Chapter — Redefining Death
The night outside stretched cold and endless, city lights flickering beneath heavy clouds. From the penthouse window, I watched the horizon — souls drifting upward like faint smoke trails, each one a story ending, another number in the ledger.
Behind me, Gabriel shifted, wings half-folded, tension crawling under his skin. His eyes tracked the same thing I saw — the dead ascending, judgment waiting. Routine. Predictable.
Until I interrupted.
"Wait," I ordered, my voice cutting through the silence.
Gabriel frowned. "What are you doing now?"
I didn't answer. I focused, hand raised, threads of existence trembling in my grip. One soul — small, weak — struggling against the pull of inevitability.
A child.
Ravaged by disease, robbed of years before they even started counting. I felt the cold weight of that fate pressing in, the same fate I was supposed to maintain.
But not this time.
I rewrote the moment — subtle, clean. The machines in her hospital room steadied. Her lungs filled with air. Color returned to her skin.
"Impossible," Gabriel muttered, stepping closer.
I didn't flinch. "It's done."
"You broke the sequence."
"No," I corrected. "I adjusted it."
Gabriel's jaw tightened, feathers bristling as he processed the defiance. Then — the air shifted. The room darkened faintly at the edges, the pressure changing like a storm creeping in.
He arrived.
No flashes of light. No booming voice from the sky. Just presence — old, heavy, undeniable.
God.
Leaning casually near the bar, observing without judgment, His gaze fixed on me first, then Gabriel.
"You see it now?" His voice low, steady. "Why Death chose him?"
Gabriel didn't answer immediately, his pride coiled tight, but doubt flickered across his face.
"He's changing the concept," God continued, approaching the window, eyes scanning the city. "It's good. Complicated, but good."
Gabriel scoffed softly. "Like me putting interns in Reaper's Holding? I still clean that mess."
God allowed a faint smirk — not the cosmic, glowing kind. Just human, tired, worn by centuries. "Correction's part of the job."
I stayed silent, watching the skyline. My authority wasn't borrowed. It was earned. Even He knew that now.
The quiet broke as Gabriel's phone buzzed — encrypted lines, high-clearance codes flooding in.
He read the message, eyes narrowing. "Someone's been digging."
I already knew who.
Tony Stark.
Brilliant. Dangerous. Arrogant beyond reason — and persistent enough to find ghosts where others see shadows.
"Stark knows you exist," Gabriel confirmed, scrolling through data feeds. "No armor yet. Just the rich kid with too much time and tech."
"He's smart," I admitted, turning from the window. "Clever enough to follow the trail."
Gabriel's wings folded tighter. "And stubborn enough to become a problem."
God chuckled faintly. "Let him come."
Minutes passed. Across the city, a sleek, unmarked car parked outside. No security. No entourage. Just Tony — trench coat sharp, eyes sharper, walking into the building like he owned gravity.
Moments later, he stood at the penthouse door. No hesitation. No fear.
"Interesting place for a myth," Stark commented, scanning the room. His gaze swept over Gabriel, stalled on God — he didn't recognize Him, not yet — then landed on me.
"You've been busy," Tony stated, holding up a small tablet, images flashing across the screen — my footprints in time. Saved lives, impossible recoveries, records rewritten like bad code.
"You've been watching," I replied, unimpressed.
"People talk," Tony shrugged, stepping further in. "Miracles, anomalies, your face showing up for seventy years unchanged. That raises questions."
"And your plan?" I asked, voice flat, authority pressing beneath each word.
Tony didn't flinch. "Figure out who you are. What you want. And how much of a threat you are before this gets… messy."
Gabriel shifted slightly, but I held him back with a glance.
"I'm not interested in threats," I told Stark. "I'm interested in balance."
Tony smirked faintly. "Balance is a cute word. So's control. But both tend to break when people like me poke at them."
I stepped forward, closing the space, energy humming just beneath my skin. "Test it, Stark. But remember — some concepts break back."
Silence hung heavy.
God observed quietly, letting the tension stretch.
Tony finally backed down, pocketing his tablet. "For now, I watch."
He left, calculated steps fading into the elevator's chime.
Gabriel exhaled slowly. "He's going to be a problem."
"Good," I muttered, eyes returning to the skyline. "Let him chase ghosts. Keeps him distracted."
God lingered by the bar, pouring Himself a drink like it was the most ordinary thing in the world.
"You're building cracks in the system," He remarked, sipping. "Just be ready for what comes through."
I watched the souls still rising — the balance shifting, history rewriting itself one choice at a time.
"I'm always ready," I said.
And the night swallowed the city whole.
End of Chapter