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Ashael's first thought as she regained consciousness was that dying was getting annoyingly repetitive.
Her second thought was that something incredibly heavy was lying on her back, pinning her to a surface that felt like cracked concrete mixed with the faint vibration of distant machinery. The air was thick with smoke, metal dust, and the acidic tang of angelic energy—which meant one thing:
Miguel's soldiers had found her.
Again.
She cracked open an eye and immediately regretted it. A chunk of rebar was sticking out from the ground an inch from her face. The rebar was still glowing red, which suggested she had fallen… what, two stories? Maybe three? Hard to tell when one's body kept regenerating faster than she could track her injuries.
A deep, inhuman grunt vibrated through the weight on her back. Asha grimaced.
"Oh, great," she muttered into the rubble. "Please tell me that's Kael and not a demon using me as a mattress."
The weight shifted.
Definitely not Kael.
Because Kael didn't smell like sulfur, rage, and decomposing lava.
Asha shoved her elbow backward, channeling a fragment of the fire that lived inside her bones. The creature shrieked as flames erupted across its flesh, and it rolled off her just in time for her to scramble onto her feet.
Well—onto her feet-ish. Her right leg gave out, ribs screamed, and her vision blurred at the edges, but she was up.
"Ashael!" someone yelled from above. "Hold still!"
She didn't have to see him to know the voice. It carried the same tone he always used around her—half exasperation, half panic, like he was constantly torn between protecting her and strangling her.
Kael.
She looked up through the haze of dust and smoke.
He was standing on what remained of a rooftop, wings half-spread, looking like a furious painting. Charcoal-black feathers. Pale silver eyes burning with urgency. One hand extended toward her like he expected her to grab it.
She squinted. "Hold still? Do I look like I can—"
The demon lunged again.
Asha ducked. Kael dropped from the roof like a meteor.
His landing shook the pavement, cracked it straight down the middle, and sent a shockwave that flung the demon backward. He stood between her and the creature, glaring it down with celestial authority that would've impressed her if she wasn't currently woozy and slightly on fire.
"Asha, you're hurt," Kael said, eyes sweeping over her rapidly healing wounds. "Again."
"You say that like it's my fault," she snapped.
"When you jump off collapsing buildings without looking—"
"I didn't jump, the floor exploded!"
The demon roared, interrupting their argument.
Kael moved faster than sight, launching himself toward the creature. His blade—one of Miguel's signature lightsteel swords—flashed with white fire as it sliced through demonic hide. The demon shrieked, flailing wildly.
Asha watched only long enough to confirm Kael had it handled, then looked down at herself.
Clothes? Shredded.
Hair? Smoking.
Body? Yes, technically whole again.
Emotional stability? Questionable at best.
"Fantastic start to the sixth life," she muttered. "Really nailing the resurrection aesthetic."
She felt it then.
A pulse.
Not external—internal.
Deep.
Ancient.
Wrong.
It throbbed from her chest outward, vibrating through her ribs like a heartbeat that didn't belong to her. Asha stiffened.
Not again.
Not another seal.
She pressed a palm against her sternum.
One crack. Just one. A tiny fissure in the divine lock that held back the Apocalypse.
"Not now," she whispered.
Kael slammed the demon into the ground behind her. "Asha! Move!"
She spun just in time to see the demon's last desperate swipe. Its claw grazed her shoulder—enough to slice through what remained of her shirt, enough to sting, but not enough to kill her.
Kael's blade came down in a clean arc. The demon dissolved into ash.
For a second, everything was still.
Silence. Smoke. The distant hum of drones patrolling the city's upper sectors. Ash drifting like morbid snow.
Kael turned to her, breathing hard, eyes sharp. "Are you alright?"
She tried to speak normally but her voice came out shaky. "Define alright."
"You're alive."
"For now."
He frowned at that. "Asha—"
"Save the lecture." She pulled away from him and dusted off the ash sticking to her arm. "Dying five times already this life is enough for one century."
"This makes six," Kael said quietly.
She froze. "I… what?"
He looked at her with that carefully neutral expression he used whenever he didn't want to upset her.
"Asha," he said, "you were dead when I found you."
Her stomach dropped.
She opened her mouth. Closed it. Tried again.
"This morning?"
"Just now."
"Are you absolutely sure?"
"Yes."
She let out a sound halfway between a groan and a scream. "Unbelievable."
Of course. Of course she had died again. Again. She hated this eternal cycle more than Miguel hated her existence—which was saying a lot.
"Well," she muttered, "that explains why everything hurts."
Kael stepped closer, wings folding behind him. "Let me check for internal damage."
She swatted his hand away. "I don't need a celestial checkup. I need a break."
"Asha—"
"I've been alive for maybe twelve minutes and already fought a demon, fell off a building, re-burned my hair, cracked a seal, and—oh right—died."
Kael paused. "Your hair looks fine."
"It's literally smoking!"
He stared a little too intently. "…It suits you."
She blinked. "Kael, that was almost a compliment."
His face went blank like he was trying to process whether he'd broken some rule of conversation. "Was it?"
She burst out laughing—tired, hysterical laughter that echoed across the ruined street.
Kael watched her like she was a puzzle he was still trying to solve.
But the moment didn't last.
A metallic hum filled the air.
Kael stiffened. "Drones."
Asha cursed. "Miguel's?"
He nodded. "They've already found us."
"Of course they have," she sighed. "He can't let me stay dead or alive for more than ten minutes."
Kael grabbed her wrist—gently, but firmly. "We need to move. Now."
"Lead the way, featherbrain."
He hesitated. "That was… an insult?"
"Affectionate insult."
He nodded seriously, like this was critical intel for future conversations. "Understood."
They ran.
Smoke curled around their feet as they darted through the debris-strewn street. Kael guided her into the shell of a collapsed metro station, wings tucked tight to avoid catching on twisted metal. The air inside was cooler, quieter.
Asha didn't speak until they reached the bottom of the stairs.
"Kael."
"Yes?"
She stopped moving.
He turned to face her.
She pressed a hand over her chest again. The pulse was stronger now, spreading heat through her veins.
"One of the seals cracked," she whispered.
Kael's eyes widened almost imperceptibly.
"Asha… are you certain?"
"Yes."
A beat.
Kael's wings shivered.
"Then," he said quietly, "Miguel isn't trying to kill you."
She stared at him.
He met her gaze with calm certainty.
"He's trying to end the world."
His words echoed down the empty station.
And Asha knew—deep in her bones—that he was right.