Sons of Cain: The Origins of Alec: Sons of Cain, #3

By Omega Iman

The first family tree of Adam and Eve is branching off to the Sons of Cain. Born and bred warriors for their father's empire, the Sons of Cain had no other option but to succeed. Alec, the youngest of the three bestows the power of mental manipulation and has fought mercilessly in his father's crusade for centuries. Now, years later he embarks on a life all by his design, and his father hails him home for one final mission. To enter the levels of heaven.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Red Ink Publications
• Release date: Oct 3, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201039318

Book preview

Books also by the author:

From Hell

The Unusuals

Yours Truly

Hit Lit

Prologue

October 2019

"You know who you are, who we are." I remembered him saying, my eyes closed as if I were still sleeping. Instead, very much awake, I was reliving a memory. My back laid firm against the bed whilst my mind roamed freely. Similar to a flash flood, all of my regressed memories washed over me, yet again.

"I wish you could be spared from

all of this. You are still a child." I heard the same voice say.

Malic. Softer though, younger. And with the voice, overlapped more memories, memories of Pyramids and temples with clay still wet. Of scrolls and walls filled with documents that were held by scholars, hundreds of centuries before my time. Yet they were memories still, seen with my very own eyes. And like waking up, my spine straightened like a pole in urgency while I gasped desperately for air. That is when I could see. I could see my flat, grand and wide open before my queen-sized bed. I could see my books permeate the wall, topics ranging from psychology to physics. They sat next to my diplomas and certificates, neatly hung. Next, I clutched at the sheets to ensure here was truly where I was. Mentally and physically.

It sickened me how often I had awakened like this, disoriented with the lack of sense of self. Remembering fragments of the life I lived. Feeling like lives I never knew at all. I knew already my existence is somewhat of an anomaly that I had spent years trying to decipher. It began in 1920, my first vivid memory being of—knock knock. Faintly though, enough to be the neighbor's door—

Wait...knock knock...I heard again, interrupting my thought. I slid against the sheets, racing until I met the door.

Malic? I asked in angst, opening it to be greeted by London fog.

I saw that the busy streets were filled with cars and cyclists making their rounds but nothing else. No one else. I couldn’t handle it if this was another game my mind wanted to play, closing the door in agitation. Looking at my feet, I noticed an envelope with my name written in neat cursive along the front.

‘Alec’, I bent, clutching it close before I stood again. "Meet me in New York, at my Penthouse. You will know when." It demanded, saying nothing further.

I felt every muscle in my body tighten, just at the thought of him. My father, son of Adam and Eve. Making me, the son of Cain, the first human ever born. Though my father's infamous story has echoed throughout the centuries, few know of its aftermath. How these circumstances bred the most disciplined and selfish father the world has ever known. And now, after all this time he summons me. I felt the paper slip through my fingers, taking slow steps to create as much distance as I could from it. Just thinking of being around my father again, my family again, brought pain to my chest. I, Alec, am the youngest son of Cain. Before me came Cai, and before Cai there was Malic. We, his children, were a concentrated thought executed by him. He bred with three of the strongest witches the world has ever seen. His little toy soldiers. Our mothers were all different creeds, mine being Roman. I inherited her power of mental manipulation. I was born just two years after my brother Cai, and five after Malic. We all inherited our mother's individual gifts, Malic’s being elemental manipulation. Cai hosted the power to control the skies elements, from lightning to thunder. And with them, our father has used them to his advantage every chance he’s gotten. This letter, this demand included his next chance. I closed my eyes, remembering how just last night all the puzzle pieces to my life came together. How Malic finally uncovered my almost 100-year mystery with just three words.

‘Son of Cain.’

How I got to London, how I lost myself. And the day, the very day, I come to find me again, he wants to meet. Almost as if he were waiting, this being the last string to tie before he enlists us in another war. I wished I was over exaggerating. In opening my eyes, I found myself just blocks away from my father’s home in New York dressed in a three-piece matte custom suit. The sun by now had prepared to set. This isn’t the first day I’ve lived primarily in my mind and won’t be my last. I saw the New York skyline rise above me, the traffic being much louder than London’s. The voices and thoughts that rang constant in my ear also grew louder, angrier than London’s.

Sleek, silver and expensive written all over the place. I entered the lobby of his apartment building, a traditional and sophisticated New York high rise. It was sparingly decorated with modern