Chapter Forty-Eight
Melinda Thymes
Faye
The first thing I saw when my eyes opened was a golden ceiling and a massive crystallized chandelier. Somewhere nearby, I heard the trickle of water, and a wondrous energy danced across my skin—like a long-overdue greeting. A gentle, radiant embrace.
I hadn’t felt this harmony in so long. The kind that flowed through my bones and made everything feel light again.
Immediately, I lifted my hand and studied my fingers.
My light.
Tears blurred my vision, sliding into my hair. My skin was no longer wrinkled. The long beige dress I’d worn for so long was gone. In its place: light, gilded flesh. I shimmered like my brothers and sisters again.
I touched my cheek, then rose. Three figures stood nearby—the ones who had plucked me from Hell and brought me home.
One of them smiled.
“Welcome home.”
“Thank you,” I whispered, pushing aside a golden silk sheet and standing.
A flicker of something not-gold caught my eye. I turned toward the males quickly. Well. I couldn’t say I was surprised.
I laced my hands in front of me, studying the small dim glow in the center of each of their chests.
Home is different for everyone.
They would understand soon enough where they belonged.
Then I remembered why I was returned.
My skin went clammy.
“The Reapers…”
“It’s over,” one said gently.
“Over?” I asked, heart tightening. “As in…?”
“The Devil is imprisoned once more,” another answered.
The breath rushed out of me, loosening every joint. Relief—until:
“But—”
“But what?”
“He took the youngest Reaper. Trapped her with him.”
“Ah,” I said quietly, already turning. “Come. Let us go to the scrying glass.”
“Why weren’t we ordered to intervene?” one of them asked, falling into step behind me.
As I stepped out of the home, the brilliance stopped me cold. Even my breath felt lighter surrounded by gold. I trudged through the gilded streets, surrounded by kin who touched my shoulders. Nodding, they whispered, “Welcome home.”
It was a wonderful time.
But there was something I needed to be sure of.
Some people I had watched for as long as I could remember…
“Faye?” one of the once-proxy warlocks asked. I had already forgotten they were following me.
“Yes?”
“Shouldn’t we have stopped him? What if he’d chosen to walk through?”
“It’s always been about choices,” I said. “Everyone has the chance to choose good or evil. But the day I fell to the Underworld…that was angels intervening.”
I paused, turning slightly. “I guided them as best I could in something we could not directly aid. Not when the time came.”
When I had been Melinda, I’d shared their confusion—longing for divine interference, wondering why it didn’t come.
But I knew now:
The angels did what we could, through me.
I could already see the dim in their light growing darker with doubt. That was fine. Not everyone understood peace. Not everyone understood home.
I never again wanted a hunger pain or the urge for a bowel movement—no sensation or lingering curiosity. Thankfully, I’d never experience those things again.
Whatever longing I had once held as an angel bled out during my time with the Reapers.
I liked my world.
And many humans would too, when their time came.
The burdens of their world were heavy.
Coming home lifted that weight—
A sensation, I imagined, not unlike what I had just felt.
Still…not everyone belonged.
I glanced at the three following behind me. Let their silence speak for them.
It’s probably why He allowed them to cross paths with Nova again. It was time for them to return to their place, too.
A smile touched my lips as I stepped into the small shrine housing the scrying glass. Two angels standing guard bowed and stepped aside.
“What is it you’re wishing to see?” another angel asked.
I hesitated.
Strange, how I already missed them—those Reapers I never really got the chance to know. And yet I knew so much about them at the same time.
I leaned over the pot of water.
My reflection shimmered on the gilded surface before it rippled and turned dark.
In the shadows, a single wink of light. Something was born.
No.
Returned.
As the silhouette took shape, I spoke without turning.
“A very, very long time ago, a skeletal being came to be. It was a savior for mankind. A cloud of darkness fighting something much darker. Death was his existence—so it became his name… again.
It’s as if the worlds have spoken up and said, ‘I suppose humans still need you after all.’”
Another form dropped into the darkness beside him.
I smiled gently.
“Only this time…”
“He’s not alone.”