Grane's gaze drifted upward, his eyes tracing the vast expanse of blue stretching endlessly above him. For the first time in his life, he felt the weight of the sky pressing down on him—not with the suffocating intensity of the darkened ceilings of his prison, but with an overwhelming sense of freedom. He inhaled deeply, the air here crisp and clean, unlike anything he had ever experienced. It was as if the very atmosphere itself had been infused with peace, something he hadn't known existed.
What a strange place, he thought, looking around. He had spent most of his existence in the shadows, in cramped spaces, confined to his own power, his own anger. He had been shaped by darkness, and yet, here, in this strange castle bathed in light, he was being shown something else—something far more terrifying and exhilarating than he ever imagined.
The soft sound of footsteps beside him drew him out of his thoughts. Phenelope, she had insisted on giving him a tour of the grounds, as if she believed it was part of his healing process, as if a simple walk through the castle could make the chaos inside him quiet down, even just a little.
"How are you feeling?" she asked, her voice light, but with a warmth that contrasted the coolness of the surroundings.
Grane met her gaze for the briefest moment before looking away, still somewhat reluctant to share anything with her. "I don't know. It's..." He struggled for the right words, his thoughts still swirling. "Different. This place... it's too bright."
She laughed softly, as though she understood exactly what he meant. "It can be overwhelming at first, i was like you too the moment i step in here"
The lush gardens, the sparkling fountains, and the towering, elegant spires of the castle seemed almost unreal. The academy was a place of pure beauty, with every detail meticulously crafted as though it had been touched by divine hands. It was a place where nature and architecture intertwined seamlessly, and where the air itself seemed to hum with the kind of peaceful energy Grane had only heard of in stories.
Phenelope led him toward a tranquil clearing, the sound of the wind through the trees almost musical. She had been explaining the nature of the castle, the academy's purpose, the role of angels in the world. "Heaven's Castle isn't just a place of learning," she said, her tone thoughtful. "It's a sanctuary, a place where young angels can train, but also a place where we learn to live in harmony with our power."
Grane wasn't entirely sure what to make of it. The idea of "living in harmony" with anything, especially with power, was foreign to him. His whole existence had been about controlling his destructive force, about pushing back against the nature that threatened to consume him. He had never thought of power as something to be understood, let alone used for good.
"Angels aren't born perfect," Phenelope continued, looking over at him as they walked. "Just like humans, we have our flaws. We're given the power to create, to protect, and to heal. But learning to use that power correctly—it's not easy."
Grane shot her a skeptical look. "You sound like you've never had to control your powers. You're an angel. You've always had this... peace about you."
She chuckled softly, but there was no arrogance in her voice. "I wish that were true. My power—like everyone else's—is something I've had to learn to manage. And sometimes, it still gets out of hand." Her expression softened. "But that's why we train here. We don't just learn how to fight, Grane. We learn how to choose. We choose how to use our power—whether to destroy or to heal. Whether to live in fear or to embrace who we are."
The thought unsettled him, and he fell silent, the weight of her words pressing down on him.
After a few moments, he asked, unable to shake the strange feeling that had settled in his chest, "So... this place, it's like... a school?" He glanced over at her, still unsure how to process all that he was being told.
Phenelope smiled warmly. "Yes, but it's more than just a school. It's a place where angels come to understand their place in the world, to learn about balance, to understand how their abilities can help others. We're taught how to use our gifts to protect, to heal, and to guide."
"But what if an angel use its power to....you know.....kill?"
Grane's question hung in the air. The question was simple enough, yet it held a depth that went beyond the surface.
Phenelope didn't immediately answer. She paused, her gaze shifting to the horizon, as if she were contemplating his words carefully. The breeze rustled through the trees around them, the world around them serene, but Grane couldn't help but feel like he was standing at the edge of something dangerous.
She had told him that angels could use their power to heal, to protect, but what if an angel chose to use their power differently? What if, like him, they felt that rage, that need to destroy? Would they be stopped? Would the walls of Heaven's Castle prevent them from committing the very act that had defined his existence?
"You're talking about... killing," Phenelope finally said, her voice soft but unwavering, as if she had anticipated the question, or perhaps, had already heard it before. Her eyes met his with the same gentle, almost pitying calmness she had held since they started walking.
"Yes." Grane's voice was low, guarded. "I've seen it. I've done it. I've felt it. The power to destroy is always there, right beneath the surface. It doesn't matter how hard you try to control it."
"It's true," she said quietly. "An angel could use their power to kill, just as a demon could choose to create. Power is neither good nor evil. It's how we choose to use it that defines us."
"But if you use your power to kill," he pressed, his voice colder now, "what happens then? What if an angel, or even you, chose to use it... to destroy? What would stop you?"
Phenelope's gaze softened, but her expression was resolute. "That's why we're trained here—to understand the consequences of our choices. If an angel, or anyone, uses their power to harm without cause, it's not just the victim that suffers. It's the one who chose to harm, too. We can feel the damage we cause to the world, to the balance of everything around us." she answered trying not to answer his question directly.
Grane looked at her, confused. "So what happens if an angel kills?" He had heard of the wars between angels and demons, but this wasn't the same.
"We're not invincible," she replied softly. "Angels who fall to that darkness—who misuse their power—are cast out. It's not that we are stripped of our wings or our strength, but that we are no longer angels. We lose what makes us who we are. The power to kill isn't a gift. It's a curse, no matter who wields it."
"Fall…" Grane repeated, his voice softer than before. "So an angel can become something... less? Less than what they were?"
Phenelope nodded, her expression still calm but filled with a depth of understanding that Grane couldn't quite grasp. "Yes. Just like a demon can choose redemption. It's all about the path we walk. The choices we make. We might have power, but without the right heart behind it, power only leads to destruction, or far worse."
Grane looked at him silently, trying to read her mind.
"Enough talks about angel's, what about you, what is your name?"
All the talking made him realized that he didn't even introduced his name.
"Im Graineger, just Grane"
Grane's words were blunt, but there was a certain weight to them—an edge, as if he was used to distancing himself from people. The name, "Graineger," felt too heavy for the moment, but the simple "Grane" was a version of himself that felt easier to wear. It was a name he had grown accustomed to, something that had become a shield of sorts.
"Grane," she repeated, her voice gentle. "It's a strong name. I like it." She paused for a second, looking at him. "I'm glad you told me."
"PHENELOPE!"
The voice had come like a thunderclap, sudden and sharp, cutting through the peaceful moment that had settled between Grane and Phenelope. Grane stiffened instinctively, a chill running down his spine as the figure approached.
The man was tall, imposing, his presence commanding. Every step he took seemed to crackle with power, and there was a weight to his movements that spoke of a lifetime spent wielding authority. His eyes, sharp as the sky before a storm, locked onto Phenelope with a gaze that was both protective and... wary. His features were carved from stone, marked by time and experience, his long, silver hair flowing behind him like the mist of a tempest.
"Father." Phenelope's voice was steady, but Grane could hear the flicker of something else underneath—an unspoken tension, a weight of history between them.
The man's gaze didn't leave Phenelope as he stopped a few paces away, his eyes narrowing slightly as if assessing her. There was no warmth in his expression, only the kind of controlled intensity that made it clear he wasn't someone you crossed. His aura was powerful, even in the tranquil surroundings of Heaven's Castle. The air itself seemed to grow heavier, as if the very heavens were holding their breath.
"Get away from him, I sense dark aura coming from that man" Grane eyes darkens, stance getting ready for what will happen next. "Who are you?, What are you doing here?"
The suspicion in his tone was thick, loaded with something more than just a simple question.
Grane stood still, every muscle in his body tense, every fiber of his being on edge. The world around them felt suddenly smaller, confined by the pressure of the angel's words. He didn't know who this angel was, but the hostility was unmistakable.
"ANSWER ME YOU CREATURE!" Phenelope's father raged. Grane's dark aura rippled beneath the surface, a quiet storm ready to break free, but for some reason, he couldn't use his power. Like something is blocking it from flowing. He looked at the angel beside him, holding unto him.
It was her power, her aura. Grane could feel it radiating off her in gentle waves, like a soft breeze that tempered the firestorm that raged beneath his skin. Her presence was the only thing keeping him from losing himself entirely to the darkness.
He glanced at her, his mind struggling to process what was happening. There was no denying it now—his demonic energy, usually so free-flowing and powerful, was blocked.
His heart pounded, his thoughts racing. Is it possible? Could she be the reason his power was restrained? Could she have somehow placed a barrier around him, unwittingly or otherwise? Was it her divine influence—the purity of an angel's presence—that was suppressing his demonic nature?
A wave of panic washed over him, quickly followed by confusion. The idea of being unable to access his own power felt alien to him. The very thing that defined him, the thing that allowed him to survive, to fight, to defend himself—it was gone. Stripped away, like a vital organ suddenly severed.
But how?
"Enough Father...." Phenelope answered his father to his instead. "...I rescued him in the forest, he is my responsibility"
He glanced down at Phenelope's hand, still gripping his arm with a gentle but unyielding strength.
"My daughter"
Grane just stood there in silence. He never felt so vulnerable yet protected. Phenelope stood her ground, her hand still lightly holding Grane's arm, but her face was set in determination. Her father's authority—his aura of dominance—was undeniable, yet she didn't back down. She was choosing to stand beside him, to defend him, despite the danger it put her in.
"Father," she began, her voice steady but full of emotion, "he is not some kind of creature. He's Grane. A person. And you don't know what he's been through."
"But you do not know where he came from," her father interrupted sharply, his voice dropping into a low growl. The warning was clear.
The older angel turned his gaze to Grane now, eyes burning with righteous anger and a strange form of pity. "You," he said, his voice hardening with every syllable. "I don't care who you are, or what kind of act you're trying to put on. I need answers. Now. Both of you, come to my office"
The elder angel's gaze flicked to her, his jaw tightening as if he were about to lash out, but he held himself back. He gave a single curt nod, his wings unfurling slightly in the air, casting a long shadow across the courtyard. His body was tense with unspoken fury, but he didn't argue. He only spoke again, his tone clipped, betraying no hint of the warmth that a father's voice might normally carry.
As they walked toward the looming stone building, Grane's thoughts swirled in a cacophony of confusion.
When they reached the office, the doors opened with a low groan, revealing a large, dimly lit room. Rich tapestries adorned the walls, but the heavy oak desk in the center of the room dominated the space. The windows were narrow and high, casting long shadows across the stone floor.
The elder angel didn't wait for them to settle. He gestured sharply for Grane to sit, his eyes cold and unreadable. The door shut behind them with a soft click, sealing them in.
"You have exactly three minutes," the elder angel said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Explain who you are. Explain why you're here." His eyes flicked to Phenelope, then back to Grane.
Grane stood there, the weight of his own thoughts bearing down on him like an immovable boulder. The elder angel's piercing gaze was a constant pressure on him, demanding answers, demanding truth—but Grane's truth was too dangerous to share. It wasn't just about his past, it was about his very existence. If he revealed who he truly was, if he said the words "I am a demon, born of darkness", it would be the end for him. The angels would never allow a creature like him to walk freely among them. He would be hunted. Destroyed.
Death?
A bitter laugh rose in Grane's throat, though he suppressed it. He had spent years, no, decades trying to escape the curse of his own existence. Born of dark magic, a force of chaos and destruction—what else was there for him but to live in isolation, constantly running from his true nature? Death had always seemed like the only release, the only way to silence the roiling storm inside him. It was an end to the constant gnawing hunger, the twisted urges that never stopped.
He closed his eyes for a moment, the flood of conflicting emotions overwhelming him. The desire to be free from the curse inside him, to finally end it all, was still there, lurking in the back of his mind. It was familiar. But then, Phenelope's presence wrapped around him like a tether, pulling him back from the edge. He could feel the softness of her aura, the purity of her soul, almost like a shield, like she was unknowingly keeping the darkness at bay.
What if…?
What if it was possible to change?
Grane's mind raced, the swirling vortex of possibilities crashing through his thoughts. He'd always been so sure that there was no escape, that he was destined to be a monster, to live in the shadows until he burned out. But here, with Phenelope, standing on the precipice of a decision that could either tear him apart or offer him something he'd never imagined—hope—he felt that familiar tug of possibility.
Could she—this angel—truly offer him a chance to be something else? Something better? Or was he simply fooling himself, grasping at a dream that was never meant to be?
Grane took a deep breath, his hands trembling as he forced himself to meet the elder angel's cold, unyielding eyes ready to lie.
"Start talking," the elder angel repeated, his voice colder now, cutting through the air with an unspoken threat. The tension in the room was unbearable. The clock was ticking.
"I…" Grane began, his voice rough, but gaining strength with each word. The moment felt like an eternity, but he knew he couldn't hesitate. He had to play this carefully. He had to protect the part of himself that was still human, still worth saving.
"I'm not... I'm not the person you think I am," Grane said, his words slow but steady. "But I'm not a monster either." He met the elder angel's gaze, feeling the weight of the truth pressing down on him. "I don't want to fight. I don't want to hurt anyone. But... I can't tell you everything."
The elder angel's eyes darkened at the admission, his expression hardening even further. "What do you mean, you can't tell me everything?" His voice was thick with suspicion, every syllable dripping with distrust.
Grane closed his eyes briefly, as if to gather his thoughts. He needed to lie. He couldn't tell the truth, but maybe... maybe he could bend it. If he was careful, if he just gave them enough to believe he wasn't a threat, maybe he could survive this. Maybe he could protect himself.
"I came from the outer realms," Grane said finally, his voice even, though his insides churned with the lie. "I don't know exactly why I'm here. I don't remember much, only that I woke up in the forest." He glanced at Phenelope. "She found me... and helped me."
The elder angel's gaze softened just slightly, but his suspicion remained. "The outer realms? You expect me to believe that?"
Grane nodded, trying to look as convincing as possible. "Yes. I know it sounds strange. But I'm telling you the truth—at least the parts I know." He let out a small, strained breath. "I didn't come here to cause trouble. I just want to learn… to change."
The elder angel's eyes flicked back to Phenelope, then back to Grane. He didn't seem convinced, but for the moment, it seemed enough to stall him.
Phenelope took a small step forward, her voice firm yet gentle. "Father, please. Can we not do this now?" Her gaze met Grane's, a silent understanding passing between them. "He is injured and I took him in, he is my responsibility. And he needed to rest."
The elder angel stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable, before finally sighing in resignation. He turned to Grane, his eyes hard once more.
"We will speak again, Grane," he said, the words laced with a cold promise. "But know this: if you are hiding something—if you are dangerous—there will be no second chances."