Echoes of Faith: Wings of Hope| Flash Fiction

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Wings of Hope

The sky outside Daniel’s bedroom window was overcast, a dull grey mirror to the way he felt inside. It had been eight months since the accident, and every morning since then seemed to drag him deeper into the same unshakable despair. His left leg, now pinned together with metal rods, ached constantly. But the real pain—the kind that gripped his chest like a vice—was knowing he’d never play soccer again. Soccer had been more than a game to him. It was his passion, his future. Now, it was a memory he couldn’t touch without breaking.

“Daniel,” his mom called from downstairs. “Are you okay? Breakfast is ready!”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he stared at the soccer ball in the corner of his room. Its surface was scuffed from countless games, the black-and-white hexagons worn down by his dreams. He wanted to kick it. Or throw it. Or just stop feeling anything at all.

He pushed himself out of bed, wincing as his crutches bit into his hands. Every step felt like a reminder of what he’d lost. He hated the crutches. He hated his leg. Most of all, he hated himself for not being stronger.

On his way to the kitchen, his mom intercepted him. Her eyes were soft but heavy with worry.

“Daniel, Pastor Rob called,” she said hesitantly. “He was asking about you again. Maybe we could—”

“No.” His tone was sharp, cutting through her words like a blade.

“Okay,” she said quietly, stepping aside.

Daniel didn’t want to hear about God, or faith, or miracles. If God cared, he wouldn’t have let the accident happen. If faith mattered, it wouldn’t have left him so empty.

After forcing down a few bites of toast, Daniel escaped outside. The fresh air stung his cheeks, cold and bracing. He hobbled toward the park down the street. He hadn’t been there since the accident, but today something tugged at him, a faint whisper he couldn’t ignore.

The park was empty, save for a few crows picking at scraps near the benches. The soccer field stretched out in the distance, a mocking reminder of what used to be. Daniel sank onto a bench beneath a towering oak tree and stared at the field. His breath came out in clouds, the silence around him heavy and still.

“Rough day?”

The voice startled him. He turned to see a young man sitting on the other end of the bench. He hadn’t heard anyone approach. The man looked about twenty, with golden-brown hair that seemed to catch the faintest rays of light filtering through the clouds. His eyes were a startling blue, as if the sky itself had poured its essence into them.

Daniel frowned. “Do I know you?”

The man smiled, a soft, knowing expression. “Not yet. But I thought you might need someone to talk to.”

Daniel shifted uncomfortably. “I’m fine.”

“Are you?”

The question lingered in the air, gentle but piercing. Daniel looked away, focusing on the soccer field again.

“What’s your name?” Daniel asked, partly to change the subject.

“Gabriel,” the man replied.

Daniel snorted. “What are you, an angel or something?”

Gabriel chuckled. “Something like that.”

There was something odd about Gabriel—something calm and unshakable, like he carried a kind of peace that didn’t belong to this world.

“You don’t know anything about me,” Daniel muttered.

“Maybe not,” Gabriel said. “But I can see you’re hurting. And I know how easy it is to let pain build walls around you, to keep hope out.”

Daniel’s jaw tightened. “Hope doesn’t fix anything. It doesn’t make your leg stop hurting, or your future stop falling apart.”

Gabriel tilted his head, studying Daniel with those unnervingly bright eyes. “No, hope doesn’t erase pain. But it gives you the strength to face it.”

Daniel let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, well, I don’t have strength. Or hope. Not anymore.”

Gabriel leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Can I tell you a story?”

Daniel shrugged. “Whatever.”

“There was a boy once, not much younger than you,” Gabriel began. “He loved to run, more than anything. It made him feel free, like he could outrun the world if he tried hard enough. But one day, he fell. His legs were broken, and the doctors said he’d never run again. At first, he was angry. He thought, ‘What’s the point of living if I can’t do what I love?’”

Daniel’s chest tightened. The story felt uncomfortably close.

“But one day,” Gabriel continued, “he saw a bird outside his window—a small sparrow with a broken wing. The bird couldn’t fly anymore, but it still hopped around, singing as if it didn’t care that it was grounded. That little bird taught the boy something important: even when life changes, it doesn’t have to stop. You find new ways to live, new ways to hope.”

Daniel’s eyes stung, but he refused to blink away the tears. “So what? Are you saying I should just get over it? Find some new dream and forget about soccer?”

Gabriel shook his head. “Not forget. Remember it. Cherish it. Let it shape you. But don’t let it be the only thing that defines you.”

For a long moment, Daniel said nothing. The wind rustled the branches above, scattering a few leaves at their feet.

“Why are you telling me this?” Daniel finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Because you’re not as broken as you think you are,” Gabriel said softly. “And because you have more to offer this world than you realize.”

Daniel looked down at his hands, clenching and unclenching them. He wanted to believe Gabriel’s words, but the weight of his pain felt too heavy to lift.

“I don’t even know where to start,” he admitted.

Gabriel smiled, a warm and radiant expression. “You’ve already started, Daniel. Just by being here. By listening. By wanting more, even if you’re afraid to admit it.”

Daniel glanced up, and for a moment, he thought he saw something strange—a faint shimmer around Gabriel, like sunlight breaking through a storm. But when he blinked, it was gone.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Daniel said.

“You don’t have to do it all at once,” Gabriel replied. “One step at a time. And you won’t be alone.”

“Why do you care?”

Gabriel’s smile deepened. “Because sometimes, we all need a little help to find our wings again.”

Before Daniel could respond, a gust of wind swept through the park, scattering leaves and sending a chill down his spine. When he turned back to the bench, Gabriel was gone.

Daniel blinked, his heart racing. He looked around, but there was no sign of the mysterious young man. Only the faint warmth in his chest remained, like a spark waiting to catch fire.

He glanced toward the soccer field again, and for the first time in months, the sight didn’t fill him with anger or sorrow. Instead, he felt something new—a flicker of hope, fragile but alive.

Daniel sat there for a while longer, letting the quiet settle around him. His mind replayed Gabriel’s words. “You’re not as broken as you think you are.” Those words felt strange, yet powerful, like they were wrapping around his heart and refusing to let go.

For the first time since the accident, Daniel found himself whispering a prayer—soft, hesitant, almost a question. “God… if You’re there, I don’t know how to fix this. But I’m listening.”

The wind brushed against his face, cool and gentle, as though answering him.

He pulled out his phone and stared at the screen. His thumb hovered over Pastor Rob’s name in his contacts list. He had ignored the pastor’s calls and messages for months, but something in him—maybe that whisper of hope—made him press the button.

The phone rang twice before a familiar, cheerful voice picked up. “Daniel! Hey, it’s good to hear from you.”

“Hi, Pastor Rob,” Daniel said, his voice uneven. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I… I think I need to talk. Maybe—maybe I could come to church this Sunday?”

There was a pause on the other end, but it wasn’t silence—it felt like relief. “Of course, Daniel. We’d love to have you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

“I know,” Daniel murmured, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

After hanging up, he stayed on the bench for a while, letting the conversation sink in. He didn’t have all the answers, and his pain hadn’t magically disappeared. But for the first time, he didn’t feel quite so trapped by it.

As he stood and started his slow walk back home, he noticed the sky had begun to clear. The clouds parted, revealing a soft blue stretching far above him. A single ray of sunlight broke through, spilling onto the path ahead, and Daniel couldn’t help but see it as a sign.

His crutches bit into the ground with each step, but they didn’t feel as heavy now. The weight in his chest had lifted just enough to let in something new—a sense of possibility.

When he got home, his mom looked up from the kitchen table, surprised to see him smiling. “You okay, honey?”

Daniel nodded. “Yeah. I think I am.”

The next morning, Daniel found himself in front of the church, hesitating on the steps. The building looked taller than he remembered, the stained-glass windows glowing with light from the rising sun.

He glanced back, half-expecting Gabriel to be there, but the street was empty.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the heavy wooden door. Warmth and light greeted him, and the faint hum of a hymn filled the air. Pastor Rob spotted him from across the room and gave him an encouraging nod.

Daniel stepped inside, the weight of his crutches felt less heavy, and he was steadied by the warmth of something bigger than himself.. He didn’t know what the future held, but he was starting to believe it might hold more than he had imagined.

As he found a seat near the back, he looked up at the cross above the altar and whispered, “Thank you.”

Somewhere deep inside, he could almost hear Gabriel’s voice again. You’re not as broken as you think you are. One step at a time.

This time, Daniel wasn’t just smiling—he was ready to begin.

Obadiah Chronicles: Mount Nebo (Flash Fiction, Episode 3)

 

Mount Nebo

Joshua supported Obadiah as they left the tent under cover of darkness.  As Obadiah gazed upward, the twinkling stars painted the sky in shades of midnight blue. With each step, the guiding star seemed to grow brighter and more determined, leading him toward his destination.

 They climbed for an hour until reaching a plateau. Obadiah directed Joshua and Caleb to wait while he ascended further alone.

"Are you sure you're well enough to climb alone, Obadiah?" Joshua asked with concern. "The path is steep. Caleb and I can accompany you further."

Obadiah placed a reassuring hand on Joshua's shoulder. "No, Joshua. I will manage. Wait here for my return. It won't take long."

He continued his ascent until the Archangel Michael appeared from the bright light.
"Michael," Obadiah began urgently. "Where is the child? Is he safe?"

"There's no need to ask," Michael assured him. "Joshuel is safe."

Obadiah blinked. He hadn't known his nephew's name; Kristiel hadn't had the chance to tell him. "Why was he taken from me? I don't understand."

"The child was taken to ensure his safety," Michael explained, his voice resonating with a deep sense of purpose. "His destiny is intertwined with the fate of the world, and he must be protected at all costs.”

Obadiah's heart clenched with a mixture of fear and determination. "But I made a promise to my sister, to protect him with my life. How can I fulfill that oath if he is taken away from me?”

Michael placed a comforting hand on Obadiah's shoulder, his touch both grounding and ethereal. "Your bond with Joshuel runs deeper than you know. Trust in the divine plan, Obadiah. The threads of fate are intricate and far-reaching, weaving a tapestry beyond mortal comprehension.”

Obadiah bowed his head, struggling to accept this new reality. "I will do whatever it takes to ensure his safety, even if it means facing unimaginable challenges."

"You carry a heavy burden, but you do not walk this path alone."

A mix of emotions surged through him, a tumult of anger and sorrow over his sister's passing. He knew the risks when Kristiel chose to bear a Jumper, but coming to terms with her absence was a different struggle altogether. They were twins, the only brother and sister Nephilim, jumping hand in hand for thousand of years. The thought of facing life without her by his side was daunting, but finding comfort in his nephew meant that Kristiel's essence continued on. He didn't want to raise Joshuel as a Nephilim; demons, death, and destruction had already taken their toll on his family.

"It's better for the child to remain here," Michael said.

"No. Clip my wings. Give me my sister's child," Obadiah pleaded, his voice raw. “Let me leave."

"The child stays," Michael insisted.

Obadiah implored. "He's all I have left of Kristiel."

After a moment's consideration, Michael spoke again. "As you requested, your wings are clipped. Joshuel will be return to you. For the last time, you may Jump wherever you wish. Choose wisely, Obadiah. Where you go is where you will remain."

Obadiah's heart pounded in his chest as he processed Michael's words. The weight of the decision ahead of him felt like a mountain pressing down on his shoulders. He glanced back at the figures waiting below, knowing that this choice would determine not only his own fate but also that of his nephew.

Looking up at the Archangel Michael, Obadiah steeled himself and made his decision. "I choose to go where the child is destined to be," he said with unwavering determination.

A knowing smile played on Michael's lips as he nodded in approval. "So be it," he declared, and with a wave of his hand, a dazzling light enveloped Obadiah, lifting him off the ground. In an instant, they were gone from Mount Nebo, leaving behind only a faint echo of their presence.

When Obadiah opened his eyes again, he found himself standing in a lush meadow bathed in golden sunlight. Before him stood a magnificent tree with shimmering leaves that whispered in the gentle breeze. The air felt charged with an otherworldly energy, and Obadiah knew in his heart that this was a place of great significance.

As he took in his surroundings, he heard the sound of laughter and playful chatter nearby. Walking towards the source of the joyful commotion, Obadiah saw a group of children playing under the shade of the majestic tree. Their faces lit up with delight as they chased each other around, their laughter echoing through the meadow.

Among them, Obadiah spotted a familiar face - a young boy with eyes that sparkled like sapphires, his dark hair tousled by the wind. It was Joshuel, his nephew, playing without a care in the world.

Obadiah's heart swelled with love and relief at the sight of the child he had sworn to protect. Kneeling down beside Joshuel, he enveloped him in a tight embrace, feeling the warmth of their bond as uncle and nephew. Joshuel looked up at him with a smile that mirrored the pure joy and innocence of childhood.

"Uncle Obadiah, you found me!" Joshuel exclaimed, his voice filled with happiness.

Obadiah brushed a stray lock of hair from Joshuel's forehead, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I promised your mother I would always keep you safe. And I intend to keep that promise, no matter what challenges may come our way.”

Joshuel nodded solemnly, as if understanding the weight of his uncle's words. "I know you will protect me, Uncle Obadiah. You're the bravest Nephilim I know.”

A sense of pride swelled in Obadiah's chest at his nephew's unwavering trust in him. As he stood up, a realization dawned upon him - this meadow was more than just a sanctuary for Joshuel. It was a place where they could start anew, free from the burdens of their past and the shadows of fear that had haunted them for so long. Together, uncle and nephew would forge a new path, guided by love, trust, and the unbreakable bond between them.

As they watched the sunset paint the sky in hues of orange and pink, Obadiah knew that their journey was far from over. There would be challenges ahead, dangers to face, and sacrifices to make. But he also knew that as long as they were together, they could overcome anything.

With a renewed sense of purpose burning in his heart, Obadiah took Joshuel's hand in his own, the warmth of their touch grounding him in the present moment. The future was uncertain, but one thing was clear - they would face it together, as family.

And as they walked hand in hand into the twilight, a feeling of peace settled over Obadiah's soul. For the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to hope for a better tomorrow.

Obadiah Chronicles: Angel In Flight (Flash Fiction, Episode 2)

 

Angel in Flight

Obadiah clutched the crying baby to his heart as he sprinted through Serenity Forest. The infant's screams echoed in his ears as he ran faster and faster, desperate to reach safety.

"Just a little further," he muttered to himself. His foot caught on a fallen tree, and the infant slipped out of his grasp. Panicked, Obadiah rushed to pick up the baby, checking for any injuries. Aside from a bit of dirt on its face, the child was unharmed. The angel let out a sigh of relief.

Obadiah heard one of the Reapers yell, "There they are!" He quickly snatched up the child and hurried towards their destination. As he ran past a towering Oak tree, he saw the face of the Archangel Michael etched into the bark, a symbol of protection. Obadiah ducked behind the tree with the child in his arms, gazing down at its peaceful face. The baby's bright eyes met his, oblivious to the turmoil its arrival had caused.

"I'll guide them in the opposite direction," Michael's voice resonated from within the tree.

Soon after, the noise of hurried feet and a bawling infant could be heard heading in the opposite direction.

Obadiah carefully peeped from around the tree. The plan worked. The Reapers were searching away from him.

"Go now," Michael instructed.

Obadiah sprinted towards the Jump site with all his might. Suddenly, a searing sensation shot through his back. An angel arrow had pierced him. Being half-human, he knew he only had ten minutes to seek medical treatment before bleeding out.

Fighting through the agony, Obadiah fell to his knees but clutched onto the infant in his arms. He was determined to protect the baby even if it meant sacrificing his own life.

Antioch loomed over Obadiah, a fierce look in his eyes. "I've got you now," he growled, reaching for the child in Obadiah's arms. "Give me the infant!"

Obadiah shifted his position to get a better view, only to realize that he was completely surrounded by Reapers. Their glowing red eyes and ashen forms didn't scare him; after all, they had been engaged in battle for centuries. He was aware of his ability to disintegrate them with a single thought, but his injuries made that option less feasible. Instead, he would have to use his cunning to outsmart them if he wanted to survive this encounter.

The Reapers inched forward, their menacing presence looming over him. He shifted his gaze towards the blindingly white door - the only escape route. "You'll have to pry this child from my dying grasp," Obadiah declared defiantly.

Antioch replied, "That's fine. I'll give you five minutes, if even that." With determination in his eyes, he declared, "I will take the child from you. But I must commend your honor in sacrificing yourself. After a thousand years, I have finally emerged victorious over you. And when you fall, I will ensure that the rest of the chosen ones meet the same fate.”

Obadiah struggled to catch his breath. "Your plan won't succeed. It's far from over." He held onto the baby even tighter.

“But it is,” Antioch said confidently. “I have the names. Death will come for them, starting with you and the child.”

Obadiah took a deep breath before asking, “How did you come by the names of the Chosen Ones?”

"Don’t tell him, nothing," Bolofar, the second in command retorted. "Let him die like the dog that he is. Let me finish him off."

Antioch knelt down next to Obadiah, his voice filled with pride as he spoke. “You see, we Reapers have evolved. We are not the mindless beings you perceive us to be,” he boasted, gesturing towards his ash form that briefly took on a human appearance before returning to its natural state. “Before I end your life, I want you to understand that I will eliminate anyone who stands in my path, starting with the abomination you hold in your arms.”

With what little energy he had left, Obadiah covered the child protectively with one of his wings.

"Finish him off and take the child," Antioch commanded.

The Reapers approached with menacing intent. Obadiah quickly shuffled backwards, pressing his back against the rough bark of a nearby tree. Bolofar sneered and lifted his sword, ready to strike him down. "I have been waiting for this moment.”

Bolofar barely finished speaking when a pair of gigantic, glowing hands emerged from the tree and snatched Obadiah. In an instant, both he and the child disappeared without a trace.

Antioch's voice echoed through the empty forest as he bellowed, "Obadiah! I will find you!"

Obadiah let out a groan, struggling to clear his blurred vision as he looked up at the figures looming over him. Among them were Moses, the man chosen by God to lead the Hebrews, standing alongside Aaron, Joshua, and Caleb.

"How many days was I out of it?" Obadiah asked weakly.

"You were unconscious for three nights," Moses replied. "We took turns watching over you."

"I am grateful," Obadiah said, attempting to sit up but falling back onto the straw mat, his body still weak.

"The Lord sent angels to heal your wounds," Joshua added. "You must rest."

Obadiah's mind was flooded with memories from the past seventy-two hours: the tragic deaths of his beloved brother-in-law and sister, and the near fatal attack on his young nephew by the Reapers. With each memory, his determination grew stronger. He demanded to know, "Where is my sister's child?”

Moses frowned, his thick, white eyebrows arched. "You were near death. Miriam looked after him until the angels came for him.

Moses and the others were aware of the Jumpers and their divine purpose. They had provided refuge when needed most.

Obadiah recalled the moment Bolofar raised his sword to strike, only to be thwarted by God's hands rescuing him and his nephew. The child should be here with him. Safe from Antioch and the Reapers in this sanctuary of time.

Obadiah struggled to rise. "I need to see the child with my own eyes. His parents were killed by Reapers—my sister was his mother. Before she died, she entrusted him to my care. I gave her my word I would protect him, even with my life."

"You speak rightly," Moses affirmed. 

"You have seen him?"

Moses nodded in agreement. "Miriam watched over him until the angels arrived  and took him away."

Obadiah gestured to Joshua. "Help me up. I must speak with Michael."

Obadiah Chronicles: Birth of An Angel (Flash Fiction, Episode 1)

 Birth of An Angel

 Baylor City, SC

“Keep pushing, Kristiel,” Alexander Felton urged his wife. The baby was coming two weeks earlier than expected while they were on the run from members of Satan's Army. These Reapers, as they were known, hunted and killed Nephilim - the offspring of Humans and Angels chosen by God to protect and guide the struggling Chosen Ones in their faith. Due to their sudden departure from New York, they were forced to find a safe location for the birth.

According to legend, the union between humans and angels was considered a horrific abomination, and God is said to have lifted the curse by creating special angels known as Nephilims. These beings serve as messengers for God and possess the ability to travel through time, allowing them to transport people back in time before and after his son's crucifixion.

They managed to find an abandoned house on the church ground in Baylor City, South Carolina. Alexander didn't know the first thing about delivering babies. Going to a hospital was out of the question, and there was no one to deliver the baby.

Kristiel fell back on the bed and gave a hard push. The birth was taking a lot out of her. Her face was glistening with sweat. She was moaning in pain.

As Kristiel let out a strangled cry, Alexander felt panic rising within him. He had never felt so helpless before. The walls of the abandoned house seemed to close in on him, and the distant howls of the Reapers only added to his sense of urgency.

But then, as if a sudden calm descended upon the room, Kristiel's expression shifted. Her eyes met Alexander's, and in that moment, he saw a strength and determination that took his breath away. "We can do this," she said, her voice steady despite the pain wracking her body.

Drawing on reserves of courage he never knew he had, Alexander knelt beside his wife and took her hand in his. Together, they faced the impending birth with a unity that transcended their fear and uncertainty. As Kristiel pushed with all her might, a sense of peace settled over them, as if they were being watched over by unseen forces.

And then, in a miraculous rush of joy and relief, their baby boy entered the world with a cry that pierced the tense atmosphere of the room. Alexander's heart swelled with love and awe as he beheld the tiny, squirming new life in Kristiel's arms. Tears welled up in his eyes as he gently touched the soft skin of his newborn son.

Kristiel held their baby close, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten as she gazed at the miracle they had created together. The baby had a tuft of dark hair and delicate features that already bore a striking resemblance to both parents. A sense of wonder washed over the couple as they marveled at the new addition to their family.

He carefully flipped the baby over and gently tapped his bottom. Joshuel's cries pierced the air, just as he had seen in those childbirth videos. After cutting and clamping the umbilical cord, he placed the newborn on the warm blanket next to Kristiel. He couldn't help but notice a radiant aura surrounding the little one's body.

Kristiel turned Joshuel over onto his stomach. She looked at the small pouch in the middle of his back, where his wings will develop. God will determine when they will be assigned. He was perfect. She flipped him back onto his back. A moment later, the light around his face became more intense. The room began to shake.

Fear coursed through Alexander's veins as he quickly moved to the opposite side of the room. He looked over at Kristiel, who seemed unfazed by the sudden movement.

“The Angels in heaven are celebrating Joshuel's arrival.” Kristiel said.

The room became quiet again. She picked up the baby and held him close to her chest. She looked over at Alexander. He was still in cowered in the corner. He looked nervous.

Alexander slowly came to his feet. “We have to get moving. We can't stay here.”

“We have time," Kristiel said, looking down in the face of their son. “Don't you want to hold your son?”

“Of course, I do,” Alexander said. Stepping forward with a huge smile on his face. “I don't want to break him.”

As they basked in the joy of their son’s arrival, a sudden noise outside shattered the tranquility of the moment. The unmistakable sound of footsteps crunching on leaves drew closer to the abandoned house, sending a jolt of fear through Alexander and Kristiel.

Without exchanging a word, they knew what they had to do. With practiced efficiency, Alexander cautiously moved to the window and peered outside. Through the overgrown branches, he spotted a group of dark figures making their way towards the house. The Reapers had found them.

"We have to go now," Alexander whispered urgently, his heart pounding in his chest. Kristiel nodded, her gaze never leaving their newborn son cradled in her arms. With swift movements, they gathered what little belongings they had and prepared to flee into the night.

As they made their way to the back door, a sudden crash echoed through the room as the front door burst open, revealing the hooded figures of the Reapers. Without hesitation, Alexander grabbed Kristiel's hand and led her out into the darkness, their baby boy held close to her chest.

They ran through the dense forest, their breaths coming in ragged gasps as they dodged trees and bushes in their path. The Reapers were relentless in their pursuit, their unearthly speed gaining on the desperate family.

Alexander came to a halt and abruptly pivoted towards Kristiel. “You and the baby go,” he urged, determination flashing in his eyes. "I'll hold them off.”

Kristiel's eyes widened in fear and determination as she clutched their newborn son tighter against her chest. She could see the resolve in Alexander's eyes, a silent promise to protect them at all costs. "No, we stay together," she insisted, her voice firm despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

But Alexander shook his head, a grim expression on his face. “I won't let them harm you or Joshuel. Go, I'll buy you time.” Without waiting for her response, he turned and faced the approaching Reapers. He quickly searched for a sturdy object to use as a weapon in defense.

With tears streaming down her face, Kristiel pressed a kiss to Alexander's cheek before whispering a fervent prayer for his safety. Then, with a final look of love and gratitude, she turned and ran into the depths of the forest, the echoes of her footsteps mingling with the sounds of the ongoing struggle behind her.

As Alexander sprinted in the opposite direction, a fiery hand of red ash suddenly emerged from the ground and snatched hold of his thin, slender legs. He crumpled to the ground, wailing in agony. In an instant, a gaping hole appeared beneath him and he was forcefully pulled halfway inside. Despite his desperate attempts to resist, the Reapers were too strong for him. Soon, Alexander was buried up to his neck in dirt, desperately clawing and scratching at the suffocating mound. But it was a futile effort; he was completely overpowered by the Reaper's grasp.

Suddenly, silence enveloped everything. It was an unsettling kind of quiet, reminiscent of the stillness before a storm. He glanced around, trying to make sense of it all. Then, he looked up at the sky and saw a dark cloud gathering over the forest. Thunder rumbled in the distance and bolts of lightning lit up the sky. A powerful gust of cold wind followed, bringing with it a thick fog that made it impossible to see just inches in front of him. Alexander struggled even more, his only thought hoping his wife and son were safe.

Alexander was frightened. He knew that he would not escape but no matter the outcome, their son, Joshuel must live. He and Kristiel were prepared for what may happened. His only regret is that he would not live to see his son grow up. But his life destiny was set in motion. It was the only thing that mattered.

He lifted his gaze towards the sky and began to pray. “Dear Lord, you have blessed me with this family for a reason. I have fulfilled all of your requests. My son, Joshuel, is extraordinary and has a purpose in life.” His thoughts were scattered as he continued, “Please keep him safe under your protective care.”

As Alexander finished reciting the prayer, the wind suddenly died down and the fog dispersed. The ground next to him cracked open, revealing a towering twenty-foot-tall demon figure made of ash known as Antioch. Its piercing red eyes glowed from beneath a black cloak as it emerged from the hole, one leg at a time. In its hand was a massive sword, dwarfing Alexander in comparison. It regarded him with disdain, as if he were nothing more than a blade of grass.

Alexander cast a pleading look towards the sky. "Please, God, intervene.”

The demon’s gaze fixated on him, his words dripping with malice. “What can he possibly do? I am Antioch. I will end your life, Kristiel, and then your son's.” With a swift motion, he swung his sword and removed Alexander's head from his body in one clean strike. The severed head was tossed into the depths of the well.