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A cool, jagged surface worried against my fingertips. I glanced down, not even knowing when my necklace had made it into my palm.

Gaia curled her knuckles against her rounded hip. “Well, look who decided to show up.”

“Sorry, I—” the fourth figure began, her gossamer sleeves rippling as her hand, a honey beige all too similar to mine, parted the front of her robe.

“Was doing ungodly things with lover boy?” Fei crossed her arms. “We know.”

The woman in blue sighed loudly, ignoring the digs. “Akosua, you called this meeting. Why are we here, of all places?”

Akosua’s voice rang with conviction. “Because some of us need reminding.”

Tripping over my feet, I approached the conclave, my nerves, let alone the uneven rock, enough to mess with my equilibrium. The four of them kept talking, unmoved by my clumsiness. As I crept around the side, precariously close to the edge of the cliff, to try and get a better view of their faces, it started to sink in. They weren’t just unmoved—they were completely unaffected by my presence. Because this was a memory.

A storm encroaching upon the mesa captured their attention, their conversation curtailed by the thunderous wails of its swift, dense clouds.

“Look at them.” Akosua tsked and peered beyond the ledge. The fierce wind flapped long twists of her hair, a rich oak brown a shade darker than her skin, out from the hood of her cloak. “Their bodies have landed but their souls will always fall. You go mixing with mortals and you drop alongside them.”

Them? I shuddered in sync with Fei’s wings. “A testament of fate you—we—could also succumb to.”

Akosua’s voice was a whisper over the pitch of the screaming storm. “Which is why you cannot interfere the way you intend to, Mira.”

I’d been waiting for someone to unmask the person behind the blue. But even if my gut had already told me it was her, I hadn’t been expecting to hear my mom’s name pierced by the same icy resentment Akosua usually reserved for me.

Fei clasped a gloved hand on Mira’s shoulder. “How is an eternity of suffering worth a fleeting moment?”

My mom twisted to the woman in yellow. “It isn’t fleeting. I’m in love.”

The others groaned, shaking their heads.

“Love. Since when do the Watchers get to partake in such mortal pleasures?” Gaia’s last phrase struck me—she’d used it against me for enjoying far less important things.

Unease bounced around my insides like a pinball.

“What about the souls you’ve sworn to protect?” Fei took my mom’s hands. “What about your sisters; don’t you love us?”

“Of course, I do.” The others didn’t seem super convinced. To be honest, neither did I, no matter how sincere she tried to sound. Not that I didn’t think my mom cared but…I gulped, acid stinging my throat. I knew how this story ended.

“This temptation was written in Apocrypha. We knew it would come, yet you still give in to its lure.” There was no denying the frustration in Akosua’s words—it was her tone that gripped my chest, an aching, cauterizing sadness that no level of candor could conceal. “If you decide to pursue this, you will lose your place not just among the Watchers, but in Empyrea. It is Law, Mira. The greatest love won’t change that. Three upsets the balance, and when you take away water, the elements, life…they simply cannot thrive. Neither can our Source or protection over the People of Earth, and that gives Chthonia the advantage.”

A deep-rooted fear pooled in my gut like an iron shackle chaining me to the bottom of the sea. The gravity of this information swirled around me. I knew certain types of relationships were forbidden between angels and humans—and if they crossed that line, it was goodbye magic and immortality—but Akosua made it sound like there was something else to it…I eased closer to the ledge, my footfalls not disturbing the gravel or the ears of those gathered on the path.

“The world won’t unravel because of this.” My mom’s laugh was like a playful splash of water that no one else engaged in. “We’re not star-crossed lovers. We won’t end up like them.” It sounded a lot like denial. It surprised me to hear it.

Judging by Gaia’s, Fei’s, and Akosua’s bowed heads and slackened shoulders, it killed them to hear it, too.

“We can only hope you’re right.” The Angel of Air released her grip, but the steel in her voice didn’t soften.

“She’s right. The world won’t unravel.” Gaia’s voice was stale, no trace of the earlier snark. “It’ll end up so much worse.”

Akosua’s gaze didn’t waver from the inbound storm. “Chthonia will strike. Hell will truly be unleashed. And we’ll be archangels without powers or purpose.”

As I reached the mesa’s rim, shadows intertwined with the sheets of hail and hurricane-force winds—the forms within the rain flailing, bending at awkward angles, shooting downward like stars.

The tempest swarmed the cliffside, its unruly gusts kicking up dirt and whipping my hair in my face, the frigid cold stinging my eyes. Erratic wails barreled into my ears, so unnaturally loud and thrashy, igniting every inch of my body in shivers. I tucked the sides of my head between my elbows as the shadows grew sharper, and it became clear these were far more sinister than ice pellets. They were people, angels, and the sound wasn’t the wind echoing off the ravine: it was screams from them, endlessly falling.

Sentenced to a punishment worse than death, stuck in a vortex with no end or beginning, their broken wings and writhing bodies sent shudders up my spine. It was no wonder this mesa was so dead and gray. Their sorrow blanched the realm of all hope, drained the color from my face. Some angels fought against this unholy force, but it proved resistant to every punch, plea, and prayer. Others wept. A lot of them fell in a horrified stupor, limbs limp, skin raw and ruddy, as if they’d been plummeting for centuries.

I almost collapsed, my legs were shaking so badly.