The teams positioned themselves with perfect precision, as if they were parts of a single, carefully crafted mechanism. Massive tables stood side by side, each designated for a different task. At the first table, the souls who longed for rebirth arrived. The second table was for the wanderers—those who still had unfinished business before they could move on. The third table had yet to be named, but the souls gathering there were distinctly different from the others. They were not demons, but neither were they innocent spirits. They were specters who had lost their former faces and memories, yet some deep, ancient force still bound them to this place. Their formal designation was Soul Captives.
Beyond the mist's boundary, at the edge of the clearing, specially trained soldiers stood guard. They ensured that only those who were meant to pass through could do so. We knew this was a dangerous undertaking—opening a rift in the mist gave an opportunity even to those who had no place here. However, our informant assured us that the inhabitants of the city beyond the mist would not dare to venture here. If there were still souls trapped there who longed to be freed, we had no means of reaching them now.
Amid the commotion, the sound of a child's crying caught my ear. On the concrete ground, beside a small tower, a little girl stood while two dark-clad figures tried to persuade her to come with them. Madison. The woman who had been with her earlier was already waiting at one of the tables. But Medi wouldn't move; she only shook her head, tears welling in her eyes.
I stepped closer and gently placed a hand on her shoulder.
— Don't be afraid. Everything will be fine — I said softly. — You will be taken to a good place. I promise I'll watch over your tower. Will you promise me that you'll trust me?
The little girl looked up at me, hope flickering in her eyes. That was when the realization struck me. I had always believed souls were just floating energies—things we could sense but never truly see. Yet here she was, a small child, filled with emotions, fear, and trust. No matter how many times I experienced this, it never ceased to amaze me.
Medi walked toward the table of those seeking rebirth, while I turned to Gabriel, who was directing the troops guarding the mist's gate.
— Has anyone undesirable come through? — I asked.
Gabriel nodded grimly.
— No, not yet. But there have been attempts.
— Have you seen that young man in dark clothing who disappeared into the mist?
— Yes — came a deep, familiar voice behind me. — But we didn't find him. The signs suggest he was taken… deep into the city beyond the mist.
I turned around. For a moment, I was taken aback by how many people had gathered around us. Besides Gabriel's troops, there were also envoys from the world beyond the mist. But when I saw the jet-black hair and the pain-filled eyes, I knew exactly who stood before me.
— Chloe — I whispered.
Her face remained unreadable.
— Do not worry, Your Majesty — she spoke calmly. — I do not hold it against you. You acted according to your duty.
Her formal politeness surprised me. I couldn't tell if she truly meant it or if protocol forced her to say so. Before I could reply, she walked on, and I hurried after her.
— Hey, slow down! — I caught up with her and lightly touched her shoulder.
— Your Majesty, it would not be wise for me to be seen following you like this — she said quietly.
— Stop this artificial formality! — I looked at her, irritated. — You know very well I didn't do it out of pleasure. I was doing my job.
Her eyes flashed.
— Your job? You're a fucking Nephilim, Avarka!
My jaw tightened.
— I am not a Nephilim — I stated firmly. — What I am is still uncertain, but one thing is for sure: I am not that. And if you're angry with me just because I outrank you, then I apologize for bruising your ego.
— Do you seriously think that's what this is about?! — Chloe snapped. — I haven't seen him in months. The last thing I care about is who gives the orders! Or who happens to be the ruler… or their whore.
I saw the flicker of surprise in her own expression after she said it. She took a deep breath, then added softly:
— I'm sorry… I lost my temper. Besides… you did well. You saved everyone. Thank you. And this whole arrangement, organizing the souls… that was your idea, wasn't it?
I nodded.
— But we're not done yet. I'm going to form a team to cross into the city beyond the mist. We will find the lost ones.
Chloe let out a bitter laugh.
— That's impossible.
— Nothing is.
For a while, we walked side by side in silence. The air around us settled. Then a voice called out behind me:
— The Queen must return to the palace.
I stopped. The evening banquet… I had completely forgotten about it.
Chloe smiled.
— Go on, Your Majesty.
I couldn't help myself—I embraced her. She returned the gesture.
At the edge of the camp, David, Dave, and Emily were waiting. They were leading my convoy. Dave grinned and bowed dramatically.
— My lady, it is an honor to be in your presence. Would you like us to carry you to the palace on a throne? Or perhaps in a carriage drawn by dragons?
Emily rolled her eyes.
— Cut it out, Dave.
— Hey, I'm just helping her adjust to royal life! — Dave protested with a smirk. — Or have you, as Queen, already lost appreciation for the common folk's humor? — he asked, amused.
I laughed.
— I know you too well to take you seriously.
We set off toward the palace, toward the banquet. But I knew that not even demonic souls could torment me as much as the angels who thought I was a Nephilim.
My boots had already worn the white marble floor black. I had to run so fast after the kind lady that my lungs burned, and I could barely catch my breath. Yet she moved effortlessly ahead of me, as if she wasn't even touching the ground.
— My apologies, dear, but we must hurry! — she called back gently, smiling.
She stopped and waited for me to catch up. Her long, silky hair was arranged in a perfect bun, her movements refined, as if she were the master of time itself.
— Time is pressing, but we are here.
The door opened silently, revealing beautiful, simple white dresses. Their fabric fell softly, with only a few delicate embroideries here and there.
— We do not overthink tonight's color choice — she continued. — This is the dinner of purity. Of happiness, love, and simplicity.
I swear, when this woman speaks with her velvety voice, even I believe that these are the only things that exist on Earth.
— Thank you, madam — I nodded.
She looked at me and said something that surprised me.
— Please, just call me Lydia.
— Thank you, Lydia.
My eyes sparkled with joy at finally being able to call her by name. We exchanged a respectful nod before I heard the distant rumble of a storm following the sunshine.
— Oh, how wonderful that you grace us with your presence, Your Highness! — a voice called from the corner of the room. — The poor dresses will have yellowed by the time you arrive.
I turned to them, a cynical smile forming on my lips.
— Well, forgive me! At least I arrived before spring.
The woman gave me an unreadable look but said nothing. Instead, she helped me select and put on my dress—an elegant, floor-length white gown with a modest yet refined cut. She gently curled two strands of my hair before pinning them back with a crystal hairpiece.
Although appearances were not overly emphasized here, no one was adorned with excessive jewelry, yet a small, clear crystal accessory was seen on everyone. I tried to stay calm, gazing out of the massive window while she adjusted my dress. I just needed to survive this dinner.
The grand hall's doors swung open soundlessly. The golden ornaments gleamed, but they did not overshadow the hall's natural simplicity—the wooden carvings, the soft lighting, and the harmony between wealth and modesty. I was always in awe of how flawlessly they balanced these elements.
The guests had already gathered, all dressed in white. Angels from different regions were engaged in conversation. The ambassadors began speaking, each expressing their gratitude.
— It brings us great joy to see you standing by the ruler — said an American ambassador.
— We hope that in the future, you will remain by the royal family's side when the Great Lord returns — added a Swedish envoy.
It was fascinating to see how naturally they accepted this situation. No one doubted the ruler's return, nor Gabriel's capability as king, yet they all eagerly awaited the Great Lord's arrival. And they all considered it obvious that I would stay by the throne—as Gabriel's wife.
The dinner progressed. Gabriel sat at the other end of the table, far from me. The angels conversed among themselves, exchanging news from their territories.
— What's the situation with the souls in Denmark? — someone asked.
— Have there been any sightings of demons?
— And in Hungary? Has the new border security been effective?
I remained silent, eating. Not a single ill-intended remark was made about my presence. No one called me a Nephilim.
Except for one person…
— Don't you think we are going too far? — a woman's sharp yet quiet voice rang from the end of the table. I immediately recognized her arrogant tone.
The conversations ceased, and all eyes turned toward her.
— You suggest we separate the souls, offering them a new chance. But how far can we go? — she continued. — Are we not playing God?
Silence fell over the room.
— We do not make arbitrary decisions — I finally answered calmly. — Those ready for rebirth receive a new opportunity. Those in need of purification undergo that process. We merely help them find their path.
The woman narrowed her eyes.
— And the Soul Prisoners?
— They are a different matter — I replied, feigning indifference while forcing down another bite.
But she wasn't finished.
— You claim to hold rank by your husband's side, overseeing this grand project. But are you truly what they say you are? Or are you still just a Nephilim—an outsider in this world?
The silence was suffocating. My fingers clenched against the table. I had no intention of backing down.
— I am not a Nephilim. And indeed, I do not belong here — I finally said, my voice slow and steady. — But my rank has nothing to do with my husband. It is because of what I have done.
The woman's face remained emotionless, but something in her gaze softened. The dinner continued, but the atmosphere had shifted. I knew Dahlia's storm had only just begun.
The clamor had died down. Silence followed. That's how I knew the storm was about to begin.
The angels were no longer in the hall. Only I remained—Gabriel, Lydia, and Dahlia, along with a few dark-clad figures watching from the shadows. Silent, soundless, as if they weren't even there. Just like I had been a few weeks ago.
Since the angels had left, the silence had been absolute. But now, Gabriel spoke.
I had never heard him contradict or question a woman before. But now, I had the chance to witness it.
His gaze locked onto the arrogant woman.
— That wasn't exactly a mild remark, he said sharply.
— My apologies, she shrugged. — I was merely expressing my opinion.
— Then I ask you not to do so again, Gabriel shot back. — Avarka is your queen now as well. Show her respect and apologize.
— But Gabriel! she turned to him, as if expecting support.
— My aunt, Gabriel replied quietly, then looked at her. — Apologize.
She met my eyes. Behind her surprise, something else lurked. For a moment, I thought she might actually apologize. But then, she bristled.
— I will not apologize to some wench who married her way in! And a nefilim, no less—or worse! We don't even know where she came from! She issues commands, launches projects, directs souls here and there… If it were that easy, the ruler would have done it long ago!
The hall remained cold, but her words cut through the air like a blade.
— But that's not how it works, she went on heatedly. — A soul can pretend to be anything. Just because they run some tests on her or she passes through some device doesn't mean she's truly a soul ready to be reborn. For all we know, she could be a prisoner masquerading as one!
Gabriel's face tensed.
— You cannot assume that, he snapped, his usual calm replaced by sharp, icy severity. — With those words, you insult not only Avarka, but the thousands of dark-clad specialists, trained soldiers, seers, mages, and angels who have dedicated millennia to this work.
— Fine, Dahlia shrugged, then looked at me. — Then let's keep it simple.
Her next words were directed straight at me.
— I don't trust a wench like—
— More delicately, please, Gabriel cut in.
— My apologies, Dahlia continued, with a mocking smile. — I don't trust a girl who, as a married woman, prowls the ruler's empty chambers in the dead of night.
Gabriel's eyes darkened. He was about to speak when something happened.
Dahlia looked at him. Her eyes gleamed.
It was as if they were communicating. As if she had passed a memory to him.
Are angels capable of this? Can they share what they themselves have seen?
Whatever had happened, I couldn't deny it—it was real.
Lydia watched in silence. She didn't judge, didn't speak.
— If you'll excuse me, I must go to my room, Gabriel finally announced calmly. — I've received an important message.
He glanced at the dark-clad figures' communication device, then left the hall without looking at me.
— Ever since you arrived, you've been nothing but trouble, Dahlia continued, as if Gabriel's departure hadn't fazed her at all. — You arrived as a problem, left as a problem. It turns out you're not even who we thought you were. Yet, with a snap of the fingers, you climbed to the top of the hierarchy, and now you're snooping around the ruler's empty chamber.
She leaned in, her voice lowering, but growing sharper.
— Watch what you do, little girl, because here, everything has ears. I hear and see everything. Your breath doesn't exist without mine. We breathe together. We exist together within these walls. If I must, I will make every single day of yours miserable before you leave.
— Dahlia, that's enough, Lydia said softly.
— No, sister. It is not enough. This woman shouldn't even be sitting on our floor, let alone at the head of the table. You are nothing. A nobody. A fleeting intoxication. A dissipating, burned-out ash.
Her words struck me. I felt the disdain in them, the cold disgust she wove into each syllable.
I lifted my head and met her gaze.
— And, she continued with a faint smile, before you think of me as cruel… Do you know what kind of angel I am?
My heart skipped a beat.
I didn't want to hear it.
I didn't want to know.
But she said it.
— I am the Angel of Truth.
The world wavered around me.
It wasn't just a title. Not a rank or a designation. It was what she was. Truth itself.
I wanted to sink into my chair. To disappear. To vanish.
I couldn't take it anymore. I sprang up and fled the hall.
I didn't even remember how I got to my room. I slammed the door behind me and collapsed against the wall, gasping.
Gabriel stood by the window.
When he looked at me, I saw in his eyes that he knew exactly what state I was in.
— She's right… I whispered. — She's right about everything. I don't belong here.
Gabriel stepped toward me and gently wiped the tears from my face.
— Calm down. Don't let this weaken you. Dahlia overreacts sometimes.
— I didn't mean any harm… I stammered.
— I know.
— Then why?
— Because there will always be someone who doubts you. The best way to counter that is to believe in yourself unwaveringly.
It wasn't just his words that comforted me, or their truth, but the fact that he was here.
— But right now, you need to focus on something else.
I trembled.
— What happened?
Gabriel was silent for a moment, then spoke the words I never wanted to hear.
— A dark-clad soldier ran beyond the mist when the special unit withdrew. They checked the soldiers one by one to see who was missing.
Chloe is gone.
My vision darkened. The world ceased to exist.
And then…
I fell into nothingness.
The golden morning light softly crept along the walls, wrapping the room in a warm glow. The sun was slowly but surely awakening the world—and along with it, my thoughts.
Gabriel wasn't beside me. I didn't even need to check to know—he was at the border.
But only one thing occupied my mind. Chloé.
I have to find her. I have to save her. Who knows what's happening to her over there? She's suffered enough as it is.
Who am I trying to fool? I'm not welcome here either. It doesn't matter. Then why shouldn't I risk going where I'm not supposed to?
Beyond the border, there is mist.
Beyond the border, Chloé is waiting.
The realization struck like lightning.
I jumped out of bed, washed my face, and took off without another thought. My mind was a storm as I dashed through the palace. Nothing else mattered. Only one thing: I had to get out.
My footsteps echoed sharply on the white marble as I stormed into the grand hall. Dahlia and Lydia were talking under the towering arches, but I had no time for them. My voice rang out before I had even stopped moving:
— I need my combat gear. I'm going to the border—
But my words were cut off.
The great doors burst open with a deafening crash, and for a heartbeat, time seemed to freeze inside the palace.
Dark-clad figures appeared at the entrance—three in the front, three more behind them. But they weren't the most striking thing.
It was the luggage.
Dozens of heavy suitcases rolled into the grand hall. It looked less like an arrival and more like a full-fledged invasion.
And then, between the stacks of trunks and bags, they appeared.
Elis and Clara.
Elis stepped inside with a grin stretching from ear to ear, a tiny, fluffy white dog in her arms.
— Surpri-i-ise! — she called out, practically glowing with satisfaction. Then, as if she had lived here all along, she gracefully surveyed her surroundings. — Well, well… this place could use a little redecorating. It's all so… plain.
Then, she turned to me. And to Dahlia.
— I hope you've prepared our rooms… and had a nice, strong black coffee. Because, darling, you're going to need it.
Dahlia blinked, as if still processing the situation.
Clara, usually the more reserved of the two, was now radiating the same piercing confidence as Elis.
— And I hope you took a few calming pills with that coffee. Because… trust me, you'll need those too.
Lydia's amused smile showed she was thoroughly enjoying the scene.
Dahlia cleared her throat and attempted a diplomatic expression.
— If we had known you were coming, we would have prepared the guest rooms…
Elis threw her head back and laughed.
— Guests? Oh, Lady Dahlia! No, no, no… We're moving in.
The silence that followed was thick.
Dahlia's face didn't so much as twitch, but I saw the storm in her eyes. Elis, of course, continued with ruthless precision:
— Gabriel agreed. He thought the air here was getting a little… — she smiled, slow and deliberate — …toxic. So we came… to freshen it up.
Clara nodded.
— And hopefully, while we're at it, this air will learn a little respect.
Their words were soft, but they landed like strikes.
I tried to keep a straight face, I really did. But then the laugh just burst out of me.
Maybe it was the tension. Maybe it was relief. But I laughed.
And in that moment, I knew.
My family was here. I was not alone.