Three times the sun shone bright upon the Realm of the Pure, and thrice it set. The skies painted in hues of gold and lavender, blessing every corner of the Promised Lands with its light before yielding to the calm embrace of a soothing twilight.

Three times the moons and stars illuminated the celestial expanse, casting their ethereal glow over gardens and rivers that shimmered with divine beauty. The silvered heavens, filled with the twinkling eyes of eternity, reigned over the Eternal Paradise. And thrice, they gave way to the glowing birth of dawn,

And for three days, the inhabitants of the Eternal Paradise danced and reveled like men and women possessed. Their laughter echoed across the perfect plains, resounding through the halls of white marble and across the crystal waters that reflected the joy on their faces.

Angelic choirs filled the air with melodies so pure that even the stars above seemed to sway to their tune. Each note was a celebration of life, of love, of eternity.

A celebration of comrades and friends returned.

A celebration of a singularity that proved the impossibel, finding light where no light should exist.

And a celebration for a Father returned

And in the midst of it all, the First Man stood, a pillar of joy and laughter among the heavenly throng. With his most precious companion and oldest friend, perched atop one broad shoulder, and a bicorn resting on the other braying happily, he was a sight both endearing and amusing.

Adam, the First, the Father of all, twirled clumsily, his booming laughter as vibrant as the music in the air. His feet stumbled without grace, his steps out of rhythm, and his voice—oh, his voice. It was as tone-deaf as ever, mismatched to the harmonies of the angelic choirs. Yet, none of it mattered. If anything, it made him all the more endearing to those around him.

His joy was as genuine as the golden glow that emanated from his very being, and in his foolery, he drew smiles from every soul around him. With sons and daughters born thousands of years after his time, cradled in his arms, Adam made a fool of himself. They giggled with delight, tugging at his arms and laughing at his awkward dancing. Adam didn't mind.

For the first time in an eternity, she saw him laugh a genuine laugh devoid of mockery or pride, and his joy felt so light it seemed to float.

Even in his joy, as he sang off-key and danced awkwardly, his eyes found hers and conveyed a silent reassurance. They seemed to say, Come down. Laugh with me. Rejoice. All will be well.

I am here!

"Well, he's certainly not lacking confidence," the High Seraphim heard her younger brother, Cassiel, say absentmindedly from her left. The Angel of North and Forbearance was perched at the edge of the building, his forearm resting on one knee while his other leg dangled loosely over the side. "If only he gave us a reason to feel the same confidence, right, sis?"

"Uriel and Haniel said it's fine, so it's fine," Jophiel chimed in from Sera's right. Her tone was light and easy as she let her arms hang over the edge of the building, her legs kicking back and forth. "There has to be a reason why they're not telling us."

"I am aware of that, but... aren't you just a bit curious?" Cassiel added, his tone taking on an almost whiny edge as he glanced at Jophiel.

"Absolutely not. Nothing good ever comes from knowing stuff like that, and I'm happy to be left in the dark if it saves me a headache." She raised her arms, settling her hands on her cheeks, fluttering her eyelashes dramatically at him. "My job is to stay in Heaven and be beautiful where people can see me."

Cassiel rolled his eyes, but before he could respond, the Angel of Love spoke up again. "Maybe us being in the dark is necessary. Isn't it for the better? Can you honestly say you wouldn't do something stupid if they told us everything?"

Cassiel looked at her with narrowed eyes, mulling it over for a moment. Finally, he sighed. "...I cannot."

"I accept your defeat," she teased, flashing him a playful grin.

"I admit it with grace," he replied, giving her a mock bow, his tone light but with a touch of sincerity.

Sera said nothing, her gaze fixed on the scene below. She was quiet, seeing but not truly observing, hearing but not listening. Her thoughts were distant, drifting far from the playful banter of her siblings.

"Hmm, what do you think, Azrael?" Cassiel turned to the other side, addressing the recently unemployed Angel of Death. For the first time since the unleashing of Sin, Azrael was dressed in something other than her usual dark attire. Instead, she wore a soft pastel blue dress adorned with delicate, shimmering stars and moons, along with a sun hat that was far too large. Her eyes were hidden behind sunglasses, on top of a dark blindfold, replacing the usual veil.

Azrael's response was soft, her voice carrying a slight stutter that revealed her uncertainty. "Well, I... I'm not entirely sure. I left before you all spoke with the First Man, s-so I'm missing some context." She hesitated. She took a deep breath, then added with a wistful smile, "T-To know is to know that you know nothing."

Cassiel tilted his head slightly, a curious eyebrow raised. "I don't think that's quite what the saying means in this case."

"O-Oh, I see." Azrael blushed, pulling out a pen and a small booklet. She wrote in it, glancing up at the raised eyebrows she received. Slowly, she held up the booklet, revealing the title: Proverbs and Quotes to Impress Others in Conversations. "I..I'm just working on my social skills during my free time," she explained with a shy smile."A lot of..people talk to me."

Cassiel blinked at Azrael's explanation, a playful grin creeping onto his face while ruffling the huge sun hat "Well, that's... ambitious of you, Azrael. You're gonna be quoting philosophers at the next angelic banquet, huh?"

Jophiel giggled, her voice light. "I think it's adorable! Who knew the Angel of Death was trying to be the life of the party?"

. "I-It's nothing like that. I just... want to sound more—" Azrael flushed even more, tucking the booklet away quickly

"A bit of mystery is nice," Cassiel teased, cutting her off with a smirk. "No need to impress us, we already think you're—"

Suddenly, Sera stiffened beside them, her head snapping upward. A ripple of cold silence passed over her, extending to the others in an instant. All four seraphim felt it—an unmistakable weight, as if the very air had thickened around them.

The weight of Raguel's hammer.

Judgment had been passed.

The echo of its descent reverberated through their very souls, a force shaking them to their core. It traveled like a shockwave from the Sixth Heaven, Raguel's domain in Zebul, down through the firmaments, crashing into the First Heaven like a distant clap of thunder.

Cassiel's playful smile vanished, replaced by a calm, focused expression. Azrael's neutral demeanor grew even more unreadable, while Jophiel, usually so jovial, grew solemn. They were all serious now, not anxious or nervous, but with the respect and gravity the moment demanded.

Below them, the laughter and music from the First Man's descendants continued to fill the air, but Adam's own laughter, though still present, grew quieter, more subdued.

Sera closed her eyes, doing her best to keep her features steady. "It's done," she muttered, almost to herself. "The decision has been made."

The sound of a pin dropping could be heard as the four Seraphim stood in solemn silence. The Angel of Forbearance raised two fingers, and a veil materialized, lifting them from the rest of Heaven just as a teleportation and cleansing circle appeared in the air. They waited with a sense of anticipation, not just for the trial's outcome but for Seraphiel's reaction to it.

Shamefully, even Sera wasn't sure how she would react.

Sera didn't turn around when she felt the presence of her sole older brother, Uriel, the Angel of Wisdom, appear behind her. She remained focused on simply trying to keep her emotions in check.

But when the second presence arrived, she nearly lost her composure. A pair of slender arms wrapped around her from behind.

"Sera!" Emily's cheerful voice called out as she hugged her tightly.

"Emily," she murmured, her voice filled with relief. She managed a gentle smile, her earlier worry replaced by a profound sense of gratitude for The Lord who answered her prayers. "You're here...

"Well, why wouldn't I be, silly?" Emily said, turning Sera around to face her with a wide smile. "We promised to have a tea party together, remember?"

"We have, haven't we?" Sera's lips quivered, and her eyes grew misty.

Emily rubbed the back of her neck apologetically. "Sorry, I kinda kept you waiting. I was helping Haniel with a project—it was decorating the new sky-gardens, and setting up new constellations. It took longer than I thought—so many stars to arrange! It was fun, too! But I..uh... kinda lost track of time, hehe"

As Emily chatted, engrossed in her story, she missed the knowing glances exchanged by the other Seraphim, who looked to Uriel with expressions ranging from thankfulness to worry to questioning. Uriel, uncharacteristically subdued, simply shook his head.

"Ahem!" Cassiel cleared his throat.

Sera smiled as Emily's eyes widened with the sudden realization that they weren't alone. Turning to the others, her excitement bubbled over. "Oh! Hi, everyone!" she exclaimed, waving enthusiastically. "Sorry for not seeing you sooner!"

"Well, look who finally decided to grace us with her presence!" Jophiel, ever affectionate, cooed softly as she gently squeezed Emily's cheek. "We were beginning to think you'd never show up, sweetheart."

"Ignoring your big brother, are you? Prepare for a thousand noogies!" Cassiel teased with a playful grin, ruffling Emily's hair relentlessly. Emily's laughter rang out as she squirmed in his arms.

Azrael offered a warm smile in greeting.

"I'd never ignore you guys!" Emily giggled, swatting at Cassiel's hand once he finally let go. Her ears perked up at the sound of music, and before anyone could say anything, she leaned over the edge with wide eyes. "Oh my gosh, look! A party! There's music—and dancing! Everyone's laughing! Wait, what's going on? Why's there a party? Did I miss something? I didn't even hear about this!"

Sera's smile softened, her earlier tension fading as the worst of her fears and worries disappeared. "We're celebrating the return of those who passed with Adam, and Ser Pentious—Or I believe he would prefer, Percival Addington's redemption."

Emily's eyes lit up. "That's amazing! Can we join them, please? We'll have our tea party later, I promise—please?" Her hands quickly found Sera's, her pleading expression impossible to resist.

"Of course we can." Sera chuckled, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "What kind of celebration would it be without Heaven's Joy-bringer?"

Without wasting another second, Emily tugged her eagerly towards the edge. "Come on, let's go! It's going to be so much fun!"

Sera cast a grateful glance back at her siblings before she let herself be pulled over the edge, following Emily's lead.

Their laughter mixed with the music of the celebration below as they descended, and Adam's booming voice called out to them with excitement. "About damn time!"

With Sera and Emily gone, the four remaining Seraphim stood together, watching from the roof as the pair joined the celebration below. Cassiel folded his arms with a contented sigh, his eyes softening as he looked on.

"Well, there she goes," Cassiel remarked, his usual playful tone now edged with a reflective calm. "Seems like everything's as it should be."

Jophiel leaned back, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Her eyes shifted to Uriel. "I guess in the end, we were right. There really wasn't anything to worry about."

Uriel, wearing a mask now devoid of the human features or distinct markings it usually bore—smooth, dark, and utterly featureless—sighed softly. His voice was heavy with fatigue. "Indeed. But letting doubt fester… or showing the same leniency we gave the Archtraitor by leaving him to his whims—that's something we could never risk again."

"Love has no place in duty." Jophiel glanced down at the celebration below, where Sera and Emily's laughter filled the air. It was that very same reason why the Three Archangels were not present during the trial, and why Uriel and Chamuel, who were most skeptical, had remained mere spectators, trusting Raguel's judgment.

They were all simply too biased.

"Emily doesn't remember anything," Cassiel stated with a raised brow, recalling how Emily had mistaken the trial for something else entirely.

"There was almost no chance that Raguel would banish her to begin with," the Angel of Knowledge and Wisdom explained. "So Haniel put her under a spell and removed her memories afterward. A small mercy, at the very least. If you wish to see the details, just visit Metatron." He added a second later, "She's a kind child, simply naive."

"And her education?" Jophiel asked. "The whole ordeal happened because she wasn't aware of the stakes."

"The seed was already planted," Uriel said with a shrug. "The Story of Creation will appear to her as dreams and visions, little by little. It should make it easier for her mind to grasp and process."

Jophiel's gaze lingered on the celebrations below, her expression thoughtful. "I suppose that's the best we can do under the circumstances. It's better than letting her wander about in ignorance and confusion. God willing, this will help her ascend."

Azrael nodded in agreement.

"God willing," Uriel, shifting his focus from the festival to his siblings, asked, "So, what were you up to while we were in there? Something productive, I hope?"

The sheepish glances and evasive responses from Cassiel and Jophiel did little to reassure Uriel. The awkward silence that followed spoke volumes, allowing Uriel to give them a look of disapproval without even needing to show his face.

"Michael's back, so I don't have to stay in Araboth, aside from that..." Cassiel finally cleared his throat, his tone casual but evasive. "Oh, you know, just the usual. Keeping an eye on... stuff. It's been a bit... chaotic."

Jophiel, with a faint blush, added, "And I might have gotten caught up in some celestial duties... which turned into an unexpected project. Nothing major."

Azrael, her gaze downcast, added quietly, "I'm unemployed."

Uriel let out a long, loud sigh and shook his head, touching his halo. "Tsk, tsk. You disappoint me. All of you need correction."

"Wait!" Cassiel said quickly, raising an eyebrow and warning, "Call Haniel, and I'm calling Michael to tell her you called her a mad dog." He grinned. "You thought I'd forgotten about that, huh?"

"Blackmailing and threatening your own older brother, Junior? How unseemly!" Uriel, scandalized, placed a hand on his chest. "I've taught you well. Very well, I'll turn a blind eye."

Before Uriel and Cassiel's usual quips could escalate, Jophiel seized on Azrael's comment. "Regarding what Azrael said," she began, gesturing to the neon blue bracelets on their wrists and the sight below of Adam twirling a flustered Sera and an ecstatic Emily, "What are we to make of all this?"

Uriel glanced down at the bracelet on his wrist which functioned in the same manner as the golden chains Adam showed them. "What's there to say? He seems to have a plan, and the Lord brought him back for a reason, with His Eyes, no less." He paused, his voice carrying the relief from better times. "The last time those Eyes were bestowed... was on Yeshua. His tipped the balance, allowing humanity a chance—one that had been beyond them before."

His siblings remained silent.

"From a mere hundredth before him to nearly half of humanity reaching Heaven after—Yeshua's sacrifice changed everything. Most of those celebrating below are here because of him." Uriel continued, speaking of what he considered to be an obvious thing. "The Eyes of the Lord could never be anything other than a good omen."

"Now Adam, wielding that same authority..." Cassiel said, looking down before exchanging a glance with Jophiel. "I'm not saying we should doubt him, but at least give a heads-up before tampering with my soul, I guess..."

"Then allow me to ask you this," Uriel's voice turned serious as he faced them, his mask darkening, swallowing the light itself. "Would you willingly die, knowing that your death might save the rest of Creation?"

"What a stupid question to ask an Archangel. Of course, I would!" Cassiel was the first to answer, a confident grin spreading across his face. "I'll have your ass singing praises and songs about me for the rest of eternity."

"Please, that's a given." Jophiel crossed her arms, a smug smirk playing on her lips. "Unlike some, I'd make it look effortlessly beautiful, too."

Azrael, quiet as ever, simply nodded.

"Then there you have it," Uriel said with a nod. "Whatever he's planning, we're ready for it. It's not like his gamble could mess up Creation any more than it already is."

Cassiel shrugged. "We're convinced."

"I was on board from the beginning," Jophiel added, nodding. "Should we?" she asked Cassiel, pointing her thumb towards the festival below.

"Really? That satisfied you, huh? I thought I might need to bullshit you some more." Uriel tilted his head, raising an eyebrow at how quickly they relented. "Are you sure?"

"Positive," Cassiel replied as they moved towards the edge. "We discussed it before you arrived and figured out it might be best if you didn't need to persuade us further. We realized something quite critical."

They gave him a thumbs-up, chuckling. "We're idiots," they admitted with grins.

Uriel paused, then sniffled theatrically and mimed wiping away a tear. "You truly have grown, my little pukes."

In response, Cassiel and Jophiel flipped him off with smirks before leaping off the edge. Jophiel's warning to Cassiel echoed back up, "Step on my foot, and I'll punch you."

With a snort, Uriel noted how Cassiel had not only kept his veil but reinforced it. 'Guess I'm becoming easy to read,' he mused as he dropped to the ground beside Azrael, who was sitting with her legs folded beneath her.

They sat in silence, letting the music and laughter from the celebration below fill the quiet between them. Gradually, Uriel's shoulders sagged and his posture grew more hunched.

Neither of them spoke for a time—Uriel lost in his own thoughts, Azrael waiting for him to voice them.

A soft clicking sound broke the silence as Uriel removed his mask, setting it gently on the ground beside him. In quiet response, Azrael reached up, removing the covering that shielded her empty eye sockets.

"Do you ever think back to how it all began? When it was just us—the Almighty, Haniel, you, me…" Uriel's voice grew quieter as he hesitated, as if the memory itself weighed on him. "…And of course, It. How simple things were back then."

His gaze, hazy and clouded, wandered to the horizon, searching for a glimpse of that distant past.

"Back then, there was no 'back then'—no time, no place, not anything. Just the Everything and the Nothing. We were the first echoes in the vast void, and all that existed was a raw, primal expanse. Pure, untouched. No form, no purpose. We drifted through the Nothing, creating, shaping what would eventually become the world we know today."

Azrael listened in silence, her attention on him but her mind elsewhere, wandering through the same ancient memories.

"We didn't worry about consequences or... complications. It was just us and an infinite possibility. Every moment felt like forever because it was forever. Every movement shaped something new, like adding color to a blank canvas." He let out a hollow laugh. "It was like the universe was just waiting for us to give it meaning."

Uriel's shoulders sagged further. "When Haniel, with the Lord's permission, created the Seen... and I etched the rules that governed the Unknown, and It."

He glanced at her, his voice flickering with something warmer. "You laughed back then—back when your title as the Angel of Death meant something else. Remember that?"

Azrael did. Back when death wasn't a punishment but a return, when her role was to send creations back to the abstract so they could be reworked, improved, and remodeled until the Almighty deemed them worthy of their place in His grand design. Back when nothing was ever truly lost.

Her lips twitched briefly, a faint smile flickering and vanishing just as quickly.

"And then the rest of the little shits followed," Uriel continued with a soft chuckle, though it was tinged with a hint of bitterness. "It was even greater still. They all added something, and I could only watch as something grand unveiled before my eyes. It was perfect, and I loved every second of it… even Samael."

His voice caught briefly on the name, but he quickly covered it with another laugh, though its lightness had faded.

"Even Samael," he repeated, the name carrying a vulnerability he hadn't intended to reveal. He quickly cleared his throat, as if dismissing the thought. "He had a role too. We all did."

Azrael remained silent. She knew what he was thinking, knew the pain that still lingered from that ancient betrayal. It was the same for all of them. Time hadn't lessened the sting, only dulled it, tucked it away beneath the surface.

For the two of them, the scars were literal as well as emotional. Uriel's body, shattered and torn beyond Raphael's healing, from the toll it had taken. His once-dark skin was now a patchwork of scars and cracks, as the very concepts and rules he had etched with his hand had turned against him. And Azrael, whose own eyes were burned and torn by her own hands from their sockets, was marked by the agony she endured when Death became something else—something cruel, something Evil, and something she couldn't escape.

"We were so full of purpose back then," Uriel continued, his voice softer now, reflective. "Everything made sense. There was no doubt, no second-guessing. The Almighty gave us tasks, and we followed them without question. And it all… it all just worked."

"But now..." Uriel exhaled sharply. "During the trial, I saw Emily and felt like I was looking at a ghost of what we used to be. It's maddening, like I don't even recognize myself from eons ago, hating how carefree he seemed." His voice faltered as he glared ahead of him. "Have things truly gotten so bad that showing a damn ounce of care turns me into a paranoid wreck? Have we screwed up so monumentally...?"

"It was necessary," Azrael said softly, reaffirming the truth they both knew.

"I know that!" Uriel snapped, shaking his head. Anger and frustration marked his voice. "I get it. I understand why we had to do what we did. But damn it, it burns to see how far we've fallen from what we once were."

His fingers dug into his knees as he took heavy breaths, and the silence between them deepened. The music from below had shifted from loud and raucous to a gentle, melancholic melody, the soft notes underscoring their quiet.

"Thing might seem bleak, Urile, but you have to remember..."

Uriel heard some shuffling from his sister, but he kept his eyes closed until she finally broke the silence with a gentle voice. "'The wound is the place where the Light enters you,'" she said softly, her gaze fixed on the distant celebration.

A moment of silence followed as Uriel absorbed the quote, his brow furrowing slightly.

"Azreal," Finally, he opened his eyes and turned to look at her. Too shocked to focus on his own self-disappointment."... I don't think that quote fits this context."
"Eh!?" she exclaimed, glancing down at the small booklet in her hands, clearly puzzled.

A small, involuntary twitch of his lips betrayed his amusement as he looked at her. "M-Maybe try... another one," he suggested, his voice softer but still tinged with a hint of humor.

Azrael shuffled quickly through her booklet, finally pulling out another quote. "'In the middle of difficulty lies opportunity,'" she read aloud, her cheeks turning a deeper shade of pink.

"That might be even less fitting," he said with a grin, watching her blush deepen.

Seeing her try to salvage it all, he couldn't hold back. And as he read the title of her booklet, his chuckle quickly grew into full-blown laughter as he watched Azrael's earnest attempts to find the right quote. Her cheeks were bright pink, and her determined look only made him laugh harder.

Azrael's face reddened even more as she watched him laugh, though she couldn't help but crack a small, sheepish smile herself.

As Uriel's laughter began to die down, he wiped a tear from his eye and looked at Azrael with a more relaxed expression. "Okay, okay," he said, still chuckling. "I appreciate the effort, really. But maybe sometimes, words just can't capture everything we're feeling."

Azrael, her cheeks still flushed, nodded in agreement. "I suppose so," she said, closing the booklet with a sigh. "Maybe I should just stick to listening."

"That's all I needed. Just someone to vent to. And maybe a bit of laughter to lighten the load." Uriel gave her a soft smile." Thanks, sister."

Azrael looked at him with a hopeful expression. "Sorry, I was hoping I might help you feel a bit better, or maybe find some insight."

"You've done more than enough," Uriel waved off her apology with a slight smile. "If the Angel of Wisdom and Knowledge couldn't find it in ten thousand years, then no one can. No offense," he added, his tone apologetic.

"Some taken," Azrael replied with a small, wry smile.

"Thanks for listening, Azrael. It helps more than you know." He admitted, idly playing with his mask between his fingers.

She gave him a gentle nod. "Anytime, Uriel."

They sat in companionable silence for a moment, the soft melody from below blending with their quiet conversation. Uriel finally took a deep breath, looking more at ease. "It will work out, Azrael. I'm betting my life on it."

Azrael followed his gaze down to where Adam was playfully stomping around with a scandalized and angry Sera on his back. She smiled. "Then, I will endeavor to bet my own as well on our esteemed self-proclaimed human."

"A human, huh?" Uriel snorted, shaking his head. It did make a strange sort of sense in a roundabout way, he conceided.

Adam was just a human.

In the same way, the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil was just a tree.

Considering both of their purpose was so closely tied to Roo, it made sense.

Indeed, Adam was just a Human.


On the seventh day of his ascension, the festival had reached its zenith. Reluctantly, the First Man decided it was time to address something he should have tackled long ago.

He stood some distance away from the settlement of Eirenia, where the first descendants of Adam lived. Eirenia was a unique place, a bit apart from the bustling population of the First Heaven. It was a haven for Seth's family and their direct descendants, a quiet and intimate community that had grown around the First Man's lineage.

The settlement was nestled in a lush, verdant valley surrounded by rolling hills and dense forests. The houses were crafted from natural materials, blending seamlessly with the landscape. Each home was adorned with intricate carvings, depicting the history and achievements of the First community—the very roots from which humanity had sprung after Adam's other sons and daughters were absorbed by his beloved, but sadly misguided and, frankly, crazy Eldritch-God wife, whom he would visit soon to have some words about her behavior.

Though Eirenia was somewhat isolated, it wasn't unwelcoming. The people there valued their privacy but were always open to visitors who came with genuine intentions. Despite their aura of exclusivity, they remained approachable and hospitable, maintaining their connections with the wider community.

Seth and his family understood that the winners of the modern age still wished to learn about the origins of their world, so they didn't mind the occasional visitor, within reason. After all, they had their own lives to live.

The First Man stood some distance from Eirenia, taking deep breaths to steady himself. Even though he didn't need to breathe, the act helped calm his nerves. Humans need to breathe, after all, and Adam was indeed human, no matter how many wings sprouted from his back.

Absently, he reached back to grasp one of the wings at its base, pulling gently. It offered little resistance and no pain. The wings, which looked more holographic and glassy than feathery, remained detached from his flesh. As he released his hold, the wings didn't fall or dissipate; instead, they moved back into place behind him with a graceful shift.

The wings no longer grew directly from his body; they materialized independently, hovering some inches from his back.

'It's learning...' He thought darkly.

Nevertheless, he would deal with that later. He turned to Lute, who, as always, stood behind him, offering silent support. He gave her a thumbs-up and a nod.

She returned the gesture with a salute.

He then made his way to the settlement

Adam walked with purpose, Lute closely following and never more than a step behind. As he made his way through the lush valley, he smiled, feeling the bushes rustling as the little ones hiding there scampered off to announce his arrival.

Before long, he reached the massive wall and gate of the settlement.

Atop the wall, dozens of his great-grandchildren and their great-grandchildren looked down at him, their smiles and grins mingled with tears of joy. Though they watched with anticipation, they remained silent, as if holding their breath in unison.

They were waiting.

Adam's feet stopped several meters from the open gate, where a lone figure stood blocking his path.

She was slightly shorter than Adam, standing confidently with her arms crossed. She wore the same old-fashioned attire he remembered, complete with sturdy boots and an apron splattered with blood. Her dark blonde hair was thickly braided and fell down her back. Her green eyes glared at him intensely, but he could see they were glistening with unshed tears.

His little firecracker, Azura.

Adam fought to keep his eyes dry as he took in the sight of her.

Neither said anything. He took a step forward, and she mirrored him, stepping in return.

They moved cautiously at first, each step deliberate. Adam took another step forward; she did the same. Neither spoke, emotions building with every stride. Soon, their pace quickened, the distance between them shrinking rapidly until they were practically running toward each other, tears catching in the wind.

She jumped toward him without warning, and Adam instinctively opened his arms, bracing for the embrace he knew was coming. There was a split second where he caught the familiar glint in her eye, and his arms stretched wide in expectancy, ready to catch her like he had so many times before.

Azura kicked him square in the face.

Adam landed on his ass, her boot firmly planted against his cheek as the cheers erupted from all around the wall.

He was finally home.