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Sterling shook his head, reaching into his battered messenger bag and pulling out an ancient-looking book bound in what appeared to be leather but had an odd, iridescent quality to it. He set it on the coffee table with a heavy thud.

“Right. Back to the important part. I found something about your new friend's kind,” he said, flipping through pages filled with faded text and intricate sigils. The paper looked impossibly old, yellow and brittle at the edges but somehow intact.

He stopped at an illustration of a winged figure surrounded by what looked like flames or perhaps rays of light. The figure was androgynous, beautiful in a terrible way, with multiple eyes scattered across what should have been a human face.

“Turns out, angels didn't exist until humans needed them to,” Sterling continued, tapping the page with one gnarled finger.

Cade leaned over, squinting at the text. “So what, they just... manifested?”

“More like willed into existence,” Sterling corrected, adjusting his glasses. “Humanity wanted something to watch over them, to intervene on their behalf, and the universe answered. Or maybe something beyond the universe. The texts aren't clear on that point.”

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. “Your languages 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.

Sterling's eyes narrowed. “After everything we've seen, especially since Cade's trip downstairs, I don't discount anything anymore. Which is why I took the liberty of looking into your background.”

My head whipped toward him. “You did what?”

“Your birth records,” Sterling continued, unflinching under my glare. “After Cade got dragged to Hell, I needed to understand who I was working with. What I was working with.”

“You had no right,” I growled, taking a step toward him. “Those files were sealed.”

“And yet remarkably easy to find for someone with my resources,” Sterling countered. “Your birth parents?—”

“I don't have birth parents,” I cut him off. “I have the Byrnes, who were cold-blooded bastards that trained me to be a weapon. End of story.”

“The Byrnes didn't know what they were raising,” Cassiel interjected calmly. “They simply knew you were... different.”

Sterling nodded. “The records I found suggested your biological mother died in childbirth. Father unknown. But there were anomalies in the medical reports?—”

“Stop,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “Just stop. This has nothing to do with whatever we're facing.”

“It has everything to do with it,” Cassiel insisted.

Cade stepped between us, hands raised. “Enough.”

“I don't care if God himself showed up,” I snarled. “You had no right to dig into my past without telling me.”

“Sean—” Sterling began.

“No,” Cade interrupted firmly. “This isn't the time or place. We have more pressing concerns than Sean's lineage. We can sort this out later.”

Sterling and I locked eyes for a tense moment before he finally nodded reluctantly.

“Fine,” I muttered, turning back to Cassiel. “Let's assume for a moment I believe any of this Nephilim nonsense. Which I don't. What exactly does that have to do with whatever's coming?”

Cassiel didn't argue or try to convince me. Instead, he said something that froze the blood in my veins: “Believe or not, you have little time to decide. Asmodeus is breaking the seals.”

Asmodeus. The demon that opened the demon gates six months ago.

“Breaking the seals?” I demanded, pushing off the wall I'd been leaning against. “What seals are you talking about?”

Sterling's expression darkened, his fingers tightening around the edge of the ancient book he'd been studying. “Containment seals. Bindings that hold back something ancient.”

Cade frowned, turning to Sterling. “How do you know about these seals? You've never mentioned them before.”

“I didn't know they were relevant until recently,” Sterling admitted, turning the book around to show us a page of intricate symbols. “When I started digging deeper into ancient texts. Found references to five major seals that, if broken, could release 'The First One.'”

“The First Nephilim,” I muttered, the pieces clicking together. “The one you told us before”

Cassiel's eyes flicked to me, a hint of surprise in them. “You know of the First?”

“We've encountered references,” Cade said carefully. “An ancient being, supposedly the first hybrid of angel and human. Immensely powerful. But the texts we found were fragmentary at best.”

“How many seals have been broken?” Sterling asked Cassiel directly.

Cassiel's face remained impassive, but something flickered in his eyes—concern, maybe even fear. “Three have already fallen.”

“Out of how many?” I pressed.

“Five are needed,” Cassiel replied. “Five to break the prison completely.”

Sterling swore under his breath, flipping through more pages with increased urgency. “That means he's getting closer. The pattern's accelerating.”

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.

Even if it came in the form of a socially awkward angel being terrorized by a housecat.