Chapter 59 - Chance Encounters

The towering doors of the Celestial Palace loomed before them, heavy and ornate, carved with golden swirls that shimmered in the low light. Anastasia, Wyatt, and Sean exchanged a look, a silent understanding passing between them. This was it. There was no turning back now.

Wyatt let out a slow breath, then reached out, gripping Anastasia's shoulder. "We got this."

Sean smirked, but there was tension behind it. "Yeah, if we don't die first."

Anastasia rolled her eyes. "Way to keep the morale high."

They each embraced quickly, a brief moment of reassurance before Wyatt pushed open the grand doors with deliberate force. They creaked, almost groaning under the weight of centuries, revealing a chamber so massive it could have been mistaken for a ballroom. The ceiling stretched high above them, covered in intricate celestial murals, painted in silver and gold, depicting the creation of the angels, their victories, their wars. The polished marble floor gleamed beneath the glow of floating orbs of light, their soft illumination casting elongated shadows of the figures standing within.

A sea of Dominions and Archangels stood in clusters, engaged in hushed conversations. As the doors swung fully open, silence fell. Heads turned, piercing gazes landing on them like daggers.

Then, a voice rang out, smooth, formal, and commanding. "Who are you, and what is it you seek?"

Wyatt stepped forward, his face a mask of control. "My name is Wyatt, this is my daughter Anastasia and my son Sean. We are here to ask for reconsideration regarding the rulings made not long ago."

There was a stir amongst the angels, hushed murmurs spreading like wildfire. But one figure stepped forward, gliding with a grace so unnatural it was almost hypnotic.

He was tall, his long brown hair flowing down either side of his shoulders in perfect waves. His robes, pristine white with golden accents, barely seemed to move as he walked. Anastasia found herself staring, utterly captivated. His very presence seemed to exude a peace so absolute, it wrapped around her like a comforting warmth. Her surroundings blurred, Wyatt's words fading into a soft hum in the background. Nothing mattered in that moment except for the celestial being before her.

Then, suddenly, he turned his gaze to her, sharp yet calm, and spoke.

She heard nothing but the sound of her own heartbeat.

His brows furrowed slightly, the corners of his lips twitching in mild amusement. It was only when her father gave her a sharp nudge that she snapped out of it, shaking her head as though coming out of a dream.

"Sorry, what was that?" she mumbled, still dazed.

The angel tilted his head, observing her curiously before speaking again. "I introduced myself. Angel Zadkiel. And I must ask, what just happened?"

Anastasia felt her face heat up. He was so calm, so polite, but the curiosity in his tone was undeniable. She tried to sidestep the topic. "It's nothing. Really. We should—"

"No," he interrupted gently, a ghost of a smile gracing his lips. "I would very much like to know."

Her mouth opened, then closed. What was the point in hiding it? She had already made a fool of herself. Taking a deep breath, she blurted out, "You are the most beautiful creature I've ever laid my eyes upon, and when I looked at you, I felt this overwhelming peace, like I was being drawn into something beyond myself. It was… consuming."

A pause.

Then, to her surprise, Zadkiel's mouth twitched upward in the faintest of smiles. If he thought her bluntness strange, he did not show it. Instead, he seemed… intrigued. Flattered, even.

"An interesting response," he mused, his gaze never leaving her. "I have heard many things in my time, but never that."

Wyatt, clearly irritated that they were getting sidetracked, cleared his throat loudly. "Forgive my daughter, but we did not come here to admire the council's aesthetics."

Zadkiel chuckled, the sound warm and light. "Of course not." Then his gaze flickered to Anastasia once more before he gestured grandly. "Please, proceed. If you have gone through such great efforts to break in, I assume your matter is of utmost importance."

Anastasia straightened, regaining her focus. "It is. The ruling on human-angel alliances is unjust. You are cutting off generations of bonds, displacing families, and abandoning allies who have fought beside you for centuries. You have sworn to protect and guide, and now you turn your backs on those who need you most. We are here to ask—no, demand—that you reconsider."

Zadkiel watched her closely, expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he sighed. "I admire your conviction, but the ruling is final."

A sharp sting of frustration shot through Anastasia's chest. "How can you say that? After all the sacrifices—"

"The ruling is final," Zadkiel repeated, though not unkindly. "But…"

Anastasia's heart leaped at that single word.

"I will hear more," he said. "Not because I can overturn it, but because I wish to understand your perspective."

Wyatt let out a long breath, choosing his words carefully. "Thank you. That is all we ask."

Zadkiel nodded, then his face darkened slightly, as if debating something internally. Then he added, "And needless to say, we are fully aware of the rescue attempt being made to retrieve Bastian."

Anastasia felt her stomach drop.

Silence stretched between them, thick with tension. Wyatt's jaw clenched, Sean stiffened beside her, and Anastasia's mind raced. How much did they know? Were Elijah and the others already compromised?

Then, Zadkiel's expression softened slightly. "I suppose we shall see if your conviction is strong enough to endure what comes next."

And with that, the chamber doors slammed shut behind them.