Angelo crossed the threshold into a home that felt both foreign and achingly familiar. Family photos lined the hallway walls, while the air carried that indefinable scent of a place filled with love and memories. His heart clenched tighter with each detail his eyes absorbed. When the door clicked shut behind him, it sounded final as a jail cell closing.

"I was hoping you would come," she said, her voice rough like someone who had screamed their grief into pillows until her throat was raw.

"Mrs... Mrs. Dealer, I-" The words caught in his throat, sharp as broken glass.

"Please," she interrupted with unexpected gentleness, "call me Miriam."

That simple kindness shattered something inside him. "I don't understand," he burst out, composure cracking like thin ice. "You should hate me! You should be screaming, throwing things, blaming me! It's my fault that... that..." His voice died as his throat closed around the awful truth.

Without speaking, Miriam pulled out her phone, fingers shaking slightly as they navigated to a saved message. The timestamp showed last night, and Angelo's heart seemed to stop beating entirely.

"Mom... I have to be quick." Bill's voice filled the hallway, slightly tinged with static but unmistakably, heartbreakingly him. Chaos roared in the background - destruction and that awful laughing that raised goosebumps on Angelo's arms. "Me and Angelo, we're in a tight spot. He ordered me to run, but I..." The pause carried the weight of destiny. "I can't leave him to die, Mom! He reminds me so much of Dad, and... he's like the big brother I never had!"

Tears blurred Angelo's vision until the hallway became a watercolor painting. Each word from the recording stabbed deeper than any wound.

"Mom, listen - if something happens to me... you can't blame Angelo for this, I forbid it! And if something does happen... I'm so sorry, Mom... I love you." The message ended with devastating finality, followed by a cascade of increasingly desperate messages from Miriam that would forever go unanswered.

When Angelo managed to lift his gaze, he found Miriam's eyes swimming with an ocean of pain, but completely devoid of the hatred he had expected - had perhaps hoped for, as fitting punishment for his failure.

"My son saw a brother in you," she said, voice steady despite the tears trailing down her cheeks. "To hate you or blame his passing on you would dishonor his sacrifice and go against everything he believed in."

Outside in the park, Red stood unnaturally still, his usual manic energy snuffed out as he listened through their shared connection. His evolved aura flickered and died like a flame in strong wind.

"If you were a brother to him," Miriam continued, eyes closing as fresh tears escaped, "then you are a son to me. Those were his wishes..." Her voice caught like a snag in fabric. "And they are mine as well."

Something deep inside Angelo - some wall he'd built brick by brick around his grief - came crashing down all at once. Tears spilled freely as he covered his eyes with his sleeve, shoulders shaking with the force of silent sobs. In that moment, all his carefully constructed identities fell away - he wasn't the fearsome Angel of Death, wasn't an evolved Auron with newfound power, wasn't even an officer of the law. He was just a lost boy who'd never known a mother's love, drowning in grief for a brother he hadn't realized he needed until it was too late.

Miriam stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, enveloping him in warmth that felt like everything he imagined home should be. The sensation was so foreign, so achingly unfamiliar, that it only made his tears flow faster. They stood there together, two broken hearts finding solace in shared loss, while morning light painted shifting patterns across the floor through their tear-blurred eyes.

"I heard about your evolution," she said softly, still holding him like something precious. "They say emotional evolutions like yours are incredibly rare... that they come from pain so deep the body changes just to survive."

Angelo could only nod against her shoulder, not trusting his voice to hold steady.

"He must have meant so much to you," she whispered, the words gentle as a lullaby.

"He did," Angelo managed, voice rough as sandpaper as they finally separated. "I'd never met anyone like him before. His positivity, his courage, his energy... No one had ever..." He swallowed past the lump in his throat. "He really was like a little brother to me."

Gathering what remained of his composure like scattered autumn leaves, Angelo straightened his spine. "Mrs. Deal-- Miriam... I need to tell you his final words. It wouldn't be right if you didn't hear them."

She went perfectly still, giving a small nod of permission, bracing herself like someone preparing for a physical blow.

Angelo drew in a shaky breath that made his injured ribs protest. "He... he thought of you, even then. Knew how much this would hurt you. But he was still himself until the end - said you were 'gonna kill him' for this." They shared a smile that held more pain than joy. "Then he told me I wasn't bound by my limits, that I could reach the top - wanted me to compete in the Arch Tournament, I think." Miriam's hand flew to her mouth as fresh tears spilled over her fingers. "He told me to show everyone what the Angel of Death truly means... said he believed in me..."

She took a moment to compose herself, though tears still traced silent paths down her cheeks like rain on a window. "Thank you, Angelo," she said softly, then hesitated. "Could... could I ask you for a favor?"

"Of course," Angelo replied, nervous energy making him shift his weight from foot to foot. "Anything."

"Your evolved aura - would you show me?" The request hung in the air, seemingly at odds with the heavy emotion of the moment.

Angelo blinked in surprise but nodded. "S-sure..." He stepped out into the morning light, each movement still carrying the stiffness of his injuries. Drawing a deep breath that made his wounds throb, he called forth his aura. The orange energy flickered around him like a living flame, growing more intense as he channeled more power. With a final grunt of effort that pulled at his healing wounds, he transformed - his evolved state casting dancing shadows across the front yard like a miniature sunrise.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

"I'm an energy Auron," he explained, forming a sphere of pure power between his palms. "My evolved ability lets me do this..." The energy shifted visibly, its fundamental nature changing before their eyes. The glow remained constant, but something about it altered in a way that defied easy description. "It's called 'Forged Energy' - it becomes tangible, like solidified energy..." He demonstrated by reshaping it into a shield on his arm, feeling awkward under her intense scrutiny.

To his alarm, Miriam burst into fresh tears.

"What's wrong?" Angelo asked, panic rising in his chest like a tide. "Did I-"

"Don't you see?" she interrupted, voice thick with emotion. "This forged energy... it's Bill." Her words struck him like summer lightning. "He's become your shield, protecting you wherever you go..."

Angelo stared at the crystallized energy on his arm, understanding dawning in his eyes as a bittersweet smile spread across his face. "Yeah... I think you're right."

"One last thing," Miriam said, wiping at her tears with the edge of her sleeve. "When they ask to interview you - and they will - please say yes. Tell everyone about Bill's heroism. Let his memory and legacy live on in their hearts."

Angelo nodded solemnly, the weight of this new responsibility settling across his shoulders like a mantle. "I will. I promise."

As he turned to leave, her hand caught his arm with gentle urgency. "Please visit sometimes," she said softly, her voice carrying hope beneath the grief. "You could... you could even live here if you wanted. Chief Ramirez told me about your family. This way..." her voice wavered like a candle flame. "This way neither of us would have to be alone."

The offer hit Angelo like a physical blow, knocking the air from his lungs. His sparse apartment - the only home he'd known since leaving the orphanage - flashed through his mind. The concept of family had been nothing more than a distant dream for so long, something that happened to other people. Now here it was, being offered freely, and he didn't know how to process it.

"That's..." Words scattered like startled birds, leaving him grasping at empty air.

"You don't need to answer now," she assured him, managing a watery smile that held echoes of Bill's warmth. "Just think about it. I know you blame yourself, but... my door is always open for you."

"Thank you, Miriam," he managed, the simple words feeling hopelessly inadequate against the magnitude of her offer. "I'll consider it."

As he walked away to meet Red in the park, his heart felt like it was being pulled in opposite directions - lighter from a forgiveness he hadn't dared hope for, heavier with the responsibility of honoring Bill's memory and the unexpected gift of a potential home. The morning sun stretched his shadow long across the dewy grass, but for the first time since Bill's death, that darkness trailing behind him didn't feel like an accusation. Instead, it felt almost like a companion, walking with him into whatever came next.

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Evening shadows crept like cautious cats across the hospital walls when Angelo first heard them - the eager murmur of voices behind his door, feet shuffling against polished floors, camera shutters clicking like mechanical crickets. He'd known this was coming, had been steeling himself for it since his promise to Miriam. Each movement pulled at his healing wounds as he pushed himself up from the bed and approached the door.

The scene beyond hit him like a wall of sound and motion - reporters packed shoulder to shoulder, held back only by the stern-faced nurses who formed a human barrier. Cameras and microphones jutted forward like spears, while notepads fluttered in anxious hands like nervous birds. The moment Angelo appeared in the doorway, silence dropped over the crowd as if someone had thrown a heavy blanket over them all.

Then chaos erupted. Questions burst forth like water from a broken dam, voices climbing over each other until the words melted into meaningless noise. Fluorescent lights caught camera lenses and made them glitter like predators' eyes in the dark, all fixed on him with unwavering focus.

Angelo's eyes flashed orange like signal flares. "Silence," he commanded, his voice carrying a weight that had nothing to do with volume. The effect rippled through the crowd like a stone dropped in still water - reporters falling quiet as one, bodies unconsciously straightening as if called to attention.

When his eyes returned to their natural brown, that same authority remained in his bearing. "I will tell you everything," he said, words cutting cleanly through the hushed corridor. "No questions. Just listen." The reporters exchanged uncertain glances before nodding agreement, microphones tilting toward him with trembling anticipation.

He stood with his back against his door, using it like a shield to hide his room number - one last piece of privacy in this moment of public testimony. Red recording lights winked at him from dozens of cameras like dying stars in the artificial hospital lighting. Yet despite all those eyes pressing in on him, Angelo felt oddly calm. The words rose from somewhere deeper than thought, carried on the strength of his promise to a grieving mother.

"My name is Angelo," he began, each word dropping into the silence like stones into still water. "Some know me as the Angel of Death. Two years ago, at sixteen, I joined the police through a special program for promising Aurons. After training, I earned my place in Novaria's Auron division. Almost a week ago, I was assigned to mentor a new recruit - Bill Dealer." His voice softened on the name like someone handling something precious.

"Neither of us knew we were walking into a trap set by the serial killer known as the Grim Reaper - perhaps chosen as a mockery of my own given title. In the confrontation that followed, Bill lost his life." Angelo paused, eyes closing briefly as if against physical pain. When they opened again, they blazed with fierce pride.

"Bill Dealer was the bravest person I have ever known. He saved my life three times - first against Infernian terrorists, then twice more against the Grim Reaper herself. A sixteen-year-old rookie saved his superior officer without hesitation, without fear." His voice grew stronger with each word, carrying the weight of sworn testimony. "I want every household in Novaria to know what a hero this earnest, enthusiastic young man was. I want his name remembered not for how he died, but for how he lived - with unwavering courage and unshakeable faith."

Angelo's voice softened to something intimate, as if he'd forgotten the cameras entirely and was speaking directly to a ghost. "Bill, I will never forget you or your smile. Thank you for everything, and rest in peace... my brother."

Without another word, he turned and walked away through the parting crowd. Questions exploded behind him like fireworks, but they felt distant and meaningless. His mind was already reaching ahead - to old mysteries about his parents still waiting to be solved, to new promises that demanded keeping.

He had awakened this morning to a reality grimmer than any he'd known, to bitter truths and an abyss of despair that had seemed bottomless. But his conversations with Miriam and Sleeser had given him something unexpected - not just purpose, but permission to live, to grow, to honor the memory of the one who had believed in him until the very end.

Tomorrow would bring new beginnings. Tomorrow, he would start walking the path that Bill had believed he could travel - not just as the Angel of Death, but as something more. Something worthy of a brother's sacrifice and a mother's grace.

As night settled over the hospital like a gentle blanket, Angelo closed his eyes, feeling his evolved power thrumming through his veins like a second heartbeat - Bill's final gift, his eternal protection. Tomorrow would come with its own challenges, but for now, he let himself rest in the knowledge that somewhere, somehow, Bill was still smiling that earnest, unwavering smile.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough to light the way forward.