The first thing Kieran felt was stillness.
No pain, no fire, no screams. Just silence, stretching endlessly in every direction.
His eyes fluttered open.
He was lying on something soft—like grass, though it shimmered white as cloud. The ground wasn't earth, not stone or soil, but a bed of living mist that carried him as if he weighed nothing. Above him stretched a sky too bright to be sky, not blue but radiance itself, a light that seemed to breathe.
Kieran pushed himself up slowly. His body no longer ached. The bruises, the blood, the brokenness—they were gone. He blinked, wide-eyed, his heart thudding as he took in the sight before him.
A table rested in the middle of that glowing expanse. Simple wood, perfectly carved, as though it had always been there and always would be. Two chairs faced each other. And in the one opposite him, a figure waited.
The light bent around Him, not harsh but soft, like sunlight through leaves. His form was human, but Kieran knew at once it wasn't. This was not a man. This was something more. Something beyond everything he had ever known.
"Kieran," the figure said, voice gentle, carrying both weight and warmth. It echoed not in the air but inside his chest. "Sit."
Kieran swallowed hard, his feet moving almost without thought. He sat across the table, every nerve on edge, yet strangely calm at the same time. Like sitting before a storm that had chosen not to break.
"Where… am I?" he asked, his voice rough.
"You are in Heaven," the figure answered simply. "A place between what was and what will be."
Kieran's hands gripped the edge of the chair. "So I… died?"
"Not yet. You stand at the threshold," the figure said, eyes glimmering like eternity itself. "Your body sleeps at the brink. But I could not wait any longer. We were always meant to meet, my son."
The words hit him harder than any blow. My son. For a heartbeat, Kieran almost forgot to breathe. Something swelled in his chest—relief, longing, fear, all tangled together.
"You…" His throat tightened. "You're God."
The figure's smile deepened, warm as dawn. "Yes."
For a long moment, Kieran just sat there, staring. He had imagined this meeting once as a child, when Naomi whispered stories of angels, when loneliness kept him awake at night. But it had always been a fantasy. Something far away. Something never meant for him.
And yet here He was.
Kieran's voice came out small. "The children. The others from the orphanage… are they—?"
"They are with Me now," God said gently. "Safe. At peace."
Kieran's chest twisted. He lowered his head. He wanted to cry, to scream, to demand why. But he couldn't. Not here. Not in the presence of this being who looked at him like a father looks at his child.
"I… I wanted to save them," Kieran whispered.
"You could not," God said, not unkindly. "I do not save everyone. But I gather those who are lost. They are not in pain anymore. Know this."
Kieran nodded slowly, though his hands trembled. It wasn't the answer he wanted—but it was the only one he could bear.
His gaze lifted again. "What about me? What am I?"
God's expression softened even further. "You are my angel of Heaven. Born to carry both love and destruction."
The words seemed to vibrate through the clouds beneath them. Kieran's heart thumped hard against his ribs. "Love and destruction," he repeated. "What does that even mean?"
"It means you will embody both," God explained. "Love that sees into the hearts of others, that knows who cherishes, who betrays, who mourns, who hopes. And destruction—power enough to unmake what must be unmade. Creation and destruction are opposites, Kieran. But together, they are balanced. That is who you are."
Kieran sat still, his breath shallow. To be told he was meant for something so vast… it felt like a weight and a gift all at once. His voice wavered. "So this was always going to happen?"
"Yes," God said. "On your eighteenth birthday, your wings would have unfurled, and you would have awakened as you were destined. But the world forced time forward. You have been pulled here early."
Something flickered in Kieran's eyes. "The fallen angel… he said the angels don't protect. That they'd never come for me. He wanted me to join them."
God's gaze grew steady, firm, yet still calm. "If you had fallen, Kieran, you would not be here. They sought to twist you, to claim you before you understood. They lied, as they always do."
The knot in Kieran's chest loosened. He hadn't realized how much those words had festered inside him until now. Hearing them unraveled so cleanly—it felt like breathing again.
He hesitated, then asked the question that burned deepest. "My parents. Who were they? Why did they leave me?"
For the first time, God's smile dimmed, though His warmth never faded. "That, I cannot answer. Their story is not mine to tell. But know this—they loved you very much."
Kieran's throat tightened. "Are they still alive?"
"Yes," God said softly. "And one day, you will know them. But not yet."
Silence stretched between them. Kieran's hands curled into fists, resting on the table. He felt both heavier and lighter at once. His questions weren't all answered—but somehow, that was enough. Because he knew, now, he wasn't abandoned. Not truly.
Finally, he lifted his head. "So what happens now?"
God's presence seemed to grow brighter, the light around them pulsing like a heartbeat. "Now you return."
"Return?" Kieran echoed.
"Yes," God said. "Your path is not finished. There is still much for you to do on Earth. I will not strip you of it, not when your time has only begun."
Kieran's chest ached at the thought of going back—to the broken city, to fire and blood. But he understood. He couldn't stay here, not yet.
"And when it's over?" he asked, his voice quiet. "When I've… finished?"
"Then," God said with a smile like the first sunrise, "one of My angels will receive you. They will bring you here to Me again. And then you will be home."
Something warm and fierce stirred in Kieran's heart. For the first time in his life, he believed in home.
God reached across the table, His hand resting lightly on Kieran's. The touch wasn't heavy, but it carried the weight of eternity. "Remember, my son. You are an angel of love and destruction. The world will tremble before one, but it will be saved by the other. Walk your path knowing you are never alone."
Light surged around them. The clouds glowed brighter. The sky seemed to sing.
"Now go, Kieran," God said softly. "Go, and rise."
——————-
The world snapped back.
Kieran gasped as his body convulsed on the ruined dormitory floor. Smoke stung his lungs. Blood clung to his skin. The firelight flickered, painting the broken walls red. But his eyes—his eyes burned with new life, glowing faintly like embers caught in the wind.
He pushed himself up to his knees, chest heaving. His hand found the cross at his neck, gripping it tight. The heartbeat inside him thundered, but this time it was steady, no longer foreign. It was his.
Through the shattered windows, the night still roared with monsters. The city still burned. But for the first time, Kieran felt no fear.
He rose to his feet, bruised and bloodied but unbroken. His gaze turned toward the horizon.
"This time…" he whispered, his voice low, steady, unshakable. "This time, I'll be ready."