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Angels Don't Always Fly

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The last thing he remembered was a sharp pain through his stomach.


Leaving him gasping and bleeding out upon the tiles.



His last moments spent thinking…first, of the family he would never see again.


Second, of the golden ghost in tulle and lace he’d once sentenced to death.



Hey Lauren…


You happy now?








He didn’t know Heaven was supposed to be this white.


Stone columns, polished floors…


Light flooding in from an unknown source.



The halls were still and silent.



Where are the angels?



Getting up, wincing at the persistent and sudden ache-


DeStorm Power, the former Railroad Tycoon turned Enforcer.



Looked up and down these corridors, and laughed.



Where’s the me from two years ago?



That villain had acted with false confidence all the way up to his original death by magic arrow.


Condemning an innocent girl, allying with Gabbie, fighting with Alex.


Putting himself before the others each and every time-



They’d hated him.


Hated him.



And then.


He’d gotten a second chance.


Debated leaving Gabbie for Tana, made frenemies with Alex.



Thrown a challenge for the innocent girl he’d killed.



How was it possible?



That someone like him-






Those were burning-red eyes peeping from around that corner.



Keeping close to the blinding wall, he crept juuuust a bit closer.


The crimson vanished, leaving only one, feathered wing.



“You’re just a little thing, aren’t ya?”



He slid against the smooth stone until his heels left black marks in the floor.


Rustling from the tiny watcher.



“Watcha doing all by yourself…”



Peeked out of hiding, blonde locks falling over their face as they blinked.


Lace edging ruffled as it scraped along the surface.



“I’m not going to hurt you”, he said softly.



Blinking again, the winged kiddo seemed to stare straight into his soul.



What are they thinking?



“I’m just gonna sit here”.



And wait for something to happen.




Wasn’t like he had anything better to do.




For an endless stretch of time…


They remained like that.



Each waiting upon the other to make a move.



Threatening or otherwise.





A tiny hand creeped out from behind the barrier.


And grasped his sleeve.