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The water beneath my feet began to glow, shifting from clear to a luminous silver that crept up my ankles like living mercury. Maeve's chanting grew louder, her words taking on a hypnotic rhythm that seemed to resonate with something deep inside me.

“Remember,” she urged, her blind eyes fixed on me with uncanny precision. “Return to that day. See it as it was. Feel it as it was.”

The chamber around me started to blur, the faces of the watching angels melting into streaks of light. Levi's voice called my name, sharp with concern, but it sounded distant, as if he were speaking to me from across a vast canyon.

Then the world dissolved completely, and I was falling?—

—into memory.

* * *

Sunlight glinted off polished armor as our squadron assembled at the edge of Elysium.

I stood at attention, pride swelling in my chest as I took my place among the twelve chosen for this mission.

Two archangels, four Seraphim, and six Cherubin including myself.

My wings rustled with nervous energy, the feathers shifting like whispers against my back.

“Ariella!” Rachel's voice, bright with excitement, reached me from a few paces away. Her red hair was pulled back in a tight braid, her green eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Can you believe we made it? Our first real mission!”

I smiled, trying to appear more confident than I felt. I hadn’t been chosen outright. I was actually a replacement. “It’s surreal.”

Rachel nodded enthusiastically. “Just think—when we get back, everyone will be talking about us. The youngest Cherubin ever sent to track down a traitor.”

“If we succeed,” I reminded her, though I couldn't suppress my own thrill at the thought.

“We will,” Jeremiah said, joining our conversation.

Tall and golden-haired, he moved with the natural grace that had made him top of our class at the Academy.

My crush on him had been a poorly kept secret among our friends, though he'd never seemed to notice.

“With Archangels Rhodes and Soren leading us, how could we fail?”

I glanced toward the front of our formation, where the two archangels stood in deep conversation. Rhodes, tall and imposing with his silver armor and wings that shimmered with an almost metallic gleam. And beside him, Soren—older, with kind eyes that had always seen more than they revealed.

My mentor, Archangel Ylena, had warned me against volunteering for this mission. “You're not ready, Ariella,” she'd said, her voice stern with disapproval. “This isn't a training exercise. Earth is dangerous, and rogue angels even more so.”

But Rhodes had countered her concerns with praise for my potential, and in the end, I'd been chosen when another Cherubin couldn’t. Now, standing at the threshold of Elysium with my squadron, I was determined to prove Ylena wrong and Rhodes right.

“Formation!” Rhodes called, his voice cutting through our chatter. Immediately, we arranged ourselves in the practiced pattern—archangels at the front, Seraphim flanking, Cherubin bringing up the rear.

Soren stepped forward, his ancient eyes scanning our faces. “Remember your training,” he said, his voice resonating with power. “The traitor is dangerous, and if Molraz is with him, doubly so. We contain, we capture, we return to Elysium. No heroics.”

“Yes, Commander,” we answered in unison.

Rhodes lifted his hand, and the portal between realms shimmered into existence before us—a vast, swirling doorway of light and energy between wo silver pillars. “For Elysium,” he said, his voice solemn.

“For Elysium,” we echoed, and as one, we stepped through the portal.

The transition was always disorienting—the sudden shift from Elysium's perfect light to Earth's dimmer glow, the weight of mortal air pressing against our wings. We emerged on a mountainside, the night air cool and fragrant with pine.

“Spread out,” Rhodes commanded. “Search the area. The traitor was last seen near here.”

For two days, we combed the wilderness, following what seemed to be a trail of angelic energy. I flew with Rachel and Jeremiah, our eyes scanning the forests below for any sign of the rogue angel.

“What do you think would make an angel betray Elysium?” Rachel asked on the second night, as we rested beside a quiet lake. “To work with a demon, no less?”

“Power,” Jeremiah suggested, his expression grim. “Or disillusionment. Some angels grow weary of guardianship, of watching over humans who rarely appreciate their protection.”

“It still doesn't make sense to me,” I said, staring up at the stars. “Our purpose is sacred. How could anyone turn their back on that?”

“Not everyone shares your dedication, Ariella,” Jeremiah said with a small smile. “That's why you'll make a great guardian one day.”

His words warmed me. The truth was, ever since demon hunters had come into the picture, guardians had become less hands on. We mostly observed from afar, only interfering when really needed.

Suddenly, a cry echoed through the night. One of the Seraphim, flying above, had spotted something.

“Movement at the abandoned mine,” he reported, hovering before Rhodes. “Definite angelic signature, but strange. Corrupted somehow.”

Rhodes's face hardened. “That's him. Let's move.”

We flew in tight formation, following Rhodes toward a yawning cave mouth cut into the mountainside. The entrance to an old human mine, abandoned decades ago. Darkness seemed to pool around it, unnaturally thick and shifting with strange currents.

“Something's wrong,” Soren muttered, his wings flexing with tension. “This feels?—”

Rhodes cut him off. “We have our target. Seraphim, take the flanks. Cherubin, guard the entrance. Soren and I will confront the traitor.”

We moved into position, my heart pounding against my ribs. This was it—the moment I'd prove myself worthy of the mission.

We'd barely settled into formation when a man emerged from the shadows of the cave. He was tall and wide, with a short black hair and a trimmed beard. His intense blue eyes stared at us with curiosity.

And malice.

“Who are you?” Soren asked, tensing.

“Molraz,” the man said, his lips curling in a wicked grin.

My stomach dropped. He wasn’t a man. He was a freaking higher demon.

“What’s going on?” Soren sputtered.

“Angels,” Molraz purred, his voice like gravel sliding over bone. “How kind of you to join us.”

More demons appeared behind him, dozens of them, filling the mouth of the cave and spilling out onto the mountainside. My stomach dropped, and beside me, Rachel gasped.

“It's a trap,” she whispered.

Soren whirled toward Rhodes, his face contorted with sudden understanding. “You brought us here deliberately. You're working with him!”

Rhodes's expression shifted, the mask of righteousness falling away to reveal something cold and calculating. “The old ways are dying, Soren. Elysium must evolve or perish. Adona is too weak to lead us into the future.”

“Traitor!” Soren spat, his Celestial sword materializing in his hand—a blade of pure light that cut through the darkness like a star.

Molraz stepped forward, and in his now clawed hand, he held a gleaming dagger with a scarlet gem set in its hilt. “The Scarlet Hex Dagger,” he announced, his voice laced with triumph. “The key to reshaping Elysium.”

Soren's face went ashen. “No,” he breathed. “That can't be. It was hidden in a secure location.”

“Yes. And now it's here, ready to fulfill its purpose.” Rhodes held out his hand, and Molraz passed him the dagger.

Everything happened at once after that. Soren lunged for Rhodes, his sword flashing. Two Seraphim—who must have been in league with Rhodes all along—moved to intercept him. And the demons surged forward, overwhelming our formation.

Chaos erupted around us. Angels and demons clashed in a frenzy of light and shadow. I summoned my sword, the familiar weight of it steadying my trembling hands, and threw myself into the battle.

Rachel fought at my back, her magic flashing in brilliant arcs that pushed the demons back. Jeremiah cut through their ranks with fierce determination, his wings a blur of motion as he dodged and struck.

Through gaps in the fighting, I caught glimpses of Soren and Rhodes locked in combat. Despite Rhodes's betrayal, Soren was the more skilled warrior, and for a moment, it seemed as though he might prevail.

Then Rhodes drove the dagger into Soren's side.

The archangel's cry of pain tore through the battlefield, momentarily freezing the combat around us. Rhodes twisted the blade, his face contorted with a cold satisfaction that chilled me to my core.

But Soren wasn't finished. With a final, desperate surge of strength, he wrenched the dagger from Rhodes's grip and threw it—straight at me.

“Run!” he commanded, his voice ringing with power even as blood spread across his silver armor. “Take it and run, Ariella! Don't let them have it!”

The dagger landed at my feet, its blade gleaming with Soren's blood. I stared at it, paralyzed with shock and horror.

Rhodes roared with fury and charged toward me. But Rachel and Jeremiah moved to block his path, their swords raised.

“Go, Ariella!” Rachel shouted. “We'll hold them off!”

I hesitated, torn between duty and loyalty. How could I leave them?

“GO!” Jeremiah's voice cracked like thunder. “If Soren died for that dagger, it can't fall back into their hands!”

With shaking hands, I picked up the dagger, tucking it into my belt. Then I turned and fled, wings pumping frantically as I launched myself into the night sky.

Behind me, I heard the clash of swords, the cries of the wounded and dying. And then, rising above it all, Rachel's scream—a sound of such pure agony that it nearly stopped my heart.

I faltered, looking back. Through the chaos, I saw Jeremiah fall, Rhodes's sword emerging from his chest. And Rachel, beautiful, brave Rachel, charging at the archangel with grief and fury etched on her face.

She never stood a chance.