is a duke in Hell. It was originally put into place so that the Fallen would not mistake the child of a relative for one of their own, but it helps with identification.”
“So which angel has a name similar to Eleanor?” I queried, “Who is my parent?”
The Nephilim smiled at each other as if I had just mentioned an inside joke.
“We have no idea,” the small blonde archer lied, “we can find out, though.”
Anyone could have seen in their faces that they were lying. They knew who my parent was and were keeping the truth from me until they were certain I was an ally. I looked into Sam’s eyes and nodded.
“I want to know,” I repeated.
Sam looked at the other Nephilim and then back to me. He walked to a clear spot on the wall, took out a black marker, and drew a door. Sam pushed the door open and the Nephilim walked through. He waved his hand and I entered, taking a final look at my former life.
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The room we entered was aggravatingly plain, with white walls and industrial carpet. One wall was lined with gray server banks, and a double monitored computer was pushed up to the opposite wall. A dark haired, preteen geek sat in a chair in front of the computer. There was a definite resemblance to Sam, and I realized that the two were brothers. His face lit up with childlike excitement when he saw me.
“Elle, this is my brother Zane, the developer of COTS, and our resident IT,” Sam informed me with a tone in his voice that told me that this was an annoying little brother.
“So, the legends about the StarChild are true? You found her?” the young Zane’s jumped up and looked at me like a specimen, his eyes growing wider as he spoke, “I cannot believe you found our sa-”
“Zane-” Sam began, finishing the sentence in a language that somewhere in my mind I knew, but couldn’t understand consciously.
“Oh,” Zane sounded disappointed, “She is only here for the blood test,” he looked at me, “Hold out your left hand.”
I did and Zane procured a needle, pricked my finger, took three drops of blood and poured them into a hole on a device connected to the computer. A window appeared with the word ‘processing’ blinking on and off on the monitor and it was several seconds before the words ‘1 match found’ appeared.
A profile screen appeared and the computer read the words, “Name: Celeste StarChild. Father: Lumiel. Role: Nephilimic Messiah.”
The picture on the screen was my own, and I understood most of the info on the screen. But I did not recognize the name of my father.
“Who is my father?” I interrogated them.
Zane clicked on the name of my father and another profile flashed. The picture showed the angel that I had summoned, but made of flesh and not threads of light.
“Angelic Name: Lumiel,” the computer monotoned, “Common Name: Lucifer.”
The world blurred around me, went quiet and I felt numb. I knew that the other Nephilim were trying to talk to me, but I was unable to hear their voices. I felt myself walk towards the door, stumble, and a fall down. The world went slowly black as my mind shut down.
I woke up in my bed with Sam watching over me. I looked at him and he comfortingly smiled. I sat up and for several moments, we were both silent.
“So,” I began.
“You aren’t evil” he reassured me, “The Nephilimic Messiah will redeem the Nephilim from the sins of our parents. You are the opposite from our fathers, who dammed us. You are the only hope for our race. I have searched for you my entire life.”
I laughed and realized that every word he said was true. I was nothing like my father. I had compassion, empathy, and love, things he would never have again. I would help the Nephilim, my family, become redeemed.
We got up and Sam drew the portal to the room. We went through to every one waiting for us. The looks on their faces told me that they were happy that I was alive. I smiled back at them and walked over.
“Now what do I do?” I asked them.
“Well, we have to awaken your latent abilities,” a raven haired girl responded, “And awaken your wings.” I realized that this was the Lily that Sam had mentioned.
“Let’s get on with it,” I exclaimed, “After all, if I really am Celeste StarChild, you are depending on me.”
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I sat in the middle of the circle, my hands crossed over my chest. Lily chants in the familiar language that I learned was Angelic. Three candles burned at the edges of the circle, giving off sweet smelling smoke. Lilly stopped chanting and puts her hand on my forehead. Her eyes closed, and then opened, glowing with divine light.
“Wake up Celeste,” she ordered, her voice layered with deep overtones speaking in angelic.
I felt the power entering my body. Imagine an adrenaline rush that spikes and then lasts forever, giving you enough power to change the positions of the stars in the sky, the weather, and to create life. That’s what the power felt like. I gasped and the scene changed. I saw my father standing before me in an ancient temple.
“So, the problem is awake again,” he sighed, “Welcome back, Daughter.”
I had questions to ask, but I snapped back into consciousness and was interrupted. Lily looked at me moving a light across my eyes.
“Good, no injuries,” she questioned, “Did you see your parent? Recall any locked memories?”
“Y-yes,” I stuttered. I recalled ever single moment in every life I had.
“Is she ok?” Sam asked through the door.
“I’m fine,” I reassured him.
Lilly’s face contorted into a look of shock, and Sam breaks into a laugh. I looked at them incredulously, unsure of why my response was so funny. They must have read my expression, because they returned their expressions to normal.
“He was speaking in Angelic,” Lily explains, “and you responded in the same language.”
“A completely natural transition to your native language,” Sam added, “is extremely rare. In fact, looking at you, I think you might have access to your full power already, another sign that you are the StarChild. But you still need training. Meet me outside.”
I stood up and balanced myself, surprisingly stable for having just changed races. I felt wings on my back and opened them, tearing the shirt I was wearing. My wings were 13 feet long each and covered in golden feathers with black stripes. I folded my wings back up with a swish and opened the door. I walked three steps out the door when I felt unusual drop in the air pressure.
“Uriel,” I heard Sam gasp, “Celeste watch out!”
I felt something grasp me from behind and whisk me away. I watched the world blur beneath me and struggled to pull free. I was set down in an arid desert that I remembered as being Israel and looked around for my kidnapper. I searched for several minutes and then sit down on the ground.
“Hello Celeste,” I heard an angel’s melodious voice yip.
I turned around to the sight of a young, winged boy wearing white robes. He had light brown hair, pale green eyes, and an elven face that identified him as an angel.
“Why did you take me here?” I growled, hostility instinctively taking hold.
“My name is Uriel, thank you for asking,” he snipped, “And you are here because Heaven cannot let the only child of Lumiel live.”
“Why?” I queried, attitude flavoring my voice.
“Because if you redeem the Nephilim, you upset the balance,” Uriel replied, “and you give the Fallen hope. If their children are redeemed, the Fallen ask why they are excluded. That would lead to a second rebellion, and Heaven could not survive, leaving humanity vulnerable. We cannot risk that.”
“And you are telling me this because I will be dead soon?” I guessed, quietly picking up a rock.
Uriel opened his mouth to respond, and I charge at him. He pulls a sword out of thin air and slashes my torso open. I lay bleeding out on the desert ground for a few seconds as Uriel disintegrates the sword.
“I am going to make the sun burn 100 degrees hotter,” Uriel informed me, “It will cause you corpse to decay faster. Nowhere else will be affected. Goodbye Celeste.”
Uriel disappeared and the shadow of an angel passes over me for just a second, and he is gone.
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So here I am, dying in the desert and falling through a field of stars. The field of stars disappears, and I am in the temple with my father again.
“I had a feeling that I would see you soon Celeste,” he tells me, “Uriel?”
I nod and he smiles. His smile reminds me of Sam’s, arrogant and feline. I stand up and brush myself off.
“How do I get back to my body?” I modestly ask.
“That door over there,” he replies, and points behind me.
I turn around and begin towards the door when my father speaks again.
“I don’t understand how you are able to stand living as a member of an inferior race,” he confesses, “You are better than them.”
I smile and say the first thing that comes to mind.
“It’s simple,” I give a grin identical to his, “I’m not you.”
I don’t wait to hear his response. I go through the temple doors and wake up in the room where I received my powers. Every Nephilim I know is standing around me and I smile as I sit up. Every one of their faces is lit up with joy at my resurrection. I look into Sam’s eyes and know what to say.
“So,” I request, “let’s begin.”
The End