Enza stood in her dimly lit restaurant, the flicker of the television casting shadows across the room. On the screen, the final battle raged—Armageddon, the great clash between good and evil as foretold in Revelation. Nicolae Carpathia, the Antichrist, had amassed his forces in a last-ditch attempt to face the divine army led by Jesus Christ Himself. The battle was swift, brutal, and, to Enza's discerning eye, disappointingly one-sided.
Carpathia's forces crumbled almost immediately, their bodies falling to the ground as if crushed by the very air around them. The soldiers of the Global Community, the vast army assembled from across the world, were swept aside like leaves before a storm, their power meaningless in the face of the divine. Jesus, in all His glory, descended from the heavens, His robe drenched in blood, a sword of light flashing in His hand. There was no hesitation, no mercy. The slaughter was absolute.
Enza watched with a mixture of awe and disappointment. She took a sip of her now lukewarm coffee, leaning against the counter. "Bluster and no brains," she muttered to herself. "Just like Mussolini. All show, no plan. Didn't even think about long-term strategy."
She shook her head, thinking about how easily Carpatescu had fallen. For all his power, all his rhetoric, he had been nothing more than a fool in the end—just another petty tyrant who had believed too much in his own invincibility.
On the screen, Jesus continued His fangorious slaughter, effortlessly cutting down any who dared stand in His way. But the most chilling part was yet to come. After the battle, the surrendered were gathered—those who had laid down their arms, hoping for mercy. Enza's heart tightened as she watched Jesus, with no emotion, raise His hand and slaughter them just the same, their lives snuffed out in an instant. There were no pleas, no second chances. This was His will, and it was final.
She turned off the TV, unable to watch anymore. "What a waste," she whispered.
The hours that followed passed in a strange, dreamlike haze. Enza spent that final day in her small apartment above the restaurant, organizing the last of her Hug Ledger. She meticulously entered the names and numbers of everyone she'd promised a hug into her phone, setting up a mass text. It was something she'd been putting off for a while, but with the end of everything approaching, it seemed as good a time as any to finish.
Her hands trembled slightly as she typed out the message, though not from fear. Enza wasn't afraid of the end—she had lived through enough horrors in her lifetime to be at peace with whatever came next. But something about this final reckoning left her unsettled, like a quiet storm building on the horizon.
The next day, something impossible happened.
Enza blinked, confused by the sudden shift in her surroundings. One moment, she had been standing in her kitchen, cleaning up the last of the breakfast dishes, and the next… she was here, standing in the Valley of Jehoshaphat, a massive crowd pressing around her. She didn't know how she had been brought here, nor did she fully understand what was happening. But it didn't take long for realization to settle in.
This was it. The Sheep and Goats Judgement.
All around her, the world's remaining population was being sorted, like cattle before slaughter. The Christians—those who had been marked as the chosen ones—were shuffled to the right, their faces filled with relief and anticipation. They looked upon Jesus with awe and adoration, their belief justified, their faith rewarded.
Enza, along with everyone else not deemed worthy, found herself being pushed to the left. She could feel the weight of judgment in the air, heavy and suffocating. The Christians watched them, some with pity, others with resignation. They knew what was coming. They had known all along.
As she was shuffled along, Enza caught sight of familiar faces—people from the Tribulation Force, Christians she had helped along the way. Some of them recognized her, their eyes filled with regret as they realized where she had been placed.
"I'm sorry, Nonna Enza," one of them whispered, her voice thick with sorrow. "I really am."
Enza smiled softly, her eyes filled with understanding. "It's alright, figlia mia. We both did what we figured was right."
But their apologies meant little now. This was the final judgment, the moment when Jesus would separate the worthy from the unworthy, the righteous from the damned. And there was no mercy to be found for those who stood on the left.
The scene was surreal, like something from a grand, terrible opera. Jesus stood tall, radiant and fearsome, His presence towering over the valley. His voice boomed with authority, every word a hammer blow of divine justice. Those on His right were praised, their faith and obedience rewarded with eternal life. They wept with joy, embracing one another as they prepared to enter the kingdom promised to them.
But for those on His left—for Enza and countless others—there was only cold, divine condemnation.
"Depart from me," Jesus said, His voice echoing through the valley, "you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels."
The words cut through the crowd like a blade, their finality unmistakable. There would be no forgiveness, no redemption for those who stood on the left. History would paint this as a moment of glorious triumph for the righteous, a time when the wicked were finally cast down. But for those who stood on the wrong side of that line, it was nothing short of an atrocity.
The Christians to the right looked on, some with sorrow, others with grim acceptance. They had been promised this victory, after all. They had known this day would come. And now that it was here, they watched as their friends, their neighbors, people like Enza, were swept away like dust before the wind.
The Valley of Jehoshaphat roared with the weight of divine judgment. Jesus stood tall and resplendent, His face a mask of sadness, yet resolute in His power. The chasm in the earth, dark and gaping, stretched wide, a terrifying symbol of the eternal punishment awaiting those on His left.
Enza stood among the "goats," her breath slow and steady despite the horror that gripped the crowd around her. People were wailing, pleading, shouting for mercy as the yawning chasm crept closer to them, ready to swallow them whole. But Enza wasn't about to beg. Not this time.
Jesus, His face still glowing with divine light, addressed the millions on His left with calm authority. His voice boomed across the valley, each word heavy with finality. "Depart from Me, you cursed, into the everlasting fire prepared for the devil and his angels: for I was hungry and you gave Me no food; I was thirsty and you gave Me no drink; I was a stranger and you did not take Me in, naked and you did not clothe Me, sick and in prison and you did not visit Me."
The crowd erupted in confusion, in disbelief. "Lord, when did we see You hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not minister to You?" came the cries from every corner.
But Enza—she had heard enough.
She stood up straight, the tired bones in her body suddenly firm, and shouted above the cacophony, her voice ringing clear. "Hold up! I've done all these things. So have many others. You know that!"
Her words cut through the noise like a knife, and for a moment, the crowd stilled. All eyes turned to her, and even Jesus seemed to hesitate. His face, still full of sorrow, was set in the unyielding expression of prophecy. He pretended not to hear, as if her words didn't matter, and continued His relentless judgment. "Assuredly, I say to you, inasmuch as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to Me. You will go away into everlasting punishment, but the righteous into eternal life."
Enza's heart pounded in her chest, her face flushed with the first real anger she had felt in years. She had spent her life helping people, giving what she could to those in need, and now, here she was, being condemned for it. No—this was one time she wasn't going to let a man, even a god, talk over her.
The chasm in the earth crept closer, its edges crumbling and shifting. An angel stepped forward to move Enza back into the crowd of the condemned, but before the angel could even raise its hand, Enza slapped its sword arm aside. "Listen here, young man—" she began, her voice sharp with defiance.
Jesus looked at her, infinite sadness etched across His face, but His words were immovable, dictated by the fixity of prophecy. "Depart from me, Brigitte. I never knew you."
As Jesus turned His face away, Gabriel stepped forward, his eyes burning with righteous fire, his wings outstretched as if to block out the very sun. "Silence!" Gabriel commanded, his voice booming like thunder. "Your time has come!"
Rayford Steele stood off to the side, watching in horror, even though he had known this was coming. The Christians at Jesus' right were frozen, many of them unable to meet the eyes of those on the left, their former friends, neighbors, and loved ones. They could do nothing as the goats beat their breasts and fell wailing to the desert floor, gnashing their teeth and pulling their hair in despair.
Jesus raised His hand, barely a few inches, and the chasm opened wider, yawning, eager to swallow those on the left. The ground beneath Enza's feet cracked, and people around her began tumbling into the abyss, their screams filling the air.
But Enza didn't move. Instead, she calmly reached for her phone.
With the chasm gaping at her heels, she opened her Hug Ledger and sent out the text she had promised so long ago. A simple message. "Now's the time. Come give me that second hug."
As the ground quaked beneath her, Enza stood still, defiant, waiting. The chasm crept closer and closer, but then something incredible happened. Her phone buzzed once, twice, then a dozen times. Naomi was the first to step forward, her face streaked with tears, but her body moved with purpose. She crossed the divine line separating the saved from the condemned and wrapped her arms around Enza, holding her tightly.
Others followed, a wave of Christians stepping forward from Jesus' right side, each one drawn by the simple power of a promise kept. Men, women, old friends, and strangers alike, they all remembered the hugs Enza had asked for—the ones she had promised to send for, even at the end.
The chasm in the earth lurched to a halt, unable to push forward as a barrier of bodies formed around Enza. Christians who had once feared for their own souls now stood in defiance, their arms linked in solidarity, preventing the angels from taking her. Dozens, then hundreds of believers joined in, surrounding her with a wall of warmth and love.
Enza's face softened, and she smiled gently, feeling Naomi's arms still tight around her. She looked up, knowing that Jesus could hear her. "You understand the power of a promise kept, don't you?"
There was a long, tense silence. The angels hesitated, their swords held at the ready but unmoving. The chasm remained, hungry but still.
Jesus, who had returned to His throne, looked out over the crowd with deep, sorrowful eyes. He said nothing, but His sadness seemed to deepen as He watched the scene before Him. The fixed prophecy of Revelation loomed like a shadow over the valley, but the power of that one simple human gesture—keeping a promise—seemed to defy even the most divine of decrees.
Gabriel, stunned by the defiance, raised his voice once more. "This is her judgment! You cannot interfere with divine will!"
But the Christians standing with Enza didn't budge. Naomi held Enza tighter, her voice shaking but resolute. "She kept her promise. So will we."
For the first time since this nightmare began, the world stood still. Even the angels seemed unsure, their swords lowered slightly as if waiting for a new command.
Enza, still standing in the center of the crowd, felt a strange, quiet peace. She had lived her life on her own terms, helping those who needed her, giving food to the hungry, water to the thirsty, a place to rest for the weary. She had kept her promises. And now, as the earth stood on the edge of oblivion, those she had helped were keeping theirs.