The Angel Who Hates Me

Eli felt it before seeing it.

A weight hanging in the air, sharp, silent—like the instant before the strike of lightning. The singing birds had vanished from the trees. The wind didn't hum through the leaves anymore. The current of the river almost seemed to recede into a dreadful stillness.

Amon stood with his back turned to Eli at the field's edge, near the barn: he was stripped to the waist, showing his back with twin memories of pain imprinted with scars. A light of gold came from the morning sun upon him, but the warmth never reached him. His posture was stiff and brittle.

Eli walked up carefully. "What is it?"

Amon never turned. "He's here."

Eli's heart dropped. "Who?"

Kael, the voice whispered darkly.

Before Eli could speak, the gust of wind swept through the trees. The light, far too bright and too white, pierced the sky. The air split. From that rift in heaven descended a figure fluttering in shimmering silver robes, his wings wide and perfect, glowing with holy fire.

He landed soundlessly.

The beauty was disturbing.

Angular, sculpted, flawless—and utterly cold.

His gaze, hardened by centuries, bore down on Amon with disdain.

"Amon," the angel said, as though bells were cracking in frost.

Finally, Amon turned. "Kael."

Eli could sense it in the space between them. This was not merely a reunion; this was a gaping wound.

Kael's eyes roamed from Amon's scars to the bare earth where Amon had lived like a man.

"You're weaker than I thought," Kael said. "How poetic."

"I'm stronger than you know," Amon said, calm.

Then Kael's gaze shifted to Eli. 

The angel's expression changed—first confusion, then recognition.

"You," Kael stated slowly, as if tasting the words. "You were reborn."

Eli stiffened. "You know me?"

Kael said nothing. Instead, he stepped ahead, each step too light, too perfect, as if gravity refused to touch him.

He stopped mere inches from Eli. "You died once for him, and now you lie with him again? Do you have no limit to your foolishness?"

Eli did not back away. "I love him."

Kael's nostrils flared. "Love is not for creatures like him."

Amon stepped in between them. "He is mine. And I won't let you touch him."

Kael let out a laugh-cold, bitter. "You still speak like you hold power. You are but a shadow. Stripped. Fallen. Forgotten."

"And yet," retorted Amon, "here you are to see me."

A heartbeat passed in silence.

Then Kael finally whispered with a voice like thunder, "You once were my brother."

"I was your lover," Amon said.

Eli froze.

Something flickered in Kael's expression—pain? Anger? Regret?

Amon continued, "You said you would follow me. And when I fell, you led the blade that cut my wings."

"I had no choice," Kael shot back. "You defied the will."

"I chose love over obedience."

"You chose lust. You chose him."

Kael pointed at Eli as he would a curse.

"And I would choose him again," Amon said.

A force to shake the trees was in his voice.

Kael's wings flared. "Then you condemn yourself."

"I was already condemned."

Light began to gather in the palm of Kael's hand. A flaming orb of divine and deadly energy.

Eli cried, "Stop!"

But Amon didn't budge "So you're going to do it here? Before him?"

"You're a threat. To balance. To heaven. To everything."

"Now I'm just a man."

"Then die like one."

The light shot forth.

Eli didn't think; he ran.

Into its path.

Excruciating brilliance—

But nothing struck him.

The light fizzled on impact.

A golden halo surrounded Eli's chest, the mark Amon had left. The last spark of divinity.

Kael staggered back, agast. "You gave him your soul?"

Amon stepped beside Eli, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Yes."

Kael's eyes seemed to ignite. "You broke every law."

"I made my own law. Love."

Kael trembled and at last, his face began to crack. His wings trembled. "Then I have no choice."

He turned and rose into the sky, but before he vanished, he said:

"They will send others. Stronger. Less merciful."

And then he was gone.

The silence returned, heavy and raw.

Eli turned to Amon, his heart racing. "He was your—"

"Yes."

"You loved him?"

Amon nodded. "Long ago. Before I knew what love truly was."

Eli looked down. "Am I… just another rebellion?"

Amon lifted his chin. "You are everything they tried to keep from me."

He stepped closer, trembling hands touching Eli's face.

"They fear us because we are real. We choose. We feel. They cannot control that."

Eli leaned into the touch. "What do we do now?"

"We prepare."

"For war?"

"For truth," Amon said. "For memories to return. For your power to awaken."

Eli blinked. "I have no power."

"You always did," Amon whispered. "Even before you were born again. You just haven't remembered yet."

Eli swallowed hard. "And when I do?"

Amon smiled—tired but proud. "Then they will be afraid."

Eli dreamed again that night.

Except it wasn't a dream.

It was a memory.

He was in a circle of fire, wings unfolded behind him—not angelic, but something else. Ancient. Wreathed in shadow and starlight.

Kael stood opposite him.

And in between, shackled in chains of light, was Amon.

The boy—himself—stepped forward and said:

"I don't want a heaven that demands I kill the one I love."

Kael didn't respond. But tears slipped down his cheeks as he raised his sword.

Eli's future self seized the blade in midair.

"Then I will build a new heaven."

And the sword shattered.

Eli awoke gasping, drenched in sweat, the whisper still echoing in his mind.

"You were never just human."