Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Lucifer didn’t remember the exact moment he tore Michael’s wing off. Rage took over, hot, fast, and violent. It hit him so hard that when it passed, he was shaking and empty.

He’d felt anger before, but this was different. It burned through him like acid. He knew frustration. He knew irritation but this, this wild, blinding fury, was new. And it exploded the moment Michael said the one thing he never expected.

Michael kissed Adam, his Adam.

At first, Lucifer laughed, a sharp, bitter sound that died as the truth sank in. Hypocrisy didn’t even cover it. Michael, the golden son, Heaven’s enforcer, had kissed the same man Lucifer was cast out for loving.

Lucifer remembered that moment too. How Michael dragged him away from Eden. How he spat words like “dangerous” and “forbidden.”

“For humanity’s sake,” Michael had said. “For Adam’s sake.”

And now this?

Lucifer’s thoughts spun out. Michael had taken the last piece of joy he had left. He'd twisted something sacred and claimed it was righteous. Lucifer’s hands trembled as raw power surged through him, darker than anything he’d ever touched.

Then he was on Michael, and the world turned red. He heard the wing tear; he heard Michael scream.

The sound of feathers ripping still echoed in his head. He hadn’t stopped, he couldn’t. Michael’s betrayal fed the fire, rage, heartbreak, the sharp sting of being used. He almost threw Michael into the Abyss, he would’ve, if the others hadn’t pulled him back.

Now he sat in chains, locked in Heaven’s central chamber like a beast.

Lucifer sighed and looked up, the chains dug into his skin, they glowed gold, the same light that was supposed to mean freedom. They said these chains were made from Cherubim wings, unbreakable, absolute. He still tested them, shifting against the pull, but they held. His arms, legs, even his wings were bound. He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, the light muted everything, even his voice. Not that he had anything left to say.

What could he say? To them? To Michael?

Michael had already taken everything. Trust. Love. Dignity. Gone.

The chamber stretched around him, columns, pillars, light. Seven massive pillars stood in a perfect circle, sharp-edged and silent, like they were built to mock him, the air throbbed with a slow pulse, Heaven’s heartbeat.

Lucifer tipped his head back and stared into the sky above. The light there moved in slow waves, like it was alive. It offered peace, but not to him.

Statues surrounded him, ancient ones. Seraphim with their wings and single eyes. Cherubim with four heads and endless stares. Thrones, just rings and eyes, always spinning.

He’d seen them all before but never like this. Never from his knees. Never as their prisoner.

They called this place the Heart of Stagecoach, the centre of Heaven, the root of all creation. He used to wonder if Heaven grew in spirals, layer on layer. Now he didn’t care. Let it collapse. Let it burn.

He slouched, the chains pulling him down. His head tilted back. His eyes went vacant.

This was what they’d reduced him to. Bound. Gagged. Stripped of everything.

His thoughts drifted to Adam. To the humans. To the world they hadn’t even built yet.

Would they understand him?

Would they feel his grief? His rage?

Or would they turn on him too?

Lucifer let out a tired breath. The chains pressed harder, he didn’t fight them. What was the point?

Maybe he’d been stupid, he had put too much faith in humanity. Believed too much in love but none of that changed the truth.

He loved Adam. Always had. Loved him more than anything. That love burned hotter than stars, brighter than Heaven.

So why was it treated like a crime? Why didn’t they get it? Why didn’t Michael get it?

Lucifer clenched his jaw.

Michael said he wanted to understand. That was his excuse, that’s why he kissed Adam. “To understand.” To study love. Like it was something you could measure and file in some holy ledger.

Lucifer didn’t believe him, not anymore.

Michael’s words were empty now. Promises that rang false. If that kiss had meant something, if it had lit the same fire, would Michael have tried to take Adam too?

Lucifer didn’t want to know.

The thought hit Lucifer like acid, he scoffed, bitter and sharp, and the sound echoed through the silence of the chamber.

Of course, Michael would’ve taken Adam. That’s what he did, took, then called it duty. Wrapped it in divine will. Anything to avoid the truth: he was greedy. Envious, a hypocrite.

Lucifer opened his eyes, they were dull, unfocused. He looked at the statues around him and felt their judgment press in. Let them look. Let them blame him. He didn’t care.

The truth was simple. Brutal. Fixed in place:

Lucifer had loved and Michael had betrayed. That was all that mattered.

A dry chuckle slipped past Lucifer’s lips. It barely rose over Heaven’s heartbeat thudding through the walls. Let his siblings throw judgment at him. Let them rage. He wasn’t afraid. He wouldn’t beg. He wouldn’t apologize.

Yes, he attacked Michael. Yes, he tore him apart in a storm of rage. And yes, by their rigid rules, that made him guilty. But Michael earned it. He pushed and pushed until something snapped. So fine, maybe ripping off a wing was overkill, but Michael could live with it. Let him wear the wound. Let it remind him what he did.

Lucifer smirked, cold and sharp.

Would the wing grow back? Would Michael ever be whole again? He doubted it. He hoped not.

If justice meant anything in this place, Michael would carry that scar forever. Not just on his body, but in his memory. He’d remember the pain. He’d remember why it happened, and he’d know it was his fault. He was the one who broke something sacred.

Lucifer snorted, the sound dry and bitter. Let Michael live with that. Let him feel the loss. Let him ache every time he looked at himself.

That thought? It made the chains feel lighter.

Lucifer closed his eyes. His head drooped to one side, almost brushing his shoulder. The bindings creaked as he shifted. They dug into his skin, sharp reminders that he wasn’t free. He grunted, a low sound, more tired than angry.

Was God disappointed?

The question crept in and sat there. God had told him, long ago, that love wasn’t wrong. That he was free to choose who he gave his heart to but maybe Lucifer misunderstood. Maybe he twisted the words. Or maybe God never meant them, he couldn’t know now.

And not knowing? That drove him mad.

Did he follow a path carved for him? Or had he strayed off into the dark, completely alone?

“Well?”

The voice cracked through the chamber like a whip.

Lucifer grunted again. His wings twitched in irritation. He opened his eyes, heavy-lidded, already bored.

Her.

Sera stood in front of him. Arms crossed. Chin raised. So full of herself. She wasn’t even half the size of the Seraphim statue behind her, but she acted like she owned the place. Like Heaven had made her its judge.

Lucifer stared at her. Blank. Flat. Not even trying to hide the contempt on his face.

“Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?” she snapped. Her voice was tight, like a teacher scolding a student.

Did she not see the gag across his mouth? Or was she just that dense?

Even if he wanted to speak, which he didn’t, he couldn’t.

His silence seemed to get under her skin, her eyes narrowed. Her jaw clenched and her wings rustled behind her, feathers scraping the air like dry leaves.

“Lucifer Morningstar,” she hissed, “Do you even realize what you’ve done? The chaos you’ve unleashed?”

She waited. Nothing.

“You hurt Michael. Your own brother. You tore off his wing and threw him into the Ditch like he was trash. If we hadn’t stopped you, would you have left him there?”

Lucifer’s mouth twitched. A smirk, barely there. But real.

“You’re lucky we stopped you,” Sera said, voice rising. “Do you really think Father will let this slide? That you’ll just walk away?”

She was unravelling, a slight shake in her breath. She tried to hide it, but he saw it.

“We have to pray,” she said. “Beg for forgiveness. Who knows, maybe Father will punish us too, because of you.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes so hard it hurt. Typical Sera, dramatic to the end. She always talked like the sky was falling. But he knew better.

God didn’t work like that. They didn’t punish directly. They watched. Distant. Detached. Maybe they offered advice, if you were lucky. Most of the time, they just let you figure it out yourself.

“Lucifer!” Sera snapped. “Are you even listening? You attacked Michael. Do you feel nothing?”

Lucifer blinked slowly.

No answer. Just that same steady, bored stare.

Remorse? No. Not for that.

Feel.

The word hung in the air, thick with irony, Lucifer almost laughed. Now they cared about feelings? Now it mattered, when he was the one being judged?

He didn’t answer, he didn’t need to, his silence said more than any words could.

The silence between him and Sera stretched tight, ready to snap. Neither looked away, they were locked in a quiet fight, staring each other down. Lucifer watched her face, looking for a crack, some sign she understood.

She didn’t, she couldn’t. She just stared back, full of judgment. Sera was too young. Too sheltered. Trapped in her narrow view of right and wrong, she didn’t see the bigger picture.

“Um…”

Lucifer turned his head. That voice, soft, unsure, wasn’t hers.

Gabriel.

He stood awkwardly near one of the tall pillars, green wings twitching. He looked nervous, like he knew he didn’t belong here. But somehow, he’d made it in.

“Did you really… hurt Michael?” Gabriel asked. His voice shook. His hands fidgeted. “Why, Lucifer? Why would you do that? He’s, our brother. You always said we should look out for each other. I don’t understand.”

Lucifer’s gaze softened. Gabriel didn’t get it. Of course he didn’t, he was still innocent. Still pure. He didn’t know how sharp this world had become.

Lucifer had always protected Gabriel. Always kept him close. Gabriel had been the one good thing in all of this.

“You’re too naive, Gabriel.”

Uriel’s voice cut in, cold and flat.

She stepped forward, her pink feathers shining like glass. She moved with precision, like everything about her was calculated, her face showed nothing.

“Isn’t it obvious why he did it?” she said.

Gabriel looked confused. “What reason could he have?”

“Love,” Uriel said. “It’s twisted his thinking. He’s not seeing clearly anymore.”

Lucifer let out a low grunt. Uriel spoke like he wasn’t even there. Like he was a theory, not a person. What did she know?

Raphael stood across the hall, his red feathers flaring. His arms were crossed, his jaw clenched. His anger was clear, but so was his confusion. He didn’t know what to think, that made him dangerous.

Lucifer rolled his eyes. He’d had enough of this. Their stares. Their questions. They didn’t understand him. They never had.

The room got heavier. Gabriel’s wings twitched as he stepped forward.

“This has to be a mistake,” he said. His voice shook, but he meant it. “Lucifer wouldn’t hurt us. He’s our big brother. He always stood up for us. He wouldn’t do this on purpose.”

Uriel tilted her head, she studied him, quiet for a few seconds.

“You’re too close to him,” she said. “You’re letting your feelings get in the way.”

Gabriel opened his mouth, but Uriel lifted a hand. He stopped.

“Yes,” she said, calm as ever. “Lucifer was the strongest, the kindest but he changed. He changed when the first human was made. That’s when it started. He pulled away from us. From Heaven. He’s not the same anymore.”

“That’s not true!” Gabriel said. His voice was stronger now. “He’s still him. Maybe he messed up, but he’s still our brother.”

Uriel didn’t blink. “Is he? Look around, Gabriel. Look at what happened. He attacked Michael.”

“Enough.”

Raphael’s voice slammed through the room. His red wings snapped open, glowing like fire, his fists clenched.

“Why are you defending him?” he snapped. “You weren’t there. I saw it, I saw him rip Michael’s wing off. I saw the rage in his eyes.”

Gabriel flinched, his wings drooped.

Raphael pointed straight at Lucifer.

“And you, Gabriel, you pulled Michael out of the Pit. You. If we hadn’t stepped in, he’d still be down there.”

Gabriel opened his mouth, but Raphael cut him off again.

“Stop pretending he’s the same. He’s not. The Lucifer we knew wouldn’t do this. This isn’t him. This is someone else.”

The room went quiet.

Gabriel looked at each of them. His heart felt heavy. He still believed in Lucifer, but everything felt wrong now.

Lucifer, still bound, looked down. His face didn’t show much but something flickered in his eyes. Something stubborn. Something that hadn’t died yet.

Gabriel’s wings sagged. He didn’t argue but he didn’t agree, either.

Lucifer’s eyes softened. He hadn’t wanted this, hadn’t meant to hurt Gabriel. Gabriel was the one he’d always tried to protect.

But Adam was worth it. He had to be.

Even so, seeing Gabriel fold in on himself like this, it hurt. Lucifer wanted to say something. Anything. But the bonds held him tight. And even if they didn’t… what could he promise?

Then Gabriel spoke again, barely a whisper.

“…What do we do now?”

No one answered.

Uriel looked unsure. Raphael looked furious, lost in thought. His mouth opened, then closed again.

Lucifer stayed quiet and the silence pressed in around them all.

Lucifer would’ve laughed if the situation weren’t so grim, or if the chains didn’t dig into his skin. His siblings, Heaven’s so-called order-keepers, looked completely lost.

Uriel finally spoke. Her voice was steady, but her words dragged with doubt. “What do we do, Sera?”

Everyone turned toward Sera.

Raphael nodded, his red wings still bristling with leftover rage. “Michael’s out. We’re stuck. We don’t know what to do.”

Gabriel clung to whatever hope he had left. “He’s still our brother,” he said, voice shaky. “We can’t just give up on him... not yet.”

“Then what, Gabriel?! Raphael frowned, voice low and sharp. “What’s your plan?”

Gabriel flinched and stepped back. His wings trembled. “We wait. Michael should decide. Not us.”

 “That makes sense. Michael always...” Uriel sighed. Her feathers drooped as she closed her eyes.

“No,” Sera cut in. Her voice didn’t leave room for debate.

The room froze. All eyes locked on her, she straightened to her full height and stepped forward. Cold. Steady. Sure.

She looked straight at Lucifer, eyes like violet fire. “We act now,” she said. “Since my birth, I’ve watched Lucifer. I’ve studied him.”

Lucifer blinked. That caught him off guard.

Studied?

“I’ve found the flaw,” she said. “The root of the problem.”

Lucifer’s lip curled. Flaw? The word stung.

Sera walked toward him, slow and sure. The light around her seemed to shrink back. Even bound, Lucifer’s body tensed. His instincts screamed, run, fight, do something, but the bonds didn’t budge.

She stopped in front of him. Her voice stayed even. “It started when you met the first human. Adam.”

 “To fix this, we cut that connection.” She locked eyes with him.

Lucifer stared back. His eyes darkened like a storm rolling in.

Uriel broke in, unsure for once. “Are you saying we... kill the human?”

 “No! We can’t!” Gabriel gasped behind her. His wings jerked. “Adam came from Father Himself! He’s important!”

 “No, Gabriel. I’m not talking about Adam.” Sera turned to Gabriel and gave a soft, smug smile.
“I’m talking about Lucifer’s obsession with Adam. That’s the problem. That’s the infection and we need to cut it out.”

Lucifer growled, low and deep. His muscles strained. The bonds held, biting into his skin. He glared up at her, eyes blazing, rage boiling just beneath the surface.

Off to the side, Raphael snorted. He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “Okay. And how exactly do we ‘cut it out’? You want therapy? An exorcism?”

Sera didn’t flinch. She tilted her head and met Lucifer’s eyes again.

He knew what she was going to say before she said it. His stomach turned.

“We erase his memory,” Sera said. Calm. Cold. Like it was no big deal. “We delete every moment with Adam. Reset him. Strip away everything that made them more than guardian and charge.”

The chamber fell silent. Gabriel’s eyes darted from Uriel to Raphael, then landed on Lucifer. Shock froze him. His hands twisted in his robes. His whole body shook.

“We can’t do that!” he cried, voice cracking. “Lucifer’s Adam’s guardian! We can’t just tear his mind apart! Father won’t allow it! He’ll...”

Sera cut him off with a quiet hum. She smiled, soft, calm, and fake. “You’re right, Gabriel,” she said. Her tone was smooth but sharp. “We must not disobey Father.”

She opened her eyes. They’d gone cold. “But Lucifer already has. This infection can’t spread.”

Gabriel’s breath caught. He whispered, “It’s not an infection…”

Sera ignored him.

“We won’t destroy all of him,” she said. “Just enough. Just what needs removing. The core of Lucifer stays. But the memories? The emotions? His connection to Adam? They go.”

Lucifer growled, deep and furious. He yanked against the light-bound restraints, his wings twitched, feathers scraping together. His chest rose and fell fast, teeth grinding against the gag.

They were serious. They wanted to erase Adam, not a person, not a soul, just a problem to fix.

Gabriel stepped back. His eyes filled with tears.

“There has to be another way…” he whispered. “We can’t...”

Uriel crossed her arms.  “I agree it’s harsh,” she said. “But it might be the only way to bring balance back. Lucifer changed. He’s not the same archangel he was before Adam.”

“No. He’s still our brother.” Gabriel shook his head hard. “He’s still Lucifer. He always protected us. Always stood by us.”

His voice cracked. He glanced at Lucifer, tied down and shaking with rage.

Raphael stepped forward, red wings outstretched. His voice cut sharp.

“Then why defend him, Gabriel? After everything? After what he did to Michael? You were there. You pulled Michael out. You saw what Lucifer did!”

Gabriel flinched. The words hit hard. He dropped his eyes. His voice dropped too.

“I just… I want to believe...”

Lucifer’s chest ached. He wanted to shout, You don’t have to choose. But the bonds silenced him. All he had left was his eyes, burning with everything he couldn’t say.

Sera’s words echoed in his head. Remove it. Purge it. Reset him.

The panic hit hard. His breath caught. The leather-light pressed tighter as he strained against it.

They were talking about erasing Adam, ripping him out of Lucifer like a sickness. But Adam wasn’t a flaw. He was everything.

Lucifer’s thoughts spiralled.

What will I be without him?

He saw himself hollowed out, empty, stripped of the love that made him real. No spark. No fight. No Adam.

Just duty. Just silence.

He had chosen Adam. No one told him to. No divine command. No mission. He loved Adam because it was real because it mattered.

Now they wanted to take that from him.

The thought of forgetting Adam crushed him.

What would Adam think? Would he notice the distance? The coldness? Would he wonder where Lucifer had gone?

Would he think I left him?

The pain hit like fire in his chest. His wings shook in their restraints. His heart raced. He saw Adam, alone and waiting, reaching for someone who no longer knew his name.

What if Adam thought I stopped loving him?

That thought shattered him.

Lucifer thrashed against the bindings, every muscle straining. His growl, muffled by the gag, rumbled through the room. His blue eyes blazed with panic, he couldn’t lose Adam. Not like this. Not to them.

Sera spoke again, calm and certain. Her voice sliced through the panic like a knife.

“This is the only way to fix you, Lucifer. To return you to what Father meant you to be.”

Lucifer growled louder, a sound full of fury and fear. Her words struck him like a blow. He didn’t want to be “fixed.” Not if it meant erasing the one thing that mattered, Adam.

His chest tightened, his thoughts raced. If they wiped his mind, what would be left? A shell? A soldier? A stranger to Adam?

No. He couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t.

He’d fight them all if he had to. He’d fall again if it meant keeping Adam. He wouldn’t let them take away the only thing that made him feel whole.

His eyes locked on Sera. Rage and sorrow lit them up. He pushed harder against the bindings. He screamed into the gag but nothing gave way. Not yet.

The weight of helplessness crashed down on him. His thoughts spun, frantic and loud.

For the first time in forever, Lucifer felt something he couldn’t shake.

He felt powerless and he was about to lose everything.

~#~

Heaven’s sun clawed weakly through the morning haze.

Adam lay curled under the snow-white quilt, blocking out the light. Sleep hadn’t touched him. His body twisted restlessly beneath the covers. His mind kept spinning, the silence from his fight with Sera echoed louder than any words.

He hadn’t really fought her. He’d lied to her, pretended to be loyal, pretended to obey but she lied first. She used him, she let Heaven reshape him, erase him and now, as he broke rule after rule, for Emily, for Sir Pentious, the guilt sat heavy in his chest.

Why did he feel so ashamed for thinking for himself? For wanting more than obedience?

He groaned and sat up, the quilt fell to his waist. His back cracked. Pain flared as he tried to stretch his wings, what remained of them twitched weakly. Burnt edges, scarred roots, they ached.

He ran a hand over the golden feathers, they still glowed, faint but steady. Not like they used to. Once, they shone like nothing else in Heaven. Everyone said so. Everyone stared but now? He hated them.

They used to make him proud. Now, they made him feel seen when all he wanted was to disappear. He didn’t want beauty. He wanted peace, he wanted to stop standing out. To just exist, without eyes on him.

The wings wouldn’t let him, they burned. They reminded him of what he lost, of the version of himself Heaven forced him to become.

He looked down at his hands buried in the feathers, they trembled.

Yes, the pain was physical but deeper too. The wings still carried the weight of Heaven’s judgment, he’d walked away but it still followed him and he wasn’t sure he’d ever escaped at all. Adam didn’t want to be Adam anymore. Not if it meant being a puppet with no strings left to hold him together.

He murmured, narrowing his eyes as he unfurled one of his golden wings across his lap. The light caught the feathers, making them shine like molten metal. He combed through them, his fingers moving slowly. Something was off.

“Were they always gold?” he muttered, unease creeping into his voice. His hands stopped as he stared at the shimmering feathers. “They were white, right? Wings don’t just change color…”

The words sounded empty as he tried to hold onto a memory that slipped away. He ran his fingers through the feathers again, they felt wrong, different.

He had only touched one other pair of wings in his life, the Archangel’s wings. The memory came back like a distant echo. The soft, plush feathers had felt warm and inviting, like something he wanted to bury himself in. But his wings? They were different. Soft, yes, but with a strange texture, no warmth, no comfort.

Adam’s wings felt wrong.

The thought sent a chill down his spine. He’d never questioned them before. But now, as he ran his fingers through the golden feathers, he couldn’t ignore how unnatural they seemed. Why didn’t anyone else have wings like his? Not the Winners, not the Heavenborn, not even the Archangels, whose wings shone like light itself. Their wings were pure, flawless, each feather a piece of Heaven’s grace.

Adam’s wings felt… counterfeit.

The memory of the Archangel’s wings lingered, the divine energy that pulsed beneath them, like a heartbeat. His wings didn’t hum, they didn’t vibrate with life, they were silent too silent.

As he stared at the shimmering gold, unease gripped him tighter. Why were his wings different? Why did they feel so wrong? No answers came, only the nagging certainty that whatever his wings were, they weren’t normal and deep down, Adam wasn’t sure they ever had been.

His hand moved slowly, almost without thinking, brushing over the feathers. His green eyes lost focus as his fingers continued their absent caress, the feathers shimmered beneath his touch, glowing faintly as though reacting to his uncertain attention.

A thought flickered through his mind: Could I stretch them out? Fully? Completely? It had been so long since he dared to try. Too long since his wings had unfurled without pain. Back when they felt light. When he felt whole.

Adam swallowed hard, then pushed himself forward, shifting awkwardly onto his knees. He arched his back, his breath catching as pain flared in his spine. For a moment, he wobbled, nearly collapsing onto the mattress. With a grunt, he steadied himself, forcing his feet flat on the floor. His legs trembled, threatening to give way.

Breathing was hard. His back felt like it was on fire, especially at the base of his wings. His wings twitched, reluctant to move, as if resisting his command. When they finally started to stretch, the effort felt impossible. His wings had always been large, massive, but now they felt like stone slabs strapped to his back.

The first attempt to unfurl them sent a jolt of agony through his body. His feathers trembled, reluctant, resisting. When they finally began to stretch, it was like lifting something too heavy. The pain surged, and he grimaced, swaying unsteadily.

Adam gasped as pain ripped through him. He staggered, his vision blurring as the agony took over. Every feather felt heavy, dragging him closer to the ground. With a sharp cry, his knees hit the floor. His wings fell limp to either side.

The pain spread from the base of his wings, burning through his muscles. His head spun, and his vision blurred to white. How damaged were his wings? How much had he ignored, endured, and let get worse over the years?

Adam sucked in a shaky breath, trying to regain control. His hands gripped the floor, nails scraping against the wood. He blinked hard to clear the spots in his vision. But the questions kept pushing at him.

When did his wings become so heavy? When did he stop holding them high, as Heaven’s angels should? He remembered a time when he carried them proudly, always keeping them clean. That was before the pain before he stopped trying, now, they sagged, lifeless at his sides. He couldn’t remember when he lost the strength to lift them, but he knew the answer to his silent question: they were too heavy, they had been for a long time.

“Something changed…” Adam whispered. His voice barely rose above a breath. He blinked again, trying to clear his vision. His chest rose with a deep, shaky breath, the air sharp in his lungs. “Something happened to make them like this…”

But what? He didn’t know. He couldn’t remember and maybe, he thought bitterly, he never would. The Word of God, once deep inside him, had been ripped away, leaving only a hollow space, along with it, many of his memories had vanished, pieces of him scattered and out of reach. Could those missing pieces hold the truth about his wings?

Dragging his heavy wings behind him, Adam shuffled back, the golden feathers scraped the floor as his back throbbed with each movement. He stopped when his shoulders hit the bookshelf. The tall, white shelf was mostly empty, dust covering its shelves. Adam glanced at it, a strange feeling twisting inside him, regret? Longing?

He realized, with a pang, that he had never filled the shelf. It could’ve held the things he loved, the treasures of a life well-lived. But now, seeing it empty, Adam felt the weight of lost time, of moments he could never get back. What would he have put there? Carved wooden whales? Ducks? The thought made him almost smile, but it faded too quickly.

As he leaned against the empty shelf, something high above shifted, at first, Adam didn’t notice, but then the box fell, he tilted his head back just in time for the box to hit him on the head.

“Ugh!” Adam yelped, rubbing the sore spot on his head as he glared at the box lying at his feet.

The box was old, its edges worn and faded. He frowned, recognizing it but not fully. The green-and-gold design suggested it was from the 1940s, though he wasn’t sure.

Carefully, Adam lifted the box onto his lap. It was lighter than he expected, but as his fingers touched the tape, an uneasy feeling settled in his chest. His heart skipped a beat, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end, warning him to stop. He hesitated but then curiosity, or maybe something deeper, pushed him forward.

The tape was old and brittle, but Adam pulled it off. When the lid came free, dust burst out, making him cough and turn his face away. His fingers trembled as he reached inside and pulled out a cracked, golden picture frame.

It was light in his hands, almost fragile but as he looked at it, his breath caught. His eyes widened as he turned the frame over, staring at the image beneath the broken glass. His heart stopped, then painfully began to beat again. Adam stared at the photograph, or was it a painting?, of himself and Lucifer. It showed a moment from the past, one he couldn’t fully recall, but still felt in his chest. Lucifer stood above him, wings spread wide, a bright grin on his face. Behind him, magical lights cascaded from the heavens, painting the sky in vivid colours, below, Adam looked up at Lucifer, filled with awe.

Adam exhaled softly, shaking. He had forgotten about this. Centuries had dulled the memory, but now it hit him like a fresh wound. This photo, or whatever it was, had once meant everything to him. He had displayed it proudly on this very shelf, despite Sera’s disapproving glances.

Then came that meeting, the disastrous one between Heaven and Hell. Lucifer had been cruel, his words cutting deep. Adam had kept his composure in the meeting, but when he returned to his room, he saw the photo and snapped. Rage and heartbreak collided. He threw the frame across the room, shattering the glass when it hit the wall. He couldn’t bear to look at it after that. He sealed it in this shoebox, taped it shut, and promised never to open it again and now here it was, here he was, holding it again.

Adam’s fingers brushed over Lucifer’s face, light as a feather, afraid the memory would disappear if he pressed too hard. His gaze softened, filled with both warmth and sadness. Did this moment in Eden really happen? Or had the Word of God stolen even that from him?

He curled his legs against his chest, leaning back against the bookshelf. The photograph lay in his lap, a painful reminder of what was, and what could never be. Thoughts of Lucifer, Eden, and the mess of feelings inside him churned but now wasn’t the time for all that. He had more urgent things to focus on, Sir Pentious, Emily, and the road ahead. He couldn’t get lost in memories, in feelings, or in the ghosts of a life that no longer belonged to him. If he lingered too long, he feared he might break apart again.

Still, he couldn’t put the photo back in the box. His hands hovered over the shoebox, the torn tape hanging loosely. The thought of hiding the photo again stirred something in him, a faint warmth, like the first sign of spring after a long winter.

The picture rested in his lap, the cracked glass and golden frame catching a glimmer of light. Adam studied it, tracing every detail, trying to find meaning in the broken fragments of memory. Where had it come from? The question lingered unanswered. Sera wouldn’t have left it for him. But did it even matter?

He had it now. That was enough.

A fragile smile tugged at Adam’s lips as he continued to study the image. His green-and-gold eyes softened, and his heart fluttered, delicate and hesitant, like a bird testing its wings for the first time. He hummed softly, the sound barely audible, blinking as emotion clouded his vision.

Holding the frame close, Adam swayed slightly before standing. His wings dragged behind him, heavy and sore, but for a moment, their weight didn’t feel so burdensome. He turned to the empty shelf and carefully placed the photo on the centre shelf, tilting it just right until it stood straight.

His fingers lingered on the edge of the frame, brushing the broken glass and chipped golden corner. The damage hurt, but the quiet comfort the photo gave him made up for it. Whoever left it, whether long ago or recently, had given him something he hadn’t realized he needed.

He stepped back and studied the frame, now the only thing on the shelf. A smile returned, faint but genuine.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, directed at no one and everyone all at once.

It was just a picture. But Adam hadn’t realized how much he needed it, how much it stirred something deep inside him.

Adam’s gaze lingered on Lucifer, his golden eyes tracing the curve of that smile. It was so sweet, so tender, like a piece of warmth in a cold world. But it didn’t make sense. That smile couldn’t have been for him back then, when it was just him, Lilith, Eve, and Lucifer in Eden.

No. Adam was sure Lucifer never smiled at him like that in the beginning. Maybe now, but not then. Not at the dawn of time, when Heaven still shone with the light of creation.

He squinted, the edges of his memory blurring under the weight of centuries. A dull throb pulsed at the back of his skull, a reminder of how long ago it all was, and how broken his memories had become. He tried to focus on that beginning, on the pure, untouched Eden and Heaven’s constant presence.

But it was hard. The memories wouldn’t align, tangled and fractured like shards of glass. And yet, Lucifer’s words echoed in his mind. "Michael kissed you," Lucifer had said, his voice desperate. "He kissed you, Adam. Then he used the Word of God to erase it. To erase me."

Adam pressed his hand to his forehead, his breath shallow. He couldn’t remember. No matter how hard he searched, there was no memory of Michael’s kiss, just the echo of Lucifer’s insistence, his voice breaking with raw, frantic sincerity. Lucifer had begged him to believe it, that he had loved Adam back then, recklessly, in a way that angered Heaven.

Lucifer’s punishment. Lucifer’s fall. Was it really tied to him? To Adam?

It was possible. Adam knew it. But the uncertainty gnawed at him, cruel and relentless. He didn’t know, he didn’t remember.

He rubbed his face with trembling hands and stepped back from the photograph like it had burned him. His chest ached, hollow and painful.

Adam exhaled softly, the sound catching in his throat. Loneliness wrapped around him like a shroud. He stared at the photograph again, Lucifer’s tender smile mocking him with what could have been.

He was so confused. So alone.

"I wish… I wish I could remember," Adam whispered, his voice barely a sound. He lingered on the framed picture for a moment, then forced himself to look away, as if staring too long would tear him apart.

He crossed the room and reached for his purple hoodie. The soft fabric was a small comfort amid the chaos in his mind. But as he pulled it off the chair, his eyes fell on a half-open packet of store-bought pancakes on his cluttered desk.

He smiled, a mix of amusement and frustration. He’d eaten two of the prepackaged pancakes earlier, but his attempt to make fresh ones had ended in disaster. The memory made his shoulders sag. He had practically ruined his kitchen, burnt batter stuck to every surface, smoke billowing from the pan like he was summoning Hell itself.

Adam was a good cook. No, better than good. He was great. He’d spent centuries perfecting it, making meals that left people speechless. But pancakes? A simple dish that refused to cooperate.

The thought gnawed at him, small but persistent, like an itch he couldn’t scratch. His fingers hovered over the packet, and then the realization hit him, unwanted.

...Lucifer had promised to make him pancakes once.

His heart jolted, and the weight of the memory pressed down on him. Was that it? Was he ruining the batter without even realizing it? Did a part of him want Lucifer to make them instead?

Adam’s breath hitched, and he pulled his hand away like the packet had burned him. Why would he want that? Why would he want anything from Lucifer? It didn’t make sense. It was ridiculous. He shook his head, trying to push the thought away but it stayed.

He sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. Just thinking about Lucifer was exhausting. It felt like walking through a storm, memories and emotions crashing over him with no relief.

With a sharp click of his tongue, Adam pushed the thought aside and stuffed it into the furthest corner of his mind. He grabbed his hoodie and pulled it on, the soft fabric brushing against his sore wings as he adjusted it around him.

Adam turned toward the door, taking a steady breath. He couldn’t afford to get lost in his thoughts. Not now. Emily would be waiting for him, probably in the middle of contacting Charlie. They had a mission, a real purpose, far more urgent than his messy feelings but as Adam reached for the doorknob, a thought crept in, a quiet whisper he couldn’t shake. The image of Lucifer’s hands, strong, confident, flipping pancakes in some kitchen that never existed.

He shoved the thought down. There was no space for it, not now, not ever. He had made his choice, he took a deep breath, straightened up, and clenched his trembling hands into fists. He swallowed hard, trying to control the rush of nerves that threatened to overwhelm him. The hallways felt unusually quiet, the faint hum of celestial wards vibrating in the background. Every step seemed louder than it should be. The last thing he needed was to run into Sera.

Just thinking about her made his chest tighten. Guilt rose in his stomach, twisting painfully. He shook his head, biting the inside of his cheek to stay focused. He couldn’t think about that, not now but the guilt wouldn’t go away.

It was always there, a constant reminder of the lies he had told and kept telling, he didn’t want to lie to her. Not Sera. But what other choice did he have? The truth was too dangerous.

Still, despite everything she had done, everything, it hurt to lie to her.

Adam paused, his body freezing as memories flooded him. Sera had lied to him first, hadn’t she? She’d manipulated him, used him, twisted God’s Word to control him without his consent. That betrayal should have shattered every ounce of trust he had in her but it wasn’t that simple.

Adam clenched his jaw, his chest heavy with conflicting emotions. He had trusted Sera, relied on her, loved her. She wasn’t just an authority figure, she was like a mother to him, someone he had adored, someone he had believed in, even when he shouldn’t have.

And now? Now, every time he saw her or heard her voice, he felt the sting of betrayal. But he also felt that same old love, that longing to return to a time when he didn’t know the truth, when she was still the Sera he had worshipped.

Adam leaned against the wall, shifting uncomfortably as he closed his eyes, trying to calm his racing heart. It was too much. He didn’t know how to reconcile the Sera he had loved with the one he now knew, manipulative, cold, controlling.

How was he supposed to face her again? How could he keep lying to her, pretending nothing had changed? But something had changed, he had changed. Another deep breath, Adam straightened up, rolling his shoulders back, and forced his legs to move. He couldn’t afford to break down, not now. Not with everything else going on. He had to keep moving forward, stay focused on the plan.

But even as he walked, even as he kept his head down and eyes straight ahead, the guilt lingered, heavy, suffocating, impossible to shake.

Adam leaned on the balcony railing, gripping the cold metal as he stared at the town of Humility below. Everything about it seemed too perfect, too controlled. The houses were identical, their pastel shutters lined up with military precision, the trees were evenly spaced along the cobblestone streets, trimmed to perfection. Even the flowers, pale lilies, forget-me-nots, and soft pink roses, were arranged with meticulous care, it screamed order, perfection, control, but all Adam could think about were the red carnations.

They had been so vibrant, so alive. His mind wandered back to his garden, a burst of colour and fragrance, the carnations stood out, their fiery petals a sharp contrast against the green. They had been his favourites, bold, passionate, unapologetic.

Lucifer.

Adam rubbed his chest, his thoughts spinning. The carnations had come from Lucifer, he was sure of it now. But why? How? The memories came and went in a haze, just out of reach. He had loved those flowers. He had fought to keep them, even when Sera disapproved.

He could almost hear her sharp voice. "Red belongs to Hell. It doesn’t belong here. It’s dangerous. It’s disobedient."

But he had kept them, he had nurtured them.

Until…

Adam pressed his palm to his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut. Sera must have done something. The Word of God, it fit too well. She had used it to take away everything he loved, everything that didn’t fit her idea of perfection. His cottage, his garden, his carnations, all erased and now, he was starting to remember. Why now? Why was everything coming back? He hadn’t changed anything. He had been drifting through Heaven, weighed down by doubts and heavy wings. But now...things felt different.

"Lucifer," he whispered, his voice barely rising above the hum of the town below.

The carnations were tied to him, to his connection with Lucifer in Eden. Adam wasn’t sure what it meant, but he couldn’t ignore the warmth that spread through him at the thought. It was confusing but not unwelcome.

He blinked, shaking himself out of his thoughts. There wasn’t time for this. He had to focus. Emily and Charlie were waiting. He couldn’t get lost in his mind with everything at stake.

With a final glance at the perfect town below, Adam turned and walked down the hall. His footsteps echoed in the silence. Thoughts of Lucifer, the carnations, and Sera’s manipulation still lingered, but he pushed them aside, burying them under his resolve.

There would be time for answers later. For now, he had work to do.

His gaze shifted to his golden wings, folded tightly against his back, their once-perfect sheen dulled by time. He shifted uncomfortably. Could he endure the pain of flight again? His mind raced, remembering the agony, the burning, acid-like pain at the base of his spine when he had forced his wings to obey during his desperate plunge into Hell. How had he ever stood it?

His hand absently scratched at his scalp. With a deep breath, Adam tried to unfold his wings. The golden feathers caught the light, gleaming briefly. But as he stretched them, pain ripped through him, sharp as glass driving into his flesh.

He gasped, nearly falling as the pain hit. The wings snapped back against his back on reflex, and he stumbled, gripping the wall for support. His vision blurred, stars flashing at the edges of his sight.

Stupid, why had he tried? What made him think he could endure that again?

He pressed his palm to his neck, feeling the raw, aching connection where his wings met his body. The pain radiated outward like molten iron. How had he done it before? How had he flown freely in Eden, without pain? The contrast was unbearable.

Cursing under his breath, Adam straightened and limped toward the stairs. The whitewashed doors to the extermination angels’ apartment opened, and he was hit with the sickly-sweet scent of artificial perfection, an unnerving mockery that filled the air.

Above him, white orbs floated in silence, rising from the clouded floor into the heavens where they vanished into the next ring of paradise. Adam tilted his head and looked across the town of Humility. It was so perfect, it almost looked like a painting. Every building, tree, and flower, too symmetrical, too polished, too lifeless.

Then, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye, his heart dropped.

Standing to his left, in sharp contrast to the stillness of the town, was Lute.

His breath hitched. Her eyes locked onto his, wide with surprise. Time seemed to stop, and Adam’s blood ran cold.

He hadn’t expected to see her. Neither had she. She shifted her foot as if she were about to walk toward him.

Move, say something! Adam screamed in his head, but his body wouldn’t respond. Finally, he awkwardly raised a trembling hand in a half-hearted wave.

“Uh… sup, Danger Tits! Still rocking that badass look, huh?” His voice cracked, forced and unnaturally bright.

God, I sound fake. Why am I so gross?

Lute’s brow furrowed, confusion flashing across her face as she stared at him.

“Yeah, uh… heard you’ve been, uh, whipping the girls into shape! Killing it, as always!” Adam blurted, his words tumbling out like a nervous mess.

Lute didn’t respond. Her expression deepened, her sharp gaze holding him in place.

Adam’s laugh came out hollow. “Anyway! Gotta go, busy schedule and all.”

“Catch you later, Lute!” He backed away, his heart hammering in his chest.

“Sir,” Lute called, her voice firm but laced with concern.

Adam froze for a second before spinning around and bolting down the street.

“Sir!” she shouted again, her voice chasing after him like a ghost.

His legs carried him faster than he thought possible, breaths shallow as he darted around a corner and out of sight. His mind raced. His stomach churned.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He wanted to scream, to punch something. How could he have been so stupid? Running from Lute, his best friend, like a coward. But what choice did he have? If she knew…If she knew what he was really doing, helping Sir Pentious, she wouldn’t just be horrified. She’d be disgusted. Lute was loyal to Sera. She’d report him in a heartbeat and then there was Lucifer. Adam’s pace faltered as the weight of that name crushed him. What would she say if she knew about Lucifer? About his stolen years in Eden with the King of Hell? He couldn’t face it. He didn’t want to see her face full of betrayal. Didn’t want to hear the hurt in her voice.

So, he ran, from her, from the questions, from the truth that clung to him like a shadow.

"Sir!" Lute’s voice echoed behind him, growing fainter with each step he took.

He ignored it, he had to.

Adam’s heart raced as he sprinted through the perfect streets of Humility. He knew he looked ridiculous, but the urge to escape was stronger than any lingering shame. His golden wings were folded tightly against his back, the dull ache from his earlier attempt to stretch them still throbbing.

“God, could I be more obvious?” he muttered, feet skidding on the cobblestone as he turned a corner.

He slowed just enough to catch his breath, glancing nervously over his shoulder. No sign of Lute. Good. She hadn’t followed, or maybe she just let him go. That thought twisted something in his chest.

Lute, his best friend. His confidante, they’d been through so much together, shared so many battles, so many memories and now he was running from her like a coward. Adam groaned and rubbed his face, guilt flooding him. Lute didn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve his lies, his avoidance, or his awkward attempts to brush her off. But what choice did he have?

“She’d hate me,” he whispered, ducking into an alleyway to catch his breath. He leaned against the cold, smooth wall, its coolness sharp against his feverish skin. “If she knew, if she knew about Lucifer, about Pentious, she’d…”

He couldn’t finish. The image of Lute’s face, full of betrayal, made his stomach twist but he couldn’t risk her finding out. Not now, not when everything was so fragile, Adam clenched his fists against the wall, trying to steady his breath.

“Focus,” he muttered, eyes closed tightly. “Focus. Emily’s waiting. Charlie might be waiting… You can’t screw this up.”

He forced himself to stand, pushing away from the wall. His heart still raced, but he pushed the guilt and fear deep down. Adam stepped out of the alley, quickly scanning for Lute. The streets were quiet, too quiet, too perfect. He swallowed hard and walked briskly, careful not to draw attention by running, his steps were quick and focused, heading toward the outskirts of town, where Emily was waiting but Lute’s face lingered in his mind, her wide, surprised eyes, her voice calling out to him.

“Sir!”

The echo of her voice made him flinch, and he slowed for a moment.

“I’m sorry, Lute,” he whispered, barely audible. “I’m so sorry.”

~#~

Something was wrong, Azrael felt it deep inside, a shift he couldn’t define. The world had tilted, subtly at first, but now the wrongness seeped into every shadow and whisper.

He had sensed it for a while, a change that crept in unnoticed, until it was too late.

The humans were different. Their despair had deepened, like a sickness festering under the surface. When their souls left their bodies and Azrael greeted them, he noticed something unsettling. The souls, once radiant with divine light, were dimming. Their glow was tarnished, like fading embers. It made Azrael uneasy.

He stood in the void, where light barely lingered. Around him, faint orbs of light floated, souls of the departed, their glow barely enough to pierce the darkness. Each orb was tethered by a fragile, pearlescent chain, quivering uncertainly.

Azrael stood motionless, his skeletal frame unnervingly still. His sharp teeth rested behind barely parted lips, stretching tight across his face. Something about him felt wrong. His six shadowy wings arched behind him, their black feathers absorbing the dim light. He tilted his head, peering at them with an unreadable expression.

His fingers twitched. His teeth itched unnervingly, and his hollow chest felt emptier than usual, as if the pulse of humanity had grown distant. He waited for something to happen, for some revelation to come from the strange, silent darkness. But nothing did. Slowly, the orbs stopped swaying and settled into stillness. The chains linking them grew taut, regaining a little of their former glow. But it wasn’t enough. The dread inside Azrael only grew.

A low hum escaped him, a sound of confusion, mixed with something darker. He raised a clawed hand to scratch his hair, dark as ink. His scythe swayed in the empty space, its polished blade glinting faintly. The motion was absentminded, but the weight of the weapon felt heavier than usual, like it carried some hidden unease.

He looked down at his ivory bones, exposed beneath his black hoodie’s rolled-up sleeves. His skeletal arms and frayed jeans stood in stark contrast to the loose, casual fit. Sera’s voice echoed in his mind, reminding him that he was an archangel and should dress in the heavy robes of his rank, but Azrael didn’t care about appearances. Not now. Not with the strange tension pressing down on him.

Still, something felt deeply wrong, and Azrael couldn’t shake the feeling. It crept into his bones, wrapped around his wings, and whispered dark things he couldn’t yet understand. Something was coming. Or maybe it was already here. And despite all his power, Azrael couldn’t stop it.

He looked up suddenly, his hollow black eyes narrowing with frustration. A deep frown tugged at his bony face, making his skull ache. Awkwardly, he lifted a thin, skeletal hand toward the massive, glowing figure above him. It was huge, impossible to fully understand, with one giant eye staring down from a storm of golden rings. The rings spun endlessly, each one shining with a strange, living light.

“Thrones,” Azrael called, his voice breaking the heavy silence of the void. It came out a bit awkward, and he gave a stiff wave to the enormous being. “Hey, uh… do you know what’s going on with mankind’s souls?”

The giant eye didn’t blink, of course it couldn’t. But the golden rings slowed just enough to let out a low, rumbling sound that echoed like distant thunder.

Azrael groaned and slumped his shoulders. “Yeah, figured you wouldn’t know either.” His voice held a mix of annoyance and tired acceptance as he looked back at the glowing orbs floating nearby, flickering weakly like dying candles.

Thrones answered again, this time with a deep, musical hum that filled the air like a thousand tiny wings buzzing in perfect harmony.

“Yeah, well,” Azrael muttered, mostly to himself, “I don’t want to know either.”

But the hum kept going. It wasn’t letting the matter drop.

Azrael sighed, long and loud, before giving in. His voice dripped with sarcasm. “Fine. Just keep humming at me, why don’t you?”

He stepped forward, moving carefully over the black floor of the abyss. His clawed feet barely made a sound as he adjusted the glowing chains of light, making sure they didn’t tangle.

But Thrones didn’t stop. The hum grew louder, vibrating through the air until Azrael lost his patience.

“Alright! Alright!” he shouted, spinning around to glare at the giant being. His sharp teeth bared in frustration, and his voice echoed through the emptiness. “Enough already, Thrones! You’re like a dog with a bone!”

The eye didn’t react. The golden rings just started spinning again, smoothly and silently, with a shimmer of feathers flickering under their glow, like it found the whole thing funny.

“I don’t care if I said a Hell word,” Azrael muttered, tugging down the sleeves of his hoodie like it might help him save face. “I’m allowed. It’s in my nature.”

Thrones answered with another hum, this one lighter, almost smug. The rings spun faster, the glow brighter, the feathers fluttering like it was laughing at him.

“Oh no, don’t you start,” Azrael snapped, pointing a finger at the eye. “You’re as annoying as Vaules! Yeah, I said it! Be offended!”

He stuck out his tongue at the being like a grumpy child, his hollow face twisting in a pout. But Thrones didn’t respond beyond that same steady hum.

With a sigh of defeat, Azrael flipped his scythe upside down and tapped the blunt end on the black floor.

A ripple spread out from the spot, and a glowing portal burst open, its edges swirling with silver and blue light. Through it, the gates of Heaven shimmered, a brilliant, beautiful sight that only made Azrael scowl.

“Great. Just great,” he muttered.

Above him, Thrones kept watching. The hum got louder again, pushing on Azrael’s nerves like nails on glass.

“Alright, I’m going! Geez!” Azrael snapped, turning sharply to glare one last time. “You’re relentless, you know that? Like some freaky one-eyed mosquito!”

The rings sparkled, and Azrael was sure the thing looked pleased with itself.

Grumbling, he stepped through the portal, dragging his scythe behind him. Just as his foot passed through, the portal snapped shut with a flash, leaving him in the bright light of Heaven’s edge.

He turned to open the portal again, snapping his fingers quickly, but nothing happened. His jaw dropped.

“You cut me off?” he shouted, his voice cracking. “That one-eyed weirdo really cut me off!”

He clenched his fists, pacing furiously. “Do you even understand how delicate mankind’s souls are? If they mess with them, something really bad could happen!”

He growled, waving his scythe in the air like he was yelling at the sky. But the light around him stayed quiet, offering no reply.

“I wonder if Adam’s back yet,” he muttered to himself.

He hated Thrones so much.

~#~

Each step Adam took felt heavier than the one before, like the sky itself was pushing down on him. His heart pounded hard in his chest, so loud it drowned out his thoughts. His head buzzed with a strange, white noise that made everything feel blurry and dizzy. His fingers twitched at his sides as he tugged at the loose threads of his worn-out purple hoodie, trying to calm himself, but it didn’t help.

Something was wrong. Really wrong.

His nerves felt like live wires, sparking wildly, and he didn’t know why. His skin tingled with a cold, creepy feeling, like something unseen was brushing against him. Even his wings felt strange, twitching and moving on their own. He blinked fast, trying to shake off the panic, but it only got worse. It wrapped tighter around his chest like a rope.

Why do I feel like this?

The question ran circles in his head, sharp and loud. But he had no answer. His emotions were a mess, rising and crashing like wild waves. His eyes stung, ready to cry for reasons he didn’t understand. He wasn’t the type to cry, or so he thought. But now? Now he felt like he might fall apart.

He took a shaky breath. His chest felt tight, like even the air was turning against him. He bit down on his lip, trying to ground himself with the sting. His knees felt weak. Every hair on his body stood up, like he was in danger, but he didn’t know why.

He turned and stumbled into a narrow alley between two flat buildings in Heaven. The walls felt like they were closing in on him. He tripped over nothing and slammed into the cold wall. It hurt, but not as much as the pounding in his head, which felt like it might split open.

He pulled his shaking hands into the sleeves of his hoodie, pressing one to his chest, hoping to calm his heartbeat.

“What’s... happening to me?” he whispered. His voice was so quiet it got lost in the silence. He leaned on the wall, shaking like a leaf in a storm. His lips trembled, and he bit them again, harder this time, as if pain could keep him from falling apart.

“Why am I so... scared?” he whispered, his voice breaking.

He tried to explain it to himself. “It’s just Lucifer,” he mumbled. “Just Lucifer. That dumb angel I spent fifteen years with in Eden...”

But even as he said it, he knew the words were empty. Memories of Eden, of laughter, comfort, and quiet, stolen moments, played over and over in his head. He missed Lucifer. He always had. Admitting it now felt like stabbing himself in the chest.

And thinking about seeing Lucifer again didn’t make him happy, it terrified him. Deep, soul-shaking fear.

“I don’t get it,” Adam said, sinking lower against the wall. “Why am I so scared? Why does the thought of him, of us, make me feel this way?”

The silence swallowed his words. He could only hear the sound of his shaky breathing. Above him, the clouds twisted, and in his chest, he felt the weight of Heaven watching him.

He dragged a hand down his face, his fingers shaking. He scratched at his skin until it stung, trying to snap out of his thoughts.

“Get it together,” he whispered angrily. “You’re acting like some lovesick kid. It’s just Lucifer. He’s not that special.”

But he was.

Adam’s throat tightened. His stomach turned. When had Lucifer become this important? When had he taken up so much space in Adam’s heart? He didn’t know. But the realization hit hard.

He shook his head fast, trying to knock the thoughts loose. He straightened himself.

“It’s not like I’ve always felt this way,” he muttered. “It’s not like I didn’t just spend fifteen years with him in Eden where... where...”

His face flushed, and his voice dropped to a whisper.

“It’s not like I spent fifteen years with Lucifer in Eden... where we... had sex... a lot...”

The words hung in the air. His face turned bright red, and his knees nearly gave out. He grabbed the wall for balance. And then, as if his mind betrayed him, those memories came rushing back, hot, intense, impossible to ignore.

“No,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “Not now. Not ever.”

It was ridiculous. He wasn’t some teenager. But his body felt new since Eden, raw and overly sensitive. Every memory, every emotion, felt too sharp, too real.

He took a deep breath and tried to calm down. He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms. He had to take control.

“It’s not like I love him or anything,” Adam said bitterly, more to himself than anyone.

He pushed off the wall and started walking, each step firmer than the last.

No. This wasn’t love. It couldn’t be. Love wasn’t real. Eve had taught him that, with her beautiful lies and painful truths. She showed him how love could tear someone apart.

Adam didn’t believe in love. He couldn’t.

This was just... care. He cared about Lucifer. That was it, it wasn’t love because love didn’t exist.

Even as he thought it, he clenched his jaw. His wings twitched behind him. But deep down, a small voice wouldn’t shut up.

“I’m not in love,” Adam said again, more firmly this time.

His heart thumped in response, like it was mocking him. He frowned, walked faster. The last thing he needed was to bump into Lute or, worse, Sera.

How had he lied to Sera’s face?

The memory made his stomach twist. Sera had always felt like a mother to him. He trusted her. He thought she’d protect him but now? He wasn’t sure. Shame burned in his chest. Still, questions stirred below it.

Had Sera always known? That souls could be saved? Or had she panicked like everyone else when Sir Pentious appeared? Maybe that made more sense than her choosing to hurt them but then again, how many times had she used the Word of God without hesitation? How many had she judged in Heaven’s name?

Adam let out a long sigh. His shoulders felt heavy. The questions spun in his head like a storm, making him tired. Trying to understand Sera felt hopeless, like grabbing smoke with bare hands. He rubbed his temples, his wings twitching.

Finally, he peeked out from the alley, checking the street. It was quiet, but he was still tense. In the distance, the tall clock tower of Humility rose above everything, a quiet reminder he was late. Emily was probably waiting, worried sick, thinking Sera had caught him.

The thought sent a chill down his back. He had to move.

Lucifer. The name popped into his mind again, dragging his thoughts down a dangerous path. He gritted his teeth and forced it away.

Focus.

Adam let out a shaky breath, his chest tightening. Meeting Emily to contact the royal bloodline of Hell was already risky. But telling Charlie and Lucifer about Sir Pentious? That crossed a line he could never uncross. They hadn’t technically done anything wrong, yet. But once that message was sent, there’d be no turning back. Heaven didn’t forgive traitors.

The weight of what he was about to do pressed down on him, making it hard to move. If he’d never gone to Eden, never spent those fifteen years there, he probably wouldn’t even be thinking about rebellion but now? Now it felt like he was standing at the edge of a cliff. And he couldn’t tell if he was still safe or already falling.

Eden had left him with a mix of sweet memories and painful truths. He’d seen what happened to those who defied Heaven. Lucifer had been thrown into Hell for questioning God. Lilith was exiled and marked. Eve had been cursed for her disobedience. Adam swallowed hard.

What would they do to him?

The thought chilled him to the bone. His body trembled, his wings twitching nervously. He pushed his damp hair off his forehead and forced himself to walk. He stepped out of the alley and crossed the street toward another narrow path. He had to meet Emily. She was probably already waiting, worried sick, imagining Sera swooping in and dragging him away.

They had picked a spot far from Sir Pentious’s prison, just in case Sera was watching it. It was safer this way. But deep down, Adam knew they were on the edge of something dangerous. One wrong step and everything would fall apart.

He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms, and kept going. The clock tower stood in the distance, tall and silent.

“Just keep going,” he whispered, voice shaking. “Just keep going.”

The tower cast a long shadow over the clouds. Adam stood at its base, eyes darting nervously as Winners passed by. It was already past the time they had agreed to meet, 11 a.m. Heaven’s time, 2 p.m. in Hell but Emily wasn’t there.

Adam shifted, unsure what to do. He kept putting his hands in and out of his hoodie pockets. His wings moved restlessly. Whenever a Winner glanced at him, he forced a tight smile, hating the fake politeness Heaven expected. He was glad he still wore a mask. No one seemed to recognize him, not yet. But the idea of an ancient Winner noticing something wrong made him tense.

“Adam,” someone whispered from behind.

He didn’t hear it at first, his thoughts were too loud. Then something small hit the back of his head. He flinched and turned around, confused. A little goat-like cherub was poking at the cloud-floor nearby. Adam squinted at it, wondering if the cherub had thrown the rock, until he saw movement out of the corner of his eye.

A figure peeked out from behind the side of the tower. His heart jumped when he saw it was Emily.

She waved him over. “Adam, over here!”

Her whisper came out louder than she meant, and the cherub looked over curiously. Despite everything, Adam smiled. Emily had never been great at being subtle. He gave a quick nod, checked to make sure no one was watching, then jogged over.

“Follow me,” Emily said with a grin, slipping into the shadows.

Adam paused at the doorway. He was pretty sure it hadn’t been there before.

“We’re going inside Humility’s tower?” he asked as he followed her.

Emily nodded, her curls bouncing.

“It’s perfect,” she said in a low voice. “The bell hasn’t worked in forever. No one comes here anymore. It’s empty, totally forgotten. Nobody will think to look for us.”

Adam frowned and glanced up at the old structure. “The bell hasn’t rung in centuries?” he asked.

“Not since before the first Fall,” Emily said as they climbed a narrow staircase. “The gears broke ages ago, and Heaven never fixed them. I guess they didn’t care.”

That made Adam feel strange. The clock tower had always been a symbol of Heaven’s order. The idea that it had been left broken for so long, it didn’t sit right.

As they climbed, the air got colder. The bright golden light of Heaven faded into dim shadows. It was quiet now. Too quiet. Adam’s anxiety crept in again.

“Emily,” he said softly, “Are you sure about this?”

She looked back at him with firm eyes. “I’m sure. This is the only way. If we’re really going to contact Hell, we need to do it somewhere no one will find us. And this place? It’s the safest spot in all of Heaven.”

“I’m sure,” Emily said firmly. “It’s the only way. If we’re going to contact Hell, we need a place where no one can find us. And this tower is the safest place in all of Heaven.”

Adam swallowed hard. His throat felt dry. What they were about to do was more than just risky, it was a crime. But when he looked into Emily’s determined eyes, he gave a small nod. There was no turning back now.

They kept climbing the winding stairs. The old steps creaked beneath them. Each step brought them closer to the top, and closer to whatever might happen next.

Once they were hidden deep inside the dark, quiet clock tower, Adam let out a long, shaky breath. Some of the pressure on his chest lifted. The silence of the empty place surrounded him, and for a moment, he felt like he could finally breathe. He rubbed the back of his neck, still tense, and glanced around the room.

The inside of the tower looked nothing like its perfect outside. Dust covered everything. The walls were cracked and worn, like time had forgotten about this place. It had clearly been empty for a long time, not since Evangeline, Adam thought suddenly. A Winner had taken care of this tower once. But who exactly? He couldn’t quite remember.

He ran his fingers over the wall as he walked, feeling the worn patterns in the stone. They were shaped carefully, almost like art. He stopped when he saw a deep “V” carved into the stone. Or maybe it was an “E”? He squinted, trying to see it more clearly. Then a memory hit him, he knew that carving style. Evangeline had made it. She always had a gentle, careful way of carving things. His heart ached at the memory.

“Adam? What happened to Evangeline?” Emily’s voice broke through his thoughts.

He turned around, startled. “Who?”

Emily looked surprised, her wings twitching nervously. “Evangeline. You remember her, right? One of the oldest Winners? You gave her that name. Or… she asked for it, because...”

“Because I always wanted to name my daughter that. But Eve never let me.” Adam blinked, the memory coming back with a stab of guilt.

Emily gave him a small, sad smile. “Yeah. That’s right. Evangeline was my friend. I really miss her. One day she was here… and then she was gone.”

Adam winced, lowering his eyes. He had almost forgotten, Evangeline had become Vaggie. She used to care for this tower. But now she was gone, taken by Heaven’s cruelty.

“That’s right,” Adam said quietly. “She looked after the tower...”

He stared at the carving, his hand still resting on the wall. “I should’ve done something. I should’ve stopped Lute…”

His voice faded. Guilt filled his chest like heavy stone. He remembered what had been done to Vaggie. How she lost her wings. How they took her eye. It was more than Heaven should’ve allowed. And Adam had done nothing. He’d been too scared.

“She shouldn’t have been punished for helping that Sinner,” Adam whispered. “She saw a child in that Sinner and chose mercy. Heaven… Heaven didn’t care.”

Emily touched his shoulder gently, making him flinch. He turned toward her.

“Adam, what happened?” she asked softly.

He looked away, swallowing hard. “I failed her. I wasn’t there when she needed me. I should’ve helped her. I didn’t.”

His words faded into a sigh. He stared at the wall, lost in the carvings. The shapes brought the memories back, he had taught Evangeline how to carve like that. She had real talent, just like Miriam. But that didn’t matter now.

“She was strong,” he whispered. “One of the best exorcists we had. Back then, we didn’t try to help Sinners. We fought them. She wanted to train with the exorcists so badly, and I let her. I pushed her into that life.”

His stomach turned at the thought.

“She didn’t deserve what happened to her,” he said, voice shaking. “And I let her down.”

Adam gave a bitter laugh as he tugged at the frayed ends of his hoodie, his fingers trembling. He looked at the carvings again, almost hoping they had answers.

“I don’t know, Emily. You say kind things, but I feel like I failed. Evangeline, the exorcists, humanity… They all trusted me. And I let them down.” His voice broke. “How was I supposed to protect anyone when I couldn’t even protect myself?”

Emily sighed gently.

“That’s not true, Adam,” she said, stepping closer. Her voice was calm and warm. “You did your best. You shouldn’t keep blaming yourself for things you couldn’t stop.”

Adam tilted his head slightly and gave her a small, tired smile. “You’re only saying that because you’re my guardian angel.”

Emily puffed her cheeks, pretending to be annoyed. “That’s not it! I’m telling the truth. You had so much pressure on you, Adam. Anyone would’ve struggled. No one could’ve handled all that perfectly. But you still did more than anyone could’ve asked.”

Adam’s smile faded, his face softening.

“Still… I should’ve done more for her,” he said. “She deserved better.”

Emily stepped closer, her hand hovering near his arm, careful not to push too hard. Her voice dropped, more fragile now, like she was speaking from deep inside her own heart.

“Adam… you were carrying too much. It wasn’t fair, not then, and not now.”

Adam blinked, surprised by how honest her words were. He turned to look at her fully. “You really think so?”

Emily nodded, her face serious. “Of course. I saw it. I felt it, every time you struggled under all that pressure. There were so many expectations on you, Adam. Not just from Heaven, but from Sera too. I always thought it was too much, too soon. I thought it was unfair to expect so much from you while you were still trying to figure out who you were.”

Adam frowned, surprised. “You did?”

Emily gave a small nod, her wings twitching softly as she looked down. “Sera and I argued a lot about it. I kept telling her you needed time and support, not more pressure. But she didn’t agree. She never did. She just wanted to push you harder, like you were a tool to use.”

Adam’s chest tightened. He remembered Sera’s harsh words, her strict rules, how she only seemed proud when he followed orders perfectly. Her love had always felt like something he had to earn.

“I didn’t know you two argued about me,” he said quietly.

Emily gave him a sad smile. “You wouldn’t have known. Sera didn’t want you to. She thought if you knew someone was on your side, it would make you soft.”

Her voice grew sharper. “She believed pressure was the only way to keep you in control.”

Adam clenched his fists, his jaw tight. “She was wrong.”

Emily nodded gently. “I know. And that’s why you shouldn’t blame yourself for what happened to Evangeline, or anything else. You were never given the right tools, but you still tried. You cared. That matters.”

Adam didn’t speak right away. He looked back at the carvings on the wall. His heart still felt heavy, but also a little lighter.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself for letting her down,” he said in a quiet voice.

“You don’t have to forgive yourself right away,” Emily said kindly. “But maybe one day, you’ll see that you weren’t as alone, or as responsible, as you think.”

Adam glanced at her, ready to argue. But the kindness in her eyes made him stop. He nodded slowly, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes.

“Maybe,” he said softly. “Maybe someday.”

They stood there in silence. The memories hung in the air like shadows. Adam stared at the carvings, gently running his fingers over the shapes, as if they were telling him old stories.

“She was a good friend,” he said, a sad smile touching his lips. “I just hope I can find a way to make things right.”

Emily smiled, her face glowing like sunshine after a storm.

“You will,” she said with confidence, her wings fluttering with hope.

Suddenly, a low hum broke the quiet. It was soft at first, barely noticeable, but then it buzzed again, louder this time, echoing through the dusty tower. Adam frowned and looked at Emily, waiting for her to react.

Then it hit her. She gasped, her wings snapping open in a flash of light before folding back quickly. She dug into her pocket and pulled out a strange-looking device. It glowed with swirling red, black, and purple colours, Adam recognized it right away.

A Hell-phone.

Unlike Heaven’s clean, gold-and-white tech, this thing gave off a wild, chaotic energy. Its screen flickered like fire, untamed and intense. Adam felt a chill. Hell’s devices were known for being full of dark, disturbing things. He hoped Emily hadn’t seen anything too awful.

But Emily looked thrilled. Her face lit up with excitement.

“Oh! Charlie texted me back!” she said, hugging the phone like a treasure.

Adam couldn’t help but smile a little. “You really like her, huh?”

Emily looked up, her eyes sparkling. “Yeah, I do. She’s like the big sister I never had.”

Her voice was warm, but there was a hidden sadness underneath. Charlie was filling a space that Sera should’ve filled. Adam could hear it in her tone, though he didn’t say anything. He just nodded, glad Emily had someone who made her feel safe.

But then her smile faded. Her brow furrowed as she stared at the screen. Her wings twitched with unease. Adam noticed right away and stepped closer, eyeing the phone.

“What is it?” he asked, his voice quiet but alert.

Emily bit her lip and looked up at him. “Charlie wants us to meet her… at the Grand Hall of Heaven and Hell.”

Adam froze. The air felt heavier now. His thoughts raced. That place was watched constantly.

“No,” he said quickly. “We can’t. If we go there, Sera will know right away. She sees everything. If we meet Charlie there, it’s over. She’ll catch us.”

“You’re right,” Emily said with a bright smile, turning her attention back to the Hell-phone.

She typed with one finger, slow and careful, like she was worried the strange device might bite her if she made a mistake. Adam watched her quietly, a small smile forming on his face. It was kind of sweet seeing her so focused, even if her slow typing tested his patience a little.

At last, Emily’s face lit up. “Oh!” she said proudly, watching the message send.

A second later, the phone buzzed again. Charlie had replied. Emily gave a small yelp of surprise, then grinned wide. “Ah! She wants to do something called... ‘face-time’? That sounds fun! What is it? Do we put time... on our face?”

Adam laughed softly, not meaning to. He reached over and gently patted her head. “Not quite,” he said, smiling. He leaned in and pointed to a small icon on the screen. “See that symbol? If you tap it, you can see and talk to Charlie like she’s right here.”

Emily’s eyes widened in amazement. “Really? That’s incredible!”

Without hesitation, she tapped it. Her wings trembled with excitement as she waited but Adam suddenly felt uneasy. His chest tightened and without thinking, he stepped back, just far enough to stay out of the camera’s view. His heart thumped in his chest, though he couldn’t explain why. Something inside him said not to be seen. Emily glanced at him, confused, but he smiled and waved for her to focus on the call.

The phone made a soft chime, and the screen lit up. Charlie’s warm voice came through, full of relief. “Emily! Oh, thank goodness! I was so worried! You didn’t answer any of my messages, I thought something bad had happened!”

Emily gasped and fumbled to hold the phone better as Charlie’s face appeared. “Charlie! I’m so sorry!” she said quickly. “Things have been really hectic up here. I forgot about the phone. I didn’t mean to scare you!”

Charlie smiled gently, though she still looked worried. “It’s okay, really,” she said calmly. “I just needed to know you were safe. Things have been rough down here too.”

The air suddenly felt heavier as Charlie’s voice continued, crackling a bit through the phone. “What’s going on, Emily? We had a meeting with Sera yesterday. She said the exterminations are still happening and honestly... she was being kind of a jerk. She even upset Dad.”

Adam’s head snapped up. His expression changed. Lucifer?

The name hit him like a bolt of lightning. Was he okay? What was he going through? Adam stared at the floor, trying to quiet the storm of thoughts in his mind. He had to stay calm. Now wasn’t the time to lose focus.

Emily, on the other hand, looked curious. “The King of Hell?” she asked, her tone light but interested. “Is he with you? We need him too!”

Charlie gave a soft laugh, though it sounded a little nervous. Her eyes shifted to something off-screen.

“Well...” she began, but before she could say more, another voice cut in.

“Adam? Adam, are you there?! Please, can I talk to you?! I just want to hear your voice! Please!”

Lucifer’s desperate voice crashed into the moment, wild and full of pain. His face appeared suddenly, pushing past Charlie. The screen shook as he shoved her aside, his energy fierce and unstable. Emily jumped, wings flaring out in shock, feathers puffed up like a scared bird.

She looked to Adam for help, her eyes pleading but Adam shook his head fast, hand cutting through the air. No.

His chest ached. That strange feeling inside him had grown into something heavier, darker. He couldn’t talk to Lucifer, not now.

Emily hesitated, then turned back to the screen, clearly unsure. “Um... no... he’s not here. Sorry,” she said quietly, her voice shaking.

Charlie raised an eyebrow, her face unreadable. Lucifer didn’t seem to question it, though. He let out a loud groan and turned away, stomping out of view like a frustrated child.

“Uh... sorry?” Emily said with a squeak, slowly lowering her wings.

Charlie glanced at her father, then back at Emily with a small, understanding smile. “It’s not your fault, Emily. Don’t worry. Dad’s just... been emotional lately.”

Emily nodded slowly, still looking unsure, she glanced back at Adam. What’s going on? her eyes seemed to ask.

Charlie cleared her throat awkwardly, just as a loud crash came from her side of the call. Her face flushed with embarrassment as she looked off-screen, then back again. “Er, sorry about that. Anyway, Emily, are you okay? You’re not in trouble, are you?”

Emily let out a laugh, but it sounded forced, tight and nervous. Her wings twitched, feathers rising like she was scared, her wide eyes flicked back to Adam, looking for comfort. Adam gave her a steady nod, motioning for her to speak, he seemed calm, even if it was mostly an act, but it was enough for her to draw strength from. She stood up straighter and took a deep breath, puffing her cheeks like she was getting ready to face something big.

“Something like that,” she said, her voice shaking but steady.

Charlie’s happy face changed quickly, now filled with worry. “Emily, what do you mean? What’s happening? You’re starting to scare me.”

Emily paused, glancing at Adam again like she needed help. He gave her a small nod, and that gave her the courage to continue. “I’m probably going to get in trouble for telling you this,” she said quickly, “But you need to know, Charlie.”

Charlie opened her mouth like she was about to speak but stopped when she heard the seriousness in Emily’s voice. Her eyebrows pulled together. “Okay,” she said gently. “Take a breath and slow down. What do you mean by ‘trouble’? What happened?”

Emily couldn’t hold it in anymore. The words came spilling out all at once, full of emotion. “It works, Charlie! It really works!” she said, shaking with excitement. Her wings fluttered as if they couldn’t stay still. “You did it! You actually did it! You redeemed a soul, from Hell!”

The room fell completely silent, like even the air had stopped moving. Charlie’s eyes went wide in shock, her mouth opening in disbelief. Somewhere in the background, there was a crash, but neither of them noticed.

Then, Charlie’s face exploded with joy. She let out a loud squeal, nearly dropping her phone as she threw her arms into the air.

“OH MY GOD! YES! IT WORKED!” she shouted, grinning from ear to ear, bouncing with energy. “I DID IT! I ACTUALLY DID IT! YES! A REDEEMED SOUL! I KNEW IT WAS POSSIBLE!”

Emily giggled, watching her friend celebrate. Her wings fluttered softly, catching some of Charlie’s excitement.

“I have to tell everyone!” Charlie yelled. “Everyone said it couldn’t be done, but I knew they were wrong!”

She turned back to the screen, eyes shining. “Emily, who was it? Was it someone big? Someone famous?”

Before Emily could reply, Charlie’s eyes lit up again. “Wait, don’t tell me! Let me guess!”

She rattled off names in a rush. “Was it Jack the Ripper? No, too creepy. Rasputin? Nero? Or maybe someone totally random... like Al Capone?”

She leaned in closer to the screen, trying to read Emily’s face. Emily opened her mouth to answer, but Charlie kept going.

“Oh! What if it was Judas?! Or...”

“Charlie!” Emily laughed, raising her hands. “It’s Sir Pentious!”

Charlie froze mid-sentence, her jaw dropped, then she gasped dramatically. “OF COURSE! IT WAS SIR PENTIOUS!”

She leaned so close to the screen her nose nearly touched it. “Is he okay? What’s happening with him?!”

Emily’s smile faded, she looked toward Adam, unsure of what to say. Her eyes were wide, filled with doubt, she was about to say something risky and Adam met her gaze and gave her a calm, kind smile. It gave her just enough courage. She straightened up and took a deep breath. Her wings puffed up slightly as she turned back to Charlie.

“Charlie,” she said, her voice more serious now, “This is bigger than you think. You really need to listen.”

Charlie’s joy faded as she heard Emily’s tone. She grew quiet, her happy expression slowly turning into concern.

“Wait,” she said softly. “Why do I have a bad feeling about this? What aren’t you telling me?”

Emily’s feathers stood up a little, but she kept going. “Sera has Sir Pentious locked up,” she said clearly. “He’s in a cell at the edge of Humility. She doesn’t want anyone to know he was redeemed.”

“Wait, WHAT?!” Charlie shouted. Her eyes went huge, and her mouth hung open. “She’s hiding him?! Why?!”

Emily’s wings spread again as she leaned in, her voice shaking. “It’s like she’s scared,” she said. “Scared of people finding out. Scared of... something. She wants to send him back to Hell, like it never happened.”

“That’s not fair!” Charlie shouted, her face darkened with anger. “She can’t do that! Sir Pentious is redeemed, he should be in Heaven!”

“I know!” Emily said, nodding hard. “That’s what I told her! But she won’t listen. This is our last chance. We have a plan, and...”

Suddenly, Lucifer appeared next to Charlie on the screen again, making both girls jump, his golden hair messy and wild, his red eyes tired and intense. You could feel the anger coming off him like heat.

“You keep saying ‘we’ and ‘us,’” he said, his deep voice cutting through the moment like a knife. He stared at Emily, sharp and focused. “Whose plan is this?”

Emily froze. Her breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t expected to face Lucifer like this, her wings twitched as she stammered, “Uh... um... mine... and Adam’s…”

Lucifer’s eyes glowed bright red, and his voice boomed. “He’s there, isn’t he?! I want to talk to him!”

“Adam?! Why won’t you talk to me?!” he shouted. “Please! Let me fix this! Adam!”

Emily’s face turned red, her feathers shaking as she looked nervously at Adam.

“Dad!” Charlie gasped, trying to speak, but Lucifer didn’t notice. His eyes stayed locked on the screen like a hunter staring down his target.

“He’s not here!”

Emily’s voice burst out suddenly, loud and shaky. The room fell silent, itt was the first time she’d ever yelled, and the raw power in her voice left everyone stunned. Adam froze, Charlie stared in shock, even Lucifer paused, his intense gaze softening just a little.

Emily stood stiff, her wings trembling, chest rising and falling like she’d just come up for air. “Adam’s not here,” she repeated, panting. “He’s keeping Sera busy so she won’t notice what we’re doing.”

“Don’t you understand? We’re risking everything just by talking to you behind her back!” Her voice cracked at the end, but her eyes burned with determination.

Lucifer frowned, the red in his eyes dimming. He slumped onto the deep red couch behind Charlie, sighing heavily.

“Right… right,” he muttered to himself, sounding tired. “Let me guess… this counts as treason, doesn’t it?”

Emily stood straighter, her wings spreading a little as she met his gaze. “Yes,” she said clearly. “It’s treason. And who knows what Sera will do if she finds out. Actually...”

She stopped, thinking for a second. “Never mind.”

Lucifer ran a hand through his messy golden hair, looking worn out. He didn’t leave the screen like before, instead, he sank into the couch, clearly frustrated.

Charlie groaned and glanced at him, annoyed, before turning back to Emily.

“Okay, Emily,” she said, her voice calm but still worried. “What can we do? You know we’ll help.”

Emily nodded, a small but sure gesture, she looked quickly at Adam, and when he nodded back, she took a breath and started.

“It’s amazing that a soul from Hell can be redeemed,” she said. Her voice grew stronger as she continued. “This proves that human souls can change. They can grow, they can become better. It changes everything we believed about Heaven and Hell.”

But then her voice dropped, her face grew serious. “But…It’s not that simple. Nothing ever is.”

Charlie frowned, confused. But as Emily kept talking, the truth began to sink in.

“Souls in Hell… they’ve hurt people, Charlie,” Emily said gently, her voice wavered. “Every single Winner in Heaven is a Sinner's victim. They have hurt all the Winners in Heaven and that’s something we can’t ignore.”

Charlie’s face fell, the heavy truth hit her hard, she felt cold. Why hadn’t she thought of this before? Why hadn’t anyone even mentioned it to her? Was she really that naive? Charlie knew she had been blind to somethings but this...this should have been something she already knew...

“I’m the Archangel of Humility,” Emily said, more firmly now. “And the Winners, are my responsibility.”

Lucifer’s eyes flicked upward, and his expression darkened, he didn’t say anything, but Adam could feel the tension. Lucifer didn’t like hearing someone else claim a title he used to hold.

“But I also believe that sinners can change,” Emily went on, her voice softer but still steady. “Still… we can’t just let them walk freely in Heaven. Not in front of the people they hurt, that wouldn’t be fair.”

Lucifer made a low clicking sound with his tongue. His eyes narrowed, and he spoke slowly, like he didn’t want to say it but couldn’t hold back.

“Adam wants to make a new ring for them, doesn’t he?”

His voice was calm now, but Adam could sense something underneath, maybe anger, or maybe something more like desperation and a bit of respect.

Charlie’s eyes widened in shock, she turned to her father. “Wait, a new ring? Is that even possible?”

 “Who knows?” Lucifer shrugged, like it didn’t matter, though his voice said otherwise. “I didn’t even think redemption was real until recently.”

Emily squared her shoulders. Her voice was clear and sure. “Our plan is to get Saint Gabriel to listen to us. To understand what’s really going on before Sera twists the story.”

“Gabriel?” Lucifer let out a dry laugh and gave a bitter smile. “You think he’ll go against his sister? He’d never do that, he’s the most loyal of us all.”

Emily swallowed, but her focus didn’t waver. “Maybe he would… if another brother spoke to him.”

Her words hung in the air, and silence followed. Charlie looked nervously at her father, Lucifer’s face grew hard, he realized what Emily was asking.

“You…” Lucifer said, his voice low and dangerous. “You want me to talk to Gabriel?”

Emily nodded, her throat was tight, but she didn’t look away. “Yes,” she said quietly but firmly. “It has to be you.”

 “And how do you know that?” Lucifer leaned closer, eyes narrowing. His voice was sharp.

Charlie shot him a look like Don’t be mean to my friend! Adam, watching quietly, felt his patience thinning. Lucifer’s tone was starting to grate on him, but Emily stood strong. She didn’t back down, her wings shifted, showing quiet confidence.

“Well,” she said sweetly, with a teasing smile, “You are his favourite brother, aren’t you?”

Emily’s smile grew wider, playful and confident. Her voice was light but had a hint of teasing. “If Gabriel’s ever going to stand up to Sera, there’s only one person he’d do it for.”

Lucifer’s mouth opened, then shut again quickly, his eyes widened like he couldn’t believe what he just heard. He looked genuinely surprised for a moment.

“You…” he started, then gave an over-the-top pout. “I don’t like you.”

“Dad!” Charlie gasped. “You can’t say that! Not to Emily! Apologize!”

Lucifer rolled his eyes and waved her off. “Why? She’s annoying.”

“Don’t worry, Charlie,” Emily said sweetly, her voice overly cheerful, and her bright green eyes full of amusement. “I think I’ve figured out why he’s acting so grumpy.”

“I’m not grumpy!” Lucifer snapped, sounding dramatic, his wings twitched behind him in irritation.

Charlie raised an eyebrow, giving him a look that clearly said, Really?

Emily giggled, clearly enjoying herself. Her grin grew bigger. “Oh, it’s obvious,” she said, still teasing. “He’s mad because I’m Adam’s guardian angel now.”

Lucifer froze, his wings twitching again.

“He used to be Adam’s guardian angel, right?” Emily's voice was playful, but there was a sharp glint in her eyes.

Charlie’s mouth dropped open, she looked from Emily to Lucifer, unsure if she should laugh or not.

“Emily!” she whispered, half shocked, half impressed.

Lucifer looked like he was about to explode, his fists tightened, his eyes started to glow red, and his golden hair seemed to spark with anger.

“You little...” he growled, his voice low and dangerous, like he was trying not to lose control.

“Um!” Charlie jumped in quickly, giving Emily a nervous smile. “We should go! I’ll text you later, okay? Once, once Dad’s not about to blow up the house, Dad, seriously! Stop!”

The screen suddenly went black, but not before a loud crash thundered through the call. Emily stared at the dark screen, still holding her phone. There was a moment of silence, then she burst out laughing, the sound light and joyful. She lowered the phone, shaking her head with a smile.

“Who would’ve guessed,” she said with a grin, “That the big, scary Morningstar is so easy to annoy?”

Adam groaned.

What was even happening right now?

~#~

Adam stepped out of the shadows of the clock tower and let out a shaky breath. They had done it, they had broken the rules, every law, every promise. What they did wasn’t just wrong. It was treason, real treason. They had gone against Heaven itself… and even worse, they had betrayed Sera.

They had contacted Hell behind her back, speaking in secret. They had stood face to face with Lucifer Morningstar and said something no one dared say: that sinners could change. Could be forgiven. Emily had told them everything. Had opened the gates and told them everything Sera was so desperate to keep hidden.

Still, he hadn’t expected to feel this drained. His legs felt weak, and his eyelids were heavy. Wasn’t committing treason supposed to feel exciting? Victorious? But all he wanted now was to lie down and sleep, to escape for a while from the fear of what came next…it hadn’t even started yet.

He clicked his tongue, the sound sharp in the quiet, and looked around the cobbled streets of Humility. Even though the city looked peaceful, the air felt heavy, like someone was watching him. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Sera was out there, hidden, just waiting to strike but she didn’t show up, not yet.

Still, the fear clung to him. His heart pounded hard, his skin felt hot, and every little sound made him flinch. Every shadow looked like a threat.

“Adam?” Emily’s voice called out gently.

Her violet eyes were full of worry, her white and purple feathers twitching with every nervous breath. Her long curls floated around her like the tension was lifting them. She looked over her shoulder to make sure they were alone, then took off into the air and quickly landed beside him.

“Adam?” she asked again, sounding confused.

He looked at her and gave a small, tired smile. He didn’t answer right away, just hummed softly and nudged her with his elbow.

Emily blinked in surprise, then smiled and nudged him back. But her smile faded when she continued.

“I don’t…” she paused, struggling to find the correct words. “I don’t understand…”

“What don’t you understand?” Adam finally asked, his voice quiet.

Emily’s smile disappeared. She seemed nervous now, curling in on herself a little, wings drawn in, fingers twisting in her sleeve.

“Um…” she started, unsure. “Why didn’t you talk to Morningstar? He… he really wanted to speak with you. Why didn’t you?”

Adam froze. For a second, his heart felt like it stopped, then it started pounding hard again.

“It’s… complicated,” he said softly.

Emily frowned and stepped closer. She reached out and gently took his hand. Her fingers shook, but her grip was warm.

“Adam, please,” she whispered. “Back there, I could feel your heart beating like it was going to explode. I thought you might faint. I was scared.”

Adam sucked in a breath. Her words hit hard. He had forgotten how closely she was connected to him. When his emotions got too strong, she felt them too, like a wave crashing into her.

“I…” He paused, holding her hand tighter like it helped him stay steady. “It’s not easy to explain. You wouldn’t believe me.”

“Yes, I would!” Emily said firmly, her eyes narrowing. “Why wouldn’t I? You’ve never lied to me.”

Adam gave a half-smile, letting out a small, bitter laugh. “Emily, I lied about the exterminations.”

“That doesn’t count!” she said quickly, her voice rising with emotion. “You didn’t lie. You just didn’t talk about it! That’s different!”

It wasn’t, not really. But Adam wasn’t going to argue. He looked at her, his guardian angel who had stuck by him through it all. If only he had given her a real chance before everything had gone wrong. Maybe she could’ve helped him see the truth earlier…

Maybe Emily could have freed him from the Word of God…

He smiled crookedly, then glanced around again, eyes scanning the shadows. Something didn’t feel right. The air felt too still, too heavy. Like someone was nearby. Watching.

He leaned in, speaking barely above a whisper.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll tell you but not here. Not now.”

He gripped her hand tighter and met her eyes. “I don’t trust whoever might be listening.”

A voice suddenly cut through the quiet, smooth and sharp, like a knife. “Who might be watching?”

Emily jumped and let out a high-pitched squeak that even startled Adam a bit, though he covered it with a smirk. She spun around quickly, arms up like she was ready to fight. Her feathers bristled, and she looked fierce.

“Easy, tiger,” Adam muttered, reaching up to pat her head like he was turning her off. She shot him a glare but slowly lowered her arms, lips forming a pout.

“Azrael, you’re back,” Adam said, his voice light as he waved casually.

Emily crossed her arms and muttered under her breath, “Great. You’re back.”

“Nice to see you too, Emily,” he said flatly.

The young Archangel of Death raised an eyebrow, his dark eyes flicking between them with mild curiosity. His pale skin glowed faintly in the dim light, and his calm presence was unsettling. He walked toward them, light but purposeful.

“What were you two whispering about?” he asked, his voice low, with a hint of suspicion.

“Oh, nothing much,” Adam replied casually, giving a friendly smile.

But even as he spoke, his mind raced. Azrael was powerful, one of the strongest Archangels. Maybe it would help to tell him. Having Azrael on their side could make a difference, especially if they could get Gabriel on their side too. Azrael wasn’t exactly close to the other Archangels, so he couldn’t help with Gabriel, but two Archangels against Sera? That could be enough.

Adam hesitated, his smile tightening. He wasn’t sure where Azrael stood on the Sinners. Azrael had never said anything about them, and Adam had never asked. Would Azrael see Sera’s exterminations as cruel or necessary?

After a moment, Adam’s smile returned, now with a playful edge. “We were just talking about the clock tower,” he said smoothly, pointing to the tall structure in the distance. “Nobody’s taking care of it anymore, so I thought I’d move in.”

Azrael frowned, confusion and scepticism crossing his face. “I thought you lived with…” He looked at Emily. “…those Winners.”

Emily’s purple eyes narrowed, and her arms crossed tightly over her chest. “You mean the Exorcists, right?” she snapped, her voice sharp. “Oh, I know all about them, and the exterminations.”

Azrael’s face stayed calm, but he hummed as if amused. “So, you know now? I thought Sera didn’t want you to find out. She thought you’d be too... emotional.”

“Emotional?” Emily shot back, feathers bristling like he’d poked her. “I’m the Angel of Humility! I should’ve known about this contract from the start! I should’ve been one of the first to know!” Her voice shook with anger. “Going into Hell to kill hundreds, no, thousands, of innocent souls? It’s barbaric! It’s monstrous!”

“See?” Azrael said dryly, rolling his eyes. “Emotional. Sera made the right call by keeping you out of it. You would’ve only made things worse if you knew.”

Emily’s feathers quivered, and her fists clenched, barely holding back her rage. Adam stepped closer to her, placing a hand on her shoulder to calm her. He could feel the heat coming off her as her anger built.

“Azrael,” Adam said with a light laugh that didn’t reach his eyes. “That’s enough.” It was almost like he was trying to stop two kids from fighting. “Let’s keep it civil.”

“Touchy, aren’t we?” Azrael said smoothly, his eyes flicking to Adam, his lips curling into a small smirk. “You know it’s true, Adam, but fine. If you want to keep secrets, I won’t pry. Just don’t let Sera find out you’ve been stirring up trouble.”

“Can’t you two just try to get along for once?” Adam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he glanced between them. “Seriously, you act like toddlers.”

Azrael shifted, his black eyes looking at the ground, and shuffled his feet. Emily crossed her arms and muttered, “He started it.”

“I did not,” Azrael snapped.

Adam groaned, already feeling a headache coming on. This was so familiar, like Cain and Abel’s constant arguing over silly things. He used to step in and mediate, though he couldn’t help but shiver at the thought of how those fights ended. He hoped Azrael and Emily’s squabbles didn’t end the same way.

“It doesn’t matter who started it,” Adam said firmly, straightening up. “I’m finishing it.” His tone carried the weight of someone trying to end an old argument. “Just try to be nice to each other, okay? For my sake?”

Azrael and Emily exchanged a final, venomous glare before looking back at Adam.

“Fine,” they both grumbled in unison, but it only made the tension worse. They immediately bristled, glaring at each other again.

Adam ran a hand down his face and muttered something about patience. But despite the frustration, a small smile tugged at his lips.

“Anyway,” he said, shifting the conversation, “To answer your question, Azrael, yes, I used to live with the Exorcists, but not anymore….”

He crossed his arms, his face softening with a touch of nostalgia. “Ever since Evangeline... left, no one’s been taking care of the clock tower. It’s falling apart, and honestly, I don’t mind fixing it. Gives me something to do.”

Adam straightened his back, wincing as his bones popped. “Besides, I’m too old to live with a bunch of hyperactive Winners. I need my space, and some peace and quiet.”

“Is it really that bad?” Azrael tilted his head, his expression unreadable.

Adam groaned dramatically. “You have no idea. Can you imagine being kept up all night while a bunch of teenagers sing karaoke? Or, this is real, having a flying pillow fight? It’s a nightmare for someone my age.”

Azrael blinked, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Oh, right. Sometimes I forget how old you are.”

“Hey!” Adam barked, though his laugh made it clear he wasn’t truly offended. “Watch it, Azrael! I still look good for my age, thank you very much.”

Emily giggled behind her hand, her purple eyes sparkling with amusement. “Oh, Adam, you’ll go grey one day. Just wait!”

“Eventually?” Adam scoffed, clutching his heart as if hurt. “You’re really crushing my pride here, you two.”

Azrael’s gaze lingered on the crumbling clock tower in the distance, his face unreadable, as if he was deciding its future against Adam’s determination.

“Are you sure you’ll have time to take care of it?” he asked smoothly, his voice carrying a hint of doubt. “You don’t have much free time with all the meetings between Heaven and Hell, the exterminations, and training.”

“Ah,” Adam chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well… Sera actually took me off the exterminations. She doesn’t want me involved anymore.”

His tone softened, almost regretful. “Can’t blame her, though. I may have made things… worse.”

And they’ll only get worse for her, Adam thought darkly, but pushed the bitter thought aside. Now wasn’t the time for that.

Instead, Adam focused on Azrael, his gaze sharpening as an idea began to form. Should he risk asking? Azrael was an Archangel, an incredibly powerful ally, but his views on the Sinners were unclear. Would he sympathize with them or dismiss them outright? Adam had no way of knowing, and time was running out.

Besides, they didn’t even have Gabriel yet, and Lucifer might struggle to convince him. The thought made Adam uneasy. Gabriel’s support wasn’t guaranteed, not by a long shot. But if he could get Azrael on their side… maybe that would change everything.

Here goes nothing.

Adam took a deep breath, filling his lungs with Heaven’s fresh air. It calmed him, giving him just enough courage to move forward.

“Azrael…” he began, his voice soft and careful.

Azrael’s black eyes shifted to him, narrowing slightly in suspicion.

“What do you think about the Sinners?” Adam asked, his words quiet but heavy.

The question hung in the air, tense and uncertain. Azrael’s expression stayed the same, but Adam noticed his shoulders stiffen.

“You’re being unusually direct,” Azrael said after a pause, his voice calm but with a slight edge. He didn’t answer right away, studying Adam as if trying to read him.

Adam forced himself to hold Azrael’s gaze, even as a sense of unease crept up his spine. He needed to know the answer.

“What... do I think of the Sinners?” Azrael repeated, his voice distant, as if the question had made him think deeper. He crossed his arms and looked up at the glowing heavens. “I’ve never really thought about them. Once they die and I send their souls on, they don’t cross my mind again.”

Emily bristled at his response, her feathers ruffling with indignation. Her purple eyes narrowed, and her wings flared slightly, ready for a fight. “Never? Not once? You don’t wonder what happens to those poor souls?”

“Poor?” Azrael let out a sharp laugh, the sound cutting through the tension. His gaze flicked back to her, one eyebrow raised. “They’re not poor, and they’re not innocent. They’re exactly where they belong.”

Emily’s mouth opened, her wings widening, bitterness creeping into her voice. “You don’t know that...”

“I do,” Azrael interrupted sharply, his voice cold and final. His eyes darkened, like a storm was brewing inside him. “I know human souls better than anyone. I’ve felt them, seen them, spoken to them. It’s my job, Emily, to guide a soul, whether to Heaven or Hell.”

“Just because it’s your job doesn’t mean you’re always right!” Emily fired back, her hands balling into fists. She flinched at the authority in his voice but stood her ground. “Humans make mistakes. Do you really think every soul sent to Hell is beyond saving?”

Azrael’s jaw clenched, and his wings shifted slightly, making him seem even more imposing. He leaned forward, his voice lowering to a dangerous murmur. “You think I don’t understand the weight of their sins? Trust me, Emily, I’ve seen more of humanity’s true nature than you ever will. Sinners aren’t in Hell by accident. They earned their place there.”

Adam winced, looking between them. The tension was thick, and he could see the storm brewing in Emily’s eyes. If he didn’t step in soon, this argument would only get worse.

“Okay, okay,” Adam said, raising his hands in a calming gesture. “Let’s not turn this into a fight. Azrael, we get it, you’ve seen a lot. But maybe you should try to see things from Emily’s point of view too?”

Azrael’s sharp gaze snapped to Adam, and for a moment, Adam wondered if he’d gone too far. But then Azrael exhaled slowly, some of the tension easing from his body.

“I don’t dislike Sinners, if that’s what you’re asking,” Azrael muttered, his voice quieter now, though still with an edge. “But I can’t pity them. That’s not my role.”

Emily crossed her arms, still visibly upset, but she didn’t say anything more. Adam sighed, rubbing his face.

This is going to be harder than I thought, Adam thought, glancing between the two of them. Azrael’s firm beliefs and Emily’s strong compassion were like oil and water, they just didn’t mix.

Emily’s feathers fluffed up as she stepped closer to Azrael, her voice rising with emotion. “How can you just live with yourself? Knowing every year, an army of Exorcists goes to Hell to kill them? After everything they’ve been through?”

Azrael tilted his head, his face unreadable. Then, as if it were nothing, he shrugged and said calmly, “I don’t care. I even voted for it at the meeting.”

The silence that followed was heavy. Adam blinked, shocked. He hadn’t known Azrael, of all beings, would support something like that.

Emily, on the other hand, looked horrified. Her wings flared, and her fists clenched at her sides.

“You voted for it?!” she hissed, her voice shaking with anger. “How could you vote for something so awful?”

“Here we go,” Azrael muttered under his breath. He groaned loudly and rolled his eyes, running a hand through his dark hair. “Emily, you’re too emotionally invested in the ‘good’ of humanity. You’ve spent too much time around the Winners, you’ve let them cloud your judgment. You act like every soul that ends up in Hell is just some misunderstood person who had a bad day.”

“Don’t talk down to me!” Emily snapped; her voice sharp. “I know humans aren’t perfect. I know they make mistakes. But that doesn’t mean they deserve to be slaughtered again!”

Azrael leaned forward, his eyes locking onto hers with a cold intensity. “Do you even know the things humans do on Earth that get them sent to Hell? The truth about those souls?”

Emily opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She looked at Adam for support, but he only sighed deeply, rubbing the back of his neck.

Her shoulders sagged, and she murmured, “No, I don’t.”

For a moment, she seemed defeated, but then she straightened up, a spark of defiance in her eyes.

“But that doesn’t mean they deserve to die again,” she said firmly. “We shouldn’t just give up on them, like their lives don’t matter.”

“Emily, stop,” Azreal said, his voice tinged with frustration, he raised a hand, cutting her off sharply. “Some souls don’t deserve a second chance. You think all of them are just lost and broken? That’s not how it works. Some of those souls are dangerous. They’ve done things so horrible, so evil, that if they came back to Earth, they’d hurt people in ways you can’t imagine. Those souls… they need to be destroyed. For good.”

The finality in his words hit Emily hard, and she gasped. She shook her head, struggling to understand his coldness and lack of sympathy.

“But…” she whispered, her voice barely audible. Then she swallowed hard and lifted her chin, refusing to back down. “But what about the ones who do deserve a second chance? What about the ones who can change, who want to change?”

Azrael didn’t answer right away. He stared at her, his face unreadable, before sighing tiredly.

“That’s not for me to decide,” he said simply. “And it’s not for you either.”

Emily’s lip trembled, but she didn’t look away from him. Adam, standing between them, felt like he was caught in the middle, one side full of fire and compassion, the other cold logic and indifference.

“Enough,” Adam said, his voice firm but tired. “This argument isn’t getting anywhere. We’re not going to solve all these moral questions right now. Let’s all take a step back and calm down.”

Azrael shrugged, his expression still unreadable, and took a step back, the air around him cooling. “Doesn’t matter. I need to see Sera. The Thrones are hiding in the Pulse of Humanity, and they refuse to leave.”

Adam froze, the words hitting him hard. “Thrones?”

His voice cracked with disbelief. He hadn’t seen them, not since Eden, not since everything changed. His heart skipped a beat as he stepped forward.

“What are they doing in, wait, what’s the Pulse of Humanity?”

Azrael had already begun to turn, his shadow stretching unnaturally.

“Ah,” he said over his shoulder, his voice cool and detached, “It’s not for you to worry about. Only the Archangel of Death can enter it.”

“What do you mean?” Adam’s voice rose, uneasy, as he stumbled forward. His heart pounded in his chest. “What is it?”

Azrael stopped, the air around him heavy with stillness. Slowly, he turned his head, his black eyes gleaming like deep voids. When he spoke, his voice was calm but carried the weight of something ancient.

“It’s the centre of Life and Death,” he said softly. “The place where all human souls go after they die. There, God judges them, and I… I guide them to where they belong.”

He glanced at Emily, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. “But it’s not a place for mortal eyes, or the unworthy.”

Adam’s mind raced with questions, but before he could speak, Azrael turned fully and began to fade into the shadows with eerie grace.

“I’ll see you at the clock tower later, Adam,” he called out, his voice fading like an echo.

Emily watched Azrael leave, her wings trembling with the effort to stay silent. Her jaw was clenched, her lips pressed tightly together, holding back the flood of words she desperately wanted to say.

Adam, still shaken by Azrael’s revelation, muttered, “The Pulse of Humanity... I’ve never heard of it. Thrones are hiding there?”

He watched Azrael walk away, his mind racing with thoughts of Eden, the Thrones, and the strange heaviness their presence always brought.

“Of course, he won’t explain,” Emily said bitterly, crossing her arms. “He’s so smug! Like we’re not important enough to understand what’s going on!”

Her voice cracked a little, mixing anger with hurt. “It’s like he doesn’t care about any of this!”

Adam placed a hand on her shoulder, gently squeezing to calm her. “He’s always been like this, Em. Detached, cold... it’s how he handles his job. You can’t take it personally.”

“It’s not just that! He’s so... uncaring.” Emily pulled away, shaking her head. “How can he hold the fate of every human soul and not feel anything?”

Adam sighed, running a hand through his hair. “That’s why he’s the Archangel of Death. If he let himself feel too much, it would crush him. You can’t carry the weight of every soul’s story, it would destroy anyone, even an angel.”

Emily watched Azrael go, wrapping her arms tighter around herself. “Maybe. But that doesn’t mean he has to be so heartless.”

“And what about the Thrones?” Her voice softened, but her anger didn’t fully fade. “Why are they hiding in the Pulse of Humanity? What’s really going on?”

Adam shook his head, his own frustration showing. “I don’t know. Azrael’s keeping something from us. And if Thrones are involved, it’s big. They don’t hide for no reason, they always have a purpose, even if we can’t understand it.”

“I don’t like it, Adam.” Emily huffed, her wings drooping. “Everything feels wrong. The exterminations, the secrets, and now this.”

She waved toward where Azrael had gone. “The more I learn about Heaven, the less it makes sense. How can we call ourselves righteous if we do things like this?”

Adam paused, looking where Azrael had disappeared. He thought about the exterminations, the Sinners in Hell, and the Thrones, those mysterious beings in Heaven that he once stood with in Eden.

“I don’t know,” he said quietly, his voice heavy with weariness. “But I think we’ll have to find out.”

Emily nodded, though she still felt uneasy. “I don’t like waiting. It feels like something worse is happening with every second.”

Adam gave her a reassuring pat on the back. “Then we’ll just have to make sure we’re ready when it comes.”

Together, they walked back toward the clock tower, their doubts lingering behind them. Adam gave Emily a small, tired smile, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“We’ll figure this out,” he whispered, though even as he said it, he wasn’t sure how.

~#~

Archangel Lucifer's breath came in sharp, ragged gasps as he twisted violently within the cold, unforgiving chains that bound him, the metal cut into his skin, but it was nothing compared to the searing fury inside him. His foot twitched, jerking up and down in a frantic rhythm, the anger bubbling in his chest like molten lava, threatening to explode at any moment, His golden eyes flashed, burning with an intensity that could set the world ablaze, but there was nothing, nothing, to direct it at, No one to tear apart, not yet.

His mind was a storm, a whirlwind of thoughts and curses, and in the centre of it all, there was Sera. How dare she? The very thought of her standing there, thinking she could rip away something so pure, so sacred, from him, his love for Adam, made his stomach turn. The audacity he complete, unholy presumption, She believed she could just erase what was his, like wiping away dust from a shelf, as if his heart could be treated like some discarded trinket. It was maddening.

He snarled, his teeth grinding so hard his jaw ached.

“I will burn you, Sera,” he muttered, low and venomous, his voice thick with fury. “You think you can steal him from me? You think you can rewrite me, erase what I feel? I will not let you. You don’t know what you’re playing with.”

The chains rattled as he shifted again, his anger clawing at the restraints. The metal groaned under his strength, but still, they held. It made him want to scream, to tear through the walls and into the very soul of anyone who thought they could touch what was his and Raphael, that disgusting fool. They all had the nerve to think they could just rip his memories from him like it was nothing.

“I was never your puppet, Raphael,” Lucifer spat bitterly, his eyes flashing toward the shadows where he imagined the archangel stood. “You and Sera think you can play God, but you’ve forgotten who I am. I will not let you erase Adam from me, you think you can take away my love for him? You think you can just undo what is carved into my soul?”

His legs burned with frustration, muscles tightening as he fought the urge to lunge but the chains kept him grounded, tethered to the cold stone floor like a rabid animal caged for sport. His breath came faster, chest heaving with the weight of it all, he could feel it, the rage, the need for release, but there was nothing he could do. Nothing.

He wanted to smash the world into pieces, wanted to tear down everything, burn it to ash, and leave nothing but rubble…but he couldn’t do anything, he couldn’t move at all…

Lucifer's breath was ragged as he struggled once again against the chains that held him in place. His muscles burned with the effort, his entire body screaming for release, but the chains held firm, mocking him. They weren’t going to let him go, not today, his frustration mounted, a boiling knot in his chest, but there was nothing he could do.

With a growl, he slumped back down onto the cold stone floor of the grand hall, his wings dragging behind him like heavy shackles. His mind swirled, a tornado of rage, regret, and helplessness. He tried not to think about Michael, the pain in his eyes when Lucifer tore his wing from him, the horror on his face.

That was a mistake, a weakness, Michael had always been the perfect angel, the one who never faltered, never wavered in his faith. Lucifer had hated him for it nut now? Now, there was guilt, sharp and biting, gnawing at his insides.

The sound of the doors creaking open broke his dark thoughts, and his body froze, footsteps echoed through the hall, sharp and deliberate. His golden eyes snapped up just in time to see them enter. Gabriel, Uriel, Rachel and at the front, the one who had orchestrated all of this…was Sera.

She moved ahead of the others with the kind of calm grace that only a true saint could carry, her arms crossed before her, her shoulders relaxed, as if this were some holy rituals she was leading, as if Lucifer's agony were nothing more than a game and that made his blood burn hotter. His eyes narrowed into slits, and a low growl escaped his throat, his teeth bared.

“You bitch,” Lucifer hissed under his breath, his wings ruffling furiously, the chains clinking and straining as he tried again to free himself.

The sheer rage that built in him made every muscle in his body twitch with a desperate need to rip her apart but she just walked closer, her expression cool, unbothered by his hatred.

“It’s time, Lucifer,” Sera said softly, almost too softly, her voice an unsettling contrast to the fire in his chest, the words sank into him like ice water, the finality of them settling deep into his bones.

“No… no, it’s not!” Lucifer’s voice cracked with desperation. His wings jerked against their bonds, fighting with every ounce of strength he had, but the chains held, they weren’t giving.

His eyes darted around at the faces of his siblings, Raphael, Uriel, Gabriel. Each one, their gazes cold, distant, like they had already made their decision. He felt a wave of nausea wash over him, No, no, they can’t…

He could feel it then, the truth crashing down on him with brutal clarity: this was happening. They were going to take Adam from him, the one thing he’d held onto, the one thing that had kept him tethered to this broken world, and they were going to rip it away.

His chest heaved with the weight of it, and for the first time, a tremor of panic spread through him. He wasn’t ready for this, he wasn’t ready to lose Adam, not like this, not to them.

“Please…” Lucifer’s voice was barely a whisper, ragged with emotion as his eyes locked onto each of his siblings in turn.

He saw Gabriel's eyes widen slightly, a flicker of something, doubt? Hesitation? He didn’t know, but it was enough to make Lucifer cling to a thread of hope.

“Please, don’t-don’t do this.” His voice cracked, the desperation spilling over. “You don’t understand… you don’t understand what he means to me. You think you can just, just erase him from me, but you can’t…you can’t!”

He looked at Raphael, pleading with him now, his heart hammering in his chest. “Raphael, please. I didn’t… I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t want this, but you can’t take him away. You don’t know what it’s like… the way he saved me. You can’t understand.”

He turned his gaze to Uriel, his face twisting in agony. “Uriel, please. Not like this. You’ve always been the one who understood. You know what it’s like to love something this fiercely.”

His breath came in ragged gasps. “Don’t, please.”

Finally, he turned to Gabriel, his last hope. The archangel’s face was unreadable, but his eyes, his eyes betrayed him, there was a hesitation there, a flicker of uncertainty. Gabriel’s mouth tightened, and Lucifer felt a fleeting pang of hope but then, Sera’s voice cut through like a blade.

She snapped her fingers, and in an instant, the chains that had been holding Lucifer’s wings in place tightened, coiling around him like serpents, his body jolted, and a grunt of pain escaped his throat as the pressure surged. He fought against it, his body thrashing, but it was no use, he was trapped.

Lucifer gritted his teeth, the fire in his eyes intensifying as he squirmed and writhed in vain. “Don’t do this… please, don’t,” he begged, his voice breaking.

The last threads of his control snapped, and he let out a raw, guttural cry, the sound echoing through the empty hall but none of them moved, none of them seemed to hear the desperation in his voice.

Sera stepped closer, her expression still cold, as if nothing he said could sway her and in that moment, Lucifer realized something terrifying: this was no longer a battle of words.

This was the end and no matter how he screamed, no matter how he begged, they were going to take Adam away from him, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Gabriel fidgeted in place, his golden brows pulled tight with worry. His wings trembled at his back, twitching with a nervous energy he couldn't hide. He didn’t want to be here, that much was obvious. His hands twisted together, fingers picking at the edge of his robe, his gaze darting between his siblings and Lucifer like a child caught in the middle of a war. His mouth opened, as if to say something, anything, but no words came, none that could stop this.

Lucifer, meanwhile, was being yanked forward.

The chains hissed as they dragged him upright, and he stumbled to his feet, his body jerking like a marionette on strings, his legs shook under him, raw fury and terror at war inside him. He tried to pull back, but invisible hands, holy and cruel, forced him forward, Sera walked ahead, silent and poised, her back straight, the ends of her robe trailing behind her like a judge walking to the gallows.

And Lucifer? He was the condemned.

Dragged behind her like a beast on a leash, the Archangel once feared by all now trudged down the corridor, his bare feet scraping across cold, ancient stone. His wings hung low, the silver chains that bound them clinking with each slow, humiliating step, his breath came hard through his nose, muffled and sharp behind the gag that had been bound tight across his mouth, silencing his protests.

He glared at Sera’s back with every ounce of hatred he could summon, but it didn’t matter, she didn’t even turn her head.

The hallway narrowed, shadows thickening around them. The only light came from high sconces, flickering flames that painted the walls with a dull orange glow. Lucifer's sharp eyes scanned the space, trying to place it, but this part of Heaven was unfamiliar, secluded, hidden and when they stopped, when the final door groaned open, he saw why.

He had never seen this room before.

The moment he stepped inside, the air felt wrong, heavy, cold, not the divine warmth of Heaven’s golden halls, this room felt like a tomb. Like a secret no one was meant to know, Lucifer’s eyes flickered around, trying to take it in. The dark stone walls, the runes carved deep into them, pulsing softly with light, the stale scent of old, untouched air. The silence but then his gaze fell upon the thing in the centre of the room, and his heart dropped.

It wasn’t just a chair, it was a throne of punishment. A device of control, of erasure. Tall, metal spines wrapped around it like a monstrous spider crouched over its web, the legs, spiked, thick, coiled, seemed alive, twitching with slow movements as if the chair itself were breathing, waiting and hungry.

Lucifer’s chest tightened, the panic slamming into him like a wall. His breath caught, and he snapped his head toward Sera, eyes wide in disbelief, in betrayal.

She still didn’t look at him.

“This is the consequence of your choices, Lucifer,” Sera said quietly, her voice cold but steady. “You forced our hand. We begged you to let go, you wouldn’t, so now… we will do it for you.”

He let out a muffled cry, the sound raw and desperate against the gag, his body jerked back, heels scraping across the floor, trying anything to dig in. His arms thrashed in their bindings, wings flaring and twisting beneath the chains, his heart pounded so loud he could barely hear anything else. No, no, no, this wasn’t happening, this couldn’t be real, but the chair waited.

The spider-like limbs uncurled with eerie slowness as he was dragged closer, one long bar snaked open, its hooked edge glinting in the low light, ready to wrap around him. Another unfolded, reaching toward his wing, sharp and mechanical like it had been built in Hell, not Heaven.

Gabriel gasped from behind him.

He turned, horror stamped on his face, looking from Lucifer to the chair and then to Sera. “This… this is too much,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Sera, this isn’t what we…this isn’t right.”

Sera said nothing.

Gabriel’s eyes darted around the room, panic swelling in his chest. He shook his head, took a shaky step back, then another. He covered his mouth with his hand, as if trying to hide the sick rising in his throat.

“I can’t…I can’t watch this,” he choked out.

Gabriel’s skin prickled, his green and white feathers standing up end as Lucifer was forced in the chair. The sound of Lucifer's gagged cries still echoed through his ears, he felt sick, his heart twisted into knots. His breath came fast, uneven, his trembling hands grabbed at his robes.

“Sera, please, stop this. You can’t do this to him.” He cried out, running forward to grab onto Sera’s white and purple dress, “Not like that. Not, not like he’s some criminal! That thing, that chair… it’s not justice, it’s cruel.2

Sera’s expression didn’t waver. She looked at him with quiet resolve, as if his panic were just a passing storm she would wait out.

“I know this is hard, Gabriel, but it is justice.” She said gently, lightly taking hold of his hand and squeezing it. “You just don’t want to see it yet, Lucifer left us no choice. This chair was necessary.”

“He’s still our brother!” Gabriel voice cracked, he stepped forward, pleading now. “He’s hurting, he’s scared, he’s begging us not to do this. Doesn’t that mean anything to you? To any of you?”

He looked to Raphael, then Uriel, his eyes searching for something, anything, a crack in their armour, a sign that they too felt the wrongness in this, but they stood silent, still. Cold.

“Say something…” he whimpered, voice cracking. “This isn’t right! We’re supposed to be better than this. We’re supposed to protect each other, even from ourselves! F-Father wouldn’t approve of this!”

He shook his head furiously, stepping back, as if trying to outrun what was happening. “Michael would never let this happen.”

That was it. The truth he couldn’t stop thinking about. Michael would’ve stood between Lucifer and that machine without blinking, there was a long pause.

“Michael isn’t here to say that, Gabriel.” Raphael said bluntly and Gabriel stared at him like he’d been slapped.

“And Lucifer made sure of that, you saw what he did,” Sera added, sending Lucifer a sharp look. “Michael is still in critical condition, barely clinging to what’s left of his grace. Lucifer did that”

Gabriel whimpered, hands trembling even more. “Because he’s desperate! Because he’s afraid! Don’t you see that?!”

His voice echoed throughout the room, he looked around again, his chest heaved. His wings trembled. “He’s not a monster, he’s our brother, he’s been here for us when we needed him…”

Sera took a step toward him, her voice low, level. “He is our brother. But even brothers fall, Gabriel and when they do… someone has to stop the damage. Someone has to make the hard choice.”

Gabriel’s jaw clenched, tears welled in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He backed away again, his voice shaking. “Then maybe we’re the ones who’ve fallen….this is wrong. Father will be displeased with this…”

He turned without another word and walked away, his wings dragging behind him, heavy with guilt, hurrying leaving the room. Lucifer’s gaze followed him, wide-eyed, one final plea in his stare, please, don’t leave me alone, but the door slammed shut, and Gabriel was gone.

Lucifer, Archangel of Light, Morning Star, Firstborn, was strapped in again against his will. His heart thumped painfully, his golden eyes were wide, burning as they frantically looked at the sharp golden spider like legs flicker around him, directing the sharp ends towards him, ready to steal the only love he’d ever truly known.

~#~

Lute was fucking confused and tired and pissed off.

At first, she'd been worried, genuinely worried about Adam’s weird reaction during the Hell assault almost a month ago. He’d cracked, snapped like something inside him had just split in two. She’d given him space, time, all the room he could possibly need. It hurt, god, it burned, but she held back because that’s what you do for your best friend, your only friend.

Lute had waited, quietly, patiently. Watching him fall apart from a distance, hoping, praying, that he’d come to her when he was ready, that he’d tell her what the hell happened down there, in the pit, to make him so fucked-up but he didn’t.

The few times she did see him, it rattled her, he looked... wrong. Not just tired or thinner, he looked fragile, hollow. Like he wasn’t even all there and his skin, fuck, his skin, it had this weird, pale tone that twisted her stomach. Like someone trying to look alive but not pulling it off.

But Adam was dead. He had been for centuries. He was an Angel of the fucking Lord. He wasn't supposed to change. Still, she’d told herself it was fine, just shock, just trauma. Until concern started turning into something else, until the silence stretched too long, until it started to feel like betrayal.

Why the fuck was Adam avoiding her?

Her?

The one who followed him into Hell without hesitation? The one who fought back-to-back with him through blood and fire? The one who put her life on the line for him, again and again, without blinking? And now…now he was off running around with Emily?

That was the final slap in the face.

Sera had called her in, shoved some responsibility in her lap like a pile of bricks, take over the Exorcists, keep them in shape, no room for slacking, but none of it mattered because Adam wasn’t just in a bad place. He was hiding something and he was hiding it from her and that fucking stung.

Lute didn’t even realize how hard she’d struck until the Exorcist in front of her screamed and crumpled to the ground.

Everything stopped.

Her breath came in short, heavy bursts behind her training mask. The girl on the ground was holding her broken sword, eyes wide with fear. Lute blinked, trying to shake off the haze of rage buzzing in her skull, she tore off the mask, lips pressed tight together to keep them from trembling.

Blood, or no, golden ichor, was running down the girl’s arm.

Shit.

Lute dropped her angel blade with a sharp clatter. Around her, the other Exorcists stood frozen, their practice weapons limp in their hands, eyes locked on the girl and the golden trickle.

The weight of what she’d done hit her like a goddamn truck. She didn’t say a word, couldn’t. Her jaw was clenched so tight it ached because what the fuck was she supposed to say?

Lute dragged a shaky hand through her snow-white hair, her fingers getting caught in the short strands slick with sweat. Her eyes narrowed into sharp slits; jaw clenched so hard her molars felt like they might crack. One step back, that’s all she managed, before the other Exorcist rushed past her, surrounding the fallen girl like a human shield.

She couldn’t hear what they were whispering, but she didn’t have to, she could feel it. The way they looked at her like she was dangerous, like she’d lost it.

Her tongue felt too big for her mouth, heavy and useless. Her skin itched like it was too tight for her body, crawling with heat and shame. One of the girls whispered something sharp, too loud, and Lute's glare snapped to her. The girl flinched, good, let them be afraid, better that than pity.

A single bead of sweat rolled down her temple, she swiped it away like it offended her. Her wings, those fierce, jagged hawk-like things, shuddered against her back, itching to spread, to move, to get the hell away from all of this. Their stares burned hotter than any blade ever had.

"Take an early lunch," she barked, voice hoarse and cracked like broken glass. "Now. That’s an order."

No one argued. No one dared.

She spun on her heel before any of them could work up the nerve to speak. Her boots slammed against the cracked stone beneath her as she stormed off, each step a thunderclap of frustration. The training ground behind her fell into an uneasy silence.

The clouds beneath her feet rumbled as if echoing her fury, thick and dark and ready to split apart. Her wings twitched again, itching for the sky, for the wind, for anything other than the pressure building behind her ribs, her teeth ground together, sharp and aching. Her fists were clenched so tight her nails dug into her palms, nearly drawing blood.

What the fuck was wrong with her? No. Scratch that, what the fuck was wrong with him?

Adam.

Everything came back to him like a punch to the gut. He had broken something in her, quietly. Slowly, without even trying and now she was breaking everything else.

The clouds hissed beneath her feet, flashing with light and curling with distant thunder as Lute stalked away from the training grounds. Her breath came in ragged bursts, her fingers twitching at her sides like they were itching to hit something, or someone. She didn’t know where she was going. She just needed to move. To get away. To outrun the pressure building in her chest, ready to explode like a storm she couldn’t hold back anymore.

Her mind spun, again and again, circling the same damn thing like a vulture over something dead.

Adam.

It always came back to him.

She grit her teeth harder, he used to be so, so fucking loud. Obnoxious as hell, full of himself, always yelling over people, cracking jokes at the worst times, he’d shove into her space like he owned the air she breathed, laugh like thunder, challenge anyone with that reckless grin that made her want to punch him and trust him at the same time.

Brash, bold, infuriating but steady. Reliable in the chaos. Someone she could follow.

Before Hell.

Before everything went to shit.

Now? He was a shell. Quiet. Awkward in his own skin. Fidgety, fucked-up in a way that made her stomach churn with worry and rage. Like he wasn’t even Adam anymore, just some... hollow little thing wearing his face. A ghost dragging itself through the halls pretending to be fine.

When did that happen? Why the fuck didn’t I see it?

Lute slammed her fist into the stone wall she passed, the impact cracking the surface and sending a sharp jolt up her arm, she barely felt it.

Her brain replayed it all again, the battle in Hell, the days leading up to it, everything, searching for the moment it shifted. For the first sign, the first crack in him but she couldn’t find it, couldn’t pin it down.

One minute, he was shouting orders, leading the charge with fire in his wings and madness in his eyes, and the next, he was... off. Sick, withdrawn, hiding in corners, ducking her gaze, acting like she was the problem.

The hell had happened down there?

Lute sucked in a breath and wiped her face, but her hand was shaking. She clenched her fist again, digging her nails into her palm until she felt skin break. She welcomed the sting.

Adam had been her best friend. Her anchor. Her older brother in all but blood.

She looked up to him. She followed him. Believed in him.

And now he was just... gone. Still walking around. Still breathing. But not him.

And the worst part?

He wouldn’t tell her shit, nothing, like she hadn’t earned it. Like she hadn’t been right there beside him when the world burned.

What the fuck had she done to deserve that?

Lute stopped walking, her shoulders shaking as she stared out over the edge of the cloud-strewn path, her golden eyes burning. The wind caught her wings, but she didn’t care. She wanted to scream. To fly until her muscles tore. To punch Adam right in his smug, quiet face and demand the truth until he fucking cracked.

The golden gates of the Ring of Humility gleamed like they always did, perfect, pristine, like they’d never seen a single fucking crack. Lute stomped toward them, wings pulled tight against her back, teeth grinding. The closer she got, the more the hum of angelic energy filled the air, vibrating through her bones, it was supposed to be soothing.

It wasn’t.

Her skin prickled, her neck twitched, her hair, gods, her fucking hair, was a disaster. Spiked in all directions like it was trying to flee her skull.

She barely noticed the sting in her knuckles, still raw from the wall. She didn’t stop walking then, with a sharp pivot, she spun on her heel and threw her entire weight into a vicious kick.

Her boot collided with the bottom edge of the main outpost tower, and the whole structure shook. Energy crackled around it in angry gold threads. A startled cry burst out from above, and Lute’s eyes snapped upward just in time to see something, someone, tumble down, she moved instinctively, arms snapping out like steel traps.

St. Peter dropped into her hold with all the grace of a falling harp. He landed stiff as a plank of wood, wild-eyed and flustered, like a cat shoved into water. His pale skin somehow looked even paler, and his golden curls were sticking up in all directions, halo tilted like it had been slapped.

He blinked, once, twice, then he said, with a sheepish, cracked-lipped smile: “Uh. Hi, Lute. You look... great.”

Lute stared at him. Deadpan, murderous, eyes burning holes into his dumb, overly bright soul.

Great? Was he blind?

Her hair looked like a cursed bird’s nest. She had bags under her eyes that could carry entire lifetimes. She smelled like ozone and old sweat and her training uniform was still streaked with gold ichor.

She scoffed, hard. “Yeah? Then you’re either lying or dumber than you look.”

“Rude.” Peter winced, still awkwardly perched in her arms.

She dropped him and he hit the floor with a soft oof, wings flaring slightly as he caught himself on one elbow. “Geez, ever heard of gentle hands?”

Lute cracked her neck to one side, already stalking toward the doors. “Ever heard of shutting the hell up?”

Peter scrambled to his feet, brushing dust from his ridiculously pastel outfit. He looked like a living doll that had been dragged through a theological thrift store, light blue vest, soft yellow shirt, golden cuffs, that dumb little red bowtie. His skirt flared when he walked, crossing neatly over at the hem in a golden-lined cross. His celeste-and-cream wings fluttered as he followed her inside.

They weren’t friends, not really but damn it... he was the only one left who didn’t make her want to throw herself off the nearest cloud. He was annoying, yes, eternally chipper in that fake polite way that made her want to scream, but he got it. He’d been here as long as she had. They’d practically tripped over each other the day they arrived, kicked through the golden gates like unwanted trash and right now? She had no one else.

She wasn’t going to Adam, he didn’t want her, clearly and she’d burn before lowering herself to talk to Emily. so, Peter it was.

He jogged beside her, peering sideways. “So… I’m guessing this isn’t a social visit?”

Lute snorted, low and bitter. “Do I look like I’m here for tea?”

Peter shrugged. “You’d be surprised how many people threaten my life right before asking for a hug.”

 “Touch me and I’ll break your fingers.” She shot him a glare.

“Ah, there she is,” He grinned. “My sunshine.”

Lute paused at the doors to the inner sanctum. Her chest still heaved slightly, rage simmering just under the surface, but with Peter’s dumbass beside her, she could at least breathe…barely.

“…Peter,” she said, low and rough.

He straightened a little, surprised at the serious tone. “Yeah?”

“If you lie to me… if you give me that sugar-coated, choir-boy bullshit when I’m asking for something real…” She turned her head just enough for him to see the red burning in her eyes, the crack in her voice. “…I swear I will beat your halo into dust.”

Peter blinked, then gave a slow, solemn nod.

“No bullshit,” he said, softly. “Not this time.”

Lute exhaled through her nose, wings twitching behind her, good, because she was going to tear this place apart if she didn’t get some fucking relief.

Lute crossed her arms, jaw tight, wings twitching behind her like they were just as restless as her thoughts. Her eyes flicked toward Peter with a narrowed glare.

“You still got those cigarettes from Hell?” she growled, voice low and rough.

Peter froze, the colour in his already pale face drained further before rushing back in full force, turning his cheeks a sharp shade of pink. He let out a high, startled laugh—totally fake.

“Wh-what? No! Me? Lute! Come on! Cigarettes? From Hell?! That’s-first of all, disgusting. Unholy! Absolutely irresponsible, you think I’d smuggle something infernal into the Ring of Humility? That’s, like, top-tier sin, right there!”

Lute rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle they stayed in her skull. “Peter. I caught you smoking behind the prayer tower last week.”

He blinked; his mouth opened, shut and then opened again. “That…that was incense! For meditation! For spiritual purposes!”

“You were coughing up a lung and muttering ‘worth it’ under your breath.”

Peter made a sound like a dying trumpet, hand flailing to clutch at his bowtie as if it might save him from this shame. “I-I was practicing deep breathing techniques under duress!”

“Right,” Lute muttered, clearly done with his dramatics, she rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Relax, I’m not gonna rat you out to Sera.”

Peter paused and blinked again. “…You’re not?”

“No,” she grunted. “I wanna smoke too.”

Now that made him freeze. Eyes wide. Brows rising until they practically hit his halo.

“You? Smoke?” he echoed, like she’d just told him she was turning into a demon. “You wanna give into a sin?”

Lute just shrugged, leaning her back against the nearby lookout post like she hadn’t just shattered some part of Peter’s worldview.

“Been a stressful week.”

Peter muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “That’s an understatement,” and Lute squinted at him. She debated for a second if she should laugh or threaten to knock out his teeth, she settled on ignoring it.

Peter glanced around, like the shadows might snitch, then reached a hand into his blue vest with all the subtlety of a criminal digging through sacred scripture. With a slight flourish, he pulled out a slim, infernal-coloured box: red, black, and swirled with glowing purpleness.

Lute’s eyes locked on it immediately.

Peter cracked the lid open and held it out with a sigh, like he was committing some divine crime and needed a witness. “I swear to the Lord, if you tell anyone-”

“I won’t,” she said, already plucking one from the pack. “Swear on your halo.”

“That’s sacred-”

“Exactly.”

“Come on,” He huffed and took one out for himself, with a slight nod of his head, he gestured toward a small gap in the golden wall behind the post. “Just outside the gates. Less chance of a lecture from the Holier-Than-Thou Club.”

Lute blinked. “You’re leaving the gates?”

“I do it all the time.” Peter shrugged like it was no big deal.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. I’m very naughty.”

That got the smallest, strangest laugh out of Lute, a single sharp breath through her nose. But she followed him.

They slipped through the narrow gap, feet settling on a smaller, dimmer section of cloud just outside Humility’s border. The hum of holy magic was duller here, like the air itself was holding its breath.

Peter snapped his fingers. A tiny blue flame sparked to life on the tip of his index finger, flickering like a candle in the wind.

They lit up.

Lute inhaled deeply, the cigarette flaring soft purple at the end. She exhaled slow, groaning aloud as the tension in her shoulders finally started to melt. “Holy shit…”

“Actually,” Peter said, taking a drag with practiced ease, “probably unholy shit.”

Lute didn’t answer. She just kept smoking, her eyes half-lidded, the edge dulling from her usually sharp features.

Peter leaned back beside her; arms crossed. “It’s weird, isn’t it? Humans make these things to slowly kill themselves, and yet, somehow, it’s the quickest cure for stress I’ve seen.”

“Feels like breathing something that punches back,” Lute muttered.

Peter snorted. “Poetic.”

“So,” She gave him a sideways look. “How’d you get your hands on Hell cigarettes, anyway?”

He puffed out a ring of smoke, leaning his head back like he was posing for a dramatic painting. “If I told you…”

“…you’d have to kill me?” she deadpanned.

Peter nodded. “Exactly.”

“I’m already dead.”

He raised his cigarette like a toast. “Good point.”

They smoked in silence for a moment, the clouds drifting lazily around them, the buzz of rule-breaking making it taste a little sweeter, then Peter peeked at her again.

“You okay?”

Lute didn’t answer right away. She took another drag, eyes trained on the horizon like she was trying to see into Hell itself.

“No,” she said finally. “But this helps.”

And Peter, to his credit, didn’t try to fix it, he just nodded and sat with her, smoking quietly while the golden gates of Humility stood behind them, pretending not to notice.

Peter took another long drag, blowing the smoke out in a lazy spiral. He glanced sideways at Lute, who was still leaned back, tense as a drawn bow despite the cigarette between her fingers.

“You wanna talk about it?” he asked, soft but not too soft, he knew better than to baby her.

Lute’s mouth clamped shut like a vice. She didn’t answer right away, her jaw ticked, and for a second, Peter could almost see the decision running through her. It looked like she was trying to decide whether to punch him in the throat or just stalk off now that she’d gotten what she came for.

Peter waited, no pressure, just silence and smoke. Lute opened her mouth, a familiar threat ready to launch off her tongue like a grenade. Something about him minding his own business or needing his face rearranged but what came out instead surprised even her.

“…Adam’s avoiding me.”

Her voice cracked, just a little, barely enough to notice but Peter noticed. He didn’t comment on it, though, just hummed.

“No shit.”

“That’s all you’ve got to say?” Lute turned to him, frowning.

Peter shrugged, flicking ash off the end of his cigarette. “Well. Looks like he’s avoiding everyone, not just you.”

“How do you know that?” She blinked.

Peter jerked his chin toward the lookout post behind them. “It’s high up there. If I lean out at the right angle, I can see over most of Humility. I see who comes and goes.”

Lute slowly nodded, dragging a hand through her mess of snow-white hair, she hadn’t known that. Of course, Peter would know, of course he’d notice. Her wings drooped slightly, and she let out a breath that was more of a sigh than she wanted it to be. Her shoulders sagged, and for once, she didn’t bother to keep up the walls.

“It’s… eating me up inside,” she admitted, voice low. “He’s never avoided me before, not even when I pissed him off.”

Peter stayed quiet, letting her keep going if she wanted. No dumb interruptions, no jokes, just the space.

Lute stared ahead, her brow furrowed deep, smoke curling past her lips in slow, angry tendrils.

“He’s like…my fucking brother, Peter. My best friend, I’d follow that idiot into the pit again if he asked. I did, I did everything with him, always.”

Peter nodded, the silence understanding.

“And now?” Lute’s voice hitched again. “Now he won’t even look at me.”

She gritted her teeth and rubbed her hand over her face, voice thick and rough. “I keep playing it over in my head, like, what did I do wrong? When did it start? When did he start getting sick, weird, different?”

Peter finally spoke again, his voice quiet but solid. “Maybe it wasn’t you. Maybe it never was.”

Lute didn’t answer right away, she just stared at the cigarette in her hand like it might give her a different kind of answer. Her throat bobbed with a tight swallow.

“…He’s still your idiot,” Peter glanced at her, then looked back toward the clouds below. “Even if he’s being a dramatic, avoidant little asshole right now.”

“That’s putting it way too fucking kindly.” Lute gave a dry, humourless laugh.

Peter grinned faintly. “Yeah, well. I’m the polite one, remember?”

She snorted but didn’t argue, they sat like that for a bit longer, shoulders almost touching, the smoke curling between them like quiet, unsaid things.

 “Give him time,” Peter tapped the ash off his cigarette, his turquoise eyes narrowed, watching it drift down through the clouds like falling stars. “He’ll come around, Lute. He always does, doesn’t he?”

Lute didn’t answer right away, she took a slow, bitter drag, smoke curling out of her nose. “All I’ve been giving him is time,” she muttered, the edge still sharp in her voice. “Space, patience, silence, I’ve given him every fucking inch I could.”

Peter arched a brow. “Then what are you so worried about?”

Lute hesitated, her mouth opened, then shut, her jaw clenched. “I…I don’t know…I just… feel it. Something’s wrong.”

Both of them stared down through the cloud line in silence, where the swirling mass of black and red burned slowly beneath them like a festering wound in the sky. Hell, in all its grotesque glory.

Peter shivered visibly. “I can't imagine ever having to go down there,” he admitted in a voice so quiet it was almost stolen by the wind.

Lute’s gaze didn’t move. Her face was blank, eyes hollow then, before she could stop herself, before she even thought about it, she said, flat and matter-of-fact, “We go down once a year.”

Peter blinked. “What?”

“To Hell,” she added, her voice like stone. “The Exorcists, we descend once a year to kill the sinners.”

Peter gawked at her, cigarette dangling from his fingers, forgotten. “Wait, are you serious? Is this one of your fucked up jokes?”

“Do I ever joke?” Lute slowly turned her head toward him.

“Right, yeah.” Peter shut his mouth with a dry click. He frowned, nodded, lips tightening. “You don’t.”

There was a beat of silence, a heavy one. Lute leaned back on the clouds like they were solid ground, one arm behind her head, her cigarette still burning between her fingers.

“I go down every year,” she said. “We all do, extermination, that’s what it’s called.”

Peter shook his head slowly, almost like he couldn’t believe it. “So, the Exorcists… it’s not just to defend the gates? In case of another uprising?”

Lute shrugged one shoulder. “That was the original purpose but then came the first uprising. The big one. After that… things changed, they turned proactive.”

Peter chewed the inside of his cheek, cigarette bobbing between his fingers as he thought. “Extermination…” he repeated under his breath. “That’s… kind of a fucked-up name for it.”

Lute turned her head to him, eyes narrowing. “It’s what it is.”

“I know,” Peter said, voice quieter now. “But still. ‘Extermination’ makes it sound… I don’t know. As bad as the place you're going into.”

Lute clicked her tongue and looked back down at the swirling nightmare beneath them.

“Maybe that’s the point.”

Peter didn’t argue, he just leaned back beside her, letting the silence stretch out again between them like an old, fraying thread. Smoke curled between their fingers, their wings shifting in the breeze, their thoughts heavy and unspoken.

Eventually, Peter broke the quiet with a muttered, “You think Adam got sick because of that?”

Lute stared at the smoke drifting from her cigarette.

“…Yeah,” she said. “I think he saw something or did something…. down there.”

Peter’s gaze flicked sideways. “And whatever it was, it changed him?”

“It broke him.” Lute nodded once, slowly.

Peter hummed, solemn. “And you?”

Lute’s jaw clenched again, she stared forward, the clouds heavy beneath them, the fire still smouldering far below.

“I’m scared…I think I might be next.”

~#~

Centuries ago, when the gates of Humility still shimmered like the rim of dawn, ringing softly with a hum that only the new could hear, two souls tumbled through the sky. They fell fast, silent comets streaking downwards, and hit the clouds with a soft, soundless thud. Feathers scattered like snowflakes.

Their limbs were tangled, wings twisted around one another in a clumsy knot—one male, one female. They blinked up at the endless sky above, dazed and wide-eyed. Their bodies were glowing faintly, fresh with that strange, newborn light only the newly fallen held, for a moment, they didn’t move. Then, both tried to sit up at the same time, their foreheads smacked together.

“Shit,” the girl hissed, falling back again.

“Ow,” the boy groaned.

And then, laughter. Gentle, amused, and oddly warm.

“Well,” came a voice ahead of them, bright as sunbeams through stained glass, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone drop into Humility like that before.”

The two blinked, trying to sit up again, wings twitching and flapping awkwardly. Before them stood a young man with only one wing stretched wide, pure white dusted with gold. The golden feathers shimmered like sunlight caught in snow, almost alive, as if they were growing from underneath the rest, like glitter, scattered by some celestial hand.

The man stepped forward, hands on his hips, grinning wide. “A bit of a mess, aren’t we?”

His emerald eyes glowed softly, the gold ring around the edge of his irises gleaming like a halo of its own. He wore a simple white tunic, sandals on his feet, and a look that was both amused and deeply kind.

“Hold on,” he said gently, crouching down.

With hands that knew exactly what they were doing, he began to untangle the two, easing their wings apart, brushing feathers with care like they were made of glass. His touch was delicate, reverent.

“I know,” he murmured. “It’s a lot, right? One second, nothing. The next, you’ve got wings, a heartbeat that doesn’t really beat anymore, and a sky that never ends. It’s okay, everyone crashes their first time.”

The girl blinked up at him, her lips slightly parted, she looked lost.

The boy, beside her, was staring down at his hands like he didn’t know what they were.

The wind around them shifted, soft, curious. The clouds beneath them pulsed, alive and warm, carrying the quiet hush of eternity. Somewhere in the far distance, the bells of Humility sang. The golden-winged man smiled softly now, no longer teasing.

“Welcome to Humility,” he said, voice gentle as dusk. “My name is Adam.”

Adam’s hands were firm but kind as he helped them to their feet again, first the boy, then the girl. Their knees wobbled; feet unsure on the pillowy cloud-floor, wings flared wildly with each movement, feathers catching wind and slapping against each other in their panic.

“Easy now,” Adam said, chuckling as he reached out to steady them both. “You’ll get used to the wings. Folding them is the hardest part, believe me.”

He gently pressed the girl’s shoulder down, guiding her to lower her wings into a resting position. The boy flailed as one wing tried to fold while the other spasmed, and he stumbled. Adam caught him again before he collapsed entirely.

The boy opened his mouth like he meant to say something, but no sound came out. He fidgeted, his golden curls bouncing as he shifted nervously, and finally managed to ask, “A-Are you… are you the Adam? As in... Adam and Eve?”

Adam blinked slowly, the question touching something deep and old inside him. A soft hum stirred in his chest, and he gave the boy a crooked smile as he ruffled the curls on his head.

“I prefer being called Eden’s Adam,” he said with a small wink. “But yes, basically, I am.”

The girl let out a low whistle, her dark eyes widening. “Holy shit,” she muttered.

Adam tilted his head, confused, a slight spark of curiosity flickering in his emerald gaze. “That word,” he asked, blinking innocently. “What did you just say? That wasn’t in the divine lexicon.”

The girl gawked for a moment, then gave a sheepish shrug. “Wait... you don’t know what swearing is?”

Adam’s wings fluttered slightly in interest. “No, I don’t! Is it a type of praise? Or a poetic dialect? What are swear words?”

The girl scratched the back of her neck, clearly trying not to laugh. “Er… not exactly praise, no. More like… angry words? Bad words. Sometimes funny, mostly just rude.”

Adam’s eyes lit up, practically glowing with delight. “Oh, fascinating! May I hear more of them?”

“Wait a minute…” the boy muttered, clearly disapproving.

But the girl snorted and raised an eyebrow, mischief dancing in her eyes. “Well… in my time, people swear all the time. Like, constantly.”

She opened her mouth to offer a few choice words, but…

“We do not speak like that in Humility.” The voice was sharp, clear, and commanding.

Adam’s head spun around, his expression blooming into unfiltered joy. “Sera! You’re back!”

Towering above them like a figure carved from amethyst and moonlight, Sera approached with slow, graceful steps, her long violet curls shimmered with a celestial shine, and her deep-set, glowing eyes studied the new arrivals with cool composure.

Her arms folded as she stopped before them, a soft light glowing beneath her skin. Then she bowed her head gently.

“Welcome to Heaven,” she said, her voice calm and low, like distant thunder. “You have been deemed pure of heart and spirit. You are welcomed here, into the Ring of Humility.”

The boy’s breath caught, his hands clenching tightly into the fabric of his tunic. “So… it’s real?” he whispered. “Heaven is real?”

“Yes,” Sera replied softly. “And our father has watched over you your whole life.”

Adam beamed, practically bouncing again, and waved between the group. “This is Sera, the overlooking Seraphim Archangel.”

The two stared up at her in awe, craning their necks. The girl squinted.

“Can I be that tall someday?” she asked hopefully.

Sera’s lips curled into the smallest smile. “I’m afraid not but do not mourn it, child. You are perfect as you are.”

The girl’s face flushed, and she looked away quickly, pretending to fix her sleeve.

Sera’s gaze turned to the boy then, softening even further. She crouched low, her wings tucking behind her gracefully. Her eyes met his, knowing and kind.

“You must be Saint Peter,” she murmured, like a secret being handed back to him.

The boy stiffened, his blue eyes going wide. “You... you know my name?”

“We’ve been waiting a long time,” Sera said gently.

Peter’s lips trembled as he nodded, a million questions blooming in his eyes, but none of them made it past his tongue.

Sera turned toward Peter, her posture poised, regal, but her eyes were gentle. “Please, walk with me,” she said, extending a hand in his direction. “There is much we must discuss.”

Peter’s expression lit up, his gaze flicking between her and Adam, then back again. He nodded eagerly, his wings twitching with excitement. “Yes, of course,” he said, already stepping forward to follow her. “Whatever you need, ma’am, Seraphim, Sera?”

Sera smiled faintly, the corners of her lips lifting like the sun peeking over the horizon. “Just Sera is fine.”

As they began to walk away, the girl behind Peter frowned, her brows pulling together tightly. She said nothing, but the creases in her forehead deepened, and her jaw clenched ever so slightly. Her eyes followed Peter like she was trying to make sense of it, why him?

Adam noticed. Of course he did. His gaze flicked to her, then to the path Peter was being led down, and he softly placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t take it personally,” Adam said, his voice warm and full of understanding. “It’s because Peter is… well, he’s a saint and saints are incredibly important in Heaven.”

The girl raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching downward. “A saint?” she repeated, clicking her tongue. “What even is a saint, and why does it make him so important?”

Adam hesitated, visibly caught off guard by the question. He rubbed the back of his neck, feathers on his wings ruffling as he tried to gather his thoughts.

“Well,” he began awkwardly, “A saint is someone who, when they were alive, did something really… good. Like, heart-deep good, sacrificial, brave, kind. They helped people, or brought peace, or gave up everything to do what was right.”

The girl blinked at him, unimpressed.

Adam grimaced. “Okay, that sounded cheesy, but I promise it’s true. Saints are rare, really rare. That’s… kind of the thing.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Rare how?”

He sighed, gesturing downward toward the clouds, where the shifting red and black churned like smoke and blood far below. “There aren’t many human souls in Heaven,” he said, voice quieter now, heavy with something deeper.

That caught her off guard. Her expression faltered. “Wait, seriously?” she asked, blinking. “But… how come?”

Adam looked away, as if ashamed. His shoulders sagged slightly, and his voice lowered even more.

“Sinful temptations,” he said, choosing each word like it weighed too much. “They’re more… inviting for humans, easier, stronger.”

For a moment, the girl said nothing. Her eyes dropped to the swirling colours below, as if she could see the flames licking up from Hell, a shadow passed over her face.

“Yeah,” she muttered bitterly. “That makes sense. So many people are full of shit down there, talking about righteousness and holiness, pretending to be good, just to hurt others behind their back.”

Adam tilted his head, curiosity rising in his expression. “Hurt others?” he echoed gently.

The girl gave a tired shrug, like the weight of it was too old to cry over anymore. “Earth’s dark,” she said simply. “Humans can be cruel, we’re hard on each other. You don’t really get to grow up without some scars.”

There was a silence that followed, heavy and still.

Adam stepped closer, something soft shifting in his eyes. “Is that what happened to you?” he asked. “Were you hurt?”

She didn’t answer right away. Her throat bobbed, her arms crossed over her chest like a barrier she wasn’t ready to lower, after a long pause, she gave a small nod.

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “I was.”

Adam’s heart ached, he moved gently, his hands outstretched in a way that asked for nothing but offered comfort all the same. “I’m sorry,” he said, truly meaning it.

The girl didn’t look at him at first, but she didn’t pull away either. Her fingers twitched slightly at her sides. When she finally glanced up, her eyes were red-rimmed but dry.

“You’re really nothing like I imagined,” she said with a shaky breath. “You’re… kinda soft.”

Adam smiled faintly. “You expected the father of humanity to be made of stone?”

“No. I expected him to be made of rules.” She gave a weak laugh. “I’m so sick and tired of rules.”

Adam laughed too, quiet and breathy. Something sad and weak appeared on his face, only for a split second. Adam tried to smile brighter, acting as if nothing happened but the girl saw it. She saw it and it left her curious but also concerned.

“Sometimes…rules are in place for a reason.” Adam said, turning his head away. “But up here, nothing matters. So, don’t worry about it.”

Above them, the clouds shifted like breath, calm and endless. Unseen to Adam, a shimmer bloomed, golden and soft, at the very tip of his untouched white wing. A single feather, gleaming with the same quiet warmth as the ones on his other side, unfurled slowly, glowing faintly like a small sun just waking but Adam didn’t notice.

Instead, he turned to the girl beside him, his expression still glowing with the faint joy that always seemed to follow him. “Hey,” he said gently, “What’s your name?”

The girl opened her mouth, ready to answer. Her tongue brushed against a name that should have been familiar. It should have leapt free, full of sound and memory, but nothing came.

Her brows creased. Her throat tightened and with a quiet, shocked breath, she whispered, “Holy fuck… I don’t… I don’t remember.”

Adam’s expression softened instantly. He reached out and gave her a warm pat on the back, his hand firm but comforting. “That’s okay,” he said, voice like sunlight through leaves. “Sometimes that happens, it’s not your fault.”

She huffed, puffing her cheeks out and dragging a hand through her short white hair in frustration. “Still, kinda sucks.”

Then she paused, blinking up at the sky as if it might hold answers. “Honestly?” she said after a moment. “I don’t think I liked it anyway. My name. It doesn’t feel like something I’d want to keep.” She tilted her head, thinking. “Maybe forgetting it isn’t so bad.”

Adam smiled, thoughtful. “Would you like me to give you a new one?”

“You want to give me a new name?” Her head whipped around, surprised.

He shrugged, his smile turning sheepish. “It was one of my first jobs, back when everything was just beginning. I’m pretty good at it.”

She looked at him long and slow, like she was trying to decide if he was serious or just sweet. Maybe both, finally, she smirked and gave a small nod. “Alright. Yeah. I’d like that.”

Adam beamed, his entire body lighting up with joy. He stepped back, scanning her slowly, from her wild short hair to her bare feet still unsteady on the clouds, his eyes sparkled.

“I think,” he said slowly, like trying a word for the first time, “You’re a Lute.”

She blinked. “Lute?”

“Lute! You know, like the instrument.” Adam laughed. “Delicate, but sharp. Kinda old-fashioned, but still got soul. I think it’s perfect.”

Lute squinted at him. “I’m not delicate.”

“No,” Adam agreed cheerfully, “But you’ve got music in your bones and a bite.”

Lute made a face, not quite convinced, but not hating it either. “We’ll see if it grows on me.”

“Well, if you really don’t like it, you can pick your own name?” Adam grinned wider, reaching out to take her hand in his. “Until then, come meet the others. I think they’ll be really excited to meet you.”

She hesitated, just for a second, she wasn’t very good with other people. She had no friends, she always saw fake people around her. She practically known for having a nose for fights…but she let him tug her forward, their feet barely brushing the clouds as they walked.

But before she could follow too far, she pulled back slightly, arching a brow. “So… can I still swear?”

Adam paused, tilting his head, thinking about it far too seriously, he grinned, all teeth and mischief, and leaned in a little.

“As long as Sera doesn’t hear you.”

Lute snorted, a real, unguarded sound. “Deal.”

“Can you teach me how to swear?” he asked, too innocently.

Laughing, Lute felt something she doesn’t think she had ever experienced before. Maybe Adam could be a real friend for her.

“Sure.”

And together, hand in hand, the first girl to forget her name and the first man to name all things walked deeper into the sky.

Neither of them noticed the golden feather still glowing softly, attached to Adam untouched snow-white wing…another few centuries and both wings would be solid gold.

~#~

Lute let out a long, quiet sigh as her fingers slid through her short hair, ruffling it in a way that made it stand like static. Her mind ached with too many half-formed thoughts, like dreams that slipped away before morning. The past, when it crept in, was never sharp, always foggy at the edges. Faces, places, words... sometimes they blurred like paint in the rain but that never truly bothered her, not at first.

Adam had been the first one she met when she stumbled into Heaven, centuries ago, still blinking off the dust of death. He was all light and wonder back then, naïve, gentle, curious about everything.

She smiled, barely, as she thought of it, of course, she had a hand in corrupting some of that sweetness. She was the one who taught him how to swear, each word had rolled off her tongue like candy-coated blasphemy, and Adam had listened with wide eyes and delighted gasps. For a while, it was their game. Whispered obscenities in Heaven's corners, behind Sera’s back, behind Emily’s calm, careful smile. Until Sera caught them and gave them a lecture so long Lute thought her wings might melt out of guilt but still... it had been fun. When it was just her and Adam, when the whole of Heaven felt like theirs alone, she met others, sure but none of them were Adam, no one could be.

Emily had always rubbed her the wrong way. Perfect smile, perfect grace, voice like silk, but something beneath her skin felt false, like a mask too well-worn, Lute never had the words for it and thank the stars Adam never asked. She wasn’t sure she could explain it without sounding cruel. Still, the thought of him being close to Emily again, it didn’t sit right. Her jaw tensed at the idea, her nose wrinkling like she’d just caught the scent of something rotten. But it wasn’t anger that burned through her, it was... hollow.

Her shoulders fell, heavy like a bird drenched in rain. When had things changed? When had he changed? And more terrifyingly, when had she stopped noticing?

Lute glanced around as she walked, her steps slow and quiet over Heaven’s pale cobblestone streets. No Adam. No familiar warmth. Just the cold shimmer of silver armour against her skin, armour that today felt less like protection and more like a weight, the mark of a soldier, a weapon, not a person.

She dragged herself toward the far edge of Humility, where the city thinned, and the clouds grew quieter. That’s where the Exorcists lived, their apartments stood tall and solemn, distant from Heaven’s golden heart. Like someone had tucked them away on purpose, like a secret.

She stopped at the foot of the building, staring up with her mouth slightly curled in a crooked twist. The place looked as cold as it felt, icy windows, stone balconies, everything wrapped in silence. Ironic, really, for a building full of fierce, powerful girls, it didn’t pulse with life. Just rules. Just purpose. Even in there, surrounded by others like her, Lute felt like a misplaced puzzle piece, not angry, not bitter. Just… disconnected, she didn’t fit, she never had and somehow, standing there now, she felt more alone than ever.

Lute stepped through the threshold of the Exorcists' quarters; the stone door sighing closed behind her. The inside was warm, soft-lit by crystal sconces in the walls, but the comfort didn’t touch her.

Her eyes flicked around the common hall, catching sight of the clusters. The girls, they were gathered on cushioned seats, sprawled out like cats basking in sunlight, laughing, their wings half-unfurled in ease. Joyful, easy. Their golden armour half undone and their swords leaned against the wall as if they barely remembered they were killers.

Lute hesitated mid-step, gaze snagging on a familiar face.

The angel she’d accidentally nicked in training, light blonde, gentle eyes, a bandaged arm held tenderly in her lap, sat closely beside another. Too close, their heads tilted in, the tension between them soft and sweet and aching.

Lute’s stomach clenched, her chest jerked with something sharp and bitter she couldn’t name, and she turned away fast, too fast. Her boots scuffed against the marble as she darted for the staircase. Her wings twitched against her back, feathers prickling, and she hated how much she suddenly wanted to disappear.

Relationships.

That was another foreign country, wasn’t it? Lute never dated, never even tried and not because she hadn’t wanted something warm, something hers, but because… well… what was she supposed to want?

She’d looked, countless faces, both heaven-lit and shadow-born. She’d seen beauty in a thousand forms, men and women with starshine in their hair and laughter in their voices, but not once had her heart stirred. Not once had she thought, yes. You. I want you. And what did that mean?

She didn’t know, she wasn’t even sure how to know. It was like standing outside of some secret club, peering through the glass while everyone else giggled about kisses and touches and hands that knew where to rest.

And maybe the cruellest part was how everyone expected her to understand. She’d been in Heaven for so long, long enough to stop counting the years. Long enough that maybe she should be pairing up, falling in love, finding some poetic nonsense that made the sky crack with light, but she hadn’t. She couldn’t.

The others whispered about their lovers like stars, their little adventures that would probably make Sera combust on the spot, not that it stopped them.

Lute had no stories, no nights of pleasure. No hands held beneath moonlight, she snorted to herself, bitter and amused. If the others ever found out she was still a virgin, in every sense of the word, they’d eat her alive. Laugh or pity her or worse, talk.

And Lute could handle them. She could burn every rumour to ash if she wanted but the idea of them knowing? Of anyone knowing how empty she really was in that way? No. No, thank you.

She spread her wings and with a strong beat, launched herself up the stairwell. Her boots hit the second-floor landing with a soft thud, and she folded her wings close, the movement sharp with tension.

She just wanted her best friend back, that was all. She didn’t want to feel this ache inside her chest every time she walked past laughter. Every time she saw someone touch someone else with gentleness, every time Adam chose someone else’s company over hers.

Lute walked the hallway slowly, her feet echoing in the quiet.

She reached the familiar door, his door and stopped at the fair end of the corridor. Her frown deepened, lips pulling down as if gravity tugged at her face the same way it tugged at her heart.

The door was open, her breath hitched. Not just ajar, but wide open like a wound torn too quickly. Like the room was inviting anyone to bleed it dry. Voices spilled out, laughter and footsteps echoing off the stone corridor and inside were the Exorcist girls.

In and out they moved, arms full of folded linens and small boxes, wings brushing the doorframe like they belonged there.

Lute froze, her stomach dropped like a stone.

No.

Her boots slammed against the ground as she stormed forward, each step a thunderclap of disbelief and dread. She reached the door and gripped the handle like it had betrayed her, knuckles going white as she stared into the hollowed room that used to be Adam’s.

Empty, the shelves were bare. The paintings were gone, the soft glow Adam always kept burning in the corner was out, like even the light had left with him.

“What the hell!”

Lute’s voice cracked mid-sentence as she reached out and grabbed the arm of one of the passing Exorcists, a silver-haired girl she vaguely recognized, her voice snapped, laced with panic.

“What’s going on? What do you think you’re doing in Adam’s room?!”

The girl blinked, shrinking back at Lute’s fury, but before she could answer, another voice cut in.

“Let her go.”

A red-winged Exorcist stepped between them, her jaw sharp and eyes blazing. She shoved Lute’s hand off the girl’s arm, pulling her girlfriend behind her protectively, the injured Exorcist nursed her wrist, glaring.

Lute’s eyes flicked between them, still breathing hard, her voice full of sharp steel.

“This room isn’t yours. It doesn’t belong to any of you. Adam is your leader. You don’t just waltz into his room like it’s a damn café lounge!”

“Just because you’ve been promoted doesn’t mean you get to bully people, Lute.” The red-winged girl crossed her arms, unimpressed. “You stomp around this place like it’s yours, guess what? It’s not.”

“I earned that promotion!” Lute spat.

“Did you earn the right to manhandle people too?” she snapped, motioning to her girlfriend. “She’s bruised, Lute. All because you got a little worked up over something you don’t understand.”

Lute gritted her teeth. “Then explain it to me.”

“Adam’s moved out.” The girl hesitated for a second, then sighed heavily, her hand dropping from her hip.

The words hit like a slap, Lute’s anger snagged in her throat, choking her mid-breath.

“What…?” Her voice came out small. Too small. “What do you mean?”

The Exorcist rolled her eyes, but her voice softened with something almost like pity. “He’s not part of the Exorcists anymore. He’s been removed from the division. So, he moved out.”

Lute stumbled back a step, then another. Her knees felt like glass, her heart suddenly hollow.

He moved out? He left? Without telling her?

Her mind spun, disbelief and betrayal slamming together like thunderclouds. She felt like she’d been punched and hadn’t quite caught the hit. Behind her, the other girls in the hallway slowly quieted, their laughter dying down, realization dawning across their faces like a sunrise in reverse.

They hadn’t known. They hadn’t known she didn’t know and now they were looking at her with pity. Soft eyes. Tilted heads.

Lute hated it. She hated it.

Her fists clenched, her face twisted, not into sadness, but into fury. Her wings flared as she pushed past the red-winged girl, who stumbled back with a muttered curse.

“How dare he,” Lute spat, venom thick in her throat. “After everything I’ve done, after all the bullshit I’ve put up with, for him.”

She barrelled down the corridor, shoving anyone in her way aside, she didn’t care. She didn’t care how she looked. How loud her boots rang out behind her. How the sting in her chest felt worse than any wound she’d taken in battle.

He left her, no note, no explanation, not even a goodbye and somewhere beneath the rage, deep and coiled and shaking, was a question she didn’t want to say out loud…Was I really that easy to forget?

~#~

Dust danced in the air like drifting stars, caught in the golden shafts of sunlight that spilled through the cracks of the old clock tower. The gears groaned softly in the background, ticking like a distant heartbeat, Adam stood at the centre of it all, sleeves rolled up, hands coated in the faint shimmer of celestial grime as he scrubbed the rusted frame of the pendulum.

It helped, keeping busy, scraping away years of dust and forgotten time. He liked the silence up here or maybe, he just liked that it wasn’t filled with questions he didn’t want to answer, especially now, especially with everything going on.

Adam paused, exhaling slowly, his hand resting on the gear casing as his thoughts started to drift. Emily had sent the message. She'd actually done it, contacted Hell, told them about Pentious, about what Sera had done, about the lies. He still couldn’t believe it had worked, that they’d gotten word to Lucifer himself and now, they were just… waiting.

Waiting to see if Lucifer could reach Gabriel. Waiting to see if Gabriel would help or worse… if he wouldn’t. Adam’s stomach tightened at the thought, if Gabriel went to Sera instead, if he told the others, if Michael came down himself…

Adam swallowed hard and wiped his brow, the rag in his hand trembling just slightly, he hadn't seen another Archangel since Emily was made his guardian and frankly, he hoped it stayed that way. Michael’s presence alone could collapse a city if he wasn’t careful. If he knew what they were doing, what Adam was risking, would he even let him live long enough to explain?

A laugh broke the tension, Adam glanced up.

High above him, Emily zipped between the wooden beams like a hummingbird, wings flashing purple, her laughter echoing in the vast space like windchimes caught in a storm. She wasn’t cleaning anymore, she had promised to help, sure, but her attention had wandered ten minutes in. Her phone lit up in her hand as she hovered midair, tapping away with practiced fingers, thumbs a blur.

Charlie.

Of course, Adam tried not to feel it, but there it was, curling just under his ribs like a slow, aching tug. That gentle ache of being second place to a screen filled with emojis and hearts, Emily spiralled downward, still giggling, until her boots touched the clock tower floor in a flutter of feathers. She practically bounced up to him, eyes glowing.

“Charlie just told me Lucifer trashed half his mansion,” she said, holding up her phone like a trophy. “He’s so riled up; he’s refusing to even rebuild it. Just pacing around like a total maniac.”

Adam blinked, his brow raised slightly, lips thinning into a tight, uneasy line. Has he always been that… dramatic? Adam wasn’t sure, he knew Lucifer was a little…over the top at times, but to destroy his own home? Over what? Adam shook his head, what if this doesn't work? What if they’d handed everything to the wrong people? What if Gabriel didn’t listen? What if Lucifer couldn’t do it?

Adam forced himself to look away, returning to the gears, polishing a brass wheel until it shone like a coin in the sun. He needed to keep moving, he needed the clock to keep ticking because if it stopped, if he stopped, he might have to face the weight of everything they were risking and right now, that was just too much.

Emily hovered nearby, her wings folding slightly behind her as her gaze drifted to Adam. The silence between them stretched, quiet but heavy. The sun through the tower windows painted soft golden stripes across the floor, and she finally broke it, voice light but laced with quiet curiosity.

“Adam,” she asked, almost shyly, “What was Lucifer like? Before he… fell?”

Adam’s hand froze mid-sweep across the stone floor, the broom hung still in his fingers. His eyes flicked to hers, startled, and then stilled, slowly, slowly, he turned his head away. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came, the question rattled through him like a tremor, cracking open something buried. What was Lucifer like?

Lucifer had told him once, told him many things, that they were in love. That they had danced beneath the boughs of Eden, kissed between the pages of creation, that they had whispered promises in the hush before dawn, but Adam didn't remember any of it…because The Word of God had taken it all. Stripped the memories from his bones, erased the feelings with divine fire.

Adam cleared his throat, his hand tightening around the broom. His voice, when it came, was low, uncertain at first. “I don’t remember everything. Not the way he does.” He glanced at Emily, then lowered his gaze again. “But what I do remember...”

He took a breath. The next words were gentler, almost reverent. “Lucifer was... beautiful. Not just in the way he looked, though he was…golden hair like sunlight, blue eyes like the sky before a storm, his smile...”

Adam’s voice drifted, his eyes glazed a little, like he was seeing something long ago, far away. “He was a dreamer. He wanted to create things, beautiful, wild, impossible things. He loved Eden. Loved it like it was alive, he talked to flowers, named clouds, told me that starlight had a taste.”

Emily stared, wide-eyed, caught in the soft awe of his words. Her hand slowly lifted to her chest, pressing over her heart but it wasn’t her heartbeat she was feeling, it was Adam’s. It raced beneath his skin, deep and nervous, quickening with every memory he spoke aloud.

“Adam…” Emily whispered. “Did you love him?”

Adam flinched. His breath hitched and his golden eyes flickered, paling into green. He looked at her like a bird caught mid-flight, his lips parted, but he only stammered.

“I-I didn’t-No. That’s not-It wasn’t like that…”

Emily tilted her head, her voice softer now. “Did you love Eve?”

Silence, a thick, awful pause, Adam blinked, once, his shoulders sank.

“No,” he said, quietly. “I didn’t love Eve…but I also didn’t love Lilith either.”

Emily nodded slowly, she believed him, she felt the honesty in her chest like a bell struck deep but still, she didn’t believe his denial of Lucifer, not for a second.

“Do you want to talk to him?” She stepped closer, her Hell-phone held up like an offering. “You can. Charlie says he really wants to talk to you.”

Adam’s mouth opened again, the instinctive no already forming on his tongue, but it didn’t come out because he did want to, God, he did. He wanted to hear Lucifer’s voice, wanted to ask a hundred things, wanted to remember, everything, he wanted to believe Lucifer, to trust in him…Adam wanted to be with him too…but he was scared.

“I-I can’t,” he said at last, voice barely above a whisper, he turned away from the phone, as if it were a wound he couldn’t look at.

Emily’s wings shifted behind her, delicate and silver edged. She reached out with her free hand and gently touched his.

“Why not?” she asked. “Adam… you’ve changed.”

He winced; his throat burned. He looked at her with those green eyes full of old ghosts.

“I haven’t changed that much.”

“You have,” she said simply. “I’ve seen it. I’ve felt it. You’re different. And I think…” she hesitated, her voice dipping low, “I think it’s because of him.”

Adam’s hand twitched under hers, he looked down at the broom in his grip like it could anchor him.

“You’re right, I have changed.” A pause, then, quietly he whispered, “I’ve had… fifteen years of change.”

Emily repeated the words under her breath, brows knitting together. “Fifteen years?”

Adam nodded, slowly, he propped the broom against the wall and gestured for her to sit with him near the open gears of the tower floor. Heavenly light gleamed on the edge of his profile; he looked haunted, hollowed by time.

“It’s a long story,” he said, voice hushed. “You might not even believe me.”

Emily sat down beside him, folding her wings, her eyes never left his face. “Try me.”

Adam’s hands fidgeted in his lap, fingers twitching like they couldn’t settle. The sunlight through the clock tower’s wooden beams fell over him in dappled pieces, lighting the gold in his curls and the pale curve of his jaw. His throat bobbed as he tried, failed, then tried again to speak.

“Emily…” he said finally, voice barely louder than a breeze. “I-I need to tell you something.”

Emily, who had been idly tracing the patterns of dust motes in the air with her finger, looked at him. Her purple brows lifted slightly, her expression gentle and curious.

Adam’s gaze dropped, he was staring at his hands now, his slim fingers pressing together hard.

“The truth is…” he hesitated, voice trembling. “Back when I led the Exorcists into Hell—to scare Charlie, it didn’t go the way you think it did.”

Emily blinked, her brows knitting into a confused little knot. “What do you mean?”

Adam’s lips twitched, his mouth opened and closed like he was trying to breathe words that wouldn’t come.

He licked his lips, then whispered it, “It ended… differently. I-I died.”

The word hit the air like a dropped bell, Emily froze. Her wings gave a sudden sharp twitch, shivering against her back. Her lips parted, but no sound came, her mouth moved, but her voice was gone. Adam didn’t look at her, he stared at his fingers, locking them tight together.

“A tiny Sinner,” he murmured. “Small. One-eyed. I never saw them coming. They snuck up behind me and…” His voice cracked. “They stabbed me.”

The silence that followed was thick and aching. “I bled out. On the ground, right there in Hell.”

“No.” Emily shook her head, her voice cracking with disbelief. “No, that’s not possible, I would’ve felt that. I would’ve known.”

“Would you have?” he asked softly. Adam looked up at her, brows lifted slightly, sadness ghosting in his eyes.

Emily’s wings fluttered with offense. She pouted, crossing her arms tight across her chest. “Yes! Even if, even if you blocked our connection, I would’ve still felt it! You dying? I-I definitely would’ve felt that!”

Adam gave her a tiny smile, it was crooked and tired. “I don’t know if I believe that,” he said, voice half-joking, half-breaking. “But… maybe.”

He scratched at his cheek, gaze drifting away, almost shyly, he continued, “But that’s why things feel weird. Why my heartbeat… feels so human. Why I’ve been off.”

“What do you mean?” Emily tilted her head slowly, frowning.

Adam let out a weak, nervous laugh and sank a little closer to the floor, like the memory itself was heavy on his shoulders.

“I died,” he repeated softly, “And then I woke up. In Eden.”

“Eden?” Emily blinked. “As in…the Eden?!”

Adam flinched at her sudden volume and rubbed the back of his neck with an awkward chuckle. “Y-Yeah, the Eden, my Eden.”

Emily’s mouth fell open, wings lifting behind her like an exclamation mark. Adam turned back to her, eyes gleaming with something gentle, something raw.

“I loved it,” he whispered. “I really did, I adored it. The flowers, the quiet, the air, everything. I would’ve stayed there, forever.”

He looked at her, something flickering in his gaze, something almost like guilt. “If I’d had the choice… I would’ve never left.”

Emily sat back, stunned, the words curled around her like feathers, soft, delicate, but heavy, she blinked at him, then reached out and gently touched his arm.

“You really died…?” Emily asked quietly, her wings sagging, “And you came back…”

“I think so,” he said. “But not as I was, something’s… different now.”

Their eyes met, green and violet, and the moment settled quiet between them, the only sound the ticking of the great gears above, counting seconds like heartbeats. Adam hesitated, chewing at the inside of his cheek before glancing over at Emily.

“I… wasn’t alone in Eden,” he murmured, voice low and shy, as if even saying it out loud might undo something fragile.

Emily’s eyes lit up, she practically bounced in place, wings fluttering behind her like streamers caught in a breeze.

“It was Lucifer, wasn’t it?!” she squealed, hands clapping together in front of her chest. “He was there too!”

Adam winced, caught like a mouse under glass. “I – Emily…”

“That’s why you’re both so weird now!” she laughed with delighted disbelief, pointing between him and an invisible Lucifer. “That’s why you both have this… thing! This romantic thing going on!”

“It’s not romantic.” Adam frowned, flustered.

“Yes, it is! Oh, my stars, it is so romantic. You both had a ‘clear the air’ moment in paradise!” Emily giggled, covering her mouth. “That’s like, ultimate romance, healing through flowers and birdsong and, oh! sunset talks! Don’t even deny it!”

He groaned and rubbed both hands down his face, his ears turning red. Her excitement was dizzying, and worse, some of it wasn’t wrong.

“Were you always like this?” he muttered into his hands. “A romantic?”

Emily sat up straighter, beaming. “Oh, absolutely! I adore romance books. I’ve read so many. The forbidden loved ones, the angsty ones, the slow burns, the, well, all of them!”

Adam raised an eyebrow at her. “Even the, um…” he trailed off with a vague hand gesture.

“...Maybe Emily turned pink, squirming slightly and sheepishly tugging at a lock of her purple hair, “but I’m not going into detail. That’d be like talking to my grandfather about it.”

“Grandfather?!” Adam recoiled like she’d slapped him, “I’m not, that’s not even! That’s so unfair!”

Emily howled with laughter, her wings flying up in pure joy. “Well, you are ancient, technically!”

“Emily,” Adam groaned, dragging a hand down his flushed face.

“Okay, okay, I have to know. What happened in Eden?” She bounced closer, practically glowing with giddy energy. “How long were you guys there for? Did you fall in love right away, or did it take time?”

Adam's mouth opened.

“Did you sit under a tree and talk about your feelings? Did he braid your hair? Wait, did you braid his hair?!” she babbled eagerly, her soft lavender eyes shining

“Emily!”

“Did you cuddle? Who initiated the first hug?” Emily gasped out, clapping her hands together. “Was it you? It had to be you, you’re the stiff one, so it probably broke him inside when you did!”

Adam turned even redder, steam beginning to raise from the top of his head. “Emily, please!”

“Was it awkward at first? Or were you two like soulmates rediscovering each other under a perfect sunrise?!”

Adam looked mortified. His face had gone from pale to pink to deep, bright red. His eyes were wide, darting around like he might leap out the nearest window if it meant escaping this conversation.

Finally, he threw his hands up. “No, no, no! It wasn’t like that! We’re not, we’re not in love, alright?!”

Emily froze, blinking at him, a slow, knowing smile spread across her face.

“...Yet,” she whispered, wiggling her eyebrows.

Adam dropped his head into his hands with a helpless noise, his voice muffled behind his fingers. “Eden save me.”

Adam cleared his throat, trying to sit up a little straighter, to shake the heat from his face and act like he wasn't blushing like a teenager. He ignored the redness blooming across his cheeks, though his ears betrayed him completely.

“We were there for… fifteen years,” he said, trying to sound casual.

Emily’s entire face lit up like a sunrise, her wings fluttered with joy as she beamed at him.

“Don’t.” Adam caught the sparkle in her eyes and shot her a sharp, fatherly look.

 “Fifteen years? In Eden?” Emily just giggled, unbothered, and scooted closer, brushing her shoulder playfully against his. “Alone, together? Just the two of you?”

Adam groaned and let his head fall back against the wall. “Stop. Behave. It’s not like that.”

“Your racing heart says otherwise~” Emily snorted, hands on her chest as she felt her heart racing. “I can feel it through our connection~”

“No, you don’t!” Adam sat up quickly, his hand flailing toward her in denial. “You feel nothing! You’re making things up!”

Emily opened her mouth, probably to say something far worse, but Adam immediately clapped a hand over it.

“Nope! No. No. It’s not-It isn’t!” he sputtered, holding up a warning finger with his free hand. “It’s just… complicated.”

Emily’s eyes twinkled with mischief as she wiggled her eyebrows beneath his palm, clearly not buying it. Adam groaned again, like the universe was punishing him for something, and leaned back as if gravity could swallow him.

“I swear,” he muttered, “I wish I really died in Hell.”

He dropped his hand from her mouth, but she didn’t tease him again. Not right away.

Adam turned his face away, hiding the flicker of sorrow that had crept in behind the blush. He didn’t want to talk about Eden, not all of it. Not the quiet nights or the days that blurred, the arguments, the longing, the things said that neither of them could take back. It still ached, that place, it hurt to remember how he felt there… how he felt and if Emily could feel his heartbeat through their bond, she’d feel more than just nerves. She’d feel the grief too—the tangle of confusion, sorrow, and longing that he tried so hard to keep buried, he forced himself to breathe. To speak.

“It’s… very complicated between me and Lucifer,” he said, softer this time. “A lot happened. Things I’m still trying to make sense of.”

He turned back to her, his green eyes earnest now, gently pleading. “I’m just not ready to… confront him…confront it yet. I will, but not now. Please understand that, Emily.”

Emily's teasing smile softened. Her shoulders relaxed and the fluttering of her wings stilled. She nodded slowly, the mischief melting into quiet understanding.

“I get it,” she said. “Really, I do.”

Her hand found his and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You don’t have to rush it. I’ll be here, okay? Even if you are ancient.”

Adam snorted and shook his head, lips twitching into the barest of smiles. “I’m not that old.”

“You actually are,” she shot back, grinning. “That old~”

Adam groaned and sagged back, letting his shoulders slump as he leaned against the cold stone wall of the clocktower. The moment his wings made contact; a sharp bolt of pain shot through him.

“Ah!” he yelped, jerking forward like he’d touched fire. His back curved inward, wings twitching violently as he hissed through gritted teeth.

“Adam?! What’s wrong?” Emily gasped, her eyes widening with alarm, her hands shot up instinctively, stepping toward him.

“I-It’s nothing,” Adam panted slightly, straightening with effort. His face pulled into a forced smile, strained at the edges. “Really. Just-just a twinge, you know how it is.”

Emily didn’t look convinced, her lips twitched with worry as she rose to her feet, her expression narrowing into suspicion. “Is it your wings?”

Adam’s mouth parted in surprise, like he hadn't expected her to hit the nail on the head. “No! No, it’s not, it’s nothing!” he said too fast, shaking his head a little too hard. “They’re just, um… stiff! Stiff from working, that’s all.”

Emily raised an eyebrow, looking every bit like she was about to argue when her Hell-phone beeped, the screen flashing with a glowing red heart and a bouncing cartoon goat emoji.

“Oh!” She blinked. “Charlie’s Face Timing me!”

Adam seized the moment like a lifeline, shuffling backward with a half-hearted wave. “Aha, perfect! That’s, uh, great timing. Very… convenient timing.”

Emily looked up, phone in hand. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk? Not even to Charlie?”

Adam’s lips twitched again, unsure if it wanted to be a smile or something else. He flapped a hand awkwardly, wings half-lowered like drooping leaves. “N-no. It’s better if it’s you doing the talking. I don’t think even Charlie would… want to talk to me right now, anyway.”

Emily frowned, hurt flickering across her face. “That’s not true. Of course she’d want to talk to you.”

Adam let out a weak laugh. “It’s okay. Really. I just… I need some air. Gonna go outside. And… um… yes.” His words stumbled out like pebbles falling down a slope.

Emily opened her mouth again to protest, but her phone buzzed insistently in her hand, Charlie’s name bouncing on the screen. She deflated, shoulders dipping slightly, and nodded.

“Okay, Adam. I’ll come find you afterward.”

He nodded quickly, too quickly, and turned before she could say more. His boots clicked softly as he slipped out the door, his silhouette swallowed by the warm orange light spilling in from the tower windows.

Emily watched the empty doorway for a moment, then sighed and accepted the call, lifting the phone to her face as the screen blinked to life with the image of Charlie Morningstar’s face. Emily smiled, though her eyes lingered on the doorway, her thoughts still half on Adam.

~#~

Adam stepped through the door of the clock tower and out onto the narrow ledge that circled it like a crown. The stone beneath his boots was weathered and cool, whispering with memories too old to name. He stood in the arched doorway for a moment, his frame outlined by the golden-orange hue of late afternoon, The city of Humility stretched below him, wide and strange and alive.

The wind brushed past him in slow, thoughtful currents, lifting his coat and ruffling his hair but it did little to cool the ache burning between his shoulder blades. The clock tower loomed tall in the heart of the city, once a monument of light and purpose. Now, it stood frozen in time, the great hands of the ancient clock stopped at a minute past three, it hadn't ticked, not once, since she had fallen.

Evangeline.

Adam’s breath caught in his throat. His hand lifted as if to reach for something unseen, but fell limp again at his side, he hadn’t saved her. Not when he should have, not when it mattered, he had stood still, silent, as Lute passed judgement. As Vaggie was torn from everything she had known, punished for something that had never been a sin at all and he'd let it happen, just… let it happen.

Adam swallowed hard; the memory tasted like ash. She’d survived, of course, in Hell, she’d become someone new. Someone stronger. Someone louder, she’d found Charlie and love and… maybe even peace but none of that washed the blood from Adam’s hands, not in his mind, not in his heart.

He had outed her, right in front of the Court, right in front of the Host. He hadn’t meant to hurt her, not like that, he had been afraid, confused… weak, his fingers pinched the bridge of his nose, pressing into the tender dips with more force than necessary. His lips trembled, and a sigh escaped him, long, low, barely a whisper, the kind of sound made only when the soul sags beneath the weight of its own mistakes and still… the ache. The relentless throb in his wings, his golden feathers twitched behind him, duller now in the light. The pain had been manageable at first, annoying, but ignorable but now, after leaning too long against the stone wall, the fire was back. A deep, gnawing throb, like something broken that hadn't healed quite right.

Adam shifted his shoulders, wincing as the motion sent sparks of pain crackling down his back. His hands hovered at his sides. He wanted to soothe them, to run his fingers through the feathers and ease the burning tension, but he didn’t dare.

What if he made it worse? What if they snapped? Or bled? Or reminded him of things he wasn't ready to remember?

His hands curled into fists; knuckles pale, the wind tugged at his coat again, and he bowed his head against it. He couldn't go back in, not yet, Emily would feel it. She’d know and he wasn’t ready to talk about it.

Adam jerked upright at the sharp, furious cry of his name.

“Adam!”

The word cracked like thunder through the air, snapping the quiet peace in two. He gasped, startled, his golden wings brushing harshly against the stone behind him, pain lanced down his spine like lightning, and he puffed his cheeks out, eyes squeezing shut as he gritted his teeth and tried not to cry out.

The sound of boots storming up the tower stairs echoed next, fierce, deliberate, furious and then she was there.

Lute. Her halo flickered violently above her head, spinning like a sawblade of light. Her usually sharp features were twisted in a storm of anger, frustration, and something rawer, hurt.

“When,” she snapped, voice rising in pitch, “Were you planning on telling me you moved out of the apartment building?! Or were you going to just disappear again like it didn’t matter?! Like I didn’t matter?!”

Adam opened his mouth, but no words came, just a useless, squeaky breath.

Lute advanced on him, eyes blazing, her boots echoing across the stone porch. She jabbed a stiff finger into his chest, right over his heart, and snarled, “You ghosted me, Adam! You ghosted me! You didn’t even leave a note! You didn’t answer my calls, my messages, you didn’t say anything! I had to hear from the damn building manager that you were gone!”

Her voice cracked as the colour in her face flared red, then purple, then a shaky, almost bruised blue. Her hands curled into fists at her sides, and her wings twitched like they didn’t know whether to flare or fold, Adam stood frozen, his mouth opening and shutting like a fish on a sun-scorched shore.

Lute’s voice dropped low, shaking. “Why are you running from me? Why are you avoiding me? Why won’t you even look at me anymore?”

Adam took a step back, his eyes wide, glassy, uncertain.

“I thought we were best friends,” Lute whispered hoarsely. Her eyes burned, red-rimmed, filling with unshed tears. “Was I wrong? Did I mean nothing to you?”

“Lute…” Adam rasped.

“Why would you leave me like that?” she demanded, her voice cracking fully now. “Without a word, without warning? Why would you move out and not say anything?! Why?!”

Adam stumbled backward until his hand reached the wooden door of the clock tower. His fingers found the handle, fumbling clumsily as his green-flecked eyes stared into hers, full of shame, he pushed the door open and retreated into the shadowy interior.

Lute stood on the stone porch, panting, trembling, her breath hitching in sharp wheezes. She didn’t follow; she didn’t move. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks now, glinting like fireflies in the fading light, she scrubbed at her face with her sleeve, but they kept coming and when she looked up at Adam, her voice was barely more than a breath:

“Tell me. Please… just tell me what happened to you down in Hell.”

Adam’s throat locked up. He gripped the edge of the doorframe, his knuckles pale, the pain in his wings pulsed like a second heartbeat, but deeper still was the tightness in his chest. He swallowed hard and nodded, he stepped aside and silently gestured for her to enter.

Lute blinked, her nose twitched, eyes wide, full of something cautious and fragile, she stepped through the doorway, her boots echoing quietly on the wooden floor. She closed the door behind her with a gentle click.

Adam crossed the room, grabbed a small box of tissues from a dusty shelf, and turned to her, wordlessly, he held it out.

She snatched it, still glaring at him, but the anger was tempered now by tears. She wiped her face properly this time, sniffling once, her expression torn between wanting to slap him and wanting to hug him.

“I’m sorry, I never meant to hurt you…”

“You did hurt me,” she said quietly.

“I know,” Adam whispered, his bottom lip trembling. “I didn’t mean to, I never meant to but I did anyway. It feels like I am always doing so…”

He trailed off, blinking fast as his gaze dropped to the floor.

“I don’t know how to stop hurting people, Lute,” he said, barely audible.

Lute shifted uncomfortably, her boots scraping faintly against the wooden floor. Her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she straightened her posture, trying—failing—to steel herself. She lifted her chin, her expression cool and composed, but her red-rimmed eyes gave her away. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t mask the hurt.

Adam saw it all—the defiance, the pride, the pain. His heart sank deeper.

He wanted to reach out, to close the space between them, to pull her into a hug like they used to after long missions or late-night Exorcist briefings. He wanted to take the pain out of her eyes and replace it with laughter again.

“Well?” Lute prompted, her voice cracking despite herself. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Adam inhaled deeply, his breath shaky. He took a step forward, then back, rubbing both hands through his hair in frustration.

“You really are my best friend, Lute,” he said softly. “You always have been. You always will be. Nothing will ever change that.”

Lute’s eyes flickered, and her jaw clenched. Her lips twisted bitterly.

“And yet,” she muttered, “if that’s true—then why the hell have you been avoiding me? Why did you move out of the apartment block without saying anything? Not even a stupid note, Adam.”

Adam dropped his gaze with a sigh. His shoulders slumped, heavy.

“Sera... removed me,” he admitted, voice low. “I’m not the Captain anymore. I’m not the leader of the Exorcists. I’m not even allowed to be involved with anything related to Hell or its Sinners.”

He swallowed thickly, rubbing the back of his neck as he continued.

“It only made sense to leave. The apartment block is filled with active agents. I’m not one of them anymore. I didn’t want to be some washed-up relic just... haunting the halls.” He glanced away, forcing a weak smile. “I’m too old for it now. I’m Grandpa, remember?”

Lute didn’t smile. Not even a twitch of her lip.

She only stared at him—deep, unflinching, wounded. Her arms stayed crossed, her fingers digging into her sleeves, her posture stiff with everything she was trying to hold in.

“You could have told me you were moving,” she said, her voice small, but tight with pain. “You should have.”

Adam looked back at her, his green-specked eyes locking with hers. He stepped forward, slow and deliberate, until there were only a few feet between them. He didn’t blink. He didn’t waver.

“I know,” he said quietly. “You’re right. I should have. I just… didn’t know how.”

His voice broke ever so slightly.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” he admitted, chest rising and falling with every word. “I didn’t want to see your face when I told you I wasn’t part of Heaven’s army anymore. That I was just... floating.”

Lute held his stare.

“But I wanted to be there,” she said, her voice trembling now. “Even if you were falling apart. Even if you were lost. Especially then, Adam. You idiot—that’s when you need your best friend the most.”

Adam stared at Lute, heart pounding like a drumline beneath his ribs. His wings ached, but he didn’t care. Not now.

He had to know. He had to be sure.

“What do you think of Sinners?” he asked again, more firmly this time.

Lute’s entire expression darkened, eyes narrowing, jaw tightening, mouth twisting in a cold, venomous snarl.

“Sinners?” she spat, like the word tasted like rot on her tongue. “Why the fuck are you bringing up Sinners now, of all fucking things?!”

Adam flinched, her anger was like a wave crashing over him, heavy and hot but he held his ground, eyes never leaving hers.

“Because…” he said quietly, “it has everything to do with what happened to me… down in Hell.”

Lute stared at him, her brow furrowing, the sharp corners of her expression softening, slightly. “What… what the hell do you mean?”

Adam’s mouth clamped shut. It was like trying to peel back his own ribcage with trembling hands. Every word he wanted to say caught in the back of his throat.

He adored her, she was his best friend, his sister in arms, they’d fought side-by-side through so many awful nights, laughing through bloodied lips, making grim work feel worth it but still…There was a seed of doubt blooming in his chest. A knot in his gut that said, she might choose Sera over you, she might not understand, she might never forgive you but if there was any chance, any, that Lute would stand beside him, him and not the rigid dogma of the Exorcists… he had to try.

So, Adam breathed in deep and asked again, voice shaking: “…What do you think of Sinners?”

Lute’s expression soured like milk left out in the sun, her face hardened again.

“What am I supposed to think of them?” she growled. “I don’t give a shit about them.”

Adam sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “Okay, yeah, I get that, but-”

“But what?” she stepped closer now, her breath hot, eyes flashing like steel.

Adam’s voice wavered, quiet, almost boyish. “What if… they can change?”

“And what? Be redeemed?” Lute’s laughter was bitter and immediate, sharp and ugly, “Like that little fucking princess in Hell believes?”

She stepped forward again, jabbing a finger into his chest. “Seriously, Adam? Really? They’re crack-whores and murderers and freaks who already fucked up their one chance! They blew it! They’re where they’re supposed to be!”

Adam held up his hands, trying to stay calm. “I’m not saying they’re innocent, or poor victims, I know some of them are twisted, I’ve seen-”

“Bad things?!” Lute snapped, voice rising with each word. “That’s the lightest fucking way to put it! They’re monsters, Adam. Awful, fucked up souls! You think I just imagined the things they did?”

She was shaking now, tears burning at the edges of her eyes again, but it wasn’t the same pain as before. It was fury.

“I read every single fucking record! I watched what they did! I saw the files and the footage and the pain. I don’t pity any of them, not one, they’re getting exactly what they deserve!”

Adam’s mouth opened, but he couldn’t speak. Not right away, he just stood there, staring at her, stunned by the depth of her rage. She wasn’t just angry, she was hurt and maybe she didn’t even know why.

His wings felt slightly lighter, no longer from relief, but shame. Was he this angry once? Was this what he sounded like when he spat judgement from Heaven’s golden gates?

He drew in a shaky breath. “It’s… it’s not that simple, Lute. There’s… more to it. More to them.”

“The fuck does that even mean?” She let out a wild, bitter bark of laughter. “Just I don’t remember what happened to me on Earth! I fucking know it was some fucked up human that became a Sinner in Hell who tortured me!”

Adam winced, his body beginning to shake a little. “Lute, I…”

“But hey! Just because I don’t remember, doesn’t mean others don’t!” she cut in sharply, eyes blazing. “You think I need the memories to know what they did? You think I don’t feel it in my fucking bones?!”

She stepped closer again, nearly nose-to-nose with him, chest heaving. “You seriously think it’s right for Sinners to be walking around Humility?! Living like us?! Like they belong?!”

Adam gasped softly, shaking his head. “Of course not, I was thinking maybe if they had a different ring or maybe even a-”

“They don’t even fucking deserve that, Adam!” she howled, voice cracking. “They took our lives. They hurt so many Winners, they ruined so much and now you’re standing here trying to pretend they’re just lost kids who deserve a second chance?”

Adam gasped, trying to get a word in, trying to say no, that he didn’t think like that, but Lute had already pulled away. Her lips curled in visible disgust as her eyes flicked to the clock tower doors, like she could see straight through them. See all the Winners, the people the Exorcists, she, had sworn to protect, the real purpose behind their creation.

Her fingers clenched around her gloved arms even tighter.

“The truth is,” she said sharply, her tone icy, “As an Exorcist, we had to read everything the Sinners did, every, single, fucking, thing. We read the records, the crimes, the torture, the sins.”

She paused. Her voice cracked, dropped to a whisper. “And sometimes… sometimes, when I read what a Sinner did to someone during their time on Earth… I wonder if their victim was me.”

Adam froze, eyes going wide. “Wait, you’ve never-”

A bitter laugh tore out of Lute. She turned back to him with a hollow, mocking smile. “No shit, I’ve never told you, none of us would but I’m not the only Exorcist who’s read through those files and wondered if we’re the ones who got murdered, raped, tortured, fucked over, or if it was someone we love, someone we know walking through Humility.”

She shook her head, fury burning behind her eyes.

“That’s the real issue with that fucking princess down in Hell. She stood there, looked us in the eyes, looked me in the eye, and asked us to give Sinners a second chance? To be open to redemption? Without even stopping to consider, what if the Sinner we’re meant to forgive is the one who ruined our lives? The one who killed us? Hurt our families? Committed the most inhuman shit imaginable?”

She let out a sharp breath, trembling with the force of it. “How can she ask that of us?”

Adam lowered his head, he couldn’t argue, because she was right. Lucifer had said it, too, how much he hated the Sinners, how revolting he found them.

Lute turned back to him; her voice lower but no less furious. “And the worst part? That bitch never even acknowledged it in her pathetic speech in court. Not once, not my pain, not the other girls, not any Winner’s trauma. She just spoke about giving Sinner’s hope, giving them a future, like our pasts meant nothing.”

Her eyes narrowed. “That’s why I fucking hate her and that’s why I hate the traitor standing beside her.”

Adam blinked. “You mean… you hate Evangeline? That much?”

“You seriously still call her that?” Lute raised an eyebrow, she let out another dry, bitter laugh. “Oh my fucking God, Adam.”

“She stood up there, with that princess, while she made her speech about redeeming the irredeemable. You’d think Vaggie would show even a shred of sympathy for the pain we carry.” She threw her hands up, pacing a little. “For the acknowledge she has of her time on Earth, for the things she read in those records back when she was one of us, but no, nothing.”

“Sure, she might not remember it like many of us! But she definitely knew something awful happened to her at the hands of a fucking human soul that later became a Sinner!”  She rubbed the bridge of her nose, groaning. “Fuck, I’m getting a headache.”

“I’m sorry.” Adam winced.

Lute shrugged like she didn’t even hear him. “Whatever, doesn’t fucking matter. What does matter, why the hell are you suddenly so obsessed with Sinners?”

Adam hesitated, a long beat passed, but the truth clawed its way out anyway.

“I killed a Sinner in Hell,” he said.

Lute frowned. “And? So, fucking what, Adam? I did that, too. We both did, we all did, even that fucking traitor down there did!”

“I killed a Sinner…” He looked her directly in the eye, inhaling deeply. “And that Sinner was redeemed…In Heaven, as a Winner.”

Lute froze, her eyes widened, her mouth parted and for a second, she looked like she’d forgotten how to breathe. She stared at him, for one heartbeat, then two. Her lips parted, but no words came out. Her hands slowly dropped from her arms, fingers curling into trembling fists at her sides.

“What…” she rasped, her voice dry, brittle. “What the fuck did you just say?”

Adam swallowed, throat suddenly bone-dry, his heart thumped wildly in his chest. There was no undoing it now.

“I… I killed a Sinner,” he said again, quieter this time. “Down in Hell...”

Lute didn’t move.

“And then…later, in Heaven, he was redeemed.” Adam pushed forward, the words spilling faster now. “God…forgave them, allowed them to enter Heaven, but Sera doesn’t want anyone to know about them! She has them locked away like, like some sort of –“

“Stop!” Lute let out, her voice cracking. Tears almost breaking at the corner of her eyes again, she shook her head slowly, her expression stuck somewhere between disbelief and disgust. “No. No. That’s not how it works, that’s not, we don’t let Sinners in. Heaven doesn’t—”

“But it happened,” Adam said, chest tightening, voice cracking at the edges. “God, our…my father, purified them, allowed them to cross over and…”

“Who?” Lute demanded, suddenly lunging forward. “Who was it?!”

Adam flinched. “It doesn’t matter…”

“The fuck it doesn’t!” she snapped, her voice raw. “Name, Adam. Give me the fucking name.”

Adam’s gaze faltered. He turned his face slightly, looking away. “Why do you need to know? I don’t…”

“Enough with the Bullshit!” Lute screamed, her voice reverberating through the stone interior of the clock tower. “You know! You know exactly who it was, and you’re protecting them, a Sinner! You’re choosing them over us!”

“No!” Adam gasped. “I’m not, Lute, I’m trying to understand! I have to understand! What if this keeps happening? What if… what if we’re wrong?”

“Wrong?” Lute stepped back as if he’d slapped her. “Wrong?”

Adam nodded, his voice now a trembling whisper. “What if we’ve been… executing people who could have changed? Who did change? What if we were so focused on vengeance, we stopped seeing the people beneath the sin?”

Lute looked horrified but worse, she looked betrayed.

“That’s it, then,” she said hoarsely. “That’s what happened to you down there, isn’t it?”

Adam didn’t answer, he couldn’t.

Lute stared at him, tears lining her lower lashes again. Her breath was uneven, trembling with unspent rage and unshed grief.

“You believe in them, now,” Lute said, her voice seething with disbelief. “After everything we’ve seen, after what they did to us. You believe they deserve mercy?”

Adam’s eyes dropped, a sharp breath escaping him as he stared at the ground. “I don’t know what I believe anymore,” he confessed, voice low, almost broken. “But I know something’s broken in the system and if I don’t try to fix it, who will? The rules aren’t so black and white, Lute, there are grey places now.”

Lute scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping her lips as she folded her arms tightly over her chest. “Why the fuck do you need to fix it, Adam?” Her voice cracked, the anger and hurt blending into an ugly mixture. “You know what every fucking Sinner did to us, to the Winners. How can you even think about helping them? We’re victims here, Adam! Survivors! How the fuck can anyone think that’s okay?”

Her voice trembled with rage, a deep pain twisting beneath the surface. “There’s a limit to us, to the Winners in Heaven, no soul is here by accident, you fucking know that! We earned this, we fucking earned Heaven by surviving what they did to us. How could you turn your back on all of that?”

Adam’s chest tightened, his wings twitching with the weight of her words. “I’m not turning my back on anyone, Lute. I’m just… trying to make something better. If they could have their own place, a place where the Winners don’t have to see them if they don’t want to-”

“Oh, fucking do!” Lute interrupted, her voice sharp and venomous. “So, after everything they’ve done to us, after they’ve murdered us, raped us, torn us apart, broken us, they get paradise? How the fuck is that right?” She stepped toward him, her eyes blazing with fury. “How the hell can God accept that?! Our pain isn’t something to be fucking ignored, Adam!”

Adam flinched, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not ignoring that, I swear to you, I’m not. I just want to help everyone.”

Lute’s eyes narrowed, and her words cut through the air like a blade. “The fuck you are!” she screamed, her voice cracking with frustration. “What’s your real plan, Adam? You’re clearly scheming something with fucking Emily, right? She jumped on that royal bitch’s side in court, you both are probably banding around this redeemed Sinner bullshit!”

Lute stumbled back, her mind swirling in a haze of confusion and rage. “Don’t tell me, I don’t even want to fucking know!”

 “Lute, please, don’t tell Sera about this.” Adam’s voice was frantic, desperate. “I don’t want anyone to know. Please.”

“Are you and Emily working with Hell? Are you working with that bitch down there?” Lute’s glare was cold as ice, her teeth gritted in disgust. “Are you seriously fucking telling me you’ve gone that far?”

Adam’s heart cracked at her words, his throat tight with the desperation to explain himself, to make her understand. “… Please, don’t tell Sera.”

Lute sighed; her breath heavy with frustration, she glanced away, her eyes distant. “I don’t even know what to think anymore, Adam,” she whispered, almost to herself. “I need time to think. To process all of this... I don’t…”

She looked at him then, a deep and painful betrayal in her eyes. Her voice cracked. “I never thought you’d turn your back on our trauma like this. I never thought you’d pick their side, our abusers, over us.”

Adam’s mouth opened immediately, desperate to refute her words, to promise he wasn’t doing what she thought but Lute raised a hand, silencing him.

“Save it,” she spat. “I don’t want to hear it.”

Her eyes flashed with one final look of hurt before she turned on her heel, storming toward the door. She swung it open, and for a moment, Adam could only stand there, frozen.

Lute paused at the door, her hand gripping the handle. She hesitated, but then with a final, gut-wrenching sigh, she slammed the door behind her, the sound echoing through the clock tower like a final, resounding goodbye.

Adam stood there in the quiet aftermath, his heart sinking deeper than he’d ever thought possible.

Emily darted through the clock tower, her wings flicking behind her in a flurry of urgency. She called out his name, her voice tight with anxiety.

“Adam! Adam!” Her lavender eyes searched the room, scanning the shadows before they landed on him.

There he was, standing in the middle of the room, pale and defeated, his red-rimmed eyes void of the usual spark. His bottom lip quivered, and the sight of him shattered Emily’s heart. Her breath caught in her chest as she hurried to his side, landing beside him with a soft rush of air.

“Adam!” she breathed, her voice laced with concern. “Charlie wants-”

She trailed off as she noticed the deep sadness radiating from him. Her hand instinctively reached out, touching his arm, hoping the warmth of her touch would bring him some comfort. The moment her fingers made contact, a wave of pain hit her, sharp and sudden, like a vice around her chest. She winced, her wings trembling, and she pulled him toward her in a gentle embrace.

“Oh, Adam,” she whispered softly, her voice soothing, as if trying to anchor him. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

He seemed to collapse against her, his exhaustion weighing him down. His chest hitched, the soft tremor of his breath betraying his fragility, he clung to her, as if she were the only thing keeping him from falling apart completely.

“Are... are we really doing the right thing, Emily?” Adam’s voice was faint, barely above a whisper. “Helping Sir Pentious… helping all the Sinners?” He choked on the words, and she could feel the pain radiating off of him.

Emily’s throat tightened, her lips parting as if she had something to say, but nothing came. She opened her mouth again, searching for the right words, but they evaded her like smoke slipping through her fingers.

The questions he was asking were the same ones she had been struggling with in the quiet moments when she was alone, questioning everything they were doing. The weight of it all felt too heavy for either of them to bear.

Adam hiccupped, his breath coming out in broken sobs. “Emily, are we turning our noses up at the Winners' trauma and pain? Are we ignoring what they went through because of the Sinners?”

Her heart ached as she felt his pain, her grip on him tightening. She wanted to tell him it would be okay, that they were doing the right thing nut deep down, she wasn’t sure herself, she wasn’t sure of anything.

“I... I don’t know...” Emily’s voice faltered; the uncertainty evident in every word. “I wish I did, Adam, but... I really don’t know.”

The silence stretched between them, the weight of his doubts pressing down on them both. She could feel the coldness creeping in, not just from the physical distance between them, but from the storm of emotions that raged inside him.

She could feel the way his pain bled into hers, and it terrified her because she didn’t have the answers, she didn’t know if what they were doing was right, if helping the Sinners would fix anything, or if they were just digging themselves into a deeper hole but one thing she knew for sure was that Adam needed her. He needed someone to hold him while he fell apart, someone to listen when the doubts crept in and swallowed him whole.

“Adam,” she whispered softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from his forehead. “We’re not ignoring anything. We’re not forgetting the pain, the trauma but... I think we’re just trying to find a way forward. A way to heal. For all of us.”

She hugged him tighter, hoping her presence could give him the strength he so desperately needed. “We can’t fix everything, but we can try. We have to try…there has to be something better out there, right?”

Adam's breath hitched again…were they really doing the right thing?

~#~

Gabriel tore through the halls, his green and white wings flaring in panic, feathers rustling wildly as they slapped against the walls. He burst through the doorway and hit the floor hard, skidding on his stomach, chin cracking against the stone.

Michael flinched at the sound, eyes snapping up in shock. He hadn’t expected anyone, least of all him.

“Gabriel?” he called, voice thick with worry.

He shifted on his bed, groaning as he tried to sit up, pain flashing across his face, one wing was missing, only five remained now, and even they hung heavy, dull with exhaustion but Gabriel was already scrambling to his feet, staggering forward like a storm-tossed bird. He wobbled, then stumbled toward his brother, hands trembling, mouth opening, closing, opening again.

Words tumbled out, broken and twisted, nonsense at first, then sobs. Loud, aching sobs that shattered the silence. Michael’s breath caught, he wasn't used to this, this raw, unravelling grief. That had always been Lucifer’s strength, comforting the fragile. Not his, still, he reached out, uncertain, his fingers brushing Gabriel’s arm.

“Gabriel… what is it? Why are you crying?” His voice was unsure, like stepping on glass.

Gabriel clung to him, burying his face against Michael’s shoulder, his whole body shook.

“It’s Lucifer,” he choked out between gasps. “He’s in trouble.”

Michael blinked, tilting his head in confusion. “What do you mean? Sera said she was keeping him in the main hall-”

“No!” Gabriel cut in, shaking his head violently. “They’ve, they’ve strapped him into this chair!” His voice cracked. “They said they’re going to cut into his mind!”

Michael froze; the words didn’t register at first. “What?”

“They’re going to take it out,” Gabriel sobbed. “The thing he keeps talking about, the love. The feeling he says is worth everything, they want to erase it.”

For a long second, Michael didn’t breathe, the colour drained from his face.

“They’re doing what?” he whispered.

Gabriel grabbed his hand, his grip desperate. “We have to stop them, please, Michael. He’s scared, he’s so scared.”

Michael’s hand tightened around Gabriel’s without thinking, the room was too quiet now, like the air had been sucked out. He could feel his heart pounding, echoing in his ribs like a war drum.

“He begged me,” Gabriel whispered, his voice was thin, almost childlike. “He looked at me with those eyes, those terrible eyes, Michael, he knew what they were going to do and I…I couldn’t stop it...”

Gabriel fell to his knees, dragging Michael’s hand with him, his wings drooping behind him like wilted leaves.

“I should’ve fought them,” he cried. “I should’ve screamed. I should’ve burned the whole place down.”

Michael stared at him, a deep ache blooming in his chest.  “How long do we have?” he asked, voice rough.

Gabriel shook his head. “I don’t know, maybe minutes, they’ve already started. Michael, if they do this, if they take that from him, there won’t be anything left, not really. He’ll still be Lucifer, but… not the one we knew, not the one who smiles when no one’s looking. Not the one who loves.”

Michael looked away; his throat tight. Images of Lucifer flashed behind his eyes. The defiant grin, the endless questions, the fierce, stubborn compassion that had always made him both infuriating and beloved.

He remembered when Lucifer had once said, “You call it weakness, I call it freedom.”

And now they wanted to cut that out of him…what would Lucifer even like after that?

Michael’s voice broke the silence. “Where is he?”

Gabriel’s eyes met his, shining, wild, desperate. “In this weird room, Sera and the others, they said it’s for the good of all angels. That love makes him unstable, that it’s a disease.”

Michael’s jaw clenched. He pushed himself off the bed, every movement strained and shaky. His missing wing throbbed with phantom pain, but he didn’t care, not now.

“Okay,” he said quietly. “Let’s go save our older brother.”

Gabriel looked up at him, hope flickering weakly behind the tears. “You mean it?”

Michael nodded; his face hard. “I’m not losing another brother.”

And in that moment, two broken angels, one with five wings, one with six still trembling, moved as one, stepping into the firestorm together. Gabriel rose shakily and moved to Michael’s side, slipping one arm beneath his brothers to steady him. Michael grunted, trying to wave him off, but his legs trembled too much to argue.

“Don’t,” Gabriel whispered. “Let me help.”

Michael didn’t fight it, his pride had long since been broken, he leaned into Gabriel, letting his younger brother bear some of his weight as they moved together out of the room. The corridor ahead stretched like a tunnel into shadow, silent and still, the walls, once bright with soft light, now seemed pale and cold, like the halls of a tomb.

There were no voices, no footsteps, not even a scream and Gabriel shivered. His wings pulled in tighter, pressing against his back as if trying to fold into his spine, his steps slowed.

“I heard him,” Gabriel said softly. “Through the door, he was crying, screaming a-and then… it stopped.”

Michael’s fingers dug into Gabriel’s shoulder; he didn’t speak. His face was tight with fury and fear, as they reached the tall doors to the main hall, Gabriel hesitated, eyes wide with dread. Michael nodded once, and Gabriel pushed them open.

The room inside was too calm, too still. There were no instruments clattering, no arguing voices. No glow of power or chaos in the air, just a quiet, heavy silence that rang louder than thunder.

Lucifer sat at the centre of the room, strapped to a high-backed chair with silver bindings coiled around his wrists and ankles, his wings, white and golden, red-tipped, hung limp over the sides. His head drooped forward slightly, golden hair falling over his face, his eyes were closed.

Michael froze in the doorway, the breath leaving him all at once.

“What is this?” he barked, his voice breaking through the stillness like a crack of lightning. “What did you do to him?”

He stepped forward, limping hard, one wing dragging like a torn flag behind him. Gabriel stayed close, heart hammering in his chest as he watched Michael approach the chair.

“Lucifer,” Michael said, softer now. “Lucifer, look at me.”

Gabriel felt sick, the room smelled like metal and ash. There was something wrong with the air itself, like the aftertaste of a spell not meant to be spoken.

Michael reached the chair, his hand hovering over Lucifer’s shoulder, gently, he touched him. Lucifer flinched, just barely but it was enough.

Gabriel gasped and Michael crouched down, his voice cracking as he tried again. “Lucifer, it’s me. It’s Michael.”

“W-We’re too late…” Gabriel whimpered.

Michael gripped Lucifer’s hand. “No. No, we’re here now. We’re getting you out of this.”

Lucifer shook his head, slow and heavy, his eyes fluttered open, and the look in them made Gabriel step back. Empty, not lost, not afraid, just… gone…the golden light within him was fading, shutting itself back inside the blue light…as if he was stepping back down in their divine structure. Returning to the similar state that Michael shared with him. Like someone had carved out the fire that made him who he was.

Gabriel’s hands flew to his mouth, stifling a cry.

Michael's face contorted in rage and helplessness, he looked over his shoulder, Michael didn’t wait. His fingers, still shaking, went to the silver clasps around Lucifer’s wrists. With teeth gritted, Michael snapped the first clasp open, then the next, the silver coils loosened with a hiss.

Lucifer didn’t move and Gabriel hovered close, wings tense, breath caught in his throat.

“Lucifer?” Michael whispered.

He brushed the hair from his brother’s face, Lucifer was pale, his skin too cold, lips parted like he’d tried to say something before slipping into silence.

Michael’s frown deepened, a storm cloud darkened his expression as he carefully unbuckled the last strap and slid his arms beneath Lucifer’s limp body, but his strength faltered, his limbs trembled too much.

“Here,” he said hoarsely. “Take him.”

Gabriel stepped forward, gently lifting Lucifer into his arms. He was light, too light, like something hollowed out.

What will come of their brother now?

~#~

n the dim, seething heart of Hell, Lucifer's fingers drummed a furious rhythm against his arms. The flames around him hissed low, like they were holding their breath. His red and gold eyes narrowed to sharp slits, burning with frustration and a hint of something uglier hurt.

He knew Adam was in that damn room. He could feel it, like a pulse in his chest, an ache in his bones. Adam was there, with her. That smug little wannabe Archangel, the one Heaven had polished up and sent down like some glittering, second-rate replacement.

Lucifer clenched his jaw until his teeth creaked. Why wouldn’t Adam talk to him? Just one damn word, one look, anything.

“I’m trying to fix this,” he muttered, voice a mix of growl and plea. “But how the hell am I supposed to do that if he won’t even talk me?”

And what cut deepest, what made the fire around him flicker hotter, was her. That brat didn’t just steal his title, to, they gave her everything, the wings, the glory... even Adam. His Adam. The one he had watched over at the dawn of the world, the one he had loved in his own twisted, quiet way.

Now she stood in his place, as the Archangel of Humility, as Adam’s guardian angel, ss if all those centuries of loyalty, all the blood and ash, meant nothing.

Charlie groaned, dragging her palms down her face before tossing her head back with a heavy sigh. “Gods, Dad... why are you so jealous of Emily?”

Lucifer stiffened like someone had just slapped him with holy water. He gasped, loudly, theatrically, like he’d just been accused of some hideous crime. “Jealous? I am not jealous!”

Charlie blinked slowly, her expression flat as a pancake. “Of course not,” she deadpanned, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Lucifer’s jaw dropped. “I-You! Flabbergasted! That’s what I am!”

“Right. Okay, flabbergasted father.” Charlie snorted, brushing a lock of hair out of her face. “Now, could you maybe snap your fingers and rebuild the damn side of the mansion you exploded during your ‘not-a-tantrum’?”

Lucifer puffed out his cheeks like an overworked kettle and muttered, “It wasn’t a tantrum... it was a moment.”

He snapped his fingers anyway and a wave of golden magic rippled from his hand, rolling like a slow-burning flame across the ground and up the broken walls. The shattered stone and scorched wood rewove themselves like threads being stitched back into a tapestry, within seconds, the mansion stood whole again, the damage erased, physically, at least.

Charlie hummed in quiet relief and collapsed into a plush purple chair with the elegance of a falling sack of bricks, she slouched over, arms dangling off the sides.

“Thank the hells,” she mumbled.

Lucifer hovered for a second, something tight in his chest, the guilt crawled up, slow and sour, curling like smoke in his stomach. He moved to sit beside her, his usual swagger dimmed, he reached out, fingers brushing hers before he gently took her hand.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, soft and real.

“It’s okay. I get it, I do. Adam means a lot to you now.” Charlie smiled faintly, eyes still on the floor.

Lucifer exhaled, mimicking her slump into the cushions, letting the chair pull him into its embrace. “No... He’s always meant everything to me, Charlie.”

“I know. I do. It’s just... it’ll take me some time to really get it, you know?” Her brows creased; she nodded slowly. “You two, being in Eden for fifteen years, falling for each other, changing so much... It’s just a lot.”

Lucifer squeezed her hand, nodding quietly. “I understand that too.”

There was a pause, calm but heavy. Charlie’s voice broke the silence again, this time softer, curious. “What did you mean... in the meeting with Sera? You said something about your memory, I’ve been meaning to ask…did they do something?”

Lucifer’s breath caught, his head tilted back toward the tall ceiling above, as if he was trying to hide from the question. His lips pressed into a thin, trembling line, a cold chill clawed its way up his spine, sharp and slow, like icy fingers wrapping around his bones, his skin prickled his eyes turned distant.

For a heartbeat, the room was too quiet, the memory came, blurry, jagged, wrong, a chair, a terrifying, spider-legged thing. It loomed out of shadows, there had been voices, shouting, begging, his voice, screaming. His siblings holding him down, forcing him into it, the panic, the betrayal and the pain…the agony of having his head opened, of having his brain pulled out and memory snipped.

He didn’t even realize he was gripping Charlie’s hand like a vice.

Charlie gasped and looked down, quickly placing her other hand over his, she rubbed soothing circles over his knuckles, grounding him.

“Dad?” she whispered. “Did... did they do something to you?”

Lucifer blinked hard, his hand trembled as he pulled it back slightly, rubbing at his tired eyes.

“I-I’m sorry,” he breathed, voice cracking under the weight of it all. “I hurt you again and-”

“No,” Charlie said firmly, shaking her head. “It’s not your fault, Dad.”

He looked at her then, raw and exposed in a way he rarely allowed himself to be and for the first time in what felt like ages, he let himself just be a father, not a king, not a fallen star, just her dad.

Lucifer closed his eyes, breathing in deeply through his nose, his chest rose and fell like a slow wave, as if trying to steady the storm still simmering inside him.

“I loved Adam,” he said quietly. “I mean, I still do love him, but back then... I was so in love with him. Like, really in love. It was new to me... terrifying and-”

He paused, swallowing the lump rising in his throat, words failed him for a moment, and that silence was louder than anything he could’ve said.

“It was just...” He opened his eyes and looked at Charlie again, eyes glassy with memory. “My siblings... the other archangels... they didn’t understand, they didn’t get what love was. They saw it like it was a disease, a sickness, like I’d caught something that made me weak. Irrational.”

Lucifer bit down hard on his bottom lip, as if trying to stop the next truth from slipping out. But it came anyway.

“Which... I mean, they weren’t completely wrong, I was irrational. I did something terrible, something really bad... because I loved Adam.”

Charlie frowned, shifting closer. “Like what? I can’t see you doing anything that bad, loving someone’s... an amazing thing.”

Lucifer shook his head, his fingers curling slightly. “Not back then. I was overbearing. Possessive. I tried to rewrite Adam’s fate, he was made to be the father of humanity, to begin the human race but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to share him, I wanted him to be mine, only mine.”

He exhaled sharply, guilt flashing in his eyes.

“It got so bad... Michael had to step in and, well, he banned me from Eden.”

Charlie gasped, her hand flying to her chest. “He what? He kept you away from Adam just because you loved him?”

Lucifer scratched the back of his neck, eyes darting to the side. “Er... not exactly, more like... because I kissed Adam and was... probably trying to convince him to sleep with me, too.”

Charlie blinked, hard. She looked caught between a smirk and a grimace, amazed and horrified all at once. This was her dad, after all. “Seriously? You were the only person Adam knew and you just?!”

“I know. I was... bolder back then.” Lucifer chuckled, a bit sheepishly.

Charlie sighed, scrubbing a hand down her face. “So, what happened?”

“Well,” Lucifer said with a shrug, “Michael caught me. Banned me. I lost it. I fought with everyone. Even bullied Gabriel for a while, just emotionally, don’t worry and Michael, well, he tried to smooth it all over, like always, he came to me later with... a solution.”

“What was it?” Charlie tilted her head, curiosity lighting her face.

Lucifer leaned back with a bitter sound in his throat. “That I could have Adam... afterward. After he fulfilled his duty, after he started the human race and passed on, when he died and entered Heaven... I could pursue him then and if Adam wanted me too, none of them would interfere.”

Charlie hummed softly. “That... actually sounds like a good compromise.”

“It could’ve worked.” Lucifer nodded slowly. “It would have worked... until I found out Michael kissed him.”

“Michael what?!” Charlie’s jaw dropped.

“Yep. That snake! He kissed Adam too,” Lucifer threw his hands up, full of exasperation. “And then erased the memory from his mind like a coward!”

Charlie stared; her face frozen in pure disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding me...”

But Lucifer’s face shifted, the sharpness drained, replaced by something hollow, something heavier. His eyes dimmed as he turned his head away.

“I attacked him,” he said quietly. “I attacked Michael. I lost control. And I ripped one of his wings off.”

The words sat like stones between them, Charlie’s breath hitched. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You... tore off his wing?”

Lucifer nodded, eyes distant and filled with regret. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t think. I just saw red. I thought... he took Adam from me, lied to me, betrayed me…and I snapped.”

He closed his eyes again. “It was the beginning of the end, that moment... it broke everything.”

Charlie was quiet for a long time, she slowly reached out, her hand gently covering his again.

Lucifer lowered his voice, the words dragging out of him like they hurt to say, like they were sharp things lodged in his throat.

“Because I hurt Michael like that... Sera deemed me a liability,” he whispered. “She said I was dangerous, that I’d make things worse if I wasn’t contained, if I wasn’t... fixed.”

Charlie didn’t speak, she just gripped his hand tighter, holding onto him like he was about to slip away.

“So, they made a decision, one I wasn’t allowed to argue with.” Lucifer’s voice cracked as he continued. “They decided to cut it out of me.”

His eyes shimmered with something more than tears, it was shame, hollow and cold. “They thought... if they made me forget my time with Adam... if they erased the love, the affection, the tenderness I had for him... they thought it would fix me, that it would cure me.”

For a moment, Charlie said nothing, her fingers twitched around his, her breath shallow, she slowly pulled her hand back and stared at it like it was no longer hers. Her face twisted in disbelief and disgust, her brows knitting tightly.

“They really believed that?” she said, her voice low and trembling. “They actually believed love was some kind of sickness? Like it was a damn infection?”

Lucifer gave a shallow nod.

Charlie stood abruptly, pacing a few steps before whirling back around to face him. “That’s insane! How…how could they even think that? Love isn’t a weakness! It’s not a disease! It’s-it’s what makes everything matter! What the hell is wrong with them?”

Her stomach twisted, nausea curling like poison through her gut, she ran a hand through her hair and muttered, “That’s fucking twisted.”

Lucifer’s gaze dropped to his hands, ashamed.

“I didn’t even know they’d done it,” he said quietly. “Not at first, I just felt... empty, like something had been scooped out of me, like a dream I couldn’t remember but knew I’d had and then... when I was eventually allowed to return to Eden, it was like seeing Adam for the first time again. Only... I didn’t understand why I hated him.”

“You hated him?” Charlie blinked, her anger fading just a little, replaced by confusion.

Lucifer nodded slowly. “That’s how it felt, I didn’t realize it was grief, or confusion, or heartbreak that had no name. Just... something inside me recoiled when I saw him again, I didn’t remember our love, I only felt the cracks where it had been ripped out.”

“I wasn’t nice to him, Charlie. I wasn’t even neutral, I was... cruel, I was dismissive, I said things that made him cry, I pushed him away, I mocked him, and I could see it in his eyes…how much it hurt him; how much it confused him too.” He swallowed hard, his voice turning brittle.

Charlie sat back down beside him, this time more carefully, like the air around them was fragile.

“Dad...” she breathed, her chest tight with emotion.

“I hurt him so much and I didn’t even know why.” Lucifer stared ahead, voice flat, his gaze darkened, jaw tight as his fingers clenched around the edge of the chair.

“Sera took everything from me,” he said, voice raw and edged with a quiet fury. “My memories, my love, my peace. She took him and I’ll never forgive her, not her, not any of them.”

Charlie sniffed, wiping at the corner of her eye, she nodded silently, her heart aching with understanding she hadn’t expected to feel so deeply. She reached for her father’s hand again and held it tightly.

Lucifer exhaled, softer now. “When they sent me back to Eden... and I was with Adam again, I thought... I thought we were healing. You know? I thought we were learning each other again. Making progress, I started remembering bits and pieces...”

He blinked, slowly. “I thought... finally, we were understanding one another, I thought we were getting there.”

His voice broke slightly, bitterness laced with grief. “But the first chance he got, he ran, just like always, he’s always running from me.”

Lucifer turned his head toward Charlie, his expression open and cracked wide with sadness. “I just wish I knew how to make it better for him.”

Charlie let out a slow, gentle breath, she’d never seen her father like this, so exposed, so sensitive, the great, terrifying Morningstar, slumped beside her, aching for love like any other heartbroken fool.

“It’ll get better,” she said softly, offering a hopeful smile. “Soon, you’ll get to see him again.”

Lucifer gave her a tired, wistful smile. “If only it were that easy.”

He pushed his golden hair back with one hand, straightening himself up and clearing his throat as if trying to shake off the heaviness, he met her eyes, forcing a lighter tone into his voice.

“A-anyway,” he coughed. “About the wannabe brat-”

Charlie gave him a sharp look.

“I meant Emily’s idea, obviously, “Lucifer’s smile turned strained, eyes wide with fake innocence “The whole contacting Gabriel thing, I just... I’m not sure he’ll listen to me.”

“Gabriel? You never really talk about your siblings.” Charlie tilted her head. “The only one I really know about is Sera... and, well, does Emily count as a sibling?”

Lucifer paused, genuinely caught off guard by the question, his brows pinched in thought. “Emily... no. I don’t think so, she’s not like Uriel or Sera, she’s... different, something else.”

He shook his head slowly, like the answer was right there but just out of reach. “I don’t know how to explain it, but she’s not just one of us, there’s something about her... like she’s made from the same light but tuned to a different melody.”

“Huh.” Charlie blinked at that, intrigued.

“But Gabriel...” Lucifer shrugged, leaning back into the plush cushions. “Gabriel was, is my favourite brother.”

Charlie laughed softly. “Really?”

“Yeah, bright green wings, voice like a songbird, heart too damn big for his own good,” Lucifer grinned, his eyes lighting with fondness at the memory. “Always trying to cheer everyone up, even when things were falling apart, especially then, actually.”

He shook his head, the grin lingering.

“He was the youngest of us, before everything got complicated, before Heaven became so... suffocating, Gabriel was the only one who could make me laugh when I didn’t want to. The only one who actually listened.”

Charlie smiled, seeing something warm return to her father’s face.

“Maybe he’ll still listen now,” she said gently.

Lucifer gave her a look, half hopeful, half sceptical, he sighed, his gaze drifting to the shadows in the corners of the room, as if the past might be hiding there.

“I don’t know,” he murmured. “I haven’t seen Gabriel since I fell, not properly, anyway and even before that, things between us had gotten... strained.”

Charlie stayed quiet, letting him speak at his own pace.

“I think he felt guilty,” Lucifer said, voice quieter now. “For not stopping the others, for not stopping what they did to me.”

“After they tampered with my mind, he never really looked me in the eye again, he stopped being near me like he used to, no jokes, no singing, no late-night talks under the stars,” He rubbed the back of his neck, his expression drawn, worn. “He just... pulled away.”

Lucifer shook his head, frustrated by the fog in his own memory. “And the worst part? I noticed, i felt him slipping away, but I didn’t know why. I thought he was just ashamed of me, or afraid, I didn’t know... I didn’t remember what they had done, so none of it made sense.”

He looked over at Charlie, his eyes dark with realization. “But now that things are coming back, I do remember, he tried, he really tried to stop them. I saw it, saw him begging Sera, running to get Michael, he was desperate, but they ignored him and when they did it anyway... when they cut into me, I think a part of Gabriel broke too.”

Charlie’s lips parted, but she didn’t know what to say, the thought of one archangel begging the others to stop while her father was held down, helpless, it made her blood run cold.

“God,” she breathed. “That’s horrible.”

Lucifer gave a dry laugh. “Understatement of the century.”

Then, softer, with a touch of sorrow: “He’s probably been carrying that guilt ever since, that’s why he disappeared. Why he’s been silent, he couldn’t face me, couldn’t face what they did... or what he didn’t do.”

Charlie leaned back in her chair; her brow furrowed in thought. “Maybe he’ll want to talk to you, maybe this is your chance to give him the space to stop hiding, maybe he needs it just as much as you do.”

Lucifer let the thought settle over him like a slow-moving storm, e wanted to believe that part of him ached to believe that Gabriel still cared, still wanted to make things right.

“Maybe,” he said finally, barely above a whisper.

Then he chuckled, a tired smile tugging at his lips. “But if he cries, I’m absolutely going to mock him, just a little.”

Charlie snorted. “You’re the worst.”

“I’m consistent,” Lucifer grinned, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s how I show my brotherly love.”

Charlie rubbed her temples and let out a sigh. “Okay, but... how are we even supposed to contact Gabriel?”

“That’s the tricky part, I haven’t seen him in centuries and none of my sibling’s dwell in Humility,” Lucifer frowned, fingers drumming on the armrest again in thought. “Sera and Emily run that ring together, so Gabriel wouldn’t be there.”

He leaned back, thinking aloud now. “Hell has seven rings: Pride, Greed, Lust, Envy, Gluttony, Wrath, and Sloth. Heaven mirrors it, seven rings too, just... reversed, they represent the will of God: Humility, Generosity, Chastity, Charity, Temperance, Patience, and...”

“Stagecoach.” He paused, then cracked a dry smirk.

Charlie blinked. “Wait. Stagecoach?”

“I don’t name these things,” Lucifer said, raising both hands. “Stagecoach, it’s the seventh, the topmost ring of Heaven, as Sloth is the deepest pit of Hell, Stagecoach is the shining peak.”

Charlie leaned forward, clearly intrigued. “So, Heaven and Hell are just... mirror images of each other?”

“In a way,” Lucifer nodded. “Sinners sink to Pride, the first ring of Hell, Winners rise to Humility, the first ring of Heaven. The rest follows in order, each ring, a reflection of the other.”

Charlie gave a low hum, her eyes sparkling. “That’s... kinda beautiful balance in chaos. So, what about the archangels? Do they each represent the opposite of the deadly sins too?”

Lucifer didn’t answer, his gaze unfocused, eyes drifting off into some faraway memory.

Seven.

He thought of the seven great spirits of God, the ones whispered about in ancient tongues before even language existed: the Seraphim, the Cherubim, the Thrones, Dominions, Powers, Virtues, Principalities...

I’m Dominions, he thought, almost absently.

There were always seven, seven sins, seven virtues, seven rings below, seven rings above, seven flames, seven trumpets, seven seals, seven archangels…Lucifer, Michael, Raphael, Gabriel, Uriel, Sera and Metatron.

What was it about that damn number?

He licked his dry lips and finally spoke, “Gabriel would most likely be in Stagecoach.”

“Why there?” Charlie’s brow arched.

“Because that’s where the Archangels gather, it’s the centre of all divine command. If Heaven has a throne room... it’s in Stagecoach.”

She leaned back, processing. “So, we’d have to go there?”

Lucifer nodded, fixing her with a serious look. “Yes, but I can’t go, not without help, I’m barred from Heaven, my presence alone would trigger every alarm they've got. We’ll need the wanna-Emily,” he corrected with a slight grimace, “To open the gates and to…well, stay close to me, I guess.”

“Alright, I’ll let her know the plan,” Charlie pulled out her Hell-mobile with a determined hum.

“One more thing, you were allowed into Humility for your court, but Stagecoach... is different.” Lucifer held up a finger. It’s like how sinners can’t leave the Pride ring, even you might not be able to enter.”

Charlie blinked at him. “But I’m your daughter, doesn’t that make me... part archangel?”

“To be honest, Charlie... I don’t really know what you are.” Lucifer tilted his head with a soft hum.

She stared at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

“You’re the only... I mean, you’re the first, the only being born from an archangel through natural means. We don’t have a precedent for that, I can’t say how powerful you are, or what you’re capable of,” He scratched his cheek, eyes narrowing slightly. “You might be able to open the gates of Heaven yourself, you might be able to do far more than even I can imagine.”

Charlie’s eyes widened, she’d never really thought about that before, she was unique. A first, one of a kind.

“Do you think I could... grow wings?” she asked, almost in a whisper.

Lucifer’s grin turned devilishly warm, he leaned forward and tapped her on the nose with a soft chuckle. “Who knows? Maybe you will~”

Charlie burst out laughing, swatting his hand away. “You’re so weird sometimes.”

He chuckled with her, his heart just a little lighter.

“I’ll call Emily,” Charlie sang, climbing to her feet. “I’ll let her know what we’ve got to do.”

“Tell her to be ready in an hour,” Lucifer said, rising to his feet with a flare of determination. His voice dropped into a sharper edge, eyes glowing faintly gold. “The quicker we do this; the less chance Sera has to catch wind of it.”

Charlie nodded, already typing out a message to Emily, she glanced up, watching the way her father’s fingers twitched, his jaw tightening like he was already halfway to Eden. She could feel the energy building in him, hope, longing, obsession…

“You’re eager to see him,” she said softly.

Lucifer didn’t deny it, his wings, white and red, twitched at his back, like his body wanted to fly straight to Adam. “This time,” he murmured, eyes distant, “This time I won’t let him run. I’ll talk to him and he’ll listen, he has to listen.”

“Dad… don’t force it.” Charlie raised a brow, voice sharpening just enough to cut through his haze.

He looked at her, startled, like she’d read his mind, maybe she had….or perhaps, he had simply spoken out loud without meaning too.

“I mean it,” she continued, serious now. “You can’t push him, not again, not when we’re walking straight into Heaven, with Sera probably sniffing around and watching every damn step. You push Adam now and he’ll just shut down, or worse, run again.”

Lucifer scoffed, waving a hand as if brushing off her warning. “As if Sera could do anything to me.”

“Maybe not to you, not even to me but what about Emily?” Charlie sighed heavily and stood up too, stepping into his space. “What about Adam?”

That stopped him cold, his shoulders tensed, and that ever-present pride in his posture cracked. Just a little, enough to show the storm twisting inside his chest.

He sulked, muttering like a child caught sneaking cookies. “Yeah... okay, you’ve got a point.”

Charlie folded her arms. “She could hurt them, Dad. Maybe not kill them, maybe not outright, but she’d find a way…from the things I have heard, she isn’t one to take lightly.”

Lucifer’s lips pressed into a line, and his golden gaze drifted downward. “I know,” he said at last. His voice was quieter now, heavy with something almost like shame. “I’ll behave, I just…”

He trailed off, looking toward the shimmering edge of space beyond the mansion walls.

Adam.

Even just the thought of seeing him again made Lucifer’s insides quake, he didn’t know what he would say or do. All he knew was that Adam would be there; he had to be. There was no way in all of Heaven or Hell that Adam would let Emily take a step toward danger without him, that loyalty stung, not because it was wrong but because it wasn’t his.

It hadn’t been his for a long time now.

Lucifer’s chest tightened. He was the Devil, after all, the first to fall, the one who knew every sin like it was stitched into his skin. Of course, he felt envy, pride, wrath. All of it but none of those sins ever hit as hard as the way he still loved Adam.

Charlie was watching him, and she reached out again, lightly brushing her fingers over his sleeve. “It’ll be okay,” she said. “One step at a time, yeah?”

Lucifer gave her a small smile, crooked, tired, but real.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “One step.”

He straightened, flicked a strand of his hair behind his shoulder, and then clapped his hands together. “Right then! Let’s go wrangle a half-baked archangel and storm the gates of Heaven.”

Charlie snorted. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Pot, meet kettle.”

“Oh, one more thing Dad,” Charlie began, straightening herself. “You should shower.”

Lucifer blinked slowly, when did his little sugar pumpkin-princess get so rude?

~#~

Back in Heaven, the golden sky glowed with soft morning light, and the breeze carried the faint scent of lilies and something like stardust. Inside a small, quiet room nestled in the clouds, Emily sat beside Adam on a plush bench shaped like a half-moon, her hands folded neatly in her lap inside their clock tower.

She had just finished explaining everything Charlie had told her, about Gabriel, about Stagecoach, the seventh ring of Heaven, and how they needed to get there if they wanted any real help. She told him that Gabriel wouldn’t come down to Humility, and the only way was up.

Adam’s leg bounced nervously, fast and restless like a fluttering bird trying to break free, his fingers dug into his knees, gripping tighter and tighter as Emily went on.

“I’ll need to open the gates,” she said gently, watching him. “First the gate to Humility, then the one to Stagecoach. I’ll need to guide them through, Adam. If Lucifer uses even a tiny bit of his magic, Heaven will know. Sera will know and if the other archangels find us in Stagecoach...”

She didn’t finish that part, she didn’t need to.

Adam stared down at the floor, his knuckles turning white where they clutched his knees, a thousand thoughts screamed in his head, but all he could do was breathe. In, out, in, out, the air felt heavy, too bright and too still.

“You don’t have to come,” Emily whispered, she reached out, her fingers brushing his arm. “You don’t have to do this, I’ll go, I’ll be careful.”

Adam blinked, lifting his eyes to hers like she’d just spoken in riddles.

“Emily,” he said, almost laughing at the absurdity. “Of course I have to come with you.”

Emily smiled at first, touched by the way his voice cracked a little with worry but then her brows pinched, and she looked at him closely. “What about Lucifer? You’re not ready to see him.”

Adam’s face stilled, his chest rose with a sharp breath, then fell slowly. “No,” he said at last, quietly, “I’m not ready, I don’t know if I’ll ever really be ready.”

He paused, trying to breathe through the ache pressing on his heart like cold fingers.

“But this isn’t about me,” he continued, his voice softer now, but stronger. “It’s about Sir Pentious, it’s about all the souls still trapped in Hell who deserve better.”

Emily’s expression turned serious, but her eyes were kind.

“I’ve spent so long pretending not to see the pain,” Adam said. “The pain in the Sinners, the pain in the Winners, the unfairness in both sides of my...of the human’s afterlife.”

His throat tightened, and he looked away for a moment, his voice going quiet like a wish whispered into the stars. There was no Sinners, no Winners, just humans.

“If there’s a way to make things even a little better... even just a little... then it has to be worth it, right?”

Emily reached out fully this time and wrapped her arms around him in a soft, warm hug, Adam tensed, just for a second, then melted into it, resting his forehead against her shoulder.

“It is worth it,” she said. “And you’re not alone, okay? I’ve got you.”

Adam let out a breath that shook a little, then nodded, he pulled back and gave her a small smile.

“Let’s go start a little rebellion.”

Emily laughed, a quiet, airy sound full of nerves and hope. “Yeah,” she said. “Let’s do it.”

Adam and Emily stood up together, the air around them shifting like it knew what they were about to do. A faint hum echoed through the clock tower walls, old gears ticking in a rhythm that suddenly felt much too loud, yheir hands brushed briefly before Emily slipped her fingers into his, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, both of them were trembling.

Adam tried to look brave for her, he stood a little straighter, lifted his chin, tried to form that reassuring smile she always seemed to count on, but his lips wouldn’t move the way he wanted. His heart thudded too loudly, too fast, it was hard to breathe.

They were going behind Sera’s back and Adam, he had never disobeyed Sera before.

The moment they opened Heaven’s gates… there’d be no turning back.

“You ready?” Emily asked softly, smiling up at him with that sweet, gentle courage of hers, her wings fluttered, ruffled and uncertain, but her voice stayed strong.

Adam clicked his tongue, anxious. He nodded anyway. “Yeah,” he said.

It was a lie, he wasn’t ready. He didn’t think he’d ever be ready but it was now or never.

Emily gave his hand another squeeze, and together, they opened the tall wooden door of the clock tower. A cool, golden wind met them as they stepped out into the ring of Humility, and for a moment… Adam swore it didn’t look quite the same.

The light seemed dimmer, the clouds above a little heavier. Had their choice already stained this place?

His stomach turned, he didn't want it to. As they walked, Adam’s mind wandered to him, to Lucifer. He wasn’t in love with him, not anymore, at least… he didn’t think he was but he also didn’t know what he was.

Their history wasn’t simple, it wasn’t clean, there had been sweetness, yes, moments of warmth and connection and something like home, but there had also been pain, so much pain. Misunderstanding, control, a love too fierce, too heavy to carry back then and now? After all this time?

He was nervous, not because Lucifer was the King of Hell but because Lucifer had loved him, still loved him, maybe, and Adam didn’t know how to carry that anymore.

Would he be angry? Would he still be... himself?

They reached the shining Seven Gates of Heaven much faster than Adam wanted, the enormous pearly arches shimmered in the soft light, glowing with old, holy magic. A breeze swept past them, tugging at Emily’s hair and ruffling her feathers, they both stopped, standing quietly before the ancient barrier.

Act natural, he told himself, just walk like you’re not about to break every rule in the book. Oddly enough… it was easy. Few Winners were around, maybe they knew to keep their distance, maybe Heaven itself had grown tired of pretending.

Adam breathed out, a soft and shaky sound as he stared up at the gates, they were beautiful and terrifying.

He turned to Emily and whispered, “Can you open portals? Like Lucifer does?”

“I... don’t know,” Emily blinked, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “I’ve never tried.”

Adam nodded, looking back at the gates. “You might need to try,” he murmured, “if this goes south.”

Emily’s eyes widened, her wings fluffing slightly with worry, but then she drew in a breath, puffed out her cheeks, and nodded firmly.

“I can do it,” she said, her voice full of quiet fire.

Adam couldn’t help but smile, just a little, he reached out and gave her a light pat on the head, fingers brushing her soft hair.

“I know you can,” he said gently.

Emily inhaled deeply, steadying her breath the way she’d been taught to in choir, back when songs were all that mattered in Heaven. Her fingers trembled slightly as she stepped forward, her sandals scuffing softly against the cloud stone path. The golden glow of the gates shimmered in her eyes, reflecting the courage she was trying so hard to hold onto, she glanced around quickly, her eyes scanning every archway and corridor.

No one, no soft whispers of robes, no looming shadows of Watchers. Just the gentle wind and the distant chime of bells.

Adam tilted his head, casting a glance toward the old watchtower nearby. For a second, his heart lurched, until he noticed the little curl of smoke rising from behind it, he blinked, then let out a quiet snort.

Peter was on one of his ‘secret’ smoke breaks again, the ones no one was technically supposed to know about, but everyone absolutely did. Adam's lips twitched at the thought, just for a second, a flicker of normalcy before everything changed, he turned back to Emily.

She was standing before the gates now, her hands raised just slightly, fingers spread apart like she was touching light itself. With the same care someone might use to pick up a sleeping bird, she reached out, her fingertips brushed the surface of the golden gates.

Nothing happened at first, then, like the sound of soft bells underwater, the gates shimmered, the intricate symbols etched into them glowing gently under her touch. Adam held his breath, his heart thundered, the gates creaked.

Just a little at first, then wider and wider. The ancient doors of Heaven slowly opened before her, parting to reveal the light beyond, soft, pearly white and pulsing with sacred warmth. It felt like stepping into the heart of a sunrise.

Emily turned to look at Adam, eyes wide in awe and nerves. “I didn’t think that would actually work,” she whispered.

“Me neither.” Adam smiled faintly; his expression warm but tight around the edges.

They stood there, both frozen for a second, staring into the glowing corridor that led deeper into the rings of Heaven, no guards, no alarms, not yet.

Emily stepped aside just a little, holding her hand out to him. “Let’s go before someone notices.”

Behind them, the light began to draw closed, wrapping them in silence as the holy realm swallowed their figures and somewhere far above them, in the heart of Stagecoach, the faintest ripple stirred, like Heaven itself had just taken notice.

~#~

Lucifer fussed with his pale, duck-blonde hair, smoothing down the little rebellious curl that always bounced out of place no matter how many times he pressed it down. With a quick flick of his wrist, he adjusted the angle of his white top hat until it sat just right, tilted with flair but dignified, just how he liked it.

Charlie, beside him, was taking slow, deep breaths, trying to settle the fluttering wings of nerves in her chest, her boots were tucked neatly behind them, alongside Lucifer’s. They’d both agreed, if they were going into Heaven, they wouldn’t do it stomping.

Barefoot, they stood together at the edge of magic and something that felt an awful lot like fate.

“You don’t need to be scared, sweetheart,” Lucifer said, his voice a smooth hum, he turned his head slightly to look at her, his red eyes gentle for once, softer than most ever saw them. “I’ll protect you. No matter what happens.”

Charlie looked up at him with eyes bright and full of love. “I know,” she whispered, her voice steady. “I trust you, Dad.”

That made Lucifer pause for a moment, his expression flickered, like he hadn’t expected the words to warm him the way they did. Then he smiled, the corner of his mouth curling as he raised one clawed finger and gave it a dramatic swirl through the air.

A golden spiral bloomed open, shimmering and swirling like sunlight caught in a whirlpool.

Lucifer leaned toward her, voice dipping low. “The moment we step through, I’ll have to stop using my magic. If I do, Sera will know, she’ll feel it, like a chill down her spine.” He glanced toward the gate, his smile now serious. “But don’t worry, I don’t need magic to protect you.”

Charlie nodded, she believed him, together, they stepped forward.

The portal wrapped around them like warm honey, and in the blink of an eye, they emerged onto the soft, radiant clouds of Heaven, white as snow, tinged with pink and blue, fluffy like whipped cream in a dream.

Charlie gasped, she spun slowly, barefoot toes pressing gently into the clouds, her eyes wide as she drank in the glowing light and cotton-candy skies above them.

“It’s even more beautiful than I remembered…” she breathed. “The last time I was here, I had Vaggie with me, but…”

She looked to her side. “I’m not scared this time, you’re here.”

Lucifer stood beside her, though his expression was less dreamy than hers, his brows furrowed slightly as he scanned their surroundings, a subtle twitch of unease in his jaw.

“It’s changed,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Since the last time I was here.”

Charlie tilted her head, curiosity peeking through the wonder. “What do you mean?”

Lucifer didn’t answer right away, his eyes swept across the horizon again. The clouds felt different, he thought, denser, quieter, there was an unnatural stillness to the air, like even the breeze had been instructed to keep secrets.

Finally, he said, “It used to feel like music... like everything was singing but now...”

His voice faded and Charlie reached for his hand.

“We’ll fix it,” she said, gently. “Whatever it is, we’ll make it better.”

The golden gates of Heaven loomed tall before them, majestic and glowing with a soft light that shimmered like stardust caught in honey, Charlie tilted her head up, glancing toward the watchtower nestled high above the clouds. She remembered it clearly, the last time she’d come here, St. Peter had been waiting, grumbling about paperwork and ceremonial nonsense before finally letting her in but this time, the tower was quiet.

Charlie’s brow furrowed. “Where is…?”

Before Lucifer could respond, the great gates gave a low, gentle groan, and then, slowly, like they were opening in secret, they began to part.

Lucifer froze, the air catching sharp in his lungs, his eyes narrowed, peering through the slim crack forming between the gates.

“Emily!” Charlie tried to keep her voice down, bursting forward without hesitation, her arms thrown wide.

“Charlie!” Emily gasped, her voice breathless with joy.

The two collided in a tangle of hugs and giggles, wrapping each other up like they never wanted to let go. They swayed a little on their feet, laughing softly into one another’s shoulders, overwhelmed by the surprise and relief of seeing each other again.

“You’re okay,” Charlie whispered, squeezing her tighter.

“You too,” Emily beamed. “You really came.”

Lucifer stood at the gate, watching the two with a strange, tight feeling in his chest. For a moment, he didn’t realize what he was seeing, the way Charlie and Emily clung to each other, the way their faces mirrored in small, soft curves. Emily was younger, smaller, but it was like the two of them, Charlie and Emily were…

No, Lucifer gave his head a small shake, pushing the thought aside before it could fully form but then he saw him.

His eyes drifted beyond the girls and landed on the awkward, fidgeting figure just behind Emily. Standing a few feet away, stiff and silent. A much skinnier, squirmy, and sickly like figure. Completely different to the over-sized man in robes and a horned mask.

Lucifer's breath hitched, the world went quiet.

“Adam…” he breathed, stepping forward, his voice cracking like something old and fragile.

Adam’s gaze snapped up, startled to hear his name said like that, with such rawness, like it was precious, their eyes met, and for a split second, neither moved.

Lucifer’s whole body felt on fire. It wasn’t rage. It wasn’t even pain, tt was everything at once, grief, hope, longing, and guilt tangled into one burning knot that sat heavy in his chest.

He took another step closer and Adam… didn't run.

“Adam?”

“Er, Hi…” Adam awkwardly waved, his green and gold eyes looking anywhere but the King of Hell.

Charlie’s eyes shifted as the soft sound of footsteps broke her reunion haze. Her gaze landed on him, on Adam, and her breath hitched, he looked... different.

The first thing she noticed was that he wasn’t towering over her anymore. He was shorter now, more delicate in his frame, like a real human being, no longer wrapped in those strange, heavy robes, no eerie mask to hide behind. Instead, he wore soft, simple clothes, a lavender hoodie that hung loose on his narrow shoulders, a plain t-shirt, and comfy-looking shorts.

He looked... fragile, pale and tired…. sickly.

Charlie bit her lip, hard. Her stomach twisted with unease. What happened to him?

Before she could ask, Emily stepped back from her, turning to glance between Adam and Lucifer. Her wings gave a twitch, instinctive and nervous.

Lucifer took a single step forward, his breath shaky, eyes locked onto Adam like he might vanish again if he blinked but Charlie moved fast, spinning and catching her father’s elbow before he could lunge.

“Dad, no,” she hissed under her breath.

“I wasn’t going to do anything,” Lucifer whispered back, voice high and tight like a sulky child.

Emily reached for Adam’s hand and gently guided him back, away from the tension, she turned over her shoulder and whispered, “Come on, quietly. Humility feels... different today. It's like the clouds are listening.”

Charlie nodded, tugging Lucifer along with her, who puffed his cheeks out in frustration as the golden gates sealed shut behind them with a soft hum. The moment they were out of earshot, Charlie leaned toward her father, her voice barely above a whisper but sharp as a thorn.

“You promised you'd behave.”

“I am behaving,” Lucifer muttered back, hands raised dramatically as he tried to look innocent. “I’m just, thrilled to see him again. Is that a crime now?”

Charlie narrowed her eyes. “It’s not what you did, it’s what you were thinking of doing.”

“I wasn’t going to do anything!” he gasped, clearly offended. “You wound me, Charlotte.”

“Don’t ‘Charlotte’ me,” she snapped under her breath, jabbing a finger into his ribs. “You were about two seconds from tackling him with your... feelings.”

“I do not tackle people with feelings,” he sniffed, nose in the air. “I’m much more elegant than that.”

“Right. Because clawing across a cloud like a lovesick banshee is elegant.”

“I would’ve floated.”

Up ahead, Emily and Adam could clearly hear the hissing whispers behind them, Emily pressed her lips together, eyes twinkling. Adam’s mouth tugged into a tight but amused smile.

…maybe he missed Lucifer more then he thought…

His heart did a little beat upon feeling Lucifer close to him again.

Ah.