The dim lamplights of Riverglade caught Ben’s eye as they finally made their way out of the forest; his shoes crunched the gravel as he walked. The streets were near-empty. There were still a few carts rolled out, and a couple of banners hung, but for the most part, the villagers had cleaned up. The soft light illuminated the road, casting the inner town in shadow. With the festival and eclipse over, he wondered what day-to-day life would be like in Riverglade.

I suppose I’ll find out, Ben thought as he glanced up at Ariana. She looked back at him. A small, encouraging smile stretched across her face. Ben returned it.

Maybe I’m supposed to forget my past, he considered. Maybe I’m dead, and this is paradise for me.

A grimace formed on Ben’s lips. He felt guilty for thinking it, knowing that person, that someone, was still out there. He needed to find her, whoever she was, even if it meant leaving paradise behind. His mind drifted back to the ocean, where a silver of memory had finally returned to him.

First thing I remember, and it’s useless. Part of him wished he had kept the shell. Maybe it would have given him more memories?

Ben’s chest tightened. On the one hand, he was glad to have remembered at least something. On the other, it was such a painful reminder of his failure, torturing him with possibility. He bit his lip.

Why am I here and not her?

They arrived back at the cottage. Ariana opened the door to find Zachariel sitting at the table, coffee in hand, staring daggers into them.

“You’re late.”

“Sorry, Dad. We got held up a bit.”

“Where did you go?”

“The Sea of Stars.”

“Hmm. Beautiful scenery. Not everyone gets to see it.” Zachariel sipped his coffee. “That being said, you didn’t honor our agreement. You were to be back here by the time the eclipse ended. Two hours ago.”

“Actually, that’s my fault, sir.” Ben exchanged a quick glance with Ariana. “I, uh…I asked her to play another song. Took a bit longer than we expected.”

Zachariel’s stare shifted to Ben and intensified. He placed his mug on the table. “Ari? Why don’t you go get ready for bed?”

Ariana opened her mouth to protest but opted not to argue. She turned to Ben and mouthed ‘sorry’ before disappearing into the back room.

The angel sighed and gestured for Ben to sit. Ben complied, folding his hands in his lap. The two avoided each other’s stare for an eternity as the air between them thinned. Ben took a deep, slow breath once he realized he had been holding it.

Finally, Zachariel spoke up. “Ben, do you remember me telling you that New Eden isn’t an afterlife?”

“Yeah. You said that people can still die here, right? That there was constant danger.”

“Do you know why?”

“Not really. I…wait…” His brows furrowed together. “…I overheard Ariana mention something about demons earlier.”

The angel nodded.

Ben stared in disbelief. “Demons are real?”

“Dark, sadistic monstrosities. They fear the darkness, and yet, they relish it. They will ultimately be erased, so in their minds, it makes them free to do whatever they wish.” Zachariel’s eyes lowered. “Unfortunately, this includes taking others with them. Corrupting them or destroying them, to ensure they join them in oblivion.”

“You think I’m one of them?”

Zachariel shook his head. “No, that I’ve ruled out, I think. As I said earlier, your aura isn’t demonic. But it isn’t quite…normal.”

Ben bit his lip as he felt frustration burn away his earlier nervousness. “What? Do you think I’m not human or something?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you’ve ruled out me being a demon, right?” Ben threw his hands up in exasperation. “Then what’s the issue?”

The angel studied him carefully. “You show up exactly where my daughter practices violin every day, devoid of memory, save your name. A bit too convenient, if you ask me.”

“So, you don’t trust me.” Ben ran his fingers through his hair as he leaned back. “I get it. I’m some weirdo who shows up out of nowhere.”

“It’s not just that, Ben. I—”

“—Not to be disrespectful, sir, but if you don’t trust me, then why am I being kept here?”

Zachariel hesitated, his hand gripped his forearm.

“You said yourself that I wasn’t a demon. And if it’s about that fire thing, then I’m fine. No burns, nothing like that. All this is doing is—”

“Enough. I don’t know what it is, but there’s something more to you. You could be a trojan horse and not even know it, or maybe you’re the most skilled liar I’ve ever dealt with. Of course, there’s always the possibility that you are telling the truth, though the circumstances aren’t exactly reassuring.”

“So—again—if I’m a potential threat, why keep me here?” Ben asked, scoffing. “Why not send me away from Ariana and the village?”

Zachariel stared into his coffee mug. “Experience has taught me to keep a potential threat close, so it can be dealt with, if necessary. I believe there is even a proverb for it.”

Ben’s jaw clenched. The silence hung between them as the angel leaned on the table and ran his hands through his slightly grayed hair.

The angel sighed. “Look, Ben. I want to trust you. I want you and Ariana to have a healthy friendship, and I would love to help you regain your memories and find who you were trying to save. All I ask for is a few more days. That’s all.”

“…and for me to prove you wrong. About being a threat.”

Zachariel nodded and sipped his coffee.

Ben exhaled slowly, closing his eyes. “Alright. Fair enough, I guess.” He opened them as a thought came to mind. “You’re afraid of demons harming the village or Ariana, right?”

“That is correct.”

“But why are they here?” Ben asked. “If angels guard it? I mean, wouldn’t they stay away?”

The angel’s brows drew together. “It depends on the demon. Some obey their masters as lap dogs. Others take the reins themselves and make their own demented decisions. It’s a perverse thrill for them.”

Ben considered it. Everything in New Eden so far seemed so peaceful, so safe. The people in the village looked like they could go about their day without even so much as a single thought given to their safety.

“Huh,” Ben said, brows raised. “Good thing you guys are on top of it.”

“As much as we can. Can’t say the same for Earth, however.”

Ben’s eyes narrowed. “What makes Earth different?”

“Earth, once the crown jewel of creation, is a lost cause. We pointlessly attempt to protect humans from demonic influence, but it rarely ever works. Few angels remain that aren’t eventually killed.”

Ben stared in disbelief. “Angels can die too?”

“Unfortunately.” Zachariel grimaced. “I lost many of my brothers and sisters to that hell. No matter how vigilant we were, or how valiantly we fought, it didn’t matter. They’re gone now.”

“I’m sorry.” Ben frowned. “I didn’t know.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to.”

“So, you’ve lost people too.”

“Indeed. Do you remember the feeling?”

Ben avoided his piercing gaze. “I do, Sir.”

“So, you understand. Good.” Zachariel leaned in, his eyes fierce and penetrating as his voice lowered into a growl. “I know I am overbearing to you, paranoid, and untrusting. I understand my methods may frustrate you. But believe me when I tell you, I will not lose her to demons or anything else. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir.” Ben dipped his head. “I’m sorry. I should have considered all this before we went—”

The angel’s glare faded as he sighed and straightened his posture. “That being said, I’m not blaming you, Ben. At least, not for tonight. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”

Ben arched an eyebrow. “You’re not?”

“No.” Zachariel shook his head. “I just got a bit worried, is all. Allowing her to go with a stranger was…difficult, to say the least.”

“I should have just—”

The angel held up his hand, cutting him off. “As I said, it’s fine. Besides, for you to take responsibility for my daughter like that and return her unharmed…” He glanced at Ben, the hostility fading slightly, “…that proves I can at least begin to trust you, I hope.”

“Either way, I probably won’t be around to get her in trouble anymore,” Ben said. “I’m sure you’ll be happy.”

The angel scoffed, rubbing his neck. “To tell you the truth, I wouldn’t be surprised if it were the other way around. Memory or not, at least you seem to have a level head on your shoulders. Even here, that is rare.”

“Funny thing to say to an amnesiac.”

A reluctant smile came to Zachariel’s face as he took another drink from his mug. “The issue lies with Ariana. In recent years, she’s become more willful. It can be rather taxing.” He sighed. “This puts me at my wit’s end. There’s only so much an angel can do, much less one who isn’t even her real father…”

“I mean, you say that—” Ben began, “—but look at her. Ariana is an amazing person. Shouldn’t you take some credit for how she turned out?”

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Zachariel’s eyes widened. He took another sip. “Thank you, Ben. I appreciate that.”

Ben smiled. “Besides, you know Ari loves you if she named a fish after you.”

The angel nearly spit out his coffee, barely downing it. “She did what?”

“Yep. Over in a little creek near Leanoir forest. Says that it has your attitude. It even splashed her in the face.”

“Ha. Snarky girl.” Zachariel laughed heartily. Once the angel had regained control of himself, Ariana emerged from the back room, clad in polka-dot pajamas.

“What are you two laughing about?” she demanded.

“Oh, nothing.” Zachariel lifted the mug to his mouth once again, eyeing Ben, who had to stifle his laughter.

Her eyes narrowed for a moment before she relaxed. “Hmm…well, at least you’re getting along. Anyway, I’m about ready to hit the sack. Ben?”

“Yeah. Been a weird day for me.” Ben glanced at the angel. “You got an extra sleeping bag anywhere?” He looked around the small kitchen and dining area. “Do we just try to push all this to the side so I can lie down? Or maybe I just sleep outside?”

“No, doofus. There’s a spot on the floor in my room.”

Ben froze, his eyes briefly meeting Zachariel’s. “Uh…”

The angel met his gaze and hesitated. “Ariana, I think it would be best if…”

“Dad, there’s literally nowhere else he can sleep.”

“Yes, but we can figure—”

“—But didn’t you promise he could stay with us?” She tilted her head and pursed her lips. “Besides, didn’t you teach me that hospitality was the ‘angel’ way?”

“I…” The angel sighed deeply, rubbing his temple. “Fine. But keep your hands to yourselves.” He removed his hand and stared at Ben as if to say, ‘Touch her, and I’ll kill you.’

Ben paled. Ariana beamed at her father. “Okay! Goodnight, Dad!” She grabbed Ben’s wrist and yanked him into the room, closing the door. He instantly moved, putting a few feet between them. She rolled her eyes.

“You’re such a chicken,” Ariana teased as she plopped on her bed. “You know he can’t kill you, right? Angels are forbidden from killing humans.”

Ben glanced at her. “You sure he can’t find a loophole?”

“Even if he does, I’ll protect you.”

“I’m definitely going to wind up holy barbeque then. It was nice knowing you.”

“Holy chicken,” Ariana quipped, correcting him as she threw him a spare pillow. Ben placed it at his feet and laid on the old wooden floor, which was surprisingly comfortable, just the right combination of rigidness and flexibility. Ariana settled on her belly, facing Ben as her legs kicked back and forth.

“So, what were you guys talking about in there?”

“Uh…” Ben interlocked his fingers behind his head as he pursed his lips. “Not much, really.”

“Oh, come on. At least tell me something.”

“Well, he said you were a devil child. Staying out late with strangers, sacrificing them, serving them to…”

“Oh, hush. I’m not that bad.” Ariana blew raspberries.

“Nah, I’m kidding.” Ben chuckled. “He did say you were getting more independent and adventurous. He’s worried about it.”

“I’m almost eighteen, for Pete’s sake,” Ariana reasoned. “I can’t always be his little girl, ya know.”

“I can understand that,” Ben said. “Doesn’t mean that it won’t be hard for him.”

“Yeah, I know.” Ariana frowned. She turned herself around, laying properly on her bed. “Speaking of age, how old are you? If you can remember.”

Ben shrugged. “Seventeen, I think. I would have been turning eighteen in December…if…” His mind blanked out before he could finish his words. “I don’t even remember, honestly. It’s all a blur.”

“I’m sorry, Ben.” Ariana frowned. “I meant what I said earlier about helping you find your past and that girl.”

Ben gave her a half-smile. “Thanks, Ari.”

Ariana returned it and turned over in her bed. “Night, night, Ben. Sleep tight.”

“You too,” Ben said, trying to relax. It was now the end of his first day in the strange world of New Eden. He realized he was enjoying being with his new friend and her passive-aggressive angel father. It also worried him.

Am I getting too close to them? Ben wondered as he glanced at Ariana, who was now sound asleep. If I wind up having to leave, then what’s the point?

Ben looked at her again before he closed his eyes and fell into the nightmare.

----------------------------------------

Zachariel had finished his mug of lukewarm coffee, placing it gently on the table. He stepped to the door and quietly opened it. Ariana was sound asleep in her bed; Ben was passed out at the opposite end of the room, near the window. Zachariel chuckled.

“Ha. Good kid,” he remarked with a reluctant yet satisfied smile, closing the door and exiting his cottage. His gut told him that Ben wouldn’t hurt Ariana despite his suspicions. And yet, something bothered him about the boy.

So you say you’ve ruled out me being a demon, right? Then what’s the issue?

Zachariel sighed. He wasn’t exactly sure either. Yet, when he looked at Ben, occasional images of demons standing over the bodies of his fallen brothers forced their way into his mind, evil grins stretched across their ragged faces. He gripped the hilt of his blade, his jaw set.

If I see that same smile, Zachariel told himself, I’ll kill him on the spot.

He paused, shaking the idea from his head. It wasn’t very angel-like of him to consider murdering someone, much less his daughter’s newfound friend. The feeling of shame weighed on him like a pack on a mule.

“Sorry, Ben.” Zachariel stared back at the door. “I know you’re just as lost as I am.”

For a moment, Zachariel considered his own words. He thought back to Ben’s aura the moment they met. Beyond the uneasy feeling it brought him, he felt something else—a buried light from his time with Ariana. Deep down, he knew Benjamin Blake was a good soul.

Well, hopefully, I can frighten him into staying that way. For his sake, if anything.

Granted, Ben did show up under mysterious circumstances, in the exact spot where his daughter just so happened to practice her violin every day. His left wing twitched.

Curious, Zachariel thought, considering all inhabitants of New Eden are brought here by angels. Why is he the sole exception?

As his train of thought continued, the image of the earlier fire on Ben’s shoulder came to mind. Despite the multitude of torches and other possible sources, none of them were even remotely close to him. Against his deepest instincts, he decided to keep him in Riverglade a few days longer, his curiosity once again getting the better of him.

“Either way,” Zachariel said to himself. “I suppose it’s time to investigate.”

A stiff breeze blew by as Zachariel stretched his wings, inhaling sharply before tearing into the night sky. He kept to his usual route, starting at the center of Riverglade and making his way outward as he kept an eye out for any intruders to the village, demonic or otherwise.

All clear, Zachariel thought as he directed himself toward Leanoir forest, which was to be his first subject of investigation. Within a few minutes, he had landed just outside and had begun to walk through the brush. The forest, while bright and enchanting during the day, now seemed lifeless, dark. The branches reached out like twisted, spindly hands. He was glad that Ariana, despite her rebellious spirit, had never ventured there at night.

After a few minutes of walking, Zachariel finally arrived. A relatively spacious area where his daughter had come to practice and dance almost every day, almost without fail. He glanced down, seeing a pile of crunched leaves with a hint of Ben’s aura. He reached out to it, but his wings went rigid.

Something isn’t right, he realized. This feels…ominous.

He paused before kneeling and placing his hand on the ground. Instantly, several visions flooded his mind of pain, suffering, fire, and brimstone. Finally, there was a darkness, out of which materialized a pair of blazing, judgmental red eyes. Everything in the vision was instantly consumed in one fell swoop, pulled into the clutches of death itself.

Zachariel pulled himself away, his breathing heavy as the terrifying visions stopped. A bead of sweat dripped down his face. His hands shook as he took a moment to collect himself, finally bringing his ragged breathing under control.

What was that destruction? he wondered. Those eyes?

In all his years in the wars on earth, facing countless enemies and monstrosities, Zachariel had never once felt fear. He had always braved the forces of darkness and endured pain, loss, and suffering, never allowing himself to submit to it. Yet, in the vision, what he saw truly frightened him, and he couldn’t figure out why.

And what of Ben? What is his role in all this?

Zachariel briefly glanced back at the spot where Ben had been found, the eerie feeling creeping back into him. He would remind himself morning to ban Ariana from returning, at least until…

Suddenly, a twig snapped behind him. His wings went stiff again; his senses heightened as he instinctively drew his blade. Another weapon met his, a crude, twisted mockery of a sword. Wielding it was a shrieking demon, grinning so wide and wicked that the Fallen One himself would pang with envy.

“Poor angel,” the demon said. “Is that fear I see in your eyes?”

Zachariel bared his teeth, breaking the blade lock and swiping at his enemy, who leapt a few feet back. He readied himself, holding his sword with both hands, pointing the tip towards the demon.

His eyes narrowed as he assessed his foe. This demon was an underling, nothing he hadn’t handled countless times in past wars. Zachariel smirked.

“Not of you, imp,” he said quietly, hoping his calm would agitate his foe.

The demon hissed, beginning to circle Zachariel. “Believe me, Angel. This world will fall.”

The angel kept opposite his foe. “And what makes you think that?” He asked tauntingly.

“You’ll see,” it teased with a wicked grin.

Zachariel’s eyes narrowed as the demon screeched and leapt after him. Its ragged, torn wings flapped as its jaws dug into his vambrace. The metal sizzled as the venom in its fangs burrowed into it. Zacharie tore the demon away, kicked it back and discarded his ruined armor. He frantically felt along his arm for any bite marks, for any sign of infected tissue, but luckily found none.

Good, Zachariel thought as he sighed in relief. Otherwise, I might have had to amputate it.

“Aw, I missed.” The mocking frown on the demon’s face twisted into a snarl, teeth bared and dripping with venom. “Next time I won’t.”

The demon leapt forward, claws extended, bat-like wings spread. Zachariel inhaled sharply, whispered a quick incantation, and soon his sword was ablaze with holy fire. He waved it, expecting his opponent to cowardly retreat the way demons usually did. It still lunged at him, unfazed.

Zachariel’s eyes widened as he barely sidestepped the demon, slashing it through the abdomen and slicing it in half. It vanished into dust as he glanced at his still-burning sword.

That should have worked, he thought. Demons avoid holy fire as if it were a plague. They know it will damn them to oblivion. He glanced at the pile of dust that used to be his foe as it blew away in the wind. Did this one have a death wish? Or was it merely braver than the others?

Kneeling next to the dust, Zachariel allowed himself to take in the remaining demonic aura, hoping for clues, but froze. The aura in the visions felt utterly different from that of his now departed foe, far more menacing than anything he had ever experienced, enough to make him feel truly afraid. But why?

Suddenly, his eyes widened. The death, the chaos, and the purging fire. None of it felt like it had come from the Fallen One, nor did it feel evil. It was, however, dark. Dire. Sinister. Judgmental. The thing in his vision wasn’t demonic, he realized.

It was divine.

----------------------------------------

Ben felt weightless, formless, the ominous silence numbing him as he drifted through the dark. A light burst forth, then faded. Shapes manifested; noises filled the void, his surroundings forming a narrow alleyway littered with trash and a stench that most would find unbearable.

His gaze drifted to the end of the alley, seeing something—a person, he realized, a shadow cast over them. Ben ambled over, narrowing his eyes to get a better look.

“Who are you?” Ben asked the figure. The figure stepped out of shadow. It seemed as if Ben was looking in a mirror, a perfect reflection of himself.

“You’re late,” Ben’s doppelgänger said, his voice gravelly, eyes staring daggers into him.

Ben blinked in confusion until he heard a gruff voice behind him. “Sorry. Had to finish up an earlier sale. Some boss wanted a very special service, courtesy of my best girl.”

The other man, whose eyes were locked with his counterpart’s, stepped forward. He was a grubby, disgusting human. A pathetic excuse for a beard infested his neck and jaw, a loose cigarette hung out of his mouth, a tattered suit stretched across his chubby body.

Ben’s eyes widened as he backed a few feet away from the pair. Is this a memory?

His counterpart dipped his head, hiding his expression. “I don’t care. I just need some, uh…company. Looking for a very particular girl, too.”

“Oh?” the other man said. “What kind?”

“Young. Dark hair like mine. Half-Native American.”

“Huh. Indians are rare these days, even half-blooded ones.” The disgusting man took a puff of his cigarette. “We might have one, though. Came in last we—”

The dream doppelgänger’s eyes lit up. “Where?”

“Over by…hey, wait a minute.” He leaned forward, getting a closer look, nearly dropping his cigarette. “Aren’t you…?”

Ben’s counterpart screamed, lurching forward to attack the pimp. He was met with a swift kick to the gut, leaving him on the ground, clutching it.

“Oh, I see now.” The man smirked. “No wonder you want her so bad.”

“Where…is…Lilly?” the other Ben hissed.

Lilly? Ben wondered. Is that her name?

The pimp grabbed dream-Ben by the neck, lifting him up. “Fat chance, kiddo. Like I said, Native Americans are rare, young ones even more so. She’ll fetch a pretty penny to the right customer.”

Ben’s counterpart gripped his attacker’s wrists, squeezing them desperately.

“What are you, stupid? You think you can—ah!” the grubby man screamed, dropping Ben’s counterpart as he clutched his wrists. “You burned my hands, you punk!”

“Go to hell,” Dream-Ben growled, reaching into his jacket.

The man’s brows furrowed in fury. “Oh, now I’m—”

He never got to finish his sentence. Ben’s dream counterpart had drawn a shiv from his jacket and dug it into the gut of his attacker. The man doubled over, spitting up blood as he fell to the cold ground. Ben’s twin limped away while the pimp bled out.

“You know what, kid?” The disgusting man grinned, his mug soaked with blood. “I hope you find her. I really do.”

“I will. Count on it.”

“I hear they have a thing for bruises and pain.”

His doppelgänger froze. He slowly turned around, teeth grit, eyebrows furrowed, and face darkened. Sprinting over to the man, dream-Ben began to mercilessly kick him, digging his worn boots into the blood-soaked knife wound repeatedly while the man screamed.

Did I really do this? Ben wondered. An eerie feeling crawled up his spine as horror seeped into him.

His counterpart had switched from the man’s gut and was now stomping his face into the ground viciously until the man stopped moving. The loud sounds of the city faded away. His surroundings vanished, replaced once more with the darkness.

Did I kill someone?