"Clarence! Wings. Wings!"

Clarence looked back, but it was too late. The pudgy little angel's left wing dragged across a table and two beers hit the floor. Now pink-faced and just wanting to disappear, he quickly turned to the impossibly beautiful (and now beer-less) couple to his left,

"I'm so sorry! The wings are new..."

*crash*

The golden-haired patron at the table behind him made a move to rescue his drink, but even angelic speed was no match for Clarence in his new wings—another beer had met an inglorious end.

The voice that had called out to Clarence belonged to Sophie, who was now rushing past the bar patrons to rescue Clarence. While the massacre of the beverages did the pair no favors, they were going to gather stares in any case— little Clarence with his silver hair and wings that looked a size too big, and the still wingless Sophie, who was just a few inches taller (but still short for an angel) with eyes and hair as dark as coal– they did not look like angels. Even the regulation gowns that somehow fit every other angel so glamorously, made the duo look like two children playing dress-up.

Sophie took Clarence by the arm, "Let's just go to the bar...and watch the wings!"

"But Sophie, I made such a mess! I should at least..."

"They know you are sorry, and they already have new drinks. So let's go."

Clarence looked back. Sophie was right, of course. New beers had already materialized, and the mess on the floor had almost completely faded away.

Reading the pained expression on his face, Sophie reassured, "Everyone knows you here, Clarence. There is nothing to feel bad about."

There may have been a touch of impatience in her voice, but Sophie couldn't help but smile. Clarence just had a way of just making her feel better, and Sophie needed to feel better. She was hoping to let go of her worries—or at least hide them. This was Clarence's day—he had finally gotten his wings—and he was her dearest friend.

The pair found their stools, and two big mugs of beer magically appeared at the bar—they would be the only ones of the night (assuming they escaped another Clarence "incident"). If the pair indulged, they might take an angelic sip, but the beers were mostly for show. Even if they weren't touched at all, they were still a comfort. Just a heavenly way of encouraging a relaxing conversation, and today they were celebrating.

"Clarence! You got your wings! This is so exciting!" Sophie did her best to smile—she was happy for him, but...

"Thanks, Sophie. And, I hear that you are really close to getting yours, too. Congratulations!"

"Yes, Mia..."

...Sophie stopped trying to smile and just stared blankly at her beer.

Clarence was at a loss. After years of struggle, the soul in his friend's charge was finally scheduled to go to Heaven. He had thought that the end of her struggle would bring relief, and yet, there she was, staring blankly at...nothing. Finally, he spun her around on her barstool, gave her shoulders a squeeze, and looked straight into her eyes. "Sophie, this is a happy thing! I know. I know. The guillotine isn't the most pleasant way to move on. But, she is a good one, and she is going to the good place, just like George. And, you will get your wings! Aren't you excited about that?"

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

"Of course, Mia is a good one! But, I am her guardian angel..." Sophie turned away, once again looking down at the bar, "...and we lost. I couldn't..."

"You didn't lose! She is going to the good place, isn't she? She never gave up faith. She..."

"She could have been so much more," Sophie looked back at Clarence. She was way past trying to smile—years of frustration and sadness filled her face. "Mia should have been a light to others, but we lost...lost so many souls—Sion, Rafina, Ruby—they could...they all could have been good. War, famine—it changed people. Chaos...they won."

An angelic tear rolled down Sophie's cheek, disappearing into glittering light as it landed on the bar. Clarence put his hand on Sophie's shoulder and gave her a light hug from the side.

"I'm sorry. I know Mia tried. You tried."

Sophie looked up at Clarence, "You did more than try with George. What was that trick you played with him?"

With that, a big toothy smile popped onto Clarence's face, and he fell back onto his stool (he even took a sip of his beer!).

"Ho! Ho!", Clarence chuckled. "He wished that he had never been born! And I showed him! I showed him!"

"You showed him? Showed him what?"

"I rewound time and showed him a world where he was never born. An alternate reality!"

"Alternate reality?"

"Yes, yes! The Boss raised such a fuss! They said 'Not in a million years!' Ho! Ho! But, they let it go, and it worked! George saw everything, and..."

"Really?" Her voice began to sound a little hopeful. Her eyes brightened. "So, an angel could give a charge a peek at a potential reality—one where they weren't born, or where they had made different choices?"

"Well, sure. But, The Boss said 'Not in a million years!' And, that was for George. George was a really good person."

"Mia is a really good person!" Sophie chirped.

"Yes, but she's already lived her life. She is going to Heaven! If you rewind time, you might..."

Clarence went on, but Sophie wasn't listening anymore. She was planning.

"There is still some time left!" There was an almost manic excitement in her voice, as she sprung up from the bar, "So... I just have to rewind things back a little bit." Neighboring angels cuddled their beers, as Sophie's body became as animated as her speech, and her hands and arms had become as dangerous as Clarence's wings! "Maybe I will give her a pep talk. No, there isn't time that—The Boss might find out. Anyway, she's a bright girl! She's had a peek. I will just reverse time—she will figure the rest out!"

"Sophie! She's not that bright! And you aren't listening!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Clarence. What were you saying?"

"I said, if you reverse time, and she makes different choices, she might not go to the good place! You might not ever get your wings!"

With that, Sophie lifted the mug of her perennially untouched beer. The glass found the way to her lips, and she downed the whole thing in one gulp! The empty mug slammed onto the bar. With a dozen pairs of angel eyes fixed on her, she wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her gown, revealing a grin that was not quite angelic.

"Oh my! Sophie!"

Somewhere far below the clouds of Heaven, the morning sun begins to shine on the Tearmoon Empire. A young girl of about eleven or twelve (or twenty?) years drifts into consciousness. Her heart begins to race, pounding in her chest, as her mind is flooded with a lifetime of memories—plague, famine, war... the guillotine! Her eyes open wide, but she does not even try to process the sights before her—instead she frantically grabs at her cheeks, her hair, her ears...

"M-M-M-My head! My head my head my head my heaaaaaad!"