21. Unraveling
Unraveling
Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me.
Letting the curtain swing back into place, I retreat to my bed, the room dim and heavy with shadows that the pale dawn can’t reach.
The quilt is cool against my skin as I pull it over my shoulders, though it does little to ease the deep weariness settling into my bones.
Exhaustion wraps around me like an old, familiar friend, the kind I’ve worn before but never quite gotten used to.
It takes so much more energy than I can afford to call out to him like this. To reach through the veils of reality and dream. Tonight was different, though. Tonight, I walked beside him, felt his warmth again, even if only in the fragile space between sleep and waking.
The memory of his hand, the rough gentleness of it grazing mine, remains like an imprint on mine.
Even in a dreamstate, his touch felt like home, a sanctuary I’ve long since been locked out of.
His eyes—full of love, longing, and all the unspoken things we never had time to say, pierce through me even now.
The exhaustion I feel right now was worth it.
The sounds of the house drift into my room. The creak of the stairs under the weight of his boots pulls me back. My heart quickens at the rhythm of his approach. I don’t move. I don’t dare.
He pauses outside my door.
I don’t need to see him to know he’s there.
His presence spills through the thin barrier of wood, brushing against my senses.
The intensity of his conflict is tangible in the air.
The storm inside him still thrashes, and for a moment, I hold my breath, afraid I might accidentally summon him closer, or push him away altogether.
Instead, I close my eyes, forcing my mind to quiet, focusing on the whispered prayer I send up. A whispered plea of thanks to God for allowing me even this small moment of closeness.
A warmth blooms inside me, elusive and fragile, as I let the stillness take over. I am breaking through, bit by bit. I can feel it. Each hesitation in his step, each fleeting second his thoughts linger on me, is a crack in the wall he’s built around himself.
I smile softly against the pillow, though it wavers at the edges. There’s so much farther to go. But for tonight, this is enough.
Six Months Ago
The voice fills the dining hall, a sonorous call that thrums with a power beyond words, reverberating through the very fabric of my being. “Caroline Hayes.”
Kiran, cradled against my hip, shifts, his small fingers clutching my gown. I can feel his warmth, his purity, his boundless love. The kind that only exists in heaven. His radiant smile fills my heart even as a fluttering hope begins to rise within me.
Guided by an instinct older than time itself, I step out of the dining hall, down the crystalline corridors bathed in a light that seems to pulse with life.
The ethereal glow bends around us, as if cradling both me and the child, softening our journey toward the great hall.
Each step echoes lightly, resonating not just through the walls, but through my soul.
"Caroline Hayes," the gentle voice intones again. "Zadkiel will see you now."
Zadkiel . My breath catches, and my steps falter for a heartbeat before steadying.
The Angel of Mercy. For eons, it seems, I have waited for this— prayed for this.
I have been called by others before, charged with ushering souls to their rest, but none of those missions held the magnitude of this one.
This is his call. The call that could reunite me with my Silas.
As I approach the immense bronze door ahead, it shimmers faintly, the carvings upon its surface weaving celestial stories older than the stars themselves.
It glides open without a sound, revealing a sanctuary of incomprehensible light and comfort.
Shielding Kiran’s eyes gently with my hand, I bow my head and step inside, feeling the embrace of divinity wrap around me like a beloved memory.
The brilliance shifts, condenses, and there he stands—Zadkiel. His presence radiates mercy incarnate: golden, soft yet unfathomably powerful. I do not look directly at him; the light is overwhelming even at the edges of my vision. Yet his voice envelops me.
“Caroline.” My name blooms like a song, a symphony brimming with grace and purpose. “You have served well. Time and again, you have brought souls to their rightful place here. You have not faltered in your duty.”
Tears fill my eyes, blurring the splendor around me. “Thank you,” I whisper, my voice trembling under the importance of the moment.
He continues, his tone more solemn now, pressing into the core of me. “The time has come for your final mission. You have pleaded to return to him. And now, Caroline, you will be sent to your husband.”
Hope surges in my chest, so fierce it threatens to break me. “Thank you,” I breathe, the words scarcely strong enough to carry the gratitude swelled within me .
But the warmth cools as his next words strike me like a blade cloaked in truth.
“Silas Hayes carries many burdens. His sins are deep, his heart troubled. His ties to the earthly plane are strong. This mission is unlike any you have undertaken before.” A pause, heavy and pregnant with meaning.
“If you fail, Caroline, he will be lost. He will be damned for eternity.”
The words shatter something inside me, an ache that radiates outward from my chest. I think of Silas, my strong yet wounded Silas, weighed down by grief, by choices made in pain and fear.
I have felt his anguish even from here, his struggle to breathe in a world without me.
But to know his soul teeters on the edge of eternal separation… it threatens to consume me.
Yet, I lift my chin, steadying my voice against the tremor. “I understand.”
“You will be given the wisdom and tools needed in the days before you leave. Remember, Caroline, your love is both your greatest strength and your greatest enemy.”
The golden light flares, then fades, and I know it is over. Zadkiel’s presence recedes, and the great door seals behind me with a resonant boom. The hall’s stillness returns, and with it, an overwhelming determination courses through me.
I look down at Kiran, his innocent face turned toward mine with that same blissful trust. I cup his cheek, marveling at the miracle of his warmth, the steady beacon of hope he represents.
“I’m going to bring Daddy to us,” I murmur, brushing a kiss over his forehead, my voice carrying my resolve and the lift of a promise. “No matter what it takes.”