As I slowly regained consciousness, I faintly heard Clara and the others conversing before losing awareness again. When I finally came to, bright sunlight filtered into the room. I sat up and looked around: the space was decorated in Italian style, blending traditional and modern elements. I found myself wearing a comfortable lemon-yellow dress. Approaching the window, I saw vast lemon trees, olive trees, and fertile lands; the typical Italian landscape filled me with joy.
I couldn't recall how I ended up here, but all other events were clear in my mind. Worried about the others, I quickly opened the room door and found myself at a stair landing. Looking down, I saw Clara and the others sitting in deliberation. I was relieved they were alive and appeared well. They had also changed clothes and freshened up. Although the scene seemed familiar, their conversation's topic was cause for concern.
"They will come for her, dear. Unfortunately, wherever we take her, they'll find her," John said.
"But it would be good if we tried to buy some time until we figure out what they want with her," Clara replied.
"I don't think that's even a question."
"Does it matter that she saved us? The council can't be that cruel," Elise said.
"Oh, but they can, dear. Why do you think we left? So far, Clarissa was the only registered Nephilim, who, however, committed wrongdoings. They didn't like Nephilim anyway, and now they don't look kindly upon Avar either," Clara replied.
"But are you sure she's a Nephilim?" Elise asked desperately.
"I want to know that too. Are you sure I am?" I asked as I reached them.
Everyone looked at me. Elise turned to me with eyes gleaming with happiness.
"Avar!" she exclaimed.
"Hello!" I said, quickly hurrying to them.
We embraced in a massive hug. It was good to see them, especially after seeing them all unconscious. They shone, radiating in their full glory. It was incredible to see them like this when they awoke, with their wings, in their complete selves.
"I'm so glad you're all okay," I said, holding Clara and Elise's hands. "You were beautiful when you woke up."
"So are you, Avar," Elise replied.
"I don't even know what I am anymore," I said, my gaze turning gray. I withdrew my hands from theirs and lowered my head. "I'm sorry that you'll have to be ashamed because of me. It would be better if I went back and surrendered myself immediately."
"Why would you do that?" John exclaimed. "You're not a criminal. You've done much more than that ruler ever has."
"Darling, you can't insult him. We all know the ruler is a divisive personality, but his influence and leadership skills are undeniable. He merely acted according to angelic rules. He doesn't destroy but creates. He protects, but not with violence, and this uprising was strongly pro-violence," Clara said.
John lowered his eyes, then looked kindly at his partner.
"Alright, dear, I understand. But you, darling," he looked at me, "although I consider you as my daughter, as a responsible angel, a being who has lived for millennia, I tell you that you have committed no crime."
"But for them, it's enough that she's a Nephilim," I heard Michael's voice, who was standing at the door.
"Michael!" I looked at him happily.
"Hello, little girl! My kung fu gang performed well this time too," he said with a smile.
I hugged him, and although I was angry with myself for getting them into trouble and couldn't be at peace with myself because I didn't even know who or what I was, they, my family, their love filled this void for me.
"Alright, listen!" Clara looked at us. "Whatever happens, dear," she took my hand, "it doesn't matter who you are or what you are. We'll find out. Unfortunately, I can't provide information at the moment; I have no idea. But you need to know that we won't hand you over to them."
It felt good to hear these words. I knew I had them.
"The protective magic is already in place," Michael spoke up.
"Please, don't," I looked at him. "You're an archangel, and I'm a fugitive. If you ally with a fugitive, who knows what they'll do to you?"
"Oh, come on, dear! You're not evil, just a being they can't tolerate because you're different. Probably, if they find you, they'll throw you back beyond the fog, more precisely beyond the border, because for them that's the appropriate reception for another being. Why would I allow that? I'm a protective archangel, and it's not just my title; it's my soul too."
I couldn't be grateful enough to him or the others.
While John and Michael strengthened the house's security, Clara and Elise prepared a soothing drink in the kitchen from medicinal herbs. Due to their angelic nature, they didn't resort to quackery or witchcraft; they simply used natural herbs, complemented by their own calming presence. Their beings' purity and peace permeated the environment, bringing tranquility to all of us.
As a protector, Michael erected an invisible shield around the house, similar to what Dahlia had previously employed. Although we knew we were in a secluded little village in Italy, we all felt that we couldn't hide from the angelic council forever. I felt this especially strongly, knowing that what resided within me was unnatural, and I struggled to come to terms with this thought.
"Do you think I'm evil?" I asked softly as I sipped my tea at the small kitchen table.
Clara looked at me, her gaze deeper than a simple answer.
The steam of the drink swirled gently in the air, and the faint light shimmered on the rim of the handcrafted, traditional Italian porcelain cups. My hand trembled for a moment as I set the cup down on the wooden table.
"Why do you think that?" she finally asked, her own cup making a soft sound as she placed it down.
"Because I'm not entirely an angel," I replied with a bitter smile.
Clara said nothing, just extended her hand.
"Give me your hand."
Instinctively, I obeyed. When her fingers wrapped around mine, I felt her warmth, her presence, the inexplicable calm she carried. For a moment, everything fell silent.
"Show me your sacred light," she said in a soft but firm voice. "Don't hide it. Don't cast it away."
And then it happened.
The light burst forth from within me with elemental force. It purified the air, surged through my body, filled my veins, and as if every dark thought I had ever harbored vanished in an instant. The small house was bathed in my radiance. Clara and Alice watched in astonishment, but I felt something was incomplete.
Because alongside the light, there was something else.
A hot, searing sensation that did not belong to this purity. A kind of thunderous rage, something boiling deep within, growing stronger, trying to break free.
Clara suddenly let go of my hand as if it had burned her.
"They have suppressed you," she said quietly. "This is not evil, only an inner barrier. There is anger in you, despair, and fear. Who knows how many lives you have lived? And how many lives have been stifled within you? Until now, not even a shadow of suspicion had formed in my mind—your power was hidden so well. This is no small thing, so don't be afraid if it doesn't surface with good feelings at first."
Elis watched silently, but I felt the support in her gaze.
"But now that a part of your full self has revealed itself, your memories will start returning, little by little," Clara continued. "All you need to do is keep your mind steady and accept them. But be careful—not all of them will be good memories."
Elis smiled.
"One thing is certain," she said. "You are not bad. You never were."
Then she grabbed my hand and suddenly sprang to her feet.
"Come on, girl, don't be so gloomy! Look!" She pointed toward the window.
The sun was just descending toward the horizon, painting the sky in golden and orange hues.
"Do you remember our childhood?" she asked softly. "When you came to us? We loved running together in the sunset."
And with that, she pulled me outside.
The cool evening breeze wrapped around us as we ran among the olive trees. The leaves rustled, the shadows stretched long across the ground. Our laughter filled the air.
I felt like a child again, far from battles, burdens, and everything that had weighed on me until now.
Then we lay down in the grass beneath the orange sky and closed our eyes. The warm rays of the setting sun gently caressed my face.
And then…
An image flashed in my mind.
Another sunset. Another time.
A distant era.
I sat beneath an olive tree, my dress ruffled, long, lemon-yellow with white lace trimmings. I wore a hat, like women did back then. It was not a sight of today.
And I was not alone.
A man sat beside me. I could not see his face, but as I held onto him, it felt as though I was touching the most certain point of my soul.
I turned toward him, and in his eyes, I saw the reflection of my own.
"I love to be loved," I whispered. "Because even the somber sunbeam kisses at times like this."
The man smiled.
"And I love to be a brooding storm cloud," he replied, "because when I am near you, I shine even brighter than the sun."
The vision vanished in an instant.
I opened my eyes, and unease spread through me.
But not because of the vision.
Something else was there.
A presence.
I sat up—and then I saw Michael running toward us.
I knew what this meant.
"They're coming," he said. His voice did not tremble, but the weight of his words was undeniable.
We both jumped to our feet.
We rushed inside the house, where Clara and John were already pacing nervously.
Tension crackled in the air of the living room.
Clara and John continued to pace nervously in front of the leather couch before finally sinking onto it. Elis and I followed their movement, as if the act itself could offer some protection against the storm of emotions raging inside us.
— We've set up all our defenses, — John spoke, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. — There's nothing more we can do. No matter how much we want to.
— How many could there be? — Clara asked, looking at Michael.
Michael's eyes drifted for a moment, as if he were trying to sense the answer in the distance.
— I don't know. I can't feel their numbers. Only their presence.
The silence that followed was thick, suffocating, as if the air itself could be cut with a knife. No one spoke. No one looked at each other. Our thoughts locked us into our own internal worlds, where each of us wrestled with our own sins and fears.
I, myself, couldn't escape the anger that was directed at me.
That I had brought them to this point.
That they were in danger because of me.
That if I just stood up and walked to those who were looking for me, maybe it would all end.
I had to take responsibility for my actions, didn't I?
Even if I had done nothing wrong—if they deemed me a threat, I had no right to argue with them. Not even I knew for certain what truly lay within me.
Michael's quiet voice broke the silence:
— They're getting closer.
It was as if the entire room froze in a single breath.
But no one reacted. We didn't want to hear those words.
We didn't want to accept the reality.
Hiding, running—it was no longer an option. We just waited. We knew they were here, and we waited for them to step inside.
And then it happened.
At first, just knocking. On the front door.
John and Clara sprang to their feet immediately. Alice and I flinched. The sudden fear swept through me like an icy gust of wind. I shut my eyes, my fingers clenching the armrest of the single-seater leather chair. I felt the cold surface, the tension in the material under my grip. One thought pounded in my head:
Let's just get it over with.
The door opened.