Morning arrived without ceremony.
No trumpets. No signs. Just the slow creep of pale light through thin curtains and the hum of a city pretending it hadn't brushed against the divine hours ago.
Aiden woke first.
For a split second, he forgot everything until he felt the warmth beside him.
Seraphine lay on the narrow couch, turned slightly toward him, her breathing even. The glow that usually followed her like a second shadow was muted now, dimmed to almost nothing. Without it, she looked fragile in a way that made his chest ache.
Human.
He sat up slowly, careful not to wake her. The room they'd found was small. An unused apartment above a closed bookstore, dust lining the shelves like time had given up on the place. The owner hadn't noticed the unlocked window. Or maybe they had once and decided some doors were meant to stay open.
Aiden moved to the window and peered out.
The city looked the same.
That unsettled him.
He expected scorch marks. Cracks in the sky. Something to prove the night hadn't been a shared hallucination. Instead, life went on. Cars passing.
Someone laughing too loudly below. A vendor opening a stall like heaven hadn't almost intervened.
Behind him, Seraphine stirred.
"You're thinking too loudly," she said softly.
He turned. "You can hear thoughts now?"
"No," she replied, sitting up. "Just guilt."
He winced. "That obvious?"
She nodded. "You wear it like armor."
She swung her legs over the side of the couch and stood. For a moment, she swayed. Aiden moved instinctively, catching her elbow.
"I've got you," he said.
"I know," she replied, and that scared her.
She pulled away gently and walked toward the window, standing beside him. Up close, Aiden noticed faint fractures of light beneath her skin, like cracks in glass sealed just enough to hold.
"They're watching," she said.
"Right now?"
"Always," she replied. "But closer now. More curious."
Aiden crossed his arms. "So what's the verdict? Am I smote? Smited? Whatever the word is."
A ghost of a smile touched her lips. "Not yet."
"That's comforting."
She looked at him then, really looked, like she was trying to memorize a version of him that might not exist much longer.
"You need to understand something," she said. "They won't come for you first."
He frowned. "Then who?"
Her eyes dropped.
"Oh," he said quietly. "That's not fair."
"No," she agreed. "It's policy."
A sharp knock echoed through the apartment.
Both of them froze.
Seraphine's head snapped toward the door. Her shoulders tensed, wings threatening to surface.
"That's not them," she said slowly. "They don't knock."
Another knock followed, more hesitant this time.
Aiden moved first, positioning himself between her and the door. "Stay back."
"That's not how this works," she whispered.
He opened the door anyway.
A young man stood there, barely older than Aiden. Dark circles under his eyes. A symbol inked on his wrist. An imperfect ring broken by a line.
A mark.
"You can see it," the stranger said, relief flooding his face. "Good. That means I'm not wrong."
Seraphine inhaled sharply.
"A Watcher," she murmured. "No. A Cast Off."
The stranger smiled bitterly. "We prefer survivors."
Aiden blinked. "Okay. I'm officially behind."
The Cast Off looked between them. "The Choir has moved the bell."
Seraphine stiffened. "They can't."
"They did," he said. "They're calling in the broken. Testing loyalty."
Silence fell like a blade.
Aiden swallowed. "And what happens when the bell rings?"
The Cast Off met his gaze. "Those who answer are forgiven. Those who don't are rewritten."
Seraphine's hands curled into fists.
"They're forcing a choice," she whispered.
"Public. Irreversible."
Aiden turned to her. "You don't have to go."
"I do," she said. "If I don't answer, I fall completely."
"And if you do?"
Her voice cracked. "I lose you."
The Cast Off stepped aside. "The bell rings at dusk."
Aiden reached for Seraphine's hand. She let him take it this time, tight and desperate.
"Then we've got a few hours," he said.
"That's enough time to decide who we're fighting."
She looked at him, eyes wet but burning.
"Heaven doesn't lose," she said softly.
Aiden squeezed her hand. "Neither do people who refuse to kneel."
Outside, somewhere far above the city, something ancient began to stir.
And the bell waited.