Tag: prologue

Prologue

The First Sin

Gabriel

The world moved at its own steady rhythm—one beat at a time,

predictable and measured, untouched by the chaos of human emotions. At

least, that was what I had believed before her.

Now, my world moved only when she did.

Megana didn’t know I was watching her—not just today, but always.

It was my duty to remain unseen, to observe, to protect. But over time,

watching had become something else entirely. An obsession. A silent prayer

that she would never fall, never stumble into the kind of fate I could not stop.

And yet, I had no right to feel this way. I was an archangel, bound by

the laws of Heaven. Love—true love—was not meant for beings like me. Not

this kind, at least. Not the kind that made my chest tighten when she laughed.

Not the kind that made my fingers itch to reach for her, even knowing I never

could.

A deep sigh from beside me broke my thoughts.

“Watching her again?” Jeremiah’s voice was like a gust of wind,

familiar and grounding. He materialised at my side, his presence effortlessly

steady, as it had always been through the centuries. His piercing blue eyes

flickered with something between curiosity and disappointment.

“I don’t understand you,” he muttered, dropping onto the bench with

an ease I envied. “This mortal—what is she to you?”

I turned my gaze away from her, willing my expression to remain

neutral. “She’s, my charge. It’s my job.”

Jeremiah scoffed, tilting his head toward the girl who moved

effortlessly through the park, chatting animatedly with her friend. “And yet,no other guardian angel watches their assignment like this. No other

archangel lingers longer than necessary.” His voice softened, his usual

sarcasm fading. “What’s happened to you, Gabriel?”

The question lingered between us.

I wanted to tell him that I didn’t know. That I hadn’t realized when

duty had blurred into something else, something dangerous.

But that was a lie.

It had started long ago, long before I admitted it to myself. Megana

had been different from the beginning. Unlike other humans, who prayed in

desperate whispers when they needed guidance, she never once sought divine

intervention. She had faith—not in Heaven, not in celestial beings—but in

herself, in the people around her.

And despite everything, despite knowing the cruelty of the humanity,

she still smiled.

She was light in a world that had grown dim.

“I don’t expect you to understand,” I said finally, my voice tight.

“You’ve never been assigned to someone like her.”

Jeremiah studied me for a moment, something unreadable flickering

behind his eyes.

“Just remember who you are, Gabriel.” His voice was

quieter now, more serious. “You were never meant to be part of their world.”

He was right.

And yet, every time I looked at Megana, I wished that weren’t true.

It happened in the blink of an eye.

Sara, the girl Megana always walked with, darted across the street

without checking for oncoming traffic. It was careless but not unusual—

humans were reckless, and yet they survived.

But this time, something in the air shifted. A whisper of warning, an

unspoken dread curling in my chest. I turned just in time to see the headlights

of an approaching car rounding the corner, moving too fast.

Instinct took over before thought.

I had seen countless human lives flicker out like candles—sometimes

natural, sometimes cruel. It was never my place to intervene. But Megana…

She ran.

Without hesitation, she pushed Sara out of the way, her body twisting

mid-motion, her feet barely touching the pavement before the car slammed

into her.Everything inside me shattered.

She hit the ground hard, the sound of the impact deafening in my ears.

The driver swerved violently, losing control and crashing onto the roadside.

People screamed, rushing to the wreckage, but all I could see was her—

Megana, unmoving, the life in her eyes flickering like a dying ember.

My wings unfurled before I could stop myself, and I descended.

“Gabriel,” Jeremiah’s voice was sharp, filled with alarm. He

appeared beside me, invisible to the mortals but just as present as I was.

“You can’t be here.”

“I don’t care,” I ground out.

No one else could hear me. No one else could see me.

Except Megana, as her soul hovered between this world and the next.

Her chest rose in shallow, uneven gasps. Blood pooled beneath her

head, staining the pavement a deep, unforgiving crimson. Her body trembled

as if fighting to hold onto something—onto life itself.

Sara knelt beside her, tears streaking her face, screaming for someone

to do something. The paramedics arrived, their voices urgent, but I already

knew the truth.

Her heart was failing.

It was slipping through my fingers like grains of sand.

And I couldn’t stop it.

“Jeremiah,” I turned to my oldest friend, desperation clawing its way

into my voice. “We have to do something.”

He took a step back, his expression dark. “You know the rules.”

“Damn the rules!” My voice cracked, something raw and unfamiliar

threading through my words. “Please. Please, Jeremiah. At least try.”

Jeremiah looked down at her, his jaw clenched tight. He was torn—I

could see it. He had always followed orders, always obeyed without

question. But this was different.

This was me asking.

And for the first time, I saw hesitation in his eyes.

“You don’t understand what you’re asking,” he said, quieter now, but

I could hear the shift in his resolve.

“Yes, I do,” I whispered. “I’m asking you to save her.”

Jeremiah exhaled slowly, then knelt beside her. The ancient language

of angels flowed from his lips, a prayer not meant for human ears. His handshovered over her chest, a golden light forming between his palms.

Megana’s body shuddered as her soul teetered on the edge of

oblivion.

Then, the light expanded—spreading through her like the first breath

of dawn breaking over the horizon.

Her heartbeat once.

Then twice. Her breath hitched, and a sharp gasp escaped her lips.

And just like that, she lived. I exhaled a breath I hadn’t realized I was

holding. Relief surged through me, but it was quickly replaced by something

heavier.

This was a mistake. A beautiful, devastating mistake.

Jeremiah stood, his expression unreadable as he turned to me.

“It’s

done,” he said, his voice flat.

“But mark my words, Gabriel—this will cost

us both.”

I knew that. But as Megana’s eyes fluttered open, as her soul settled

back into her body, I realized something even worse than the consequences

awaiting us in Heaven.

I didn’t regret it.

Not even a little.

And that, more than anything, meant I had already fallen