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I glanced at Cassiel, who was watching our discussion with that unnervingly unblinking stare. “So who do you serve, then? If not... y'know.” I gestured vaguely upward.

“God?” Cassiel supplied, his head tilting slightly. “That name is... imprecise. A human construct to help comprehend something beyond comprehension.”

“Well, excuse us for trying to simplify the cosmic order,” I muttered.

Cassiel didn't seem to register the sarcasm. “You are excused. Your finite minds require such simplifications.”

Sterling snorted, though whether at me or Cassiel was unclear. He turned another page in the book, revealing more text in a language I didn't recognize. “According to this, angels are more like... cosmic antibodies. When something threatens the natural order, they appear to restore balance.”

“And what's threatening the natural order now?” Cade asked, voicing the question we were all thinking.

“That,” Sterling replied grimly, “is what we need to find out.”

Cassiel straightened, his usual neutrality hardening into something more distant, more alien. For a moment, I caught another glimpse of what lurked beneath the human facade—something vast and ancient and utterly inhuman.

“We serve the First Light. The Concept. That which was before names were given,” he said, his voice taking on a resonant quality that seemed to vibrate in my chest.

I narrowed my eyes, skepticism rising. “And that means what, exactly?”

Cassiel exhaled, a strangely human gesture from something so clearly not. “The First Light was not a being. It was the first flicker of order in chaos, the moment the void broke apart. It was not benevolent, nor was it cruel. It simply... was. And from it, we came.”

The explanation hung in the air, both profound and utterly useless in practical terms.

Cade glanced at me, eyebrows raised. “That sound vague as hell to you?”

“Absolutely,” I confirmed with a smirk. “Cosmic BS 101.”

“You cannot comprehend the true nature of creation,” Cassiel said, apparently unoffended by our skepticism. “Yourlanguages lack the necessary concepts. Even this vessel's brain lacks the capacity to process such knowledge fully.”

“Try us,” Sterling growled. “You might be surprised what we can wrap our heads around.”

Cassiel studied Sterling for a moment, then nodded slightly. “Imagine existence as an ocean. The First Light is not the water, nor the waves, nor anything within the ocean. It is the concept of wetness. Essential, fundamental, but impossible to separate from what it permeates.”

“Still vague,” I muttered.

“But less useless,” Sterling countered. “If I'm understanding correctly, you're saying you serve a fundamental concept rather than a conscious entity. Like a force of nature rather than a boss giving orders.”

“Yes,” Cassiel agreed, seeming pleased at Sterling's interpretation. “Though even that is an imperfect analogy.”

“So if you don't get direct orders,” Cade pressed, “how do you know what to do? What your purpose is?”

“I know,” Cassiel replied simply. “As you know to breathe without being told.”

I exchanged a glance with Cade, who looked as skeptical as I felt. An angel showing up out of nowhere, possessing someone, and claiming to want to help? It had all the hallmarks of a trap. “How do we know you're telling the truth?” Cade asked bluntly. “For all we know, you're working with this Asmodeus.”

“You don't,” Cassiel replied simply. “You will have to decide whether to trust me based on my actions, not my words.” Sterling grunted. “At least he's honest about it.”

Sterling leaned back in his chair, watching Cassiel with careful, assessing eyes. I recognized that look, he was weighing, judging, deciding how much to trust. Sterling hadn't survived decades of hunting by taking supernatural beings at their word.

“So if you weren't sent,” Sterling said slowly, “why are you here? What made you decide to get involved in our little corner of the world?”

Cassiel looked directly at me, those ancient eyes seeming to see past flesh and bone to something deeper. “Because like I said before, you are a Nephilim. And you must be guided.”

Before I could respond, Sterling straightened in his chair.

“Nephilim?” Sterling's voice was sharp with interest. “You're saying Sean is half-angel?”

“You can't seriously be entertaining this,” I snapped at Sterling.