Thank you to the amazing JoVersify for helping me brainstorm and critique this chapter!
Rain hissed onto Issa's flaming wings as she held up her mother's necklace.
A single feather hung from the delicate golden choker.
It had been a gift from Michael to Eve. A sign that once upon a time, Heaven's King had granted Earth's Guardian safe passage to his kingdom. A sign that once, maybe, there had been affection between her parents.
Feather in hand, Issa summoned a portal to her broken butterflies—the ones she'd left in Hell. The ones holding the memories she didn't want to face.
Except, when she stepped through the portal, she wasn't in Hell but in the void.
As always, it was storming.
Issa walked past the broken glass panes of the cathedral. Walked past Yassper's fallen body and the mountain of corpses, bloody footprints following each step.
One of the broken butterflies was perched on a cracked spire.
Issa beckoned it.
Unsteadily, it landed on her knuckle and merged with her flesh.
The void's storm whispered at her back, but the butterfly's weight dragged her deeper—down and away…
꒰১ ໒꒱
…until the smell of blood turned to baked sugar.
It was Issa's sixteenth birthday.
Eden had baked her a cake, but Issa never got to enjoy it. Lucifer had made her train at the crack of dawn, grating on her nerves even more than usual. In retrospect, Issa realised her birthday made Lucifer nervous—made him wonder if she'd ever get her full glory back. Made him wonder if they would ever get his son back.
On her sixteenth birthday, he'd managed to piss her off so much she'd summoned enough glory to blow a hole in him. Then she stormed out of the Garden, swearing up and down that she'd never return.
It would've been one of her usual outbursts if she hadn't run into Eve.
The mother who'd abandoned her.
Issa had always believed her glory had been what drove her mother away.
It hurt to see her again.
Her mother circled her, eyes glowing with the green of Life, the living vines in her hair twisting around her face. Eve made no apologies, no mention of her birthday or of the years she'd vanished.
"Daughter." Her smile was unexpectedly warm. "Lucifer has prepared you well. You're ready to conquer Heaven."
Her mother's words were a slap.
Issa's glory had never been the problem. No, to Eve, she was no different from a blade of grass or a sand-tiger—ready to be used and discarded.
But she had a choice now.
She didn't have to stay on Earth and she didn't have to destroy her father. Not when Michael had given her another option. Issa drew herself up to her full height.
"I'm not staying on Earth," she said. "I'm going to be an angel."
Eve stiffened. Then she laughed suddenly, the sound humourless and mocking.
"An angel?" She stepped closer. "A wingless angel?"
The ever-curling vines around her hair grew thorny and sharp.
"Choose your next words wisely, daughter." Her eyes flashed with the might of Earth. "How sure are you that he will accept you? Enough to bargain your life? I will not shield you when Heaven casts you aside. Walk away from me, and you will have no place on my Earth."
Issa clenched her jaw. "Really, Mother?" she spat the title like a dirty word. "Right now, I'm not the one who needs you. You need me."
Eve's face smoothed into a cold mask.
"Is that what you believe?" she said. "I can make another child. One better than you."
Issa's eyes stung.
For a long moment, she couldn't even summon her glory. She just stood there, staring at the mother who'd thrown her away twice, her vision blurring as the tears threatened to spill over.
But she refused to let Eve see her break.
The ache sharpened into fire.
Without another word, her glory flared—bright, defiant—and she rose, flying higher and higher, Michael's stolen feather clutched in her hands.
Her chest ached, but she kept going.
Her father's last words rang in her ears the way they always did whenever she felt ready to give up: "Once you are ready, seek me out and I shall grant you a place in Heaven."
She didn't have wings but she had glory. She could fight. She could fly.
It had to be enough.
Her father had dragged the Heavens closer to the sun for her. He'd healed her. He'd kept her warm.
He would let her into Heaven.
He had to.
꒰১ ໒꒱
Mud and blood soaked Issa's dress. She was back in the void. The bitter memory had brought her to her knees. She glanced up and spotted the second butterfly.
It was perched on Yassper's disfigured face.
Issa paused, her chest twisting with a different pain. The void never forgot where it hurt the most.
Her fingers were a pulpy mess—just like they had been back then, when she'd cut them open trying to save him.
Despite everything, Issa lifted her hand, her heart surprisingly steady.
The second butterfly was more broken than the first. When it touched her skin, the memory swallowed her whole.
꒰১ ໒꒱
With Michael's feather, Issa slid through Heaven's gates as though they were made of shadow.
She didn't have time to look around. Didn't have time to speak.
The moment her feet touched sacred ground, she felt a pull. Something inside her ignited. Her heart pounded so hard it hurt. Power swelled, her glory rising higher and stronger than it ever had before.
Issa felt unleashed.
Something—someone—was calling her from deep within Heaven. The pull was so overwhelming that she forgot where she was. Forgot why she was here. Her body leaned towards it, ready to find the source—
The Seraphim descended like a storm.
Heaven's warriors surrounded her, their wings unfurled and flaming. The air thrummed with violence.
Before anyone could strike, power burst from Issa's being. The angels closest to her crumbled to dust. The rest recoiled, drawing back instinctively. The circle shattered.
They gave her space now. Watching her with their stony, inhuman eyes.
They knew this power.
They had bowed to it before.
Smite.
The same glory that crowned their king.
It rolled off her in waves, allowing no one to come close. Issa's hands shook. She clenched them into fists to hide her weakness. She felt no triumph—only terror. She'd never done this before. She didn't know if she could do it again.
Still, she'd fulfilled her father's first command: You must never bleed.
No one had come close enough to draw blood.
The Seraphim parted, clearing a path.
One that led to Heaven's throne.
Not trusting her wobbling legs, she chose to fly towards it, lifting off the ground and landing softly at the foot of the shining steps.
Her father looked even more imposing than she remembered. He sat atop the high throne, his armour and his sword pulsing with divine fire.
It felt taboo to meet the eyes of a being so mighty.
Issa forced herself to do it anyway.
Michael's gaze was cold as ice. "How did you get in?"
Issa's heart tightened. She steadied her shaking hands to show him the feather. His feather.
His expression darkened. Heaven seemed to hold its breath.
"I told you the conditions." His voice, soft at first, rolled through the throne room like distant thunder. Then he rose—towering, radiant, his stare making her feel five inches tall. Still, she took a step forward.
"I didn't bleed," she said earnestly. "I flew up here myself. I—"
"Silence!" Michael roared.
Issa's mouth snapped shut. Her chest rose and fell too fast.
Don't show fear. Stand your ground.
After all, she knew how much he hated weakness.
Her father descended the steps of his throne, circling her the same way Eve had. Around them, the Seraphim stood unmoving in the shadows. Silent. Watching.
"Where are your wings?"
The question landed like a blade. Issa faltered.
"I... I don't have them yet," she said. "But I couldn't wait. Mother said if I didn't take you down... she'd cast me out." She blinked back her tears. "Please, Father. I had no choice."
Her voice sounded so small and she hated herself for it.
Michael's steps stopped behind her.
"You disobeyed my wishes. You broke into Heaven with a stolen key," he said, his voice growing more thunderous with each word. "And now you dare threaten me?"
"I don't—"
"You, a tainted thing, dare to stand before me with demands?"
Issa's stomach lurched and she immediately dropped to her knees.
The air shifted, the tension suddenly gone. The Seraphim around them grew restless.
"I should end you," Michael said, his tone distasteful, but his terrifying rage seemed to have dimmed. "If it weren't such a waste."
The silence stretched.
Issa didn't dare to look up.
For a moment, she thought he might change his mind. That her capitulation was enough to appease him. That he would deem her glory and her wingless flight enough.
But the moment never came.
"When you have wings," Michael said, his tone cold and final, "you may return and claim your place. But until then, I will not allow Eve to poison your mind." On the snow-white ground, his shadow seemed to loom, growing larger with fury. "She's forcing my hand."
There was a blinding flash of light and the next thing Issa knew, they were standing before a large, asymmetrical pair of gates: one tall and golden, gleaming with Heaven's might; the other brimming with wild, uncontained Life.
A low voice drifted from beyond the gates, velvet and laced with mockery.
"Michael, Michael."
The inhuman voice made every hair on the back of Issa's neck stand.
A being older than time emerged before them. Shadow, mist and blood clouded and unclouded her features. Living blue flames that burned both hot and cold spilt down her shoulders the way hair would. When she smiled, two rows of sharp teeth gleamed beneath the eerie glow.
"You should know better than to make deals with the devil." Her monstrous mouth curved wider. "Hell will take you for offering your own blood."
Michael's expression didn't shift.
"I am not offering her." He lifted his chin. "I am offering you all the Nephilim on Earth. Cleanse them, and they're yours."
The creature's two eyelids blinked in slow, reptilian sequence—one from the side, one from above.
For a moment, the silence stretched. Then her lips curled, all sharpness and delight.
"I don't want all the Nephilim, Michael." She tilted her head, her voice dropping to a purr. "Give me one with enough angelblood to be mine."
The air between them pulsed, heavy with unspoken names.
Michael's answer came without hesitation.
"You will get one."
The ancient demon watched Michael with her deep, watery eyes, unblinking. "I want a blood oath," she said. A long claw traced the golden half of the gates. "Unlock this." She smirked, all venom and malice. "And I'll even help you prune the thorn you once called queen."
A heartbeat passed.
Michael shifted, his wings blocking Issa's view. Issa thought she saw a feather dripping with angelblood float through the mismatched gates. Before she could be sure, the cloud shifted and the blinding light returned.
They were back in Heaven.
Issa shivered, feeling as though she'd been touched by Death.
You should know better than to make deals with the devil.
The devil.
Goosebumps rose on Issa's skin.
She didn't dare to ask about the creature. Didn't dare to ask her father if the deal was real or if he'd made it. Around him, she hardly dared to breathe.
She simply followed him as he led her through an eerie, silent stretch of Heaven. The brightness here was so blinding, the vast spaces so empty that it made her feel dizzy.
The pull in her chest returned, more powerful than before.
A faint sheen of gold shone from her skin as her body grew uncomfortably hot. She fought not to fidget. Fought not to unleash the glory that threatened to incinerate everything within arm's reach.
Suddenly, Michael stopped, hands clasped behind his back. From the distance, a figure came into view.
Her lips parted in surprise.
The boy was clearly Nephilim, like her. But unlike her, he had wings.
Soft and grey and beautiful.
The sight lodged something sharp and bitter in her chest.
She hadn't known Nephilim could have wings. Until now, it had been a faraway hope. A pipe dream. And yet here he was.
He had everything she wanted.
Wings. A heavenly robe. A place in Heaven.
It wasn't fair.
Michael followed her gaze. "Those wings are wasted on him," he said contemptuously. "He hasn't shown a single spark of glory."
Issa barely heard him as the envy wormed deeper, an invasive, ugly thing.
Michael's voice cut through her thoughts.
"Give him to Lilith," he said. "And you may take his place."
꒰১ ໒꒱
The memory splintered, and Issa woke up in a pool of blood. This time, the void had conjured Edvardiel for her, his emaciated body curled up and unmoving. A fly landed on his corpse.
Issa turned away.
It wasn't real.
She would never allow it to be real.
Issa stared down at her hand, where the second butterfly's wing had broken off. It had only managed to merge with her halfway. Issa's glowed, her glory blazing like hellfire on her skin. As she slowly got to her feet, she realised that she was still shaking.
This time not with fear but with fury.
Issa burned.
Cracks began to form in the void. A shriek rose from the dark as it tried to fight back. The cathedral loomed. Rotting corpses came for her, clawing and biting.
All of it was no match for her ire.
The storm peeled back. The cathedral crumbled. In a mighty surge of smite, Issa incinerated Lilith's torture chamber. The illusion shattered, collapsing into ashes, screams sucked into silence.
The void folded in on itself and died.
Then—
Light.
Issa opened her eyes.
She was lying in a field of daisies, soft and impossibly real. The rain had stopped. Sunlight shone through the storm clouds, warm on her damp skin.
A broken butterfly wing glowed at her fingertips.
She exhaled.
A cold resolve hardened in her heart as she looked at the last wing.
Hell had tried to break them. But it was Heaven who had bound them.
No matter what it revealed, she already knew the truth. No matter what it cost her, she would break Michael's blood oath and save her angel.
Issa touched her abdomen, her anger fading as something softer and fiercer took its place.
No one after them was going to bleed in Heaven's name.
She grasped the last wing, and plunged in.
Hope you guys are doing well! Thank you for your sweet messages and reviews, I'm doing a lot better compared to last week :) I also have some time off starting next Monday and am really looking forward to unwinding. As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts on the chapter.