As cloistering as the earth now feels—in my new body, with my soul having seen the face of God—it feels that much more like heaven than paradise ever did. It doesn’t matter how strangulating it is to be tethered to the planet once again—without Skyla, without my boys, it would feel like a certain hell anywhere else. But for now, I’m high above that infernal plane that houses those I love, in my own realm gifted to me by none other than my infernal father. Demetri cornered me in the Landon house and informed me that we were about to take a little field trip. No sooner did the words leave his demonic lips than the world around us shifted, and here we are in that arid space far above Paragon—the new realm that Sage insisted be mine.

My precious daughter runs from out of a thick fog permeating the area, and I crouch down just in time to have her leap joyously into my arms.

“Father!” she squeals with delight, and I can honestly say this is one of the few times Sage has come across like a child.

“I’m no child.” She gives an impish grin, kicking her feet lightly as she swims back to the ground. “And yes, I can hear you when we touch. Here we share the gift Celestra celebrates so pridefully on Earth.” She scowls a bit as she says Celestra, and my insides tense at the thought of her so openly ruing her own lineage.

Her long dark hair is curled in ringlets, offsetting those heavenly blue eyes. Sage is a living doll—only she’s not living, not in the traditional sense, at least. But her spirit, her exuberance for life—true life—is unmatched by anyone I’ve met.

She looks to the demon to our left. “Demetri—you haven’t shown him a thing yet, have you?” Her tone is curt, downright scary, and every word is drenched with a threat.

Demetri gurgles a dark laugh. “My love, I would no sooner disobey your wishes than cut off my own arm.”

She grunts as if his words were useless, and they more or less are.

“As if you couldn’t sprout another limb.” She openly glares at him. “But I see you’ve gifted me your benevolence.” A smile springs to her lips as she looks to me, and I see Skyla there hiding in her features like an unwanted fugitive. Her eyes brighten as she looks at me—her gaze magnetized as if she were in a trance. It’s as if I were all that existed, all that needed to exist. It always feels this way when Sage looks at me. “Father”—she takes up both my hands—“while you’ve been away, I’ve taken the liberty to construct a home for us in this new realm. The details are yet to be delivered, but the frame, the gesture—I want you to consider it a tangible gift from me to you. The world around it still needs to be fleshed out. I thought we could construct that together, a father-daughter project if you will.”

My heart warms, soaring with pleasure beyond anything I’ve felt before as far as my father’s heart goes. Not that this diminishes my love for the boys in any way, but there is just something heartbreakingly beautiful about your own child trying their best to please you, and that is exactly what it feels like Sage is doing.

Her brows tense a moment. “I will be the only child that pleases you once my brothers side with Celestra—and they will. They are tiny traitors in the making.” A slight dimple goes off in her cheek. “Reveal it now, Demetri. The time has come for my father to know my love for him, my adoration, my vernation, and reverence to his holy being.” The fog presses in around us, growing thicker by the moment, inspiring Sage to slit her eyes toward her wicked grandfather. “I said now!”

And just like that, the clouds around us rise like curtains, revealing a monolithic structure that would make even the most gargantuan of mansions look like an outhouse belonging to a shanty.

“Oh my God.” The words press out of me with a hint of grief. The looming gray structure looks like something out of a sci-fi movie, a structure in which an entire city of beings calls home with its sharp peaks and towers, windows made of beveled glass that are taller than most two-story homes, each with its own pointed arch. The opening, the giant maw that leads to a dark, soulless entry is large enough to drive sixteen semis through it at once. There’s a drawbridge—because what medieval-inspired structure would be complete without it—that spills out onto the verdant hillside like a beautiful dark mahogany tongue. “This is…” There are simply no words. It’s as if Demetri’s mansion, the original haunted house in the Transfer, and Wesley’s monstrosity had a baby, and then those architectural genetic mutations had a baby, and so on and so forth until the universe popped this sucker into existence out of spite. It’s too much. Too big. Too scary. Too airy. Too pompous. Too self-righteous. Too unbelievable—so much so it’s almost laughable. It’s something a child would dream up in a fantasy. A thought occurs to me. “Sage? Did you design this house on your own?”

“Yes, Father.” Her fragile hand clasps over mine as she looks up at me with watery eyes. “You’re disappointed in it. I can feel it in your spirit.” Her voice is tight, but the pain of rejection echoes across her sweet face.

“No.” I pick her up and land her on my hip as I grin at my new stupefying abode. “I love it.” No sooner do I say the words than the dull gray walls take on an iridescent hue, and a series of sparks emit from its every tip out of order as if it were suddenly adorned with twinkle lights.

Sage laughs at the sight and claps, taking on the persona of a child, if only for a moment. “You must love it then. It reflects your mood, Father. When you’re happy, it will sparkle, and when you are elated, it will shine with the light of the sun. And when you are dark, it too will be dark.” Her eyes slit to mine, and there’s suddenly a marked coldness in them. “There shall be no secrets among us. We will rule here, together. You will also rule in the earthen sphere—and while you are away, I will sit supreme and guard your castle. I will mind the Fems and instruct them to follow your bidding. There will be no place for anarchy or chaos. Your throne will be safe, shielded from danger. I’ve equipped our new home with the finest of weaponry. I’ve petitioned Your Grace Candace to gift us a replica of Uncle Wesley’s Tears Over Creation, and she aptly obliged. That way you can look to see what ominous things Mother is up to.”

Demetri clears his throat before I can inquire. “The water feature in Wesley’s living room, with the granite globe.”

“Ah, yes.” I’ve seen that work of questionable art in action a time or two. I’ve seen my brother gazing into it looking for Laken, and now she’s right there under his nose, in his arms, just where he’s wanted her all along. I cast a careful glance at the Goliath before me and wonder if Skyla will ever be comfortable in my arms behind those walls. “Well, thank you. Thank you both.” I land a sweet kiss over Sage’s cheek, and she kicks her way down once again.

“You haven’t seen anything yet, Father.” She clasps her hand to mine and hurriedly leads us over the wooden bridge and into the mouth of the creature that somehow belongs to me. “I’ve had all of the finest stones mined from the River of Life.”

“The River of Life?” I glance back to Demetri, mildly alarmed. The River of Life happens to bisect paradise and flow straight from the Master’s altar. There is not a single part of me that feels okay with harvesting enough materials to complete this architectural feat.

Demetri nods. His brows dip as if it were a given. “Mind you, each stone was created for this very purpose. The chateau was a part of your destiny all along. The Master is the great provider and has made copious provisions for you to have all you need.”

Something about that idea warms me, makes me feel a little less wicked, a little more aligned with the light.

“You are the light, Father.” Sage gives my hand a squeeze as we step into a white marble entry with gray wisps curling throughout it as if the stone itself were whispering dark secrets to us. The walls are lined with gray granite much like Wesley’s home, and I note a grand room to the right and quickly realize I somewhat recognize the layout. It looks to be a cookie cutter of Wesley’s palace, only on a far more magnificent level. There’s a roaring blaze in the fireplace, large enough to roast six deer in, and standing by the oversized well of tears—and I would not be surprised to learn that they are literal tears shed by angels themselves—stands someone who looks suspiciously just like me. My brother.

“You made it.” Wes looks up with a grin. “What a spectacular home you have here. I was just admiring the motif. Lord of Misrule?”

I can’t help but grunt at Wes for the slight.

Demetri stiffens. “You may never reference your brother as a mock king.”

“Uncle!” Sage roars with a reprimand buried in her voice. “The Lord of Misrule was someone from the sub gentry, chosen to preside over the people during the Feast of Fools revelries that usually entailed drunkenness. You are no fool king, Father.” She casts a hardened glance to Wesley. “Uncle, why don’t you teach my father how to utilize Tears Over Creation?” She looks back up at me. “The tears of countless martyrs have filled this tub for you, Father. You will gaze into the globe carved from the darkest, richest sapphire, and in the waters surrounding it you will gaze upon whatever your heart desires.”

Demetri sniffs the air. “There are limitations.”

“Demetri,” Sage snaps. “Are you, Uncle?” she asks facetiously. “Who called on you to speak limitations to my father?” Her tone is as strict as it is fierce. It’s a well-known fact that Sage has no fear of her elders. She very much has command over this and every situation—a Candace mini-me at her finest. She looks up at me with a sense of pride. “She has trained me well, hasn’t she, Father?”

“Relax, the both of you.” Wes never takes those serious eyes off mine. “My brother knows I will give him the honor and the respect due to him.” His jaw tightens as if maybe he won’t. “The Valkyrie are upstairs taking a tour of the weapons room. They’ll be down in a moment.”

“Valkyrie?” I look to Demetri. “As in the women from Norse mythology who choose who lives and dies in battle?” I spent the better part of middle school obsessed with mythology and any fictional account that bore a resemblance to it. It’s what spurred my love of reading.

Demetri tips his head. “Not exactly.”

Wes folds his arms over his chest, his stance defiant as if he were sorry he had to explain anything to me. “Mythology got the details wrong. It’s not just women. It’s comprised of men as well. It’s a military ranking among Fems. You’ve got three upstairs, and they all happen to be dudes.”

A thousand questions burn through my mind at once as Sage gives a slight tug to my hand until I cast a glance her way.

“Why don’t you and Uncle supervise those fools while Demetri and I head to the kitchen? I’ll make sure the chef prepares an array of fine dishes. You have a body once again.” She presses her tiny hand firmly against my stomach. “There’s no reason a king should starve in his own palace.” She glowers over at Wes. “You’ll eat as well,” she barks. “A king never eats alone.” She takes Demetri by the hand. “Come,” she says, dragging him off to the left—to where I surmise the kitchen must be according to Wes and Demetri’s layout.

Demetri chortles out his signature laugh as they make their way down the hall. “You mustn’t liken the uniformed gentry to fools. Has Your Grace taught you nothing of slandering celestial beings?”

“They are fools if they believe they know better than my father. He can champion the campaign singlehandedly if he had to.”

Wes grunts as we watch the two of them from a distance. “I’m just going to come out and say it. Your kid’s a little weird.”

“You’d be a little weird, too, if you were dead.”

“I don’t think so.” He turns to look at me, his feet still locked in that defiant stance. “Demetri mentioned something about Candace influencing her?” He shakes his head, dismayed by the idea. “Dude, Candace Messenger should be the first red flag. She’s not for us. She’s against us. And if that little girl of yours is operating under her guidance, I’d say you’ve got one hell of a problem brewing.”

Crap. My thoughts swell in all sorts of suffocating directions. “She’s not a plant. That’s just Sage being Sage.” I want to believe it. “From the day we’ve met, she’s been a pistol.” I take a huge breath and can’t help but note the scent of something downright mouthwatering already streaming from the kitchen.

Wes ticks his head to the stairwell. “Let’s head up before we grub.”

I follow Wes up the stone stairwell. The ornate iron banisters are breathtaking, and I can’t wait for Skyla to see them. Just knowing that Sage designed this place with love will enable Skyla to see this entire realm differently. Realm—the idea still doesn’t sit well with me.

The walls upstairs are massive and barren. Doors are dotted throughout the enormous halls, and to our left there is a grand banquet hall large enough to fit a small island nation.

“Since we’re pointing out the obvious”—I grunt as I pause to take in the magnitude of this deserted wasteland—“this is a lot of real estate.”

Wes chuckles to himself. “You’ll have plenty of time to fill it with whomever and whatever you desire. This real estate is yours right through the millennial reign. Feel free to party like it’s the apocalypse, dude. You’re set up for quite some time—so long as the Fems reign supreme.”

“And then what?” I ask as he continues to lead us down the hall. “After our Lord finishes up His millennium reign on Earth, what happens to the realm?”

Wes stops abruptly, taking the time to examine me a moment. “I’d accuse you of being greedy, but I know better.” He takes a breath, his features perennially bored with me. “They get vacuumed up—burned up, who knows? They’re gone, done for. Just like you and me will be if we don’t get the Fems what they want.”

“A seat on the celestial pedestal. They want to rule that millennial school, don’t they?”

“They don’t want to. They have to.” His eyes sharpen over mine. “You really don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?” The sound of my own panting startles me. In truth, it’s both vexing and frightening to think I’m in the dark about anything that might be deathly important.

Wes cranes his neck over my shoulder a moment at an open door that I can only surmise leads to the weapons room—to the Valkyrie that I’m about to come face-to-face with.

“It’s an end game for us all.” He gives a little shrug. “It’s the last hoorah for wickedness to prevail. If the Fems topple the Sectors, they last through eternity as principal beings—created entities that fulfilled a divine purpose in the church age.”

“And if the Sectors’ position remains?”

His features harden. “We rot in darkness, in dungeons that the Master created for fallen angels—for those who reject His son.”

“What do you mean? We rot in hell? That makes no sense. We have clearly chosen the Son. It goes against the entire principle of the cross.”

“We are created beings, according to our lineage. Gage, the Fems are a part of the Master’s vast military. He appoints the ranks to do as He pleases.” He closes his eyes a moment, and if I were to guess, Wes is filled with remorse regarding whatever comes next. “As I understand it, there will be a post in hell to keep the wicked in line, to oversee the flames.” He nods up at me as if I should know what this means. “If we lose, we rule the heated roost. At that point there isn’t an exit strategy. Once the judgments are over, so are we. And whether or not the torment was meant for us, it will feel that way—eternal torment—tossing around in everlasting flames, burning up like yesterday’s trash. Either way, it sounds like hell.” His lips crimp a smile. “Because it will be.”

Us. I’m stuck on that word. “We’re Fems.” It comes out lower than a whisper.

“That’s right.” Wes slams his hand against my chest as if he were trying to wake me. “So get it straight. If you want to spend eternity with Skyla and your kids, think twice about giving away the victory to Celestra like you initially planned on doing. You’re stuck being a Fem just like me. Having Laken in my life once again might feel like heaven, but knowing there’s an eternal chasm that could separate us for good, makes me want to fight that much harder to ensure the Fems the victory—the victory that our people rightfully deserve.”

My lungs lock up. My chest tightens, stiff as concrete. Can’t breathe. The world around me fades to gray for a moment. So this is what it has always been about. The truth in a nutshell, the knife in my gut delivered so matter-of-factly from my brother. My God, it’s as if he gifted me poison to drink. The worst part is that Skyla doesn’t know. If she knew, things might be very different for her people. Skyla has a ferocious love for me, and suddenly, I feel like crap because of it. No. Skyla can never know this toxic truth.

The horrible reality of the situation hits me at once. The thought of losing Skyla and the kids for all eternity is unbearable to fathom, even for a moment.

“What about the Sectors?” My heart pounds over my chest like a boxer hitting a speed bag at a million miles an hour. “What happens to them if they lose?” Dudley flits through my mind like a hex.

Wes sinks back on his heels as if he’s trying to remember the answer to this. “Why do you think they battle so hard? The answer is the same. The roles are simply reversed.”

“Why haven’t I heard this before?” My heart jumps in my throat as I hold back the urge to throttle him.

“Because until now, it wasn’t any of your damn business.”

“It doesn’t make sense. Why would the Sectors be subjected to hell?”

“I don’t know. Why would we? I didn’t write the rules. As far as I know, they are created beings as well. If they were created to keep humanity safe from our clutches and came up short—He can crumple them up like trash.”

“You realize you’re saying we’re the dangerous ones.”

“We’re not a danger to anyone. We get the Fems in position, and the Barricade takes the lead. I promise you, I will once again unite the Factions and lead them better—far more efficiently than Skyla can ever hope. And the sewage trap the planet is shaping up to be? Mark my words. I will run that planet far more effectively than any of the world leaders combined. Have you seen the state of those third-world countries? Not to mention homelessness is a damn plague in our own nation. I’ll have the vilest predators locked up and behind bars. There will be no cracks in the system I devise.”

“One world government,” I say it mostly to myself. Wesley is spouting off words straight off the pages of the book of Revelation. “I think I can see the direction this train is headed.” I’m still not sure if it’s a good one.

He gives a slight nod. “Call it destiny or fate, but you and I were born for this moment.”

The words the Son Himself spoke to me only moments after I joined him in eternity come back to me. You were born for this.

Dudley blinks through my mind. “So it’s me or Marshall Dudley.” I tip my head back and close my eyes. How in the hell did this end up as my life?

“Look, Dudley is a good guy. I can see why you’re torn. But if it makes you feel better, I’m sure Skyla can drum up a way to visit him in his new gloomy, hot as hell home. She’s got connections.”

“Connections.” I scratch at that back of my neck. “That she does.”

“But I wouldn’t count on those connections if I were you. Once that stone is sealed over the entry, you and I aren’t getting any conjugal passes. Neither of us makes Candace Messenger’s hot list. The only heat we’ll be feeling is from the flames as the overseers of our new fiery home.”

Shit. It feels as if the world just crashed through my skull. My entire body is numb with shock, my heart detonating at unsafe levels. This simply cannot be. And I for damn sure cannot risk another separation from my family.

Sorry, Dudley. You lose. Skyla and the kids need me, and I need them. I can’t help you. And if I win this war, there will be nobody to help you for all eternity. My heart sinks at the thought.

Wes leads us into the weapons room, which is covered wall-to-wall with swords both in and out of their sheaths. The north facing wall is polluted with bizarre looking instruments that my mind can’t quite wrap itself around, some sort of bows, plain bands that look seemingly demure, but I’m betting are equally as deadly as anything up there.

Four people—three of them Fems—stand next to a glossy marble table with something like a screen embedded into it. An image circulates over and over, and, the closer we get, it looks like the top of a forest. I look to the four creatures and note one of them is very much human, familiar even. The other three stand at about eight feet tall with bodies built like linebackers on steroids with their skin a pale blue-gray, their hair a strange lucent shade of black, humanistic facial features. Each one of them is dressed in black linen, a dress shirt of sorts with pants that puddle to the floor—most likely to hide their cloven hooves.

“Luke Jenson”—the human of the bunch proclaims before extending his hand—“I live next door to the Winters.” He nods as if I should understand why this might be important as I shake his hand.

Wes nods to the first Fem to his left, an enormous eight-foot beast with the face of a constipated man—think wrestler with serious roid rage. His muscles bulge from his shirt like ham hocks. “This is Barnabas, Belshazzar, and Micah,” Wes says, shaking his head ever so slightly my way. “Not the Barnabas, Belshazzar, and Micah. Don’t get excited.”

“Get excited,” the one in the middle, Belshazzar, gravels it out, and his voice resonates through this enormous hall like a gunshot. His face is sullen, his nose pinched, but it’s those enormous eyes you can’t look away from. Each one of the venerable beings has a haunting glow to their skin, and yet their eyes are dark and hollow. You could practically see the flames waiting for your arrival if you look deep enough in them. “The enemy has positioned themselves at the foot of the battle line. We are moments away from putting an end to the great struggle.”

“What are you talking about?” I step in close, and that screen embedded into the table zeros in on a familiar looking estate, Dudley’s. A crowd has amassed in the rear of the property, and I spot Skyla speaking with the masses.

Micah, the tallest and fiercest looking of the three, takes in a breath. “She’s arranged for Noster to encamp around the strongholds we’ve placed in various locations on the planet.”

Wes steps up to me. “Meaning?”

The one in the middle looks from Wes to me. “Meaning, they anticipate hostility. Combat is imminent.” He looks directly at me, and a mean chill runs through my bones. “Who will make the contention official? You or your wife?”

The deep tenor of his voice echoes through me.

“My wife.” I tap my hand to the screen, and the thing goes black. I’m glad about it, too. I’m not here to spy on Skyla. “There must be a reason she feels the need to have a meeting. She is the Faction leader. She can and will confer with her people whenever she likes. What makes you think she’s doing anything with Noster?” It sounds so specific, so plausible. Would Skyla move so quickly behind my back? I rack my brain trying to think of the last time she even mentioned that Faction in particular and come up empty.

Wes blows out a quick breath as if he were fighting off disbelief himself. “If they said it, it’s true as gospel.” He looks to Luke. “It was you, wasn’t it?”

Luke sheds a hint of a wicked grin. “Barricade baby.” He gives Wes a quick fist bump. “Noster born and raised. I took off as soon as I heard the plan. They’re setting up position to take you on. They’re ready to go when you are.”

My heart falls through the floor, through the realm, sinks down through Paragon like a millstone until it blows right out the planet on the other end. Skyla is motivating the troops, readying to take me down, not realizing that she’ll effectively wipe me out of existence in the process. I wonder what would happen if I told Skyla the truth—that as a Fem I absorb their fate, and if Celestra wins, I will be forever separated from her and the kids. And for a moment the boys’ eternal standing flits through my mind. There are no answers, only more questions. I wonder if I told Skyla that she had to choose between her people or me—Dudley or me... My insides wrench at the thought, and I fight the mighty urge to cry out with all that I’ve got. I couldn’t let Skyla know those dark truths. It would torment her beyond measure. No. There’s only one thing I can do. Call the war and then win it. But far before I go ringing any bell of destruction, something tells me I need to do a little fact-checking. Not with Wes or Demetri, but with Candace. I groan at the thought of visiting my mother-in-law. But for now, I have to play the part.

“Maybe I will be the first to step over that battle line.” I hear myself say the words. And if Wes is right, I will be. “Don’t worry.” I look to each of the magnificent creatures before me. “The Fems will topple the Sectors. You will reign supreme once again. I can promise you that.” I look to Wes. “What are we going to do about Noster?”

“I’ll tell you,” Belshazzar growls it out, the meanest of the bunch with his eyes slit with loathing, his jaws set tight as if he were readying to blow a fist through my newly formed stomach, and I truly hope he’s not. This new body is great, but it can hurt, get injured, break down with the best of them. Yes, it can repair, but it needs the healing properties from the Tree of Life that lines the River of Life—and to maintain this new existence, I need to drink from the river itself. My new body is imperishable, stronger in every functionality, but very much the same as well. “Noster will fight to the death to protect their people.”

Wes huffs at the thought, “And the Barricade will fight to the death to protect ours. When we’re through with them, there will be less Noster left on the planet than there are Celestra.”

The room lights up with hoots and rumbles of dark laughter, but I’m sitting this one out.

I look to Wes, stone-faced and pissed. “In the hall.” I nod, and he follows me out to the cool space that’s relieved of all the tension from the room we just departed. “Why would the Master allow this to happen? He is allowing this madness. Explain this to me.”

“I guess you don’t pay attention.” Wes bears into me with those emerald eyes of his, sheathed with enough wicked intent for the both of us. “He’s always given evil a fair shake on the planet.”

And there it is. What we fight for, who we are is just that, evil.

I take off down the hall, the hair on the back of my neck raised, my skin prickled with both fear and fury.

“Tell Sage I’m sorry I missed her meal. I’ll try to make it back if I can.”

“Where are you going?”

“Somewhere you don’t need to be.” I stride forward quickly, envisioning Ahava in my mind’s eye until it has no choice but to materialize around me. And just like that, I walk through a cold stone slab and into paradise.

Ahava forms around me with its sparkling blue waters stretching in all directions. The original pattern for the Falls of Virtue sits in the distance to my right, and the four miraculous beings that rule destiny’s roost are seated on translucent thrones in the middle of the lake. The two Sectors that look like Dudley pin me with a hard stare—and the sight of them turns my stomach. I pray that the bullshit Wes uttered was way off. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s gotten his facts wrong. The one-eyed dude on the end with the long black hair would be Rothello of the Soullennium. He’s the one who officiated the start of the Faction War in Skyla’s honor. And the breathtaking woman in the middle would be the exact physical representation of my wife—her mother.

“Candace,” I say, stepping over the water as if it were glass and speeding my way in her direction. I’m not fooling myself into thinking I might actually be welcomed here. In fact, I know I’m not. I know she’s probably pissed I barged in, and, truthfully, I’m a bit surprised there’s no protective hedge over the entire realm just to keep me the hell out.

The three gentlemen surrounding her rise to their feet with chests barreled out as if ready and willing to fight to the death to protect her. But we all know that at the end of the day death is a farce—unless, of course, you’re a created being who might just get cast into outer darkness. Death and hell seem interchangeable at this point.

Candace is the last to rise. Her cold, steely eyes remain trained on mine as I close the gap between us.

“Gage Oliver,” she says my name with a frown. It’s the only way I’ve ever seen her say it, so it doesn’t surprise me. “What’s yanking your Celestial chain, now?” She tips her head back with an insolent look on her beautiful face. I have never seen Skyla look at me quite that way. I’m familiar with all of Skyla’s expressions, at least the ones she reserves for me, but that look of sheer loathing mixed with boredom feels worse than a knife to the gut.

“Now? Have I shredded up my welcome mat so soon in the game?”

Her jaw realigns as her lips harden. “What you see as a game, others see as life.”

“Or death, and the latter is exactly what I want to speak to you about.”

The water beneath my feet pulses up and down as a steady stream of waves bounces beneath us. It feels as if I’m standing on a boat and not at all as if my body were able to plunge into the icy depths below at a moment’s notice. But I have faith that I’m not going anywhere. That’s what faith will do. It will hold you up when everything around you screams you should be sinking to the bottom. I’m not sinking, and I’m not going to hell.

Candace steps forward as her lips curl up at the sides. “Death.” Her finger runs the ridge of my cheek. “Some might say it becomes you, but we both know that’s not the case. You are far more alive than anyone on that spinning rock still breathing in their coat of flesh. Life loves you. Your father loves you. The Master adores you.” Her lids slit to nothing as if she found that last bit of information intolerable, but it warms me like a wildfire that sprang from nowhere on a dark, snowy night.

“I talked to Wesley. He says the Fems”—I glance behind her at the three men still glaring at attention and lower my voice a notch—“he mentioned the Fems needed to topple the Sectors, not just to stay in power but to have eternity. Now I thought I heard Marshall tell it differently a while back. Something about Demetri still having eternity—about me having eternity.”

“You will.” Her eyes flash like lightning. “Eternity is yours.” That dark smile of hers curves dangerously, and my stomach tightens in a knot as it all becomes clear.

“Just not in the same realm as Skyla.” I close my eyes a good long while, unable to digest the idea of it. “I, of all people, understand what a fleeting illusion life can be. I can’t do it. I can’t give Skyla the win for Celestra like I had planned and risk losing eternity. That’s not happening. That’s not what I signed up for.”

“That’s exactly what you signed up for.” Her face is on mine, her eyes lit with flames of anger, revenge, hatred, all three at once. “You claim to love your wife and her people. You have adopted them as your own. You will submit. You will lie down, not only your life, but the lives of your wicked brothers-in-arms. They will be discarded as will you upon that fated judgment day. I have no sympathy for anarchists and neither should you.” Her voice softens in an odd manner as if I should be agreeing with her in this madness.

“And if I don’t.” I offer a quick glance behind her. “You lose your friends. We lose Dudley.” I almost said Skyla loses him, but I’d be losing him, too. No matter how much we squabble, I still think of him as a friend, an ally. Or at least he used to be.

She shakes her head ever so slightly, and for a fleeting minute, I cling to that microcosm of hope. “I lose more than my friends, Gage. I lose my own eternity.”

The breeze, the waves, my beating heart—it all seems to stop for a solid minute.

“That’s impossible,” I whisper as my blood grows cold. “You are Candace Messenger. A Caelestis. You assign the destinies of men and women and have done so ever since—”

“The beginning of time,” she finishes the sentence, and her skin, her hair glows a luminescent shade of sheer brilliance. “Yes. It would be true. But you see, we are created beings not bought with the price from the blood of the Lamb, thus we have been appropriated a certain grace. We don’t have humanity’s victory, thus we must find our own. And that certain grace stipulates so long as our roles are achieved in victory we may remain as servants of the Most High. But if we lose our position, our very esteemed highly coveted position, and fail to win it back upon the end of the church age, we will be discarded. Thrown away, Gage. That’s what you do with garbage, isn’t it? You dispose of it.” Her eyes harden over mine, and I can feel an icy horror emitting from her as if she were about to wipe me out of existence right this minute. “So you see, Gage—”

“No, I don’t see.” I come shy of grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her—shaking this lunacy out of everyone up here. “Ahava—paradise, is big enough to fit every created being the Master has ever made. You are good. Sectors are good. You are for the light. Why would the Fems—who have only ever had their own best interests at hand, be welcomed in your place? Because they won a war? It makes zero sense. And I’m sorry, but I don’t believe it. There’s no way the Master is going to throw you into a garbage heap as some guardian of hell just because the Fems sit supreme in the heavenlies. The Master is good. He is not going to surround Himself with a bunch of selfish brute beasts who let their personal greed overrun their lives.” Humanity and all of its many people, all of the characters from history that I can recall zip through my mind at once. Christ died for exactly those people.

“Now you get it. In the end, we’re not that different from mere humans—some better, some worse. Have you not read where even the angels will be judged?”

I stiffen for a moment because I have read just that. “And he’ll utilize redeemed humans to do it.”

“The Master venerates them. They are His family, bought by His own son’s blood. But I, we, are his created beings. We are not subject to judgment but to servitude. Knowing that the position in Hades would be a misfortunate one, yet still an honor in the name we will serve, He’s allowed a dog fight of sorts. You are a dog, Gage. You will have to fight an even bigger, far more ferocious beast to claim your stake in the eternity of your choice—me.

“The Master will place the lesser of the Fems or the Sectors in that uncoveted post when the time arrives—the only judgment will be the one we placed on ourselves—by losing our position. If the Fems should overthrow the Sectors, they will be absolved, forgiven, cleansed of their misdeeds. They will be utilized by the Master as He sees fit. If the Sectors remain in their position of power, then I will personally make sure Skyla is able to escort you to the gates of hell. It will be a farewell of the ages, I’m sure of it.” She sheds a heinous grin.

I back up a notch and try my hardest to blink this entire conversation out of existence. This is all a bad dream. I’m going to wake up and find myself late for football practice, still a senior at West Paragon High. That’s where I’d like to spend my days, trapped in that blissful year. Better yet, one giant loop of my wedding night with Skyla. That sounds a hell of a lot better than having to deal with pop quizzes and watching Dudley force his lips onto Skyla. That was part of his perverted game. Kiss me and I’ll show you the future.

Candace groans as if she agreed. “Perverted game? I don’t agree. In fact, my daughter rather enjoys the wily Sector. He is her mate in every way. Her spirit husband as well.” She glowers over my shoulder a moment as if he were standing there, but I don’t take my eyes off hers.

“Why not lock the doors and let the prisoners mind themselves? Why send an entire legion of created beings to hell—especially if they don’t deserve to be there?”

“They won’t deserve to be there. They will simply be reassigned to a less desirable position.”

“I see.” It’s a job from hell, in hell, and it will be hell doing nine-to-five eternities in that dungeon. The assignment sucks, and no one wants it. “And what about you? Why send the Caelestis along with the Sectors?”

Her gaze travels past me to the Falls. “I’m not entirely sure where you find the strength to be so brazen. Who are you that I must give an accounting of who goes where and why? Who are you that I should bother being truthful to you in any manner? You are certainly no child of mine. You are in no alliance with my daughter or me. You are an enemy to me, a thorn that I long to pluck from my side.” Her cold stare returns to mine. “I don’t owe you an explanation. I don’t owe you anything. Ask your father. Ask the Master, but do not look to me with the arrogance you hold in your eyes and expect me to bow to your cerebral whims.”

“Who am I?” A roar threatens to curl from my throat, but I swallow it down. My blood boils, and it’s all I can do to control my rage. “I am your daughter’s beloved dead, resurrected, and soon-to-be once again husband. I would and did die for her and my children. I am taking the place of one your grandsons. I am the father of the next branch of your lineage. Fate and destiny, otherwise known as you, have interwoven me into the tapestry of your daughter’s life. Don’t you dare give me that false diatribe that you had nothing to do with me landing in front of Skyla. I am purposefully made, created, brought to life to worship at her footstool. I am loved by the Master and I am His son. If I have any arrogance at all—that is where it stems from.” I didn’t mention Demetri. I didn’t need to. The Master overrides Demetri every day of the week. And no matter how much Candace did divulge, none of it makes any sense. Something tells me she feels the same. And then a thought rocks me and sends my heart beating once again with relief. “I have a soul. I’m partially human—bought by the blood. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You forfeited your right to live and die on your own once you drank my daughter’s blood and bonded yourself with the enemy. Now be gone. I’ve a meeting to prepare for with the Justice Alliance.” Her features crouch in on themselves, hardening, gnarling until she looks something entirely unlike herself—dare I say, unsightly. “Rumors of war are swirling. Go on and be quick about what you’ve set out to do.”

“I haven’t set out to do anything, yet.” That last word rings out in my mind like a gunshot.

“You will.” A glacial breeze stems from her direction and ices me to the bone until my teeth chatter. “And please think twice before entering my home without knocking. I have no patience for intruders.”

The last thing I see is the palm of her hand. Candace knocks into my forehead, and I fly backward, flipping through space and time, hurtling past stars, past the deepest sense of isolation I have ever known until the molecules around me scramble apart then rewire themselves to another place, to another plane, and I hit my forehead on the ground of an unbreakably hard surface. I glance up, blinking away the horrific pain, and moan.

“Gage!” The sound of Skyla’s sweet voice fills my ears, and I do my best to roll over. Up above me dozens of brilliant blue butterflies flutter, illuminating the darkness with their beauty.

“The butterfly room,” I mumble, struggling to sit up. “Skyla,” I moan as her lips mold to mine, and just like that, all is right with the world again. My thoughts are caged against her powers and on permanent lockdown as far as I’m concerned. There’s no way I want to burden her with the truth of what the upcoming war will mean, and there will be a war. I can’t go an eternity without Skyla and our children. If it comes down to me and Dudley—I’m sorry, but Dudley is going to lose every single time. What frightens me most is the fact there were things Candace wasn’t willing to share with me. Details left out. Equations left unanswered. It feels as if I’ve already been discarded by the Master with no hope in a situation where hope has already sailed on without me.

But as it stands, Skyla melts her body over mine. Her kisses match mine in both hunger and ferocity. Skyla gives me exactly what I’m looking for, a glimmer of hope.

Hope is something you cling to with all of your might once you realize the end game is something you absolutely cannot accept. And to think I once dreaded dying—mere death, something the Bible itself tells us leads to life, if you know the way. And yet here I am, dead and resurrected, and yet still staring at an uncertain future before me. Something far worse than death—eternal separation—apart from my family, apart from the Master Himself.

A steady rage builds within me. Whoever thinks I should succumb to a fate worse than death had better think again.

Skyla does her best to rip my clothes off, and I return the favor. Her mouth fuses to my chest, and I dig my fingers into those golden curls, the warmth of her body gliding over mine. The flames of our love burning stronger, hotter than any fire in hell could ever hope to achieve.

I pull back a moment, struggling to catch my breath, my chest pumping so fast and hard it’s taking her petite frame along for the ride. “You sicced Noster on my people.” The words come out with a growl, and I watch as that curious look on her face quickly morphs into something just this side of a grin. Skyla bubbles with a laugh, sending the butterflies streaming around the room in a frenetic manner.

“I guess there’s no use in hiding anything from you, is there?” she purrs as she runs her finger from my lips to my chest, igniting an icy burn all the way down. “Are you hiding something from me, Gage?” Her head tips slightly, and I marvel at how beautiful she is with this strange blue cast glowing over her skin. The irony being that the Counts glow this very shade when exposed spiritually. Skyla is the furthest from a Count as one could get, and yet she owns this hue.

I brush the hair from her face. “You would make a beautiful Count. You know that?”

I can’t help but wish she was one, and that I was one, too. How much easier it would have been to watch anyone else in our position. Do the others know how lucky they are? What a celestial noose they’ve escaped? I doubt it. Until your soul is on the chopping block, you have no idea what a thing of horror destiny has thrust upon you. As much as Skyla and I would like to cry foul, I suppose there’s not a soul on the planet who hasn’t had their race marked out by destiny—for the most part. But we have been given this chalice, our fate is sealed. It’s up to us to battle it out and rearrange the celestial pieces in the sky. Skyla to save her people and me to save mine, to save myself—piece my family back together in the process, and I do believe I will do just that.

Skyla exhales over my chest and sets off my urgency to have her that much more. Even her breath is far too enchanting for me to ignore, far too intoxicating for me to resist.

“We aren’t Counts, are we?” Her lids lower a notch, and, as much as she’s doing her best to seduce me, I can tell she shared the same strange yearning for a moment. “We are enemies.” She shakes her head just enough for me to know she refutes the idea.

“Enemies?” I try my best to pull her up to me, but she sinks lower over my body, and every last part of me is looking forward to whatever she has planned. “You own me. I could never be your enemy.” And just as swiftly as the words fly from my mouth, it occurs to me that I will very much be her enemy, take down the Sectors, and her people—just to spend eternity by her side. “You won’t forget that, will you?”

“That I own you?” Her left eye comes shy of winking. “I’ll burn that over my soul so I never forget it.” She sinks further down until that happiest to see her part of me pops up between us. “I like to take care of the things that belong to me. The people. The kings.” Her eyes widen just a notch with amusement. “I do long to worship at your altar all the livelong day.”

“That might need to remain a secret between us.”

“Maybe so”—she lands a kiss to my inner thigh—“but I plan on showing you that I will be the most faithful, loving, devoted servant of them all. You see—it’s really you who owns me.” And just like that, her lips collapse around me, and my head tips back in a fit of ecstasy.

Nobody said being king would be easy. Nobody said it would be hard either. And for some reason, this moment right here feels as if it’s nestled somewhere in between. Skyla can never know the reality of what I’m fighting for, what it might cost those that she loves. I would never want Skyla to choose between her people or me, Dudley or me. No. That is one truth I intend to keep buried deep in the darkest chamber of my heart. I want Skyla to fight tooth and nail against me. She owes her people that much. She owes herself as well.

Skyla is the queen, and I am the king.

It just so happens we’re presiding over two entirely different kingdoms.

Just my luck. But I don’t care what luck, fate, or destiny has to say about my eternal standing. Nobody is pushing me off into some abyss that leads to everlasting darkness. Nope. I am fighting for Skyla, and not an entity in the universe, not even Skyla herself will be able to stop me.