Zach's scream filled every corner of the palace. His voice echoed off the cold walls, as if the very building itself suffered alongside him.
I paced back and forth anxiously. I didn't want it to come to this. Resorting to aggression was always the last option, but now I had no other choice. I needed details. This sudden shift demanded only rational actions.
The angels and Dahlia were in the great hall. We guarded them from the corridors—it was easier to monitor the area from here.
"Do you sense any foreign energy?" I asked one of the dark-cloaked figures in a hushed tone.
"No, nothing for now."
"The sensors are in place. I've set up automated weapons in every bright and dark corner, every staircase landing, and behind every column," another answered, slightly nervous.
"Good." I kept pacing, restless. "Set up more. Arm yourselves with at least two weapons each. Our numbers are dwindling—without this kind of reinforcement, we wouldn't stand a chance.But this is a flimsy reassurance at best," I said, voice flat. "There are barely twenty of us left. We have a handful of weapons against the spirits, but not enough hands to wield them. And then there's our arrogant angel—who might use his powers… or might not. Or perhaps he'll just vanish, the way our dear ruler did."
I cast a cynical glance at the team, unreasonably bitter.
I didn't like taking my frustration out on others, but this planless plan was eating away at me. I stared out the window, searching for movement.
"But if even the ruler doesn't care about his own people, why are we still here?" one of them spoke up, his voice laced with justified doubt. "We've lost most of our team. We should be escaping, not defending someone who abandoned an entire city."
"We're not doing it for him!" I snapped, firm and unwavering. "We're doing it for our comrades, for the angels who deserve to be saved. Don't forget—it's not their fault they were left behind." I turned back to the speaker. "Any other questions?"
He lowered his gaze in silence and went back to setting up the traps.
I turned back to the window, my face cold and unreadable. I was firm, commanding, and too detached—like I wasn't even myself. But sometimes, certain situations reveal who we can become when necessity demands it. Or who we once were.
The screams grew louder again.
"Has he said anything?" I looked at the other figure.
"As you can hear—nothing. Despite all our efforts, he refuses to talk. Claims he's innocent. But we're not fools. We have a suspicion."
"There's something wrong with him," a girl stepped closer. Her voice was quiet, but uncertainty seeped through. "He's not the Zach we knew."
"That's not news." I sighed. "Maybe they trained him to say a few things, but this is just another one of Clarissa's circus tricks." I hesitated for a moment before finally saying it. "The real one is out there. Beyond the fog."
A voice shattered the frozen silence.
Chloe.
She had been sitting in the corner, silent until now. But suddenly, she cried out, struggling against her tears.
"That's not true!"
Her legs trembled, as if the very foundation of her world had collapsed with my words. It hurt to see her like this—so broken.
"He is the real Zach!" she sobbed. "Please, Avar, look at me! Don't be so cruel! Please, stop hurting him!"
Another scream tore through the air. Zach's agony seeped through the walls once more. Chloe grabbed my arm, her fingers clutching me desperately.
"Please, tell them to stop!"
I stared at her for long seconds.
"You have to understand—this is not the Zach you think he is. Clarissa is playing a filthy game with us. Think of the others—Dave, David, Emily, the lieutenants, the angels. This isn't a game."
The pain in Chloe's eyes deepened, but she had to understand the reality of the situation.
And then—
"Wait!" a voice broke the tense silence. "I'm starting to feel something!"
"Yes, my sensor is going off too!" another voice joined in.
My body tensed.
"Weapons ready! Combat positions!"
Through my earpiece, I gave commands.
"Nobody moves! No one stays in the courtyard—it's no longer safe! We defend the building!"
We were still twenty. I sent ten to the main hall.
Then I felt it.
A familiar sensation.
It was like an invisible, icy hand clamped around my chest. A suffocating, oppressive weight pressed down on me, as if black lead sheets were crushing my lungs. I looked out the window.
And I saw them.
The fog obscured their shapes, but their energy had already burned itself into my bones. It was eerie, almost otherworldly, as if the night itself had taken form.
The weapons hummed to life.
"Can I give the order to fire?" one of my comrades asked urgently.
"Yes. In fact, do it now!" I raised my voice.
The thought froze inside me.
The worst part of situations like this is that no matter how much you prepare, no matter how many defenses you build, no matter how hard you try to control it… Chaos is always stronger.
And now, it was.
The weapons fired blindly—into nothing.
The creatures were just shadows. They had no real bodies. We didn't know where to aim.
The energy weapons had no effect.
There were too many of them, and we couldn't see how many, or where they were.
Then the darkness moved.
In a single instant, the world twisted out of shape.
They came through the walls, like phantoms, like cold drafts. The ground trembled beneath their steps.
They came like starving beasts,
To devour the hunters.
The air changed. That bad feeling, which had only been swirling inside me until now, suddenly swept everything away. A single flash, and as if a knife had been plunged into my mind, it became clear, sharpened. I felt that they were already inside—I didn't need to see them to know.
I looked at the remaining dark-clad figures.
"Use your energy weapons as much as you can! A spinning kick won't help here."
I could feel them already there. My subconscious opened up. Sweating with rage, it cleared a path before me, and in the next moment, I stepped into the room. The doors slammed open with a great crash, and there stood Dahlia. A look of desperation was etched on her face—one I had never seen from her before. I felt that she was channeling all her strength into holding back the souls, as if maintaining an invisible barrier. The energies lined up along the edges of the room, trying to squeeze themselves into the bodies. The hope of rebirth drove them—the yearning for flesh and blood.
And then I saw Clarissa.
She stopped in front of me, glanced back curiously, then flashed a smile—one with a hint of menace.
"Oh, so the little human protector has arrived! This is even better than that ridiculous little bubble!" she mocked. "Oh, don't look at me like that! I could feel last time, too, that you don't like me. I'm not such a bad person."
She ran her fingers through Eli's golden-blonde hair as she crouched down beside her.
"What a pity that I won't be able to prove you wrong this time either, because once again, I'm about to do something nasty."
She was deliberately provoking me.
"Get away from them!" I hissed in anger.
I looked at Dahlia's face—I had never seen her like this before. Her entire being radiated supernatural power, her concentration so intense that the air around her practically vibrated. But even that wasn't enough. The soul captives lined up at the edge, creeping closer and closer. The woman was on the verge of breaking from the effort. It couldn't be any better outside either—I could constantly hear the shouts of the dark-clad figures, the blasts of energy weapons.
"We won't let your horde in!" I declared. "I have the box. I will return their souls to them."
Clarissa tilted her head slightly, then chuckled softly.
"And what if there's nowhere left to return them to?"
"I'm telling you one last time. Get out of here!"
The smile faded from her face.
"Fine. Enough with the politeness."
Her voice sliced through the space like an icy blade.
"No little human is going to talk to me like that! Is that clear? And just what do you think you'll fight me with? Your little smoke bombs? Your energy weapons? Or are you planning to kick me? Karate me to death?"
She laughed.
"Maybe."
And I lunged at her.
My bones tensed, my muscles coiled beneath my skin as my body moved with full force. My breathing quickened, adrenaline surged through my veins.
Clarissa's movements were fast—too fast for human eyes. But I saw them. It was as if I already knew where she would step, how she would attack, what strike would come next.
A punch—I blocked it.
A kick—I dodged it.
My fingers wrapped around hers, stopping her motion for a split second. Our eyes met. For the first time, surprise flickered in hers.
Then she attacked.
And I attacked with her.
I saw her hand move—I ducked underneath it and struck her stomach with full force. She stumbled—but only for a second. My hair tangled in her fingers, and as she yanked me back, I felt my neck strain.
Instinctively, my hand moved—I struck her shoulder. A joint cracked, and Clarissa hissed as she retreated.
The fight was brutal. Tearing, crushing, merciless. No graceful movements—only sheer power, fury, and raw violence.
And then I surged forward.
Like a raging storm.
Every muscle fiber in me burned. My blows quickened, became faster than hers. She could no longer keep up. Step by step, she retreated until finally—
BAM!
I took her down.
Clarissa crashed to the floor, panting as she looked up at me, her chest rising and falling wildly.
"Enough, you bitch!"
Her voice trembled in the air.
Her eyes burned.
And then she unleashed her true power.
The final transformation.
For a moment, the air stood still. Her wings slowly unfolded—they were gray. With a single motion, she struck. I was thrown back, and Dahlia collapsed to the ground—the barrier shattered.
I was stunned. I had seen angels. I had seen power. But I had never seen anything like this.
And then, disaster struck.
The souls crossed the boundary. They had won free passage.
They approached the bodies, and in mere moments, they could infiltrate them.
A relentless tingling coursed through my bloodstained fingers. Rage surged within me like a raging sea. And then it happened.
For the first time in my life, I met myself.
My blood ignited. The world widened, my senses sharpened. An ancient power erupted within me, like a buried seed drinking in water for the first time.
I had no wings, no angelic features, yet I was ablaze.
A single thought.
I swept the souls away.
My consciousness wounded them, filling their ether with pain.
Instinctively, I spoke.
"Go, you damned ones! Go, you uninvited! I never asked for cradles to be disturbed, for weeds to grow among flowers! Find your peace where the horizon is endless!"
"Go, you damned ones! Go, you uninvited!"
I heard Dahlia's sharp but quiet voice echoing my words.
The words, the sounds, reverberated through the ether. The souls wavered. Some disappeared, but they needed more incentive.
I looked at Clarissa.
She stood there, tense. In her eyes, fear.
At first, the strong woman stared back at me—the one who wanted to rule the world.
Then, for a fleeting moment, I saw a lost little girl.
But she quickly buried that part of herself once more.
She quickly hid her old self.
A sharp pain pierced my throat, as if she wanted to split it in half with a mere thought. My bones tensed like a guitar string, feeding the fury within me. It took only a moment, and I acted.
One of my hands pressed Clarissa's throat against the cold wall, while the other rose toward the box resting on the marble pedestal. My fingers moved on their own, as if guided by an ancient will. The words were not mine, yet they were born from me:
— Souls, return! Let your light fill this hall! Go home, feel the warmth of your bodies once more! Let the suffering of the present be nothing more than the past!
At my words, the energy stirred. The walls of the room trembled, the air vibrated with tension. A vortex seemed to form, tearing through the thinning veil that had separated the souls from their bodies. The soul captives vanished into nothingness with a single sweeping motion. There was no trace left of them—they chose to return to the darkness rather than be consumed by the golden fire.
Clarissa's face twisted with rage, but in her eyes, something else flickered—fear. She struggled to free herself from my grip, but my hand did not let go. The lid of the box trembled, then slowly opened, releasing a blinding light.
— You're a mongrel! Just like me! — Clarissa hissed. — A Nephilim! Don't help them! They will never understand you; they will hunt you down! You will be alone!
I felt her anger, I felt her desperation, but I did not care. I looked into her eyes, my voice quiet yet relentless:
— At least I don't try to cast them out of their own bodies. I am not a mongrel like you. Maybe that's why your mother abandoned you. Maybe that's why she doesn't want you to find her. Especially not like this—treating souls as if they were mere mannequins to try on. You are pathetic.
My words hit her like lashes of a whip. Her body jerked, her gaze wavered for a moment. But I had no time to watch. The energy in the room had gone wild, and the bodies that had lain motionless began to tremble.
The angelic souls had returned.
The angels lying on the ground slowly, shakily opened their eyes. Their skin was pale, almost translucent, but as their souls rejoined their bodies, color returned to them. And then I saw them…
Wings.
For a moment, I was mesmerized. White feathers, golden radiance, an aura of power reminiscent of sacred places. As their wings slowly unfolded, it was as if a lost world had been reborn before my eyes. I knew they were like this, but seeing them in their full form was different.
And then I noticed something.
Elis, John, and Clara were looking at me. But not as they had before. Their faces were not just filled with shock—but with fear. They could not see my wings, for I had none. But I felt different. More. Other. And they could see it too.
Something strange pressed against my ribs from within. Something pulsed through my veins that was not of this world. As if I were both boundless power and a deep void. Destruction and healing.
Clarissa was swallowed by the golden light. The angels surrounded her, and at their single command, she was rendered powerless.
It was over.
At least, that's what I thought.
The world blurred for a moment. It felt like falling into an abyss with nothing to stop me. My head buzzed, and the voices around me grew distant. I wanted to smile, but my lips refused to move.
— We have to get him out of here! — Clara's voice reached me like a distant echo.
Footsteps pounded against the floor. Strong hands grabbed me—a familiar touch, a familiar voice. Michael.
— Do we have a car? — I heard John ask.
— We do… — the answer came, as if filtered through water. — Get him out before the others wake up!
I sensed movement, running, tension.
For a moment, I regained consciousness. Elis was leaning over me, tears glistening in her eyes.
— Avarka… Avarka, wake up!
The world was slipping further away, but I felt it moving with me. A car. They were putting me inside.
Clara leaned forward, her fingers swiftly gliding over the dashboard.
— Michael, stay behind! — John commanded.
— You're an archangel! This wouldn't reflect well on you!
— I am a guardian archangel. — Michael's voice was calm but firm. — I protect those who deserve it. I will not leave you alone now.
The engine roared to life.
We sped off.
The world rushed past me as if it did not exist. My head was heavy, my thoughts chaotic. I knew two things for certain: I knew nothing. I had no idea what I was or what I wasn't.
And the other thing:
I was now being hunted.