Chapter 17 – The Chains of Heaven    

Anastasia's patience had long since burned out.

She had paced her room for what felt like hours, waiting—no, praying—for news about her family. Were they alive? Had they fought off the demons? The silence was unbearable. The walls of her so-called 'permanent' room closed in on her, their pristine, celestial glow suffocating rather than soothing. She couldn't take it anymore.

Stripping off the stiff celestial robes they had given her, she slipped into the bath, submerging herself beneath the warm water. The weight of exhaustion, fear, and grief threatened to drag her under. Maybe, for just a moment, she could pretend she was back in her old life—before Bastian died, before she learned the truth about the supernatural, before she became something more than human. But then again… if nothing had changed, she wouldn't have him. She wouldn't have this life growing inside her.

A knock shattered the fragile peace.

She bolted upright, water cascading down her skin as she grabbed a robe and yanked it around herself. Swinging the door open, she came face to face with Bastian. He froze. His stormy eyes locked onto her damp, glowing skin, his jaw tightening as he visibly fought the urge to reach for her.

"Any news?" she asked, breathless—not just from anticipation, but from the way he looked at her, like she was the most sacred thing in existence.

Bastian swallowed hard and nodded. "They're waiting for us in the hall."

"Come in," she said, turning back inside. "I need to change."

She didn't bother shooing him away. Modesty between them was pointless at this stage. She let the robe slide off, pulling on the celestial garb they had provided. Bastian barely breathed, his gaze lingering on her baby bump. The reality of it hit him like a punch—she was carrying his child, their child. And if something happened to her family, if she broke under the weight of loss, could she handle it? Could he?

Neither spoke as they left for the hall.

Inside, Gabriel and Zadkiel were already deep in conversation. But the moment Anastasia and Bastian entered, they stopped. The air in the room thickened, and her pulse roared in her ears.

"Is my family okay?" she demanded, her voice stronger than she felt.

Gabriel straightened. His usual arrogance was absent—replaced by something far worse. His silence stretched, unbearable.

"We arrived in time and eliminated the remaining horde," he said. "Most of your group was unharmed."

Most.

The word sent ice through her veins. "Most?"

Gabriel exhaled. "Your brother, Sean, suffered severe injuries. He's in the hospital. I assigned Angel Leah to guard him in case of another attack."

The world tilted. The room, the voices, the lights—it all blurred. If not for Bastian's arms catching her, she would've collapsed.

Gabriel continued, his voice grim. "Your angelic allies fought valiantly, Bastian. They took the brunt of the attacks. They will recover within days. But…" He hesitated.

Bastian's hands clenched into fists. "But what?"

Gabriel met his gaze. "Jacob was killed."

The words struck like a blade to the chest.

Anastasia sucked in a sharp breath. Jacob. The son of an Archangel. The angel who had fought beside them, bled beside them. Gone. Just like that.

"There will be a gathering to honor him," Zadkiel added, his voice solemn.

Anastasia could barely think. Everything was happening too fast. "Thank you," she forced out.

Gabriel gave a single nod before turning and leaving the hall, likely to oversee the preparations.

Anastasia steadied herself and turned to Zadkiel, desperation replacing the numbness. "I need to see my brother."

Zadkiel's face remained impassive. "That is not possible."

She took a step forward. "Why? I was forced to come here, but I still had time left! I should be able to return to Earth and be by my brother's side!"

Zadkiel's expression hardened. "Anastasia, I understand your concern, but this is not up for debate. My word is final."

She recoiled. Zadkiel had been kind to her before. Reasonable. But now? He was a wall of cold authority. Something had changed.

"This wasn't the arrangement," she hissed, her frustration boiling over. "I will go."

Zadkiel moved in a flash. One second he was across the room; the next, he was right in front of her. The air crackled with restrained power. His ice-blue eyes locked onto hers, his patience snapping like a fragile thread.

"Bastian," he said, voice edged with steel. "Leave us."

Bastian hesitated. He didn't like the shift in energy, but disobeying a Dominion was not an option. With clear reluctance, he stepped out of the hall, the doors closing behind him.

Zadkiel loomed over her. "You test the limits of my patience, Anastasia."

She refused to be intimidated. "Are you threatening me?"

His lips curved—not in cruelty, but something far more unsettling. Gently, almost tenderly, he reached up and tucked a strand of her damp hair behind her ear. The gesture confused her.

"I am warning you," he murmured. "Your fire is burning too hot, and if you are not careful, it will consume you."

She tensed, confusion warring with her anger. He had never touched her before. Never looked at her like this. What game was he playing?

"War is upon us," he continued, voice softer now. "If you go to your brother, the demons will take you. It is not a risk I am willing to allow."

Anastasia clenched her fists. "You don't get to make that choice for me."

His hands shot out, pressing against either side of her head and pressed his lips on here forehead. A burst of warmth flooded through her, a strange, tingling sensation crawling over her skin. Her anger dulled. The raw, suffocating panic dimmed. The ache in her chest eased.

She gasped. "What… what did you do?"

"I suppressed the emotions clouding your judgment," Zadkiel said, stepping back. "You still feel love. But the fear, the grief, the rage—I have locked them away. You will think clearer now."

Her breath shuddered. He was right. The emotions had been a storm, drowning her. And now? Now she could breathe.

Zadkiel watched her carefully. "How do you feel?"

She met his gaze, no longer blinded by desperation. "Better. Thank you."

He nodded. "I will see you at the gathering." Then, without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving her standing there with the weight of his warning still lingering in the air.

War was coming.

And she had to be ready.