As I looked at the general, I felt a strange duality. His presence still commanded respect, yet there was something unusually light about him—something that unsettled the familiar image I had preserved of him.
He wore a light blue silk shirt that draped smoothly over him, following his movements with delicate precision. The color not only enhanced the deep blue shade of his eyes but also made his entire appearance seem more vivid, more refreshed. His blond hair was combed back, yet the natural waves still stubbornly framed his features, as if to remind the world that no matter the elegance, the freedom within him would always find a way to surface.
His trousers were anything but ordinary—a dark pair of jeans, yet tailored in a way that evoked a sense of refined sophistication. It was as if he had struck a careful balance between casual ease and solemn composure. There was no trace of carelessness in his attire, and yet he exuded an effortless, timeless grace. His shoes, made of fine leather, were simple yet sophisticated enough to complete his look without drawing unnecessary attention.
And then I saw myself.
For a brief moment, my breath caught in my throat.
The former version of me stood before him, and the instant my gaze met hers, I knew—it was me. Bodies, faces—those changed over time. But the eyes never lied. My eyes were always the same.
My hair was long and silky, falling softly over my shoulders in sleek strands, with a precisely cut fringe framing my face. A light touch of makeup subtly enhanced my features, as if only a faint shade separated it from pure natural beauty. I wore an elegant yet relaxed blouse—gently flowing fabric that hugged my form just enough to create a balance between femininity and effortless grace. The sleeves were slightly loose, delicately gathering at my wrists, making even my movements appear lighter.
The blouse was partially tucked into a high-waisted, perfectly fitted pair of jeans—soft yet structured, a piece that carried the elegance of its era, blending womanly charm with casual sophistication. My shoes were finely crafted ankle boots—graceful yet firm, much like I had been back then.
As our eyes met, a deep emotion rippled through me—a fleeting uncertainty, an indescribable nostalgia.
Then the bodies moved.
In the middle of the crowd, within the noise of the world, without hesitation or formalities, we embraced. And then, a kiss—soft, natural, unforced. It wasn't exaggerated or dramatic, just an instinctive gesture, an echo of the past. And yet, something unfamiliar surged through me. A strange vibration—both foreign and familiar at once.
The general, in that moment, was different from how I had always known him. A real smile played on his lips—not the measured, diplomatic expression I had seen countless times before, but a true, light, genuine smile. His shoulders weren't as tense, his movements seemed freer.
And I?
I simply watched.
As the two of them started walking, I followed them silently. I watched as my former self turned toward the general with a playful smile, a lighthearted question slipping from her lips.
"So tell me, what brings you back here again?"
The general smiled at her sideways, pausing for a moment before answering.
"I couldn't wait to see you again. But you knew that, didn't you?"
There was something teasing in his voice, yet it carried a deeper truth. It wasn't just an empty compliment or a passing remark. His body language reflected the same sentiment—he leaned in just slightly, pressing a small kiss against my forehead. My past self did not seem surprised, only smiled, as if it had always been meant to happen this way.
But I… I was surprised.
Then, the mood slowly shifted. The lighthearted moments faded into silence, and the general's voice turned more serious.
"Did you know they found the box?"
My past self furrowed her brows slightly.
"No… I haven't heard about that."
The general nodded, his gaze darkening slightly.
"They don't always want to inform me about these matters immediately either," he continued, "but it's worth paying attention to."
My former self studied him for a moment, then absentmindedly ran a hand through her hair—just as I often did when something weighed on my mind.
"But there's no need to worry," the general added. "For now, there's no danger. Clarissa seems harmless… but I fear she may not stay that way."
The girl—my past self—nodded. The general smiled at her kindly, but then, as if a sudden realization crossed his mind, he looked up at her again.
"Tell me…" he began softly. "That black shadow… has it visited you recently?"
For a moment, the girl remained silent, as if considering her answer.
"No, not recently," my former self replied at last. "So you don't have to worry. After you warned it, I doubt it will return."
The general smiled, but something deeper lingered in his eyes.
"And have you figured out who it might be?" the girl asked.
The general averted his gaze.
"No," he sighed softly. "But I'm working on it."
For a moment, he watched her, then locked eyes with her once more.
"What worries me more is that they refuse to let me enter Rindanof. They struggle to accept our love."
"They fear that another Nephilim child could be born from our relationship, don't they?" the girl asked quietly.
"The angels have their burdens to bear, I understand them," the general admitted. "But there is one thing they know as well—twin flames should never be separated. We will prove that we are meant to be."
He grasped the hand of my past self with confidence.
Then, after a brief pause, he added:
"But first, we must ensure that when your time for ascension comes… you will remain an angel no matter what."
And in that moment, something heavy, something deeply meaningful, vibrated in the air. A promise. A warning.
And I only watched.
I watched them.
I watched us.
Our movements were light, and the smiles on our faces, unwavering, transported us to an entirely different world. Our laughter was pure, sincere, as if there had never been a single worry in our lives. The general's face lit up, and my former self leaned toward him effortlessly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. A small touch, a glance—and the very air around them vibrated.
And I… I just stood there, watching them, trying to grasp where things had gone so terribly wrong.
How had this lightness turned into the distance I now felt? How had this deep, living connection become the cool restraint I was now faced with? If we once existed like this beside each other, if we once spoke so easily about angelic matters, then why does it now both attract and repel me? What happened to me? What happened to us?
I let myself sink into their conversation, listening as my old self asked in surprise:
— What does Clarissa want to use the box for?
The general leaned back in thought, then, after a brief pause, spoke:
— Probably for nothing. She's not the type who… you know, would be dangerous.
— But let's hope she won't. If that object is real, it could cause trouble.
My former self smiled, but there was something serious, something deeper in her voice.
— Yes — the general nodded. — We sincerely hope so.
And in that sentence, everything that needed to be known was there. The belief that Clarissa wouldn't cross that line. The kind of uncertainty that always lingers when trying to understand someone who can never truly be figured out.
I was both surprised that I knew about the matter and at the same time felt the pull to learn even more. This wavering, in this form, was not enough.
My thoughts were so tangled that I didn't even notice—I was already following them further.
The venue was a small garden terrace, illuminated by tiny lights. Music played in the background, and the air vibrated with a lighthearted happiness. My former self sat beside the general, laughing, sipping from a drink, her eyes sparkling. He watched her happily too, with no restrained emotion in him.
I turned toward the stage.
I didn't even think about it; my legs moved on their own. A moment later, I was holding the microphone, and the song poured out of me as if by itself:
"I wait for you, I wait for you,
I long to burn away in your arms,
My angel, Gabriel…"
And in that moment, there was nothing else—only my voice and the vibrating joy that filled the entire space.
The general looked up at me, and so did my former self. Our eyes met, and in that second, there was no doubt, no question.
Only that perfect feeling—that everything was just as it should be.
That we were meant for each other.
That in the world, there were no fractures, no lost moments, nothing that could divert us from this feeling.
Then…
It was as if the fairy tale shattered into pieces.
In the fraction of a second, the glass broke into shards, the world fell apart, and I was falling.
Falling, as if someone had suddenly pulled the ground from beneath me, as if I had awakened from a dream I could no longer return to.
I was somewhere else.
In another state of mind.
I gasped for air—even though I shouldn't have needed to. Yet my soul was panting, my whole being trembling.
Something had broken inside me.
And I didn't know if that fracture had always been there… or if it had just now formed.
Gasping for air – even though I shouldn't have needed to.
Yet my soul panted, my entire being trembled.
Something had broken inside me.
And I didn't know whether that fracture had been there all along or if it had just formed.
The ground shook with explosions. The air was thick with ash and smoke, distant burning bushes tore into the night. Airplanes screeched across the sky, and the crackling of gunfire echoed from every direction. People ran—some fought, others fled—across an unfamiliar borderland, where there were no towering mountains, only hills and windswept wastelands. Trees stretched toward the sky, their canopies slowly devoured by fire. The earth was soaked in blood.
I turned my head frantically, trying to understand where I had ended up. I was no mere observer here—not at all. My body moved instinctively—I ran, leaped, dodged—but my mind was overwhelmed by the abrupt shift. Death was everywhere. The battle cries of soldiers mixed with the groans of the wounded.
In the distance, I spotted a village—or rather, what remained of it. This was no longer a battlefield but ruins, conquered districts, looted houses, burning rooftops, and charred walls.
Heavy boots thundered behind me. My heart pounded wildly. My body knew this feeling—I had stood in war before.
I looked down at myself. My clothing was not what I was used to. My hair was tied up in a bun, my military cap casting a shadow over my face. The protective uniform was thick, unfamiliar—yet somehow, I knew it. I didn't know which nation I belonged to, which war I was fighting. All I saw was a group of filthy, terrified children being herded into a trench.
They were the targets.
Rifles were aimed at them. The enemy soldiers had decided their fate in an instant.
My fingers moved on their own. I didn't think—I just fired.
One, two, three… ten.
Every single one of them hit the ground before they could pull the trigger. Their bodies fell limp to the earth, and I stepped toward the children, gasping for breath.
Somehow, I found water. Scooping the muddy liquid from a bucket, I splashed it onto their small faces, trying to wipe the dirt from their eyes—but my fingers were just as filthy.
Before I could fully grasp the situation, I was inside a tent.
My cap had fallen to the ground, my hair had come undone, and the cold water trickled down my face. Thoughts scattered in my mind, but there was no time to dwell on them.
I heard voices.
My fingers tightened around my weapon. In a single motion, I raised it to aim.
But when I saw him—I froze.
The General.
He glowed white in the dim tent, but it was not a physical presence—it was an energy, a force that filled the space. His deep, cold voice shattered the silence.
"You can't shoot me anymore."
The blood pounded in my ears.
"Why are you here?" I hissed angrily. It wasn't just me speaking—yet it was. I was there.
"Why did you do it?"
The man regarded me in grim silence.
"You know well that if you continue down this path, you will never be a full saint again. You will never be an archangel again."
I laughed. A bitter, hoarse sound.
"An archangel? Now? While thousands die? While cities burn? You expect me to sit idly by and watch as innocent children are slaughtered?"
Gabriel did not answer immediately.
"If you choose this… you will never be what you once were. Only inclined toward darkness."
"I am living a life!" I snapped. "In a world with rules. If this world demands that I fight, I fight. If justice demands that I kill, I kill. If you call that evil, then so be it! Call me a devil if you want! But I'd rather be a devil who saves lives than an angel who lets them perish."
The man sighed deeply.
"Try to stay still," he said at last. "Do not harm, and do not save through harm. Those children… that was their fate. Their souls will live on."
Rage flared through me.
"Their fate? To die? If that's what you believe, then the flaw isn't in me—it's in you! You're the one who always interferes. You meddle in every life I live. You try to remind me of who I was, of how happy we were. Sometimes I believe you, sometimes I don't. But I've had enough!"
My face burned with fury.
"If you want purity and goodness and sinlessness, you're looking in the wrong place. Life doesn't work that way. This life doesn't work that way. If someone wants to slaughter the innocent, I will shoot them first. Whether it's a sin or not. If I only lived up to your expectations in my perfect lives, then go back to reminiscing. Because perfection is overrated."
The man said nothing. The energy slowly dissolved from the tent.
As he left, I felt something snap inside me.
In the blink of an eye, everything went dark. The war's clamor, the images of destruction—all shattered in a single flash.
And then…
Light.
I stood in a clearing. No past, no war, no other people—only a stone, upon which someone sat.
A dark-clad figure loomed like a shadow, their energy almost tangible. Their form was faintly outlined, but not entirely human.
I walked closer.
Without looking at me, they sat down on the stone.
Silence.
A long silence.
Then a voice broke it.
"The box has two keys," the figure said. "One is with Clarissa. The other… lies where no one knows it exists. At the old border, a small tower guards it. Find it. And do what you must."
I did not ask questions.
The dream was neutral. Neither cold nor warm. It did not carry emotional weight, did not call to me, did not pull me in. But it gave me one thing: direction.
"Now go," the figure said. "I will release you from your own captivity. And do not return. Sometimes, sweet ignorance is better."
Then—darkness.
When I opened my eyes, I lay on a marble pedestal.
My heart pounded, my breath came in gasps.
I sat up.
The world felt different now.
I became more determined. It was as if a surge of electricity had jolted me out of my previous drift—I had left uncertainty behind, and for the first time, I felt like I not only understood what was happening but also controlled it. I was no longer a pawn or a tool in the hands of some greater power. My decisions, my path.
I accepted the water Elis handed me and took a deep breath. A flicker of surprise crossed her face—she wasn't frightened, but there was a trace of worry in her eyes.
"Well, that wasn't so hard after all," Michael rubbed his hands together. "I'll count this as another successful awakening."
"Not so fast." Elise put her hands on her hips. "Half an hour ago, she was practically choking, as if suffocating in smoke or gunpowder. Then she suddenly calms down and wakes up—without you even touching her. So don't go taking credit for this, Michael."
I didn't even have time to respond before Elise turned to me.
"Are you okay, dear? Is everything alright? Do you remember anything?"
"Everything," I answered.
I saw joy, relief, and the faintest trace of hidden anger flash across her face all at once. But I don't think it was directed at me. She immediately turned to Michael.
"See? I told you! Of course, you weren't the one who woke her up. If you had, she would only remember a few blurry images, just like you described before. But now she's completely clear, and she remembers everything."
"There's no need to make such a big deal out of this," Michael scoffed.
"Oh, but there is."
"Alright, alright, don't be so… dramatic."
"And you don't be a clown—or so arrogant!" Elis snapped.
"As far as I know, I am neither a clown nor arrogant," Michael shrugged. "But maybe you should stop being… an energy vampire."
"Me? An energy vampire?"
"Yes! You're bouncing around all over the place and draining all my energy!"
I almost laughed, but then I realized neither of them was actually paying attention to me. Chloe stepped closer and spoke quietly.
"Don't mind them. If you had seen the scene they caused while you were asleep… Elise was panicking, Michael was trying to salvage the situation, but honestly, neither of them knew what to do."
"The important thing is that I'm fine," I said, stepping off the marble pedestal.
"And… did you learn anything?" Chloe asked.
"Yes. Quite a lot." I nodded.
The room fell silent. Elis looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to continue.
"We need to go to the border. There's something there I need to find."
"And what would that be?" Chloe asked.
"The key to the box."
My words hung in the air. Alice and Michael exchanged significant glances, while a flicker of hope flashed across Chloe's face.
"If I break it," I continued, "maybe everything can be undone."
We gathered our things and checked the weapons—just in case. Dawn was breaking. Spirits rarely wandered near the border at this hour, but one could never be too sure. I wasn't afraid of them, though.
Gabriel brought the car around, we got in, and as the cool morning wind swept in, the massive gates of the manor creaked shut behind us.