Destiny often knocks quietly. In the stillness of the night, when the world is silent, it whispers to the chosen, waiting to be noticed.
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Zia gently closed the book, its worn, aged leather feeling heavy and ancient in her hands. She placed it back into the hidden compartment behind her cupboard, the simple motion feeling like she was tucking away a dangerous secret. Her fingers lingered for a moment on the smooth, intricately carved wooden wing before she locked the tiny drawer with a soft click. As she shut the cupboard doors, the soft sound felt final, almost ominous.
She sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress sighing beneath her weight. The words she had just read, burned into her mind in glowing script, felt less like a prophecy and more like a foreboding weight on her chest:
"The begining of tales to her destiny"
Something about tonight felt profoundly different. The world hadn't changed, but it had subtly shifted on its axis, and she was the only one who seemed to have noticed the tremor. Her mind swirled with questions she couldn't dare to voice, a sudden, inexplicable sense of uneasiness tightening its grip.
Just then, the balcony door closed with a soft thud, and the spell was broken.
"You look too lost in thought," Irene said, grinning as she stepped inside, rubbing her arms. "Thinking about your future husband? Huh?"
Zia blinked, startled by the sudden voice. A playful glare was her immediate response. "Oh, shut up," she muttered, grabbing a cushion from the bed and tossing it in Irene's direction.
Laughing, Irene dodged the cushion with practiced ease before flopping onto the bed. "I'm sleeping here tonight," she announced, burrowing under the blanket. "Too lazy to walk to the other room, and your AC is a blessing from the heavens."
Zia rolled her eyes, a genuine smile tugging at her lips. The lighthearted banter was a welcome relief from the heavy silence of her thoughts. "As if I had a choice," she retorted, reaching for the light switch.
She turned off the main light, and the room was immediately filled with the soft, golden glow of the night lamp. The shadows in the corners deepened, chasing away the light. The wind from the open window rustled the curtains, causing them to billow like silent white flags. Outside, the moon hung in the sky like a watchful guardian, spilling its cool light across the silent rooftops and treetops.
They lay side by side under the same blanket, their breathing slowing as the familiar comfort of routine and friendship settled in. The steady hum of the night, and the presence of her best friend, made everything feel safe again. For now.
Sometime deep into the night, the peaceful quiet was disturbed by a soft groan.
Irene stirred. Her throat felt dry, parched as if she'd been walking through a desert. She groaned softly, rubbing her eyes as she slowly sat up. Next to her, Zia was still asleep, unmoving, the blanket pulled up to her shoulders in a perfect cocoon of slumber.
Irene glanced at the nightstand. Her water bottle was empty.
A quiet sigh of resignation escaped her lips. She grabbed the bottle and stood up, her feet bare and silent against the cool wooden floor as she shuffled quietly out of the room. The hallway was calm and silent, with the moonlight pouring in from a window, creating long, soft shadows that stretched across the floor.
In the kitchen, she turned on the stovetop light, which bathed the room in a low, warm glow. She unscrewed the cap of her bottle, placed it under the faucet, and turned the tap. Cold water rushed into the plastic, the only sound in the entire house.
As she leaned forward, her thoughts half-asleep and drifting aimlessly, something behind her shifted. A flicker of awareness, a cold breeze that wasn't there a moment before, brushed her like wind through tall grass. Her body tensed, the exhaustion and sleepiness instantly evaporating.
A presence. Close. Gentle, but distinct. She felt a shiver, not of cold, but of pure, instinctual awareness.
She froze for a moment, listening, breathing in the sudden stillness of the air. Then, slowly, cautiously, she turned her head.
No one.
The kitchen was empty. The open window swayed slightly in the breeze, the curtains billowing softly, creating the very illusion she had just felt. She let out a small, relieved exhale, and shook her head.
"Great," she murmured to herself. "Midnight illusions. Totally normal when you're standing alone in a dark kitchen."
She capped the bottle and walked back toward the hallway, her bare feet brushing softly against the cool tile, blissfully unaware of the eyes that had been watching her.
The moment she was gone, the air shimmered faintly, like heat rising off hot asphalt.
From the shadows beside the kitchen door, a tall figure emerged, his steps so silent they made no sound at all. His presence was like moonlight, unseen until noticed. His hair was tousled by the breeze coming from the open window, and his dark coat shifted as he moved, the folds of it trailing like whispers of night.
His ash-grey eyes reflected curiosity, not menace. He tilted his head as he looked in the direction Irene had gone, his lips curving slightly in a thoughtful smile. He took another step, a posture relaxed but alert like a watcher, not a hunter.
Then, as if sensing something, his gaze shifted to the left, and his smile vanished.
Another presence.
Michael, The first person smiled. "I know you'd come, Asael," Michael said, his voice quiet, but laced with amusement that seemed to echo in the silent kitchen. His ash-grey eyes met the intense violet ones of the other man who stepped out of the darker corner.
It was none other than Asael, the most powerful angel of the God of Death.
Asael took a step forward, the light breeze stirring his hair, sending stray strands dancing around his sharply defined face. His tall, well-built figure radiated an unshakable aura, as though the room itself bowed to his presence. A purple colored light flickered in the ring on his finger, a brand of otherworldly authority.
"Stop using your power for stupidity, Michael," Asael's voice was firm, not cold or cruel, just steady, as if he were laying down a law older than time itself.
Michael's lips twitched into a playful smile. "What? You don't like me coming around her?" he teased, arching an eyebrow theatrically.
"Michael...!" Asael's tone held a low warning, a rumbling thunder just beneath the surface, but Michael only laughed in return, his eyes glinting with mischief.
"Cool, bro. I kept her safe all this time. I saw her before you, remember?" Michael added, puffing up slightly with mock pride, ending the boast with his signature eyebrow wiggle.
Asael's brow lifted, completely unimpressed. He crossed his arms over his chest, his silent stare enough to make Michael's grin falter.
Michael held up his hands in an exaggerated surrender. "Okay, fine. Got it. I'm leaving." He dipped his head in a dramatic, mocking bow, then seemed to dissolve into the shadows themselves gone in an instant, like smoke on the wind.
Asael watched the space where Michael had been, exhaling slowly, his fingers uncurling as tension left them. He shook his head, muttering under his breath in frustration at his old friend's antics.
He turned his head, purple eyes narrowing toward the hallway that led to Zia's room, a simple curiosity leading his gaze.
But he froze.
He wasn't expecting this. Not now, not here.
His purple eyes locked on her. Irene stood at the end of the hallway, a look of stunned disbelief on her face. Her hand was halfway to her mouth, her eyes wide as she stared at the figure who had just melted into the shadows. She had seen him.
Without wasting a second, Asael slightly twisted his two fingers. A familiar purple light flared in his hand, and Irene's eyes went hazy, then closed. Before she could fall, he appeared in front of her, the air shivering around him as he moved. He carried her in his arms, her body warm and limp against his.
He walked to her room and gently placed her back on the bed beside Zia, who was still deep in sleep. For a long moment, he simply stared at her face... the same face. Nothing had changed. Not after 2,000 years. His mind flashed with memories.. memories that were both a beautiful dream and a painful curse. He saw her face laughing and running, her wild hair flying in the wind. He remembered peeking at her from a distance, watching her secretly. He saw her small hands, stained with earth, making bouquets with wild flowers and leaving them on the mountain where he used to sit. And he saw those same eyes, the eyes that had welled up with tears for him. All the memories he had before his punishment came flooding back, a torrent of emotion he had buried for millennia.
"You took so long…" he murmured, his voice a low, heartbroken whisper, as he gently fixed a strand of her hair behind her ear.
But as his fingers brushed her skin, she frowned in her sleep and her eyes snapped open. They were unfocused for a second, then widened as she saw him hovering over her.
He was caught completely off guard. He tried to use his power again, twisting his fingers in a familiar motion, but his magic didn't work..!
His hand, which was so close to her face just a moment ago, was now stiff with confusion and something he hadn't felt in a very long time: fear.
{to be continued}