The air in the room was thick, as if unspoken thoughts had taken up space.
We had been here for quite some time. Perhaps an hour had passed since I entered and told them everything I deemed important. Now, we were trying to figure out our next step together.
Elis sat on the windowsill, her long legs crossed, fingers drumming lightly on her knee. She didn't look at me—just stared into the night, as if searching for answers among the stars. In the moonlight, her blonde hair seemed like gold, but her features remained tense.
"So…" she finally spoke, her voice slow, deliberate, as if tasting the words. "If I understand correctly… the plan is for you to enter Michael's manor, lie down on that strange marble pedestal that is completely and utterly unjustified in being there, then travel back to one of your past lives, where you might—just might—find something that could help. " She curled her lip. "Well, if you ask me, it would be hard to come up with a dumber idea."
Chloe sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers nervously twisting the corner of the blanket.
"That's more or less how I envisioned it, yes." I looked at her firmly.
"Well… " Chloe took a deep breath. "It might not be that bad. If Clarissa is a Nephilim, she could have appeared before you in any of your past lives. If you feel like you know more about this than we currently think, then maybe you do."
Elis let out a quiet chuckle, but there was no amusement in it—just a bitter echo in the night.
"Nephilim are cunning." Her gaze finally landed on me. "Very cunning. It's possible that she just wants you to feel that way—to make you lie down on that marble crap… and never wake up again."
A shiver ran through me.
"What do you mean, never wake up again?" I asked softly.
Chloe leaned forward protectively.
"Why would a Nephilim be cunning? You're one too, and you don't seem particularly cunning."
Elis let out a slow sigh before answering with measured calmness.
"I'm not a Nephilim." Her blue eyes practically burned as she looked at Chloe. "I am the soul-child of two angels, and I have been an angel my entire life. I have never broken a law that would make me anything else. We are rare, but we exist. A Nephilim is the child of a human and an angel. I never said they were all cunning and evil… but there are cases."
Then she turned to me, and for the first time, I saw genuine concern in her expression.
"My dear friend… you do realize that if you lie down on that marble and travel back to your past life, there's no guarantee you'll return?"
Silence fell.
"You've always woken up because higher forces have called you back," she continued quietly. "But those forces only exist in the palace because that place is filled with pure energy. God knows what forces are at play in Michael's manor. I'm not saying they're evil—after all, he himself is a pure being—but his house…" She shook her head. "That's different."
The air grew even heavier.
Elis cleared her throat.
"It's not just about whether you can come back. It's also about what state you'll be in if you do."
I looked up at her. Elis always knew something we didn't. She saw through things we never even questioned.
"The subconscious is not black and white," she continued. "It doesn't work in a way where good memories stay afloat while the bad ones sink. In fact, it's the opposite. The worst things, the greatest traumas, sink deep and work in the background, shaping us without us even realizing it. If you enter a past life, it's like opening a box within your own soul. You don't get to choose what you find inside."
She nodded.
"And if something is too strong… it might keep you there forever."
Chloe rubbed her temples anxiously.
"Alright, alright… this conversation is getting way too depressing."
But Elis didn't let it go.
"Do you know what karma is, Avarka?" she asked softly.
I flinched.
"Of course… every action has consequences." Suddenly, I couldn't come up with a better answer.
Elis gave a faint smile, but there was no warmth in it.
"It's more complicated than that. Karma is not a simple equation. It's not just about 'you do something bad, and something bad happens to you' or 'you do something good, and something good happens.' Energy doesn't work like that. Your karma is the imprint of your own soul—the way your actions shape your essence. If you go back to a past life, you won't just see memories… you'll see the bonds you created back then. And you have no idea what kind of effect those bonds might have on you now."
I let out a deep sigh.
"Elis… I understand all of this. But I have no other choice. If there's a chance that Clarissa knows something we don't yet understand, then I have to try."
A flicker of something ran through Elis's eyes.
"You are an Angel Protector, Avarka." Her voice wasn't accusing—just reminding. "That's why you signed up for this. We struggled to accept that, but we did—because we understood that you wanted to help. But we never asked anything from you. Just that you stay with us. And don't do anything stupid. Is that really so hard?"
I stepped closer to her.
"Elis… please…" My voice was barely more than a whisper.
She turned to me, and when I hugged her, she let my arms wrap around her for a moment. Then she glanced at me from the corner of her eye, and a small smirk played at the edge of her lips.
"Why do I love you so much, you idiot?" she muttered.
The air in the room vibrated with tension.
Then Elis jumped up, dusted off her clothes, and crossed her arms as she looked at me.
"Well then. Suicide squad—when do we leave?"
We had carefully arranged our weapons, but we only took as many as were absolutely necessary—according to protocol, we weren't allowed to carry too many while off duty. The clock was nearing 1 AM, but our schedule wasn't tied to time; if we had no orders but weren't asleep, this setup was still considered free time, so no one could hold anything against us.
Elise finally emerged from the bathroom. She was dressed in a black overall from head to toe—not as protective gear, but more as a silent, dark shadow that could melt into the night. Her blonde hair almost vibrated in contrast as she looked us over. I turned to Chloe, then gestured toward the black outfit with a questioning look.
— You put her in that?
— Yes, — Chloe nodded.
— Why? Jesus, we're not about to rob a national bank!
Elise just rolled her eyes.
— Oh, come on! You have to be prepared for these things! You dragged me into this, after all, — she said with feigned indignation.
Laughter mixed with the tension of the moment, softening it briefly, but the seriousness returned when I noticed the small knife in Elise's hand.
— Do you even know how to use that? — I asked.
— Do you take me for an idiot? — she shot back mockingly. — Obviously, I've never used one before. But if someone tried to hurt you, I'd learn fast.
The sincerity behind her words created a brief, heavy silence between us. The tension coiled beneath our skin, and it was clear to everyone that we were on the verge of departure.
Chloe and I put on proper combat gear. We concealed small knives in the inner pockets of our outfits, secured a few smoke bombs to our belts, and laced up our steel-toed boots tightly. We went through our necessary supplies one last time. Just as we were about to leave, Elise turned back.
— Wait! Hand cream!
Chloe and I exchanged glances before rolling our eyes in unison. Elise smirked smugly and tucked the small jar into her pocket as if that meant she was now fully prepared for anything.
We had access to one of the cars, as luck was on our side—David, Dave, and Emily were on duty, so we accompanied them into the city. We took a larger vehicle, and the ride started in silence.
— Where are you headed? — Dave finally broke the quiet. — Or is silence the preferred answer now?
— I think we'd appreciate the silence more right now, — Chloe replied softly.
Emily turned in her seat.
— Any news about Zach?
Chloe shook her head.
— Nothing yet.
Silence settled over us again, but this was a different kind of silence—one in which all our thoughts swirled like a storm. I, however, felt an insatiable curiosity growing inside me. I couldn't wait to get there.
We pulled up in front of the manor. The place seemed unusually deserted. There were guards, but far fewer than usual. We moved to the back and spotted Michael in the dim light. He stood there in a simple, casual shirt, his arms loosely crossed.
— Hello, little one, — he greeted with a faint smile. — Wow, you all look tense.
— Not everyone wants to look like they're going on vacation before a soul journey, — Elise muttered, making Michael raise an eyebrow.
As they looked at each other, it was as if their deep ocean-blue eyes locked for a moment. Something inexplicable vibrated between them—an undertone of tension, or perhaps something else.
Michael finally gave a slight bow and reached for Elise's hand, pressing a soft kiss to it.
— A pleasure, my angel.
For a split second, Elise seemed to blush.
Chloe took a deep breath.
— Sorry to interrupt this intimate moment, but I think we should head inside.
She glanced around, her trained eyes immediately sensing the change—fewer guards, an unusual arrangement. It didn't feel entirely safe.
As the gravel crunched beneath our boots, I questioned Michael.
— Why are there fewer people?
— I sent them away on purpose, — he replied. — The more people there are, the more noticeable what we're doing becomes. My protectors are also dark-clad, and they would react to any strange sign.
We entered the building, and he led us down to the basement through a hidden passage. The atmosphere of the place was dense, as if some timeless energy lingered between the walls. Under the vaulted ceiling, a small marble slab rested, faintly glowing. Elise's face flickered with something—perhaps uncertainty.
— No offense, — she turned to Michael, — but if you convinced her to do this, the least you could've done was give her some proper information.
Michael lifted his hands with a small smile.
— Do you think she won't wake up?
Elise narrowed her eyes.
— And do you think I'm not powerful enough? — she countered, analyzing his thoughts.
— That's not what I said, — she muttered under her breath.
— Forgive me, little angel, but I have lived on Earth far longer than you. I know what kind of energies flow between worlds. I have guided the soul journeys of beings who have lived through hundreds of thousands of lives without issue.
— You don't know how many lives she has lived, — Elise pointed out.
— If it's even more than hundreds of thousands, then she needs to travel even more. The end of the cycle could be near. She needs to know what kind of person she was for so long. She needs to know which side's souls she will align with forever.
Silence filled the basement. Elise wanted to speak, but I beat her to it.
— I won't back down, — I said firmly.
Elise opened her mouth again, but I raised my hand.
— Don't say anything. Please.
I climbed onto the marble slab and closed my eyes. Everything around me fell silent. Michael's voice, deep and calm, began guiding the energies. My chakras opened, and at first, there was only stillness. Then…
A flash.
A street.
The sound of hooves on cobblestone.
Another era. Another life.
And I was diving into it.
The veil of dawn mist still lingered over the cobbled streets when I finally managed to look around and determine that it was roughly the year 1895. The city around me was alive, yet I felt like an outsider in this time. The rustling of silk dresses, the measured steps of gentlemen with walking canes, the tall hats, and the carefully pinned hair ornaments—all spoke of the elegance of the era. The rumble of carriages blended with the murmur of the streets, while the soft glow of the lampposts still flickered in the pale morning light.
My black protective suit stood in stark contrast to my surroundings, but no one could see me. I could walk the streets unnoticed, observing the intricate details of the small shops, the architecture, and the period advertisements. The fine lettering on the signboards, the ornate decorations of the stately buildings—all suggested that nobility ruled here.
As I observed, the soft chime of a shop bell rang out. A woman stepped outside. My gaze swept over her, then stopped instantly: it was Clarissa.
The golden sunlight gleamed on her pale blue silk dress, adorned with delicately embroidered buttons. The fabric was layered, its heavy skirt cascading elegantly. Her shoes were lacquered, with fine heels—neither too thick nor too fragile. Her hair, perfectly curled, fell onto her shoulders, and a small white flower decorated her hat. Every detail of her appearance was meticulously arranged—a woman who lived and breathed in this era. And yet, her face betrayed her: she had been here far longer than this life should allow.
I wasted no time. I followed her, but cautiously. Clarissa walked swiftly and finally took a seat at a small wooden table beside a man who was dressed just as elegantly as she was. As I took a closer look, his face seemed familiar… Raphael.
There was silence between them. The man held a newspaper, while Clarissa twirled a small note between her fingers. For a moment, they could have been two strangers sitting side by side, but something felt off… they were too attentive. As if they were waiting for something.
I focused on them, sensing an unspoken exchange. A sharp pain shot through my head, and suddenly… I could hear them.
— I need to know where it is — Clarissa's thought echoed.
— We already know — Raphael replied.
— So you managed to find out?
— Yes. But I don't believe a wooden artifact crafted by human hands is the solution.
— It might be my only chance.
— A human made it, Clarissa. You don't know what kind of power it holds—if it holds any at all. Such objects are usually mere illusions, or worse… tainted by dark magic.
Clarissa fell silent for a moment, but her thoughts raced on.
— I can't live in this ignorance, Raphael. You know that my life is eternal. I live over and over again, but each life only leaves me with more and more unanswered questions. And always, by the time I reach understanding, it's too late. This wooden artifact… it might help me.
— And if it doesn't? If it's just an illusion?
— I have to try.
Raphael sighed.
— If it truly works… it would take years of testing.
— I have time.
— But what's the point? What is it that you're searching for so desperately?
Clarissa lifted her head, and in a whisper-like thought, she formed the words:
— My mother.
For a moment, silence settled between them. The air itself seemed to tighten.
— This isn't a game, Clarissa. I still don't understand why you're doing this… and yet, I don't fully understand you at all.
— Because I can't bear it.
Even in thought, her voice faltered.
— I can't bear being condemned to this. To live again and again, always fully aware. I don't forget. Not a single past life fades away, and every memory is pain. My mother gave me everything… even eternity. She was the one who made this happen for me. She thought she was giving me a gift. But eternal knowledge is not a blessing, Raphael.
She fell silent for a moment.
— If you remember everything, there is nothing left to learn. Perfection itself is a prison. Just look at my mother… it consumed her too. And in the end, she vanished. She ceased to exist.
Raphael gazed deep into her eyes.
— You miss her, don't you?
Clarissa's lips trembled.
— Always. A soul drifting through endless time, living a thousand lives, having a thousand families… never forgets its first. Even if I can no longer recall their faces.
The weight of their conversation pressed down on me. This wasn't an evil scheme. This wasn't a dark conspiracy. Clarissa couldn't harm anyone… she seemed different here. Entirely different. Of course, I still didn't know what she was truly capable of in pursuit of her goal.
Before I could listen any longer, a sudden pain pierced my head. The world wavered, cracked, and in an instant…
… I was in another era.
The bustling streets were different. The roar of cars was softer, the neon lights flickered faintly on glass panels. It was modern, but not quite the present. Somewhere in the early 2000s, perhaps.
The clothing was simpler yet still refined. Instead of suited men, people in blazers walked the streets, while women wore tailored coats and scarves.
And there he was.
The General.
But not in the form I knew. Different clothes, a different gaze. As if he belonged to an entirely different world—
and perhaps, he did.