Stumptown Angel: A Short Story

By Amber J. Keyser

Mara pushed through the glass doors of Escape From New York Pizza and got in line. The demented, ballsy voice of Storm Large rolled out of stacked, black speakers at the rear of the store. Mara twitched her head to the insistent beat. A lock of blue-streaked, blond hair fell in front of her eyes. She snapped it back in place with a skull and crossbones barrette. 

“C-R-A-Z / C-R-A-Z / Doctors, drugs and sketchy thugs.”  

“You got that right,” she muttered to the voice on the speakers. Her thoughts, even as she tried to quash them, were making her crazy. Freaky things had been happening. Mara chewed on her lower lip. She wished she had someone to talk to. Her parents practically lived at their research lab, and her friends were too busy partying to talk about anything serious.  

Maybe I am cracking up.

How else could she explain the chunks of lost time that she was experiencing? Black-outs? Seizures? She didn’t know. Sometimes it was like she froze and everything else moved on fast forward. Other times it was the reverse. Things — rolling cars, cyclists, pouring coffee — paused and Mara kept moving, out of sync, until everything hiccupped back into unison.  

From the speakers came a moaning whine: “I’m afraid they’ll throw away the key.”

“Hey, Mara.” Nate was ready to take her order for a slice. Between his olive-tinted glasses, skinny limbs, and green, pearl-buttoned Western shirt, he was more praying mantis than human.  

“Hey, yourself,” she said.  

“Glad to see you,” said Nate. “It’s been dead boring today.”

She grinned, a crooked smile with a twist of trouble.  

Nate, like the rest of them, was a friend at arm’s length. She’d never had close friends. Maybe she was too rich. Or those girls at school were too stupid. Or maybe she just wasn’t very good at the friendship thing.  

Whatever.  

The single, solitary bright spot was her little brother Max. He could always get her to crack a smile. Sure, he drove her bonkers sometimes, but it was good to have a fan club — even if it only had one member.  

“C-R-A-Z / C-R-A-Z / It’s lights out forever my heavenly creatures.”

“You going out tonight?” Nate asked. Not that he needed to ask.

Lately, Mara had been going out every night, dulling the tension that buzzed through her with loud music, flashing lights, and a little of whatever Nate was scoring. She shrugged.  

He turned to the next customer and Mara eyeballed the street kids, bristling with piercings and spiked-hair, sitting on the other side of the street. The guy had one arm around the girl, and she tilted her head against his shoulder like it was the spot she called home. A pit bull lolled next to them, sleepy and safe with his pack.  

An aching rush of want swept through Mara. 

To sit in the sun with someone who had her back.  

Unburdened.  

Wanted.  

Stupid. She berated herself. If anyone took the time to get to know her, they’d see what she already knew — that something inside her was off-kilter and wrong. Mara tore her eyes away from the street kids, shoved down the desperation, and changed her order to a full pie. At the register, Mara slammed her money on the counter with a smack that made the dreadlocked guy behind the counter flinch.  

“Chill, Girl,” Nate called from the other end of the counter.  

“Sorry,” she muttered, cramming a bill with Alexander Hamilton’s face into the tip jar. Mara pushed past the pizza lineup and stomped across the street. A slick-looking man honked at her as she cut in front of his hearse-like Mercedes. She flipped him off and kept storming.  

When she reached the opposite curb, Mara handed the dude with the dog the steaming pizza box. He gaped at her, revealing a round stud in his tongue. The dog yipped, nosing the cardboard. The girl pulled a smoldering clove cigarette from between her lips and grabbed the box.  

“I’m starving,” he rasped, smoke curling out from either side of his cracked lips.  “You’re a goddamned guardian angel.”

Mara shot a look back across the street toward where she’d parked her Vespa, but just as she was about to cross over, a series of battering crashes rang out along the tree-lined street. She headed into Couch Park, just a step past the dude with the dog (and now a pizza), and climbed up on the giant-sized wooden play structure to get a better look. Across the street, a squat man wearing a baseball hat skewed to one side smashed his fists on the door of a boxy house the color of dog poop.  

He stood, legs apart, on the tilting porch. From her perch, Mara could see boxers sticking out above the waistband of his baggy pants. Everything about the house from the filthy, cracked windows to the dirt square in front of it seemed to glower at the new condos and perfect renovations on either side.

“Whaddya think you’re doing, you stupid bitch?” he hollered. “Come out here!”  

Mara’s heart raced. I shouldn’t be watching, that isn’t my problem, she thought but couldn’t turn away. Some twitchy feeling held her.  

As the man continued to pound on the door, a wild-eyed woman in a pink sweatshirt and too-tight jeans slipped from behind the house and bolted for the corner. At first, the jerk on the porch didn’t notice her.  

You can make it. Hustle, lady.

He’d stopped banging long enough to cup his hands and peer into the front window, but the woman tripped on the fissured sidewalk where the roots of an enormous oak had shattered the cement. She let out a surprised noise and one of the pink slippers she was wearing flew into the air like a stuffed animal making a break for it.    

The man on the porch turned. “Oh no you don’t!”   

“Lay off, Augie!” the woman called over her shoulder in a high-pitched, squeaky voice. She sped away from the house, leaving the slipper behind.  The man loped after her. 

“Get back here!”

Not my problem, thought Mara. Just another stupid woman who picked a stupid boyfriend. She should’ve turned away right then, but again the roiling sensation in her blood rooted her to the spot. Mara wondered if she was going to black out.  

“I’m done, Augie. I’m done with you!” The woman shouted, backing across the street from him. She was almost to the corner. It was only a block to the Quick Stop. She’d be fine, right? Mara wrenched her eyes away.  

Time to go.

But as Mara leapt from the play structure down to the grass, she caught sight of movement on the porch of the house. The door had opened inward. Standing in the gloom of the threshold stood a scrawny thing, looking more like a wet cat than a child.

Mara stopped.  

She stared.

Augie had forced the woman in pink up against the stop sign on the far corner.  

The girl on the porch stepped gingerly outside. Sunlight filtered through the oaks in the park, dappling her arms with gold.  

Poor little thing.  

Mara pushed that thought away.  

Not. My. Problem.  

But her heartbeat jacked up another notch.

The girl was maybe four or five. White-blond hair puffed out around her elfin face like a dandelion gone to seed. The thin straps of a faded, purple sundress two-sizes too-big hung off her shoulders. Slender bones jutted off her chest like chopsticks. She reminded Mara of those dolls whose bodies seemed too insignificant to hold up their heads.  

The yelling at the corner cranked up.  

The girl stepped off the porch directly across the street from Mara.  

“Mom?” she said, turning toward the fight.  

It was then, as she stood in profile, that Mara saw them.

The whispered mantra — not my problem, not my problem — faded from her mind.

From the child’s shoulder blades, knobs of bone jutted out beneath the pale skin.  

Like mine, thought Mara. Oh god, like mine.  

Her blood raced into overdrive.  

Mara’s brain offered a slide show of all the tank tops, bathing suits, and sundresses she’d left in heaping piles on dressing room floors, rejected because they’d left her ugly, bony spurs exposed.  

Why doesn’t she hide the freaking things?

Augie had the woman nearly doubled over in a headlock.  

The girl screamed and raced toward her mother. 

Mara threw herself into motion, hurtling down the ivy-covered bank toward the street.  Her feet caught in the tangled vines and she pinwheeled her arms to keep from falling and skidded into the street. She heard the sick thump of a fist meeting flesh. The woman moaned. Another wild cry came from the girl.  

“You don’t get to leave me,” Augie roared, raising his fist again.

Mara pushed herself harder, desperate to reach the corner. 

“C-R-A-Z / C-R-A-Z”

The soundtrack thudded in time with her boots on the street. Her blood was a wild torrent of whitewater. 

Not the girl. Please. Not the girl.

Yet, like watching a goblet plummet toward the floor, Mara knew exactly what would happen. The girl would reach the corner before she could. The enraged man would shatter her.  

“C-R-A-Z / C-R-A-Z / It’s lights out forever my heavenly creatures.”

She needed time, just a little more time.  

Now the sound of her pounding, furious heart blotted out everything else. Mara’s vision shook and wavered, the edges going dark, but her legs kept running.  

Time! I need time.

As if on command, the child slowed and stopped. A glistening tear clung to her cheek like a pearl. Mara raced past her frozen form. Another howl erupted from the corner. Rage swept through Mara, all of it barreling straight for Augie. The twenty feet of space between her and the man rippled like a desert mirage. He flew backwards, dragging the woman along. His body plowed into the stop sign pole. It bent and rebounded, the red hexagon quivering with metallic twangs.  

Mara stopped ten feet away, wobbling on legs that could barely hold her. A car squealed to a halt behind her. The woman wriggled out from underneath Augie’s limp body and ran, one foot bare, toward her daughter, who still seemed rooted to the sidewalk.  

She’s okay, thought Mara. They’re okay.

Fury drained from her. Sun hit the tear on the child’s cheek and broke it into a thousand rainbow shards. The last thing Mara saw as she crumpled to her knees was the tear resuming its fall and the girl collapsing into her mother’s arms.   

Then it was dark.

Mara felt a hand on her shoulder as she came to.   

Someone crouched beside her. 

“She’s alive.”

The hand was gone, replaced by the sound of tapping on a cell phone keypad.

“We need at ambulance at 20th and Hoyt.”

Mara opened her eyes. Hard asphalt bit into her cheek, her shoulder, her hip.

Two joggers stopped to gawk. “What happened?” 

“I didn’t see. I don’t know.”

Mara’s limbs felt like putty.  

“Whoa! Check out the stop sign!”

Sirens wailed from behind the old, domed synagogue on the other side of the park.  

Mara struggled to sit up. One of the joggers was staring down at Augie. He was out cold, but she could see his chest rise and fall in steady waves. What the hell had happened? She hadn’t touched him. 

“That guy’s a mess,” said one of the joggers. “Do you think they got hit by a car?”

Mara felt them eyeing her, wondering what it was she’d just done. She rose unsteadily to her feet.  

“Are you okay?” one asked her.

“I didn’t touch him,” she stammered.  

Mara turned away from the gathering crowd. That was true, right? She hadn’t touched him. So what had she done?  

A crowd was gathering fast now. The ambulance would be here soon and probably cops too. She couldn’t explain any of this. What if they tried to lock her up in some loony bin? Mara turned away from the crowd, forcing her legs to obey. She had to get out.  

“Wait!” called a minuscule voice. The little girl darted forward and wrapped herself around Mara’s legs.

“I … I can’t stay,” Mara muttered.  

The girl stared up at Mara with huge, luminous eyes and smiled. Mara lowered a hand to the girl’s back and ran her fingers lightly across the knobs. She felt the girl’s heart thrumming like hummingbird’s wings. She felt an answering hum from her own veins. She didn’t understand it any more than she understood what had happened in the street, but this connection between herself and the child felt right.  

Not wrong.  

It felt safe.

Mara knelt before the child.  

“You’re gonna be okay, now,” she said, hoping it was true for both of them.

A Glimpse Into the Supernatural

THE WORLD OF THE ELEVEN

Five thousand years ago the Age of Embodiment began with the White One and the Eleven, who brought the element relium from the Before into our world. As the children of the Eleven and their human mates slipped into the stream of history, they were known by many names. Among themselves, they are the First Born. Their descendants, the Offspring, are found in every culture around the world.

They are almost human—but not quite. The relium coursing through their veins gives them strengths unknown to man. Their participation in the human world is limited by the Covenant, which forbids the Eleven and their descendants from killing each other, bearing children together, and manipulating the will of humans.

Each family developed a line of scribes bound by a blood curse and tasked with recording family secrets and lore. Only the Keeper of the Lines knew every twist and turn of their complex genealogy, keeping the cipher-locked secrets in the closely guarded Book of Tracings. As the number of Offspring grew, the Eleven established the Crimson Scribes to govern their vast legacy.

Many array themselves around the Eleven. The Amyclaean Guard are sworn to protect them and enforce their will. Monks in the order of Pro Lapsis Astra dedicate themselves to praying for these Fallen Stars. And more ominously, the Hidden Eye, on a holy mission to eradicate abomination, is hunting them around the globe.

Now, in our time, their world is crumbling. Will the children of the Eleven return to the Before or will revolution sweep the globe?

Hematology of Offspring

From an unpublished manuscript written by Paul Layil, Ph.D.

When the Eleven and the White One became mortal, their incarnate bodies were similar in almost every way to those of humans. Understanding the ways they differed from humans, and therefore the source and nature of their unique abilities, became a focus of study early on. 

The most obvious difference was the presence of their relium wings and the stumps remaining after the wings were severed from their bodies. Vestiges of these wings are present in First Born — the children of the Eleven and humans — as extrudable relium spikes in the wing stumps. Typically, these are only visible when the individual is agitated. In Offspring — the children of First Born and humans — only wing stumps are present. These become less pronounced farther down on the lineage from the original progenitor. 

As soon as the wings of the the Eleven were severed and reforged by Tamel, it became clear that relium was no ordinary metal. In fact, elemental relium is a responsive biometal. Much as magnets pull toward one another, relium relics respond to and pull toward relium-based metalloproteins carried in the blood of the descendants of the Eleven. The relics also interact with each other. 

In the Before, the Eleven and the White One were completely joined and yet also completely unique. Once in mortal forms, they found that they all shared some abilities: strength, speed, extended lifespan, and the ability to sense the presence of each other and their descendants. Each also exhibited unique abilities. For example, Armaros has the ability to manipulate the flow of time. The source of these differences appears to be lineage-specific structural differences in the relium-based metalloproteins synthesized by the Eleven and their descendants. 

From a genetic perspective, each of the Eleven and the White One possessed the same number of chromosomes as humans, but they had many new genetic loci, without equivalent in the human genome. These were located in chromosomal regions that contain long expanses of junk DNA in their human counterparts. The vast majority of these new loci code for lineage-specific metalloproteins, which enhance a wide-variety of physiological functions. Each of the Eleven was uniquely homozygous at each of these loci. (Eleven unique allelles = eleven unique metalloproteins that share the molecular signature of all relium relics from the corresponding lineage.) 

First Born are 100% heterozygous for these alleles (again uniquely so within each lineage). Offspring are recombinant, with the proportion of angelic genetic material reducing by 50% with each generation.

Passing of Enhanced Abilities - Relium & ‘Turning’ in Offspring

From an unpublished manuscript written by Paul Layil, Ph.D.

The Covenant prohibits the Eleven and their descendants from having children together, but of course there have been violations, the most obvious being the birth of the Twins. However, in general, children born from mixed lineages are genetic hybrids, containing two allelic forms of the metalloproteins. Typically this is a lethal cross early in fetal development. Surviving children are often deformed or debilitated. When these children Turn, their powers are often erratic, unexpected and dangerous. 

The production of relium-based metalloproteins in the blood occurs during a specific developmental period. Genes are turned on in early childhood with protein synthesis increasing steadily. As soon as a threshold level of metalloproteins is reached, the child begins to Turn and supernatural abilities begin to manifest. Production continues until the mid-twenties, at which point the level of metalloproteins in the blood stabilizes. Once entrenched in all fundamental physiological functions of the body, life is not possible without them. These proteins have an extraordinarily long half life. 

The level of circulating metalloprotein in the blood determines the strength of supernatural abilities. Each genetic locus produces protein in a similar pattern (low levels produced at earlier ages, steep increase during the Turning, then end of production). Therefore, metalloprotein levels are determined by the number of genetic loci in the genome, which decreases by 50% each generation except in the case of forbidden cross-lineage (or within-lineage) breeding. 

Early experiments conducted by myself and my wife, Veronique Layil, Ph.D., focused on blood transfers to determine whether or not the enhanced abilities of the Eleven and their descendants were, in fact, carried by the blood. The results also included the discovery of a mechanism for Binding the Scribes. Below is an overview of the study and results:

• One of the Eleven donor to Angel recipient: No experiment conducted. 

• One of the Eleven to First Born: Recipient exhibits abilities of the donor. 

• One of the Eleven to Offspring: Recipient exhibits abilities of the donor. 

• One of the Eleven to Human: Death. 

• First Born to Angel: No experiment conducted; unlikely to have any effect. 

• First Born to First Born: Effect depends on bloodlines.  

• First Born to Offspring: Effect depends on bloodlines. 

• First Born to Human: Bound; shares some Offspring characteristics; can be reversed. 

• Offspring to One of the Eleven: No experiment conducted; unlikely to have any effect. 

• Offspring to First Born: Effect depends on bloodlines; usually minor. 

• Offspring to Offspring: Effect depends on bloodlines; usually minor. 

• Offspring to Human: Bound; shares some Offspring characteristics; can be reversed. 

• Human to One of the Eleven: No effect. 

• Human to First Born: No effect. 

• Human to Offspring: No effect. 

• Human to Human: Standard blood-type response. 

An additional important discovery from the studies relates to the First Born and Offspring and their relationship with Scribes. The Binding of the Scribes occurs when First Born or Offspring blood is transfused into a human recipient. Rarely, death results. Typically the metalloproteins in the transfused serum result in enhanced abilities for the recipient. However, the donor (if trained) can “recall” the transfused proteins resulting in the death of the recipient. 

Similarly, the most skilled supernaturals can elicit response from relium relics. This is the mechanism behind the use of relium neck piercings in the Amyclaean Guard as a control device. Tamel, as the Blade Guardian, is the most skilled at controlling interactions with relium.

Supernatural Abilities - Control, Drug Interaction & Relium

From an unpublished manuscript written by Paul Layil, Ph.D.

In addition to our research, Veronique and I have developed a drug that interacts with relium-based metalloproteins. Initially, the goal was to be able to turn supernatural abilities on and off at will, enabling some descendants to choose to live in a completely human way. This feature of the drug was never perfected. 

The drug binds to the relium in the metalloproteins and inactivates it. In children, there are continued levels of metalloprotein production. In adults, there is not continued production so the drug causes the target to lapse into a coma-like state and eventually death. Death can be avoided and the coma-like state maintained by low level transfusions of First Born blood. 

Permanent reversal requires the intracardial implantation of a small pellet of relium. The presence of pure relium draws the drug off the binding site of the metalloproteins, restoring full function. Problems with this solution include (a) only Tamel, the Blade Guardian, can reforge relium and (b) few supernaturals are willing to part with their relics to provide raw relium for the pellets. I am working on a secondary device that pairs biomechanical technology with a low-level transfusion, which would allow mind-control of dosed Offspring. 

Our ability to conduct experiments was limited both by national regulations regarding the use of human subjects in research and also by the lack of Offspring willing to participate in trials. To further our research, we partnered with Sinioch. At the time, we did not know that he planned to use the drug to (a) incapacitate enemies and (b) prepare an army of Offspring (a later development). Once we discovered this, we tried to back out of the relationship.

A Brief History of the Scribes

Though they had great power, the First Born knew they were creatures of the Earth and therefore vulnerable to attack by those who learned of their secret weakness. As they cross-bred with humans and other First Born, their wives, children and lovers were also vulnerable. Accordingly, the First Born sought strong human warriors to protect them and their secrets. 

Using supernatural power, the First Born placed curses on these chosen warrior family lines, forcing them and their descendants to serve them for all time. The curse placed on these family lines bound them forever to serve the specific bloodline that originally cast the spell.  It is impossible to sever the relationship, and those that tried, soon died.  But the curse also granted longevity and abnormal strength.

Over time, these cursed family lines evolved to be more than mere guardians and protector; they became trusted advisers. Eventually, they became known as Scribes and the position was considered a great honor. As the ages passed and the memory of the brutality and cruelty of the original curse faded, the Scribes themselves became wealthy and powerful — many jealously protecting their position in the hidden, supernatural world. Some also protected the power of their First Born (and later, Offspring) masters by zealously recording and advising bloodlines and lineage, consulting with the Keeper of the Lines (watercolor here) on ideal genetic matches. The scribes also took on the lifestyle of their masters, good from good, cruel from cruel. 

To facilitate communication between the benevolent members of the Eleven and their First Born, the Council of Scribes was created in 860 AD. This grand meeting of Scribes was a chance to retain and build their power and influence by exchanging information and gossip.  The Scribes began keeping careful records of each family line and using this immensely powerful information about strength of bloodline. They often acted to arrange marriages between First Born and even for their Offspring children.

As for the Crimson Scribes (as depicted here and here in the Art section), they are not aligned with any specific family lineage. Instead, the Crimson Scribes serve only the High Council of the Eleven (based in Istanbul, or as the city was originally called, Constantinople). To learn more about these powerful operators within the Angel Punk universe, keep your eyes peeled for an upcoming blog entry - or check out the novels.

The Layil Family Scribe: Momar Singh

Momar Singh’s family line traces back centuries to the Maharajah of the mountainous Northern region of what would become India. Nestled in the foothills and valleys of the high Himalaya, the kingdom was known as Patiala, and later Punjab. Well before his birth, Momar’s family line was cursed and bound to a cruel First Born family called Mahal. Later, another First Born, called Layil, was traveling through Patiala and was attacked by the Offspring of Mahal. After a great battle, Layil triumphed and killed Mahal. In an act of mercy for the curse-bound Singh family, Layil released Momar’s ancestors from the curse.  

Knowing no other way to exist, the newly freed Singh Scribes begged Layil to bind the family to him. He refused to place the curse anew, no matter how freely entered into. However, Layil did grant the Singh family the powers of the curse — without the death threat — and made the powers only contingent on the Scribes’ service. Each Scribe and their family line were now free to leave the service, and all they would lose was the supernatural abilities. 

That is how the Singh family came into the service of Mara Layil’s family blood line.

A Secret Order of Monks

Pro Lapsis Astra (Pray for the Fallen Stars)

From the time the original Twelve cast themselves out of the Forever to Earth, there were those among them who sought forgiveness and, ultimately, redemption. They pursued justice and morality and taught their children (eventually known as the First Born) to do the same. The children of the Twelve became many things, including some who pursued a directly spiritual life.

These among the First Born, and some of their descendants (known as Offspring), lived a life of fasting, prayer and meditation. Some became rabbis, others sheiks, some chose a life removed — alone and rarely understood. After the death of the one who some called the Christ, a disciple, the apostle Peter, founded what eventually became the Roman Catholic Church.

Over time, a few First Born and even more of their Offspring became priests in the church. One was a particularly virtuous priest who later became the Cardinal of St. Peter and then, in 897 AD, was selected as Pope. Upon his election by the Holy See to the Papacy, he took the name Romanus. As a man of great faith, Pope Romanus believed completely in the power of prayer, and spent his life praying for the souls of the original twelve. He also created of an order of monks with the charge of continuing his belief in the need for constant prayer for the souls of the fallen twelve and their Offspring.  

The monks recruited to this secret order were a mix of devoted humans with no knowledge of the existence of supernatural beings on Earth and Offspring who had already chosen to enter a life of spiritual purity within the structure of the church. Long before the church body officially recognized personal prelatures, Pope Romanus created his own and charged it with this solemn task. A task until the end of time, a duty never ending. 

Although the papacy of Pope Romanus lasted only four months, his legacy continued in secret, uninterrupted to modern day. His personal prelature, Pro Lapsis Astra (Pray for the Fallen Stars), has continued to faithfully serve the Offspring descendants of the twelve.  

As time passed, and fear grew of the secret order being discovered or disbanded, the monks of Pro Lapsis Astra made a bold move — they realigned their order with the Eastern Orthodox Church. Pope Romanus, upon creating the secret order, had wisely transferred land holdings in Greece assuring the financial solvency of the order. This independence allowed the order to fade into official obscurity, while in reality the order slowly and carefully planted monasteries around the world.

History records very little about Pope Romanus. One theory proposes that he was deposed by a ruling faction in Rome who wanted a different man as pope. This theory includes Pope Romanus living out the rest of his life in obscurity as a simple monk, though it doesn’t suggest what order he secluded himself with.

As an Offspring himself, clearly aligned with the First Born and other Offspring, Pope Romanus was certainly a target to those who believed their supernatural birthright had been squandered in adherence to the ancient Covenant. Romanus did succeed, however, in creating a force for good. His monks and their secret order, Pro Lapsis Astra, do not take sides, but pray for forgiveness and intercession. Through the ages, First Born and Offspring alike have sought them out for refuge, for peace, for knowledge and for understanding. Often, the Council of the Scribes has used the secret order’s libraries and collective knowledge to bolster its own records.

The Twins

Click here for an early watercolor rendering of the Twins.

Only once did members of the Eleven break their Covenant not to procreate together. The risks were too high, the supernatural power that might be created too unstable. That lone exception proved to be a fatal and a terrible one.

Javan and Serac fell in love, and ultimately brought twin children into the world – a daughter, Lilya, and a son, Eleon – in the year 3356 of the Embodied Age. (Or, as modern humans refer to it, 294 BC.) That set off an immediate crisis for the Eleven, and the supernatural world they inhabited.

When the Twins were barely more than toddlers, they and their parents were brought before the remaining members of the Eleven – bound in chains of relium. Following a great debate, it was decided the penalty for breaking the Covenant must be death for the children. 

Only it didn’t work out that way.

Tamel, a member of the Eleven known as the Blade Guardian and the enforcer of the Covenant, refused to carry out his solemn duty. He would not execute innocent children, regardless of their parents’ sins. He walked away from his brothers and sisters in the Eleven, and over the centuries that followed he faded into legend in the supernatural community.  

In the chaos that ensued, the twins attacked another member of the Eleven and killed him. Armaros, the most powerful among them, was forced to use a relic known as the Circlet of Moments to trap the children forever in an opening outside of time itself. They were banished not only from the supernatural world, but the human world, as well.

The Eleven would never again be complete, and their First Born and Offspring descendants began to split into competing factions that would only intensify as the remaining angel-born began to die over the millennia.

Children of the Apothetae

The strain was too much for Javan and Serac to bear when the Twins were banished, and they parted ways to mourn differently. Serac pined for her children even as she felt immense guilt and sorrow for Azza, the member of the Eleven her children had killed. Javan’s rage, meanwhile, set him upon a lonelier path.

Javan’s sphere of influence continued to be greatest in the area around Greece, and he was familiar with the Spartan practice – still very much active in 290 B.C. – of discarding babies who appeared to be weak, deformed or out of the ordinary. Such infants were thrown into the Kaiada, known informally as the Apothetae, a chasm at Mount Taygetos. Once his own children had been discarded outside of time itself, Javan found he empathized with the lost children of the Apothetae. Their only sin was being abnormal, and their lives were taken for it.

After the calamity at the Twins’ sentencing, Javan knew better than to directly countermand the orders of his brethren. He wasn’t powerful enough on his own to fight a war against them, either. So he bit his tongue, bided his time and did the next best thing: Created an underground society dedicated to eventual freedom for his children. They are unique in all of creation, the only children of angel-born, and he believed deeply that they were innocents who had been unjustly tossed out of this world.

Like a sleeper cell, the group would remain dormant until the time was ripe to act. It would wait, watch and remain ever vigilant for ways to take action on behalf of the Twins. Javan knew that even after his passing, the organization would remain intact – ever watchful – to do whatever was necessary to see that the banishment was reversed.   

Haunted by the image of lost children, Javan called his new society the Children of the Apothetae, or “Apoths” for short – determined that in this case, the chasm would give back what it had taken. The society’s band of assassins would be cast-off children he found and recruited from across the world, taken in and trained to work in pairs of two – twins – as lethal, interlocking killing machines. They would be on alert until they aged into adulthood, at which point they would be moved out of the killing corps and into other organizational, recruiting and training roles for the group.

Javan made certain, in other words, that child assassins remained forever ready to honor the world’s abused and discarded children by sacrificing themselves to right an ancient wrong and free the Twins when the time was right.   

The Apoths are based to this day in the city of Sparti, near Mount Taygetos in Greece, about 450 miles southwest of Istanbul. Since it has done nothing but watch and wait for centuries, its presence remains all but unknown in the supernatural world. It remains a wild card, loyal to no one except the Twins and willing to go to extreme lengths to pursue a single-minded agenda. 

The most likely opportunity for the group to take action was upon the death of the final member of the Eleven. At that point, the dictates of the Council – and the limits of the Covenant – were no longer binding. That would be true, The Kaiada believed, so long as nobody stepped in to replace the existing hierarchy with another that would uphold the status quo, banishment and all. 

In the late days of the Eleven, with Armaros the final remaining member and aging herself, Javan’s secret warriors became more attuned than ever to the machinations of the world around them. They observed, always, for potential successors to Armaros who might be bent on upholding the Twins’ banishment. They watched the Council at all times, looking for any signs that Armaros might be appointing a successor or laying the foundation for what came after her death.

Something as innocuous as Armaros commuting a death sentence for a hapless Offspring girl might set off a frenzy of debate and activity among the Apoths. Maybe even prompt their first assassination attempt after more than two centuries of preparation.

Origins of The Hidden Eye

The origins of the sect of the Hidden Eye began innocently enough: It was started by a group of devout Ethiopians who worshiped the Ark of the Covenant. 

In the Old Testament, God commanded Moses to build an Ark to house the tablets inscribed with his commandments. Legends claim that after the Israelites left their desert wanderings and found a promised homeland, the Ark and its contents were kept in Solomon’s temple for centuries. Eventually, the Ark vanished. Jewish legend holds that the Ark disappeared around 560 BC, when Babylonians sacked the temple. Some believe it was likely captured earlier as a prize of war, removed to Babylon and eventually destroyed. Others argue it remained in the temple until just before its eventual destruction in 70 AD. It is common among modern scholars to believe the Ark was simply destroyed with the Temple. 

But there are those who have believed for thousands of years that the Ark still exists. 

Ethiopian Christians claim that the Ark of the Covenant was spirited out of Jerusalem around 900 BC, and taken to the town of Aksum in the Northern part of the country’s highlands.

For the next thousand years, a devout group of Ethiopian believers provided support and protection for the monks guarding the supposed resting place of the Holy Ark. Even the most powerful and influential members of the group, however, had never actually seen the Ark. It was forbidden. Each generation named a single monk, known as the Protector of the Ark, who was allowed into the inner shrine. The belief system of the Hidden Eye was built upon hundreds of years of generational ritual and rigid indoctrination. 

In 1439, the shrine was ransacked and the most revered monk, the Protector of the Ark, was killed. In the aftermath, a number of the devout entered the inner shrine and found it empty. Their legends told them that the Ark had originally been stolen from Israel and spirited into Ethiopia by Menelik the bastard son of Queen Sheba and King Solomon. The protectors believed the Ark had been taken back by the Israelites. 

This belief set the protectors on a course out of Africa, to Jerusalem and eventually to Florence, Italy. The result of their actions and journey would inspire the radicalization of the Hidden Eye.

Radicalization of The Hidden Eye

In 1439, at the time of the ransacking of the shrine to the Ark of the Covenant, there was another small group of Ethiopian monks who studied and worshiped in Israel. This small, isolated cell of Ethiopians also acted as emissaries to the greater Judaic, Muslim and Christian world. A group of the protector monks traveled to Jerusalem to alert their fellow Etheopians to the tragedy that had befallen their order and of the loss of the Ark. They discovered their fellows in Israel were investigating a secret held by the Holy Roman Church – there were supposedly supernatural beings on Earth descended from what the Church called Angels.  

The Jerusalem-based Ethiopian monks were tracking a person believed to be one such supernatural being — a young sub-prince and member of a powerful Egyptian political family closely related to the ruling Mamluck dynasty. The prince was preparing to travel to Rome as an emissary to the great gathering of Roman Christians and Greek Christians.  

This important meeting between the Roman Catholic Church and the Greek Orthodox Church, in Florence, Italy, was known as the Council of Florence. The Pope, along with the powerful Bishops and Cardinals, would attend. The Ethiopians, distraught over the disappearance of the Ark and the death of their elder, coupled with the new information about potential supernatural beings at work in the Roman Church, feared a vast conspiracy. Drunk on religious fervor and revenge, the Ethiopians decided the disappearance of the Ark was related to the presence of supernatural beings and a global conspiracy by the Roman Church to hide it. 

The Ethiopian protectors followed the young Egyptian Prince to Florence. There, through a series of events, they confirmed their belief of the existence of a supernatural race, but in so doing, some of their brethren were killed. 

The only course of action for the few remaining protectors was to flee back to Ethiopia. They told the rest of the sect what they had discovered. The protectors, already furious over the perceived theft of the Ark and the death of the elder, now had more fuel to feed the flames of their zealotry. This new paradigm, however, was counter to their doctrine and seriously disrupted their world-order.

The sect of protectors and believers splintered. The most extreme element wanted only revenge. First, for the loss of the Ark and the killing of their kind. Additionally, for what they considered the supernatural beings to be: Abominations to the natural order established by their God. 

The extreme faction formed a secret organization and called themselves the Hidden Eye. They bound themselves to an oath — to find the Ark and to eradicate the supernatural abominations and their spawn.

They would raise their children to the same singular purpose. They would train, study and prepare; lie, cheat, cajole — anything to expose the supernatural beings and eradicate them. Some in the Hidden Eye would develop other, less pure, motives. These members would come to believe that if a person kills a supernatural being, or one of their powerful half-breed children, they inherit their power. 

Each new member of the Hidden Eye swears this sacred oath:

You are timeless. We hunt for all time. You are the severed lie. 

We are beloved. You are the thief. We are the protectors. You are abomination. We are wrath.

The Amyclaean Guard

Please visit our Art page to see a watercolor painting of the Amyclaean Guard, or click here.

Uncoiling out of the darkness behind you, the voice is like nothing you’ve ever heard. It croaks, gravelly and insistent: “Come with me… would you… please?”

As you twist in surprise, your eyes land first on the metal rods running through the woman’s neck (*). Only then do you notice the barely suppressed violence in her eyes, and it’s clear the question wasn’t really a question at all.  

Since Tamel’s break with the Eleven and their Offspring more than 1,500 years ago, the members of the Amyclaean Guard have been among the most respected and feared inhabitants of the supernatural world. Respected because they are assiduously neutral and fair in settling disputes and protecting the Sovereign Council in Istanbul; feared because their paramilitary skills and relium blades make them potentially lethal enforcers of the Covenant.

At any given time, there are 12 members of the Guard. One apiece in hereditary lines descended from each of the Eleven, and a 12th member representing the monks of Pro Lapsis Astra. The warrior monk is by tradition the first among equals. He is head of the Guard and organizes training and all missions outside the walls of the Council Chamber. The longest-serving member of the remaining 11 serves as deputy director. A third Guard, the most deserving among them in the combat arts, is appointed training master.

Collectively, the Amyclaean Guard shields the High Council Chamber, protects the Crimson Scribes and the members of the Sovereign Council and, when necessary, carries out orders from the Sovereign Council. In rare cases where violation of the Covenant is severe enough to warrant a death sentence, the Guard will carry out the order.

If there was to be a major schism in the supernatural world – after the death of the final member of the Eleven, for instance – the allegiance of the Guard would be of paramount interest to everyone involved.

* Their throats are pierced from the front to the back. There are two studs that run horizontally, very close (and press up against) the vocal cords/windpipe. A new initiate will only have the two stud ends protruding from their neck. When their initiation period is complete they receive a ornate ‘plate’ that connects the two piercings. Their voices are significantly altered by this mutilation.

Sovereign Council of the Eleven

It was a time that would eventually be called 180 BC (or BCE), and change was upon the Eleven. The members gathered in Italy, at the mountain home of Azza, nestled in the foothills of what would in later eras be known as the Italian Alps. At this gathering it was decided to establish a permanent home for the Sovereign Council.

Over the centuries, as the Eleven had established themselves in the different regions of the world, they had many First Born children — and those children, in turn, had many Offspring. As the family lines grew ever more complex and distant from the original Eleven, squabbles, territorial disputes and outright violations of the Covenant required the Eleven meet more regularly than in simpler times. No longer would the Eleven call a gathering of the Sovereign Council only when absolutely necessary. The complexity of the world of supernatural beings they had created was starting to require more systematic attention.

It was decided that a High Chamber would be commissioned (see an image here). And the place would be the new city of Byzantium (which would later become known as Constantinople and even later as Istanbul). The city of Byzantium was at the crossroads of much of the developing world, and the Eleven (correctly) reasoned its geography would make it important in world affairs.

In the beginning, the city of Byzantium was nothing more than a regional trading hub and waypoint for travelers. The building of the High Chamber of the Sovereign Council was nothing more than a modest structure that blended in with its surroundings. It wasn’t until 498 AD, under the rule of the Eastern Roman Emperor, Anastasius, that the much larger compound (which still exists today) was built and would blend in with the growing metropolis and seat of Rome’s Eastern Capitol.

For the first nearly 700 years, the High Chamber had only a handful of Scribes assigned to live and maintain the modest structure, and to help facilitate and record the gathering of the Sovereign Council. Originally, the council planned to meet once each decade — but by the time the larger, stone compound was complete in 498 AD, the council was meeting every two years and sometimes more frequently.

It was also in 498 AD that the Sovereign Council required that the Keeper of the Lines (see an image here) move into the compound of the High Chamber. It was the wisdom of the council, and many of the powerful Scribes, that the Keeper of the Lines must both be protected and watched. By requiring that the Keeper of the Lines move into the High Chamber, both goals could be accomplished.

The inevitable downside of the creation of a High Chamber, especially in later times, was that it became a focal point for many trying to curry favor or influence the governing of the hidden supernatural world. Eventually, it was necessary to establish a special division of Scribes, known as the Crimson Scribes (see images here and here), to serve the Sovereign Council rather than any single family line.

The Lost Tribe

The term “The Lost Tribe” is attributed to Tamel’s progeny, both his own First Born and, eventually, their Offspring. He may not have played the part of his bloodline’s family patriarch in any public way, but over the eons he experienced human love and did leave a genetic legacy.

No one knows how many children he bore. This is partly because Tamel never took a Scribe. But it’s also because, unlike his brothers and sisters in the Eleven, he never settled into a specific area of the world. Tamel chose a nomadic life of adventure and travel. In the beginning, this was an offshoot of his role as the outstretched fist of the Sovereign Council of the Eleven, in his role as Blade Guardian and enforcer of the Covenant (read more about the Sovereign Council here).

For centuries, he enforced the harshest punishments ordered by the Sovereign Council, even when he disagreed. After the trial of Javan and Serac and the banishment of the Twins, however, he would no longer serve (read more about the Twins here). He may have still carried the Blade of the Sacrifice, but he set down the burden of enforcer and slipped into obscurity.

As a mysterious, nomadic adventurer, Tamel was rarely in one place for long. As a result, his First Born children were often unaware of who their father was and unprepared for their own Turning. Although it is generally believed that Tamel fathered fewer children than any other of the Eleven, his legacy was left in every region of the world. Many of those First Born grew to be strong – some good and just; others cruel and power hungry. For many, it wasn’t until they accidentally discovered their powers, or outlived all their family and loved ones, that they knew they were not entirely human.

Tamel was not heartless. He sought out many of his children when he anticipated that they might be discovering their powers. He taught them what they were and how they should act. But this haphazard parenting left many lost, afraid of what they were and blind to their place in the world.

About the Creators and Authors

Mara Layil’s world was created by Kevin Curry, Devon Lyon and Scott Bernard Nelson, including the lore, origin story and characterization. To help bring Mara’s narrative to life, novelists Julie O’Connell and Amber J. Keyser joined the team. These two immensely talented authors penned the manuscripts that became “Offspring” and “The Hunt for Mara Layil,” respectively.

BOOK AUTHORS

OFFSPRING | Julie O’Connell left a dazzling career as an uber-supermodel and fashion adviser to the Queen of England to raise three amazing sprogs in the glorious Pacific Northwest. Now that the boys are grown and busy stalking the Marvel Cinematic Universe and anything Disney-park related, Julie has the time to pursue a burgeoning career in world-class gardening, gourmet garnishing and tea swilling. She also writes fiction. You can find her sporadic ramblings about everything from googly eyes to toast at www.julieoconnell.wordpress.com.  

THE HUNT FOR MARA LAYIL | Amber J. Keyser is the author of fifteen books for tweens and teens. Her most recent novels include Pointe, Claw (Carolrhoda Lab, 2017) and The Way Back from Broken (Carolrhoda Lab, 2015), a finalist for the Oregon Book Award. Her most recent nonfiction titles include No More Excuses: Dismantling Rape Culture (Twenty-First Century Books, 2019) and The V-Word: True Stories of First-Time Sex (Beyond Words/SimonTeen, 2016). Amber’s books have been recognized on the New York Public Library 50 Best Books for Teens, Chicago Public Library Best Nonfiction for Teens, ALA Rainbow List and Amelia Bloomer List, among other honors. Read more about her work at amberjkeyser.com.

WORLD CREATORS

Devon Lyon | Over the past sixteen years Devon has produced and directed hundreds of projects for a diverse roster of creative agencies, client-direct businesses and international brands. In addition to Angel Punk, in 2018, Devon co-wrote a teen horror episodic that was optioned by AMC’s horror distribution arm, Shudder. In 2016, Devon was invited to give a TedxTalk on the future of storytelling with the advent of virtual reality and augmented reality. From 2014 through 2016, Devon served on the board of director’s for Oregon’s statewide film and television professional association (OMPA). Devon’s love of working in-depth with actors compelled him to start producing and directing theatrical plays. Over the past few years, Devon has directed and co-produced four licensed plays, all garnering positive industry and critical reviews. Devon lives in the Pacific Northwest with his daughter and his partner.

Scott Bernard Nelson | Twenty-two years in journalism allowed Scott to travel the world and tell a lifetime’s worth of interesting stories. He tracked Al-Qaeda financiers around Europe, covered a Winter Olympic Games, was the first journalist to walk ground zero after 9/11 in Manhattan and crossed the border from Kuwait into Iraq with U.S. Marines under a barrage of artillery fire. He contributed to The Boston Globe's Pulitzer Prize-winning coverage of sexual abuse in the Catholic Church, which spawned the movie “Spotlight.” No longer in daily journalism, Scott works in higher education, is a professional whiskey reviewer and enjoys writing screenplays and short fiction. He lives near Portland, Ore., with his wife and two children.

Dr. Kevin E. Curry | Kevin Curry is a Renaissance man, crisscrossing between politics, media, business and academia. Few people are equally excited about writing a horror-musical short film (The Tell ), producing a feature-length documentary (Gentleman of the Senate: Oregon's Mark Hatfield) and podcast about political history (Revisit the Moment), and analyzing social media and politics for outlets like The Washington Post. He's pretty impressed and amazed to have shot a TikTok video with over 1.1 million views and 98,300 'likes'. His work as a media professional includes writing and producing short films, commercials, and a feature documentary, as well as stints as a communication professional for trade associations and in higher education. His experience in the political arena features work as communications director in the Oregon Legislature and managing local and statewide political campaigns. He is a full time professor teaching courses in electronic media production, media law, social media, and the history of mass media. He has a cool wife and two adult kids.