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“That they had the favor of certain angels—and not just any. Powerful ones,” Cassiel explained. “Your father and mother were trusted with something sacred, something the higher orders don't give lightly.”

He gestured toward my hip, where the Lash hung. “Seraph Steel. The only reason you have that whip is because someone up there decided they were worthy enough to wield a weapon infused with angelic fire. But the part they never spoke of—the part even you didn't know—is that it wasn't just given to them. It was meant to be kept secret.”

I exchanged a look with Sean. His eyes reflected my own confusion and wariness, but there was also a flicker of curiosity.

“Why?” Sean asked. “If the angels trusted them, why hide it?”

Cassiel's mouth quirked in what might have been the ghost of a smile. “Because Seraph Steel is rare. And because of what it can do.”

“What can it do exactly?” I asked, feeling the weight of the weapon more keenly now.

Cassiel's expression grew serious. “It can make an angel bleed,” he said simply. “Cut through celestial defenses as easily as mortal flesh.”

I thought about the way it had torn through Asmodeus with unnatural efficiency, how the demon had actually seemed surprised by the damage it inflicted. “That's... significant.”

“Exactly. A weapon like that—especially in human hands—is dangerous. It was meant to be safeguarded. Your parents never used it, never even spoke of it, because they understood the risk. But now it's yours.”

We'd reached the end of the alley, the entrance to Purgatory visible down the street. Even from here, I could see the chaos—people running, shadows moving unnaturally fast, flashes of what looked like black smoke. But Cassiel stopped, holding out his hand.

“Let me see it,” he said.

I hesitated, but then I unhooked the whip from my hip and passed it over. Cassiel took it carefully, fingers brushing against the hilt as if testing its weight.

He closed his eyes, and the air around us shifted, growing heavy with an electric charge that raised the hair on my arms. The Lash began to hum—an almost imperceptible vibration that I felt more than heard. A golden glow emanated from Cassiel's hands, spreading along the weapon like fire catching on a fuse.The whip itself began to glow, illuminating our faces in ethereal light.

I watched, transfixed. I'd only had the Lash for a short time, since Sterling had given it to me.

Sean, ever skeptical, moved closer. “What exactly are you doing?” he asked, voice tight with suspicion.

Cassiel didn't open his eyes. His voice was softer now, as if speaking from somewhere far away. “Restoring it.”

When he finally opened his eyes, the glow faded—leaving the whip looking unchanged, except for the faintest shimmer along its edges.

He handed it back to me. “You can command it now.”

I gripped the handle, feeling its familiar weight in my palm. “Command it?”

Cassiel nodded. “Try it. Will it to retract.”

Feeling somewhat foolish, I focused on the weapon, feeling its weight in my palm. I thought about reeling it back in—almost like recalling a memory that was never mine.

With a flicker of movement, the lash coiled into itself, retracting back into the handle like a serpent returning to its den.

Sean let out a low whistle. “Well, that's new.”

I stared at it, mind still turning over what Cassiel had said. My parents. The angels. The secrecy. The favor they had.

And the question that gnawed at me the most: What else had they been trusted with?

But there was no time to dwell on it. A scream cut through the night, followed by the distinctive sound of breaking glass. We all turned toward Purgatory.

“Juno's in there,” Sean said, his face hardening.

Hawk checked his weapons one last time. “Let's move.”

“Be careful,” Cassiel warned, his eyes on me. “The demons will try to provoke you, to awaken what's inside you.”

Before I could ask what he meant, another scream tore through the night, and we were running.