Father’s Love [Part 1]

“Tell me about yourself,” Ishaan requests, wrenching Kaltain out of her daze. He senses lanterns afloat, drifting to the sky, accompanied with faint prayers mingled with brewing of coffee and clattering of silverwave, yet what he senses most is her.

“Like what?” Kaltain inquires beside him. Her boiling presence beats against his skin, fluttering with the motion around them, to the causal walk of customers and quick strides of employees.

“Anything.”

Her brows knit tightly together, as if he asked the most difficult question.

“Favorite color?” Ishaan offers.

“Dark blue.” Kaltain blinks, delicately cupping a large iced coffee. “What’s yours?”

“White.”

Thus, the two questioned each other, varying from favorite things like movies, music, shows, food, hobbies, etc. 

Along the conversation, Ishaan registers that he needs to tread carefully to earn her friendship and affection, but as personal topics rise, he couldn’t help but be cold.

It was unfair; he knew that. However, even she was sidetracking them, making the questions asked of her about her family, as her life revolve solely around them. While Ishaan wasn’t familiar with the concept of a close family, he was sure every life had depth of their own, so that eased his guilt.

‘Maybe personal inquiries can wait…’

“So, you have like a whole section of your house filled with shoes?” Kaltain grills, her face alight with curiosity.

“Yes,” Ishaan replies.

Her gaze drops, staring at moderate pointed leather shoes. “Of all types?”

“Yup. Over ten thousand.” Ishaan chuckles in amusement at Kaltain's shocked small gasp.

Kaltain takes a sip of her vanilla ice latte, eagerly welcoming the cold syrupy liquid and glancing beneath the table. Her shoes gingerly move to hover beside his, consciously making the effort to not touch him.

“If only we were the same size, I would borrow your stuff like my own. An endless supply of shoes,” she muses with a wicked grin. “Of course, even if we were, you wouldn’t want me too.”

“No, I wouldn’t.” Ishaan playful bumps the teddy bear arm against her cheek, already imagining where to place it in his room. “But I would buy you your own. We could even match sometimes.”

Kaltain laughs. “Does your clan have more money than mine?”

A soberness floods Ishaan's mind. He strongly refrains from curling his mouth back in distaste. 

Inherited enemies; that’s what all holy children are, even his father and hers. 

Of course, some made hating way easier by adding fuel to the fire, yet hate didn’t have to be their true ties.

Ziven was the first to accept Ishaan as a person, followed by members of Voyager Seekers. It’s because of them Ishaan even started a conversation with Kaltain.

In the beginning, Ishaan was replete with his father's own hatred, blaming the other clans for unfortunate events in his life instead of the real adversary.

Even now, he still finds himself unable to control the instinct to hate and it’s only when she mentioned the clans did he remember how dangerous starting a friendship with Kaltain is.

Emris Iniko's reaction upon discovering that the members in Voyager Seekers had various clan backgrounds was beyond anger.

Ishaan never saw such a wild malice look in his father's eyes. He became a furious incarnation of the sentiment.

With dark amusement, Ishaan wonders what his father will think if he looks into his mind, finding it stuffed with the daughter of his worst arch-rival.

Ishaan did not feel hatred for Kaltain, whether it’s because of her connection to Ziven or because she feels like the embodiment of everything he wants in a person, he can’t confirm.

“I expect Winter Clan to be the richest, considering all advanced technology comes from the north,” Ishaan remarks casually. “If the north fell, we would soon descend back into the age of no technology.”

Pride soars in Kaltain as she nods in agreement. “According to my father, most of our financial resources go to the people and the lands.”

“A benevolent man,” Ishaan says. “My old man would keep all the money to himself if he could.”

Kaltain stomach twist, dread churning in its depth. ‘He’s no longer known as benevolent.’

Before Kaltain can attempt to turn the conversation in a different direction, an employee approaches them with Ishaan black coffee.

He ordered at the same time as Kaltain, yet for some reason, it was delayed.

At that moment, a premonition of danger alarms Ishaan just as ominous darkness befalls everything. 

Ishaan calmly jerks his wrist seconds before a dull sensation throbs in the atmosphere.

Panic sets in, Kaltain's shoulders tensing as a shroud of shadows cover her vision and all her senses, unable to pinpoint the exact threat, feeling as if she’s coasting in a galaxy of nothingness.

In the void, Kaltain tries to reach out to Ishaan, urgency rushing through her. However, she can not move a muscle or a limb—for she had none.

Kaltain hears the ragged beat of her pulse and heavy breaths, confirming she still existed. In the background, Kaltain perceives someone attacking and the helplessness of the situation arose frustration and anger, which devours her brimming fear. ‘Am I still in the coffee shop? What of Ishaan? I bet he’s alright. He has a complete sun divine mark.’

The space in the coffee shop freezes, as if stripped of the flow of time, with deep blue immense orbs manifesting, posing to strike, followed by thundering blizzards of sharp ice swords.

As the atmosphere returns to normal, Kaltain notices the formidable attacks, but before they can strike, sturdy arms lift her into a firm embrace. The odor of earth and headspining cologne tells Kaltain all she needs to know about who holds her.

For an unabashedly moment, she greedily clings to him, soaking up his body heat and smell as if it’s a dying breath.

The feeling of safety is mystifying.

Kaltain couldn’t explain with mere words of the desire surging within her that compels her self-consciousness into dust, urging her to melt into him.

The darkness fades into smoky mist, revealing a luminous protective field encasing the entire area of the coffee shop and around.

Ishaan was already dashing steadily out the door with Kaltain, forcing the emerging enemy to make chase.

The sound of screaming becomes distant in Kaltain eardrums, her eyesight catching people crouching and yelling in fear, along with thin cracks split in the bright surface of the protective field.

The said enemies were three, dressed in long sapphire cloaks embellished with cyan stars.

“Damn, we missed our easy chance!”

“Don’t whine, Aalia,” Kaelan Iridessa, an infamous Pope, chides.

****

‘So light and warm.’ Ishaan muscles were taunt and tense, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He slows down his erratically heart rate. Shivering profoundly as Kaltain touches him, he sucks in a sharp breath. ‘And very soft.’

Her soft breath tickles his cheek, with her well-built stomach molding against his side and the gentle slope of her hips firmly under his palm, sending goosebumps down his spine.

The proximity of her spun like air around Ishaan, every move Kaltain made a spark of awareness. He should be paying attention to the enemies, yet a care for them existed not in Ishaan's mind.

‘I should deal with them quickly and then…’ Ishaan internally shakes his head, scolding himself for his upcoming thought process.

“Not now,” Ishaan says, his breath shallow. “I’ll let you have all your perverted attention later, sweet darling.”

“Sorry.” Kaltain's heart skips a beat, blushing furiously. She tries to pull away and fly, but Ishaan, with his other arm holstering the plushie, tightens his grip.

Kaltain ceases her efforts at his disapproval, her eyes looking behind them, where three figures run scarily quick.

Ishaan summons solar energy with ease, shaping sunlight into spears. His assault sizzles through the air as it careens towards the enemies, slowing them down.

Despite her earlier raging panic, Kaltain felt strangely calm, which causes her do a double take of herself.

“Who are they?” Kaltain asks carefully, slamming down her incredulity at his lack of facial hair and pores.

“I like to call them dogs of the hunter,” Ishaan says calmly. “The enemies are a pope and two saints. From their clothes, I bet they’re from the Reaper of the Celestials faction. As you know, Phthartic spread their belief through the founders, a federation consisting of divine descendants.”

Kaltain can only blink and shiver as she adjusts to the sudden events.

“I’ll take care of this for you,” she finally says, slipping from his arms and taking to the sky with the plushie in hand. “Be careful.”

Ishaan gave a subtle nod. “Call your divine companion.”

In the next moment, Osyth appears on Kaltain's head, tails swaying elegantly. 

Kaltain hides behind a tree, her guilt warring with annoyance. If she fought with him as she is now, she would only be a burden. This inflamed a type of resentment in Kaltain heart.

****

Popes, Saints, Oracles are devoted believers of divine beings. Their ranks are leveled with veteran Ophanim, with similar strength and powers, but they view that address—Ophanim—as sacred and are deeply sickened with those who call themselves an Ophanim.

They travel in a trio—one pope, and two saints, hunting down Ophanims and taking on tasks that harm the holy clans in any way.