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I clenched my fists, frustration building. “What aren't you telling us? These seals—how are they broken? And why does Asmodeus want to release this First Nephilim anyway?”

“And why should we trust your information?” Cade added, his voice hardening. “For all we know, you could be working with Asmodeus.”

Cassiel's expression remained unchanged, but there was a new tension in his posture, like a predator scenting danger on the wind. “I am here because the balance is shifting. The First One's return would devastate this world and many others.”

“You didn't answer my question,” I pushed. “How are the seals broken?”

“Blood sacrifices,” Cassiel stated flatly. “Specific bloodlines, specific rituals, specific locations.”

“And the remaining two?” Sterling asked, his pen poised over his notebook.

“I do not know which ones Asmodeus will target next,” Cassiel admitted. “There are twelve possible seals, but only five need to be broken.”

Roxie, oblivious to the cosmic drama unfolding around her, jumped onto Cassiel's lap and settled in, purring contentedly. The angel looked down at her in surprise, then carefully, almost reverently, placed one hand on her back.

“These texts mention the First Nephilim's power,” Sterling said, tapping a passage in the book, “but they're vague on specifics.”

“They could reshape reality,” Cassiel said simply, stroking Roxie with mechanical precision. “Bend the laws of creation to their will. The first of them, the one born before the great flood, was the most powerful. When his abilities manifested, he nearly tore apart the veil between worlds.”

“And this is what Asmodeus is trying to release?” I asked, trying to keep the disbelief from my voice. “Why? What does he gain?”

“Chaos,” Cassiel replied. “Destruction. The end of the current order. Some beings find such prospects... appealing.”

“So we stop him,” I said firmly. “We find these seals, we protect them. Simple.”

Cassiel's gaze shifted to me, something almost like pity in his eyes. “It is far from simple. The twelve seals are scattered across the globe, hidden and protected by ancient magic. Finding them before Asmodeus does will be nearly impossible.”

“Jesus,” Cade muttered.

“He cannot help,” Cassiel said seriously. “This is beyond His domain.”

I couldn't help the laugh that burst from me, harsh and verging on hysterical. “So what you're saying is, we're screwed.”

“No,” Cassiel replied. “What I am saying is that you are our best hope of stopping what is to come.”

“Me?” I scoffed. “Because of this Nephilim nonsense?”

“Yes,” Cassiel said, utterly serious. “Your bloodline carries the power to counter the First Nephilim. To contain what should not be released.”

“Bullshit,” I snapped. “I'm just a hunter. Nothing special.”

“You are far more than that,” Cassiel insisted. “Whether you accept it or not does not change what you are. What you will become.”

“And what exactly is that?” Sterling asked, watching me with new intensity.

Cassiel's answer was simple and terrible: “Either our salvation... or our destruction. The choice will be his.”

The room fell silent again, everyone looking at me. Waiting for some response to this cosmic bombshell. But I had nothing. No clever comeback, no defiant rejection. Just a hollow feeling in my chest and the growing certainty that my life as I knew it was over.

Roxie chose that moment to stretch and dig her claws into Cassiel's leg. The angel looked down at her, then back up at us.

“Your feline assassin is formidable,” he said with complete seriousness. “She has penetrated my vessel's defenses.”

And just like that, the tension broke. Cade snorted, Sterling rolled his eyes, and I found myself laughing—a real laugh this time, born of the absurd juxtaposition of world-ending prophecies and cat antics.

Maybe we were doomed. Maybe the apocalypse was coming. Maybe I was some kind of half-angel abomination destined to save the world or destroy it.

But for now, we were still here. Still fighting. And as long as that was true, there was hope.