The air changed.
At first it was only a hum—low, almost like the breath of a storm waiting to break. Then it swelled, trembling through the street, rattling glass and rattling Kieran's ribs, as if the sound had taken root inside his chest.
The fallen froze and tilted their heads skyward.
Kieran followed their gaze—and his breath caught.
Light.
It split the clouds like a blade. Too sharp. Too sudden. A brilliance so fierce it seemed to slice the stars away. From the blaze, figures descended—winged shapes wrapped in white fire, their bodies burning with gold. The glare stabbed at Kieran's eyes. He threw up an arm, forcing himself to look anyway.
When they landed, the pavement cracked beneath their weight. Heat rippled outward, scouring away the cold shadow that clung to the fallen. Their wings folded with a whisper, each feather scattering sparks.
"Step away from him," said the lead angel. His voice carried a command that left no room for refusal. His gaze softened only when it settled on Kieran. "He is not yours."
The fallen sneered, black wings spreading wide. "Not theirs? Then he is ours. The fire in him burns darker than you care to admit."
The angel's eyes blazed hotter. "No. He is chosen. By the Lord's hand."
The words turned Kieran's stomach. His voice came out rough, cracking.
"But… they told me I was a fallen angel. Am I both? What the hell am I?"
Neither side answered.
Instead, they lunged.
The street erupted.
The fallen struck first, shadows slicing like blades. The radiant angels surged to meet them, swords of light flashing into being, arcs of gold slashing the night.
Kieran dove aside as the first clash split the air. The impact wasn't steel on steel—it was thunder bursting inside glass. Sparks rained into the asphalt. Windows blew apart around him.
He pressed against the wall, blinking through dust. The fight blurred—shapes too fast to follow, leaving streaks of fire and shadow. Each collision jarred his bones.
A fallen swept low, wings shredding the pavement as though it were paper. A radiant caught him mid-strike, hurling him skyward in a blast that sent rubble spraying.
Kieran coughed through the dust, shielding his face. When he looked again, claws were already raking for the lead angel's throat. A shield of light shimmered into place, catching the blow an inch away. The ground split beneath them.
Every strike broke something—cars flipping, lamps snapping, shockwaves smashing through the street.
Kieran staggered, ears ringing. This isn't real. It can't be real.
But then he saw it.
Above the city, a golden dome stretched beyond the skyline. It pulsed faintly, steady as a heartbeat.
His breath caught. That's why the streets are empty. It's hiding this. Protecting them.
The fallen pressed harder. "He belongs to us!" one roared, driving a blade of shadow toward the radiant leader's chest.
The strike froze mid-swing. A golden hand clamped around the blade as if it were nothing. The angel's eyes seared. "You will not have him."
The shockwave that followed split the street in two. Both sides staggered back, wings flaring against the blast.
And then—
"ENOUGH!"
The word crashed like a storm, shaking dust from the walls.
A figure dropped from the sky and landed between them. His wings blazed white fire streaked with silver. He held no weapon. He didn't need one. His presence alone pressed against Kieran's skin, forcing both factions to recoil.
The street hushed.
The figure straightened, his eyes sweeping across angels and fallen alike before settling on Kieran.
"This is not the place," he said. "And he is not ready."
The fallen leader bristled, but folded his wings with a hiss. The radiant angels lowered their blades, tense but obedient.
The silence that followed was heavier than battle.
Finally, the fallen leader pointed at Kieran. "You feel it, don't you? The fire in your veins. The weight in your blood. You are one of us. They would chain you, twist you into a servant. With us, you would be free. No leash. No master."
The radiant leader spoke more softly, but his voice carried. "Do not be deceived, Kieran. Their freedom is hollow. You were not marked by chance. The Lord chose you because the world is changing. Humanity will awaken. Power will spread. And when the storm comes, you will not face it alone. You will stand as light against the dark."
Kieran's fists clenched. His throat ached with unsaid words.
Freedom… or purpose. Fallen… or chosen. Both sides pulling. But what if I'm neither? What if I'm both?
No one spoke. Both factions waited, their gazes fixed on him.
Kieran stared at the fractured pavement, chest heaving. His answer stuck in his throat. Not yet.
Overhead, the dome flickered once—like it felt the choice hammering in his chest.