The sky was a cloudless red, and the sun blazed an apocalyptic glow as if it was burning out. Sara inhaled to catch her breath, wondering where she was. Her nose crinkled from the smell of rusted, dry blood. Groaning, her energy drained from her like she hadn't slept in ages.

When she sat up, against her skin the soil was wet. Dirt was buried underneath her fingernails, and blood stuck sticky on her palms. The girl stood up, no wind breezing through the silent atmosphere. She stared at her vacant surroundings and meandered in the vast space. The urge to call out ‘Hello’ to hear if anyone else was here was rising in her throat, but she remained silent. The trees were naked, with no leaves, and wilted from moisture.

Crows squeaked and circled above her. Sara jumped from their noises, and her mind churned to register where she was. Then it hit her. Gasping from the realization of where she was, she spirited. An inkling gnawed at her that someone was following her.

Sara dashed into the forest with no life, ignoring the branches clawing at her and scratching away. She refused to stop, yanking away even when her long hair caught on the trees’ limbs. Her heart pounded, and her feet mushed on the soil. The dying sun bore the torrid day.

The sun itself seemed to be bleeding, and blood ran like thin paint from the sky. Screaming as it poured on her, Sara fell and splashed into a puddle. On her body, her clothes were soaked. A misery cry burst inside her, and she had to keep running. Eventually, this nightmare would be over, and she would defeat him.

Wake up! Her mind screamed at her. Sara managed to get back up on her feet, dashing away. Slapping, pinching, and holding her breath—anything to wake her up—nothing worked. For a long time, she ran for miles of outstretched land with no buildings. With every step, her foot seemed to be sinking into the earth’s core. Her lungs and calves burned.

She finally collapsed, the rain shattering down on her, feeling like needles stabbing on her skin. Winning this game seemed out of reach, and she lay in the wetness and gave up.

A splash close to her made Sara jerk up. Her father loomed over her, and her mind screamed for her to stand up, but her knees buckled. Kneeling in the wet dirt, she whimpered, “Please, Father.”

Despite the rain, Michael was in impeccable and clean condition, his golden locks shining. Yet the gaze in his features was wrong. No kindness or remorse could be seen, only a flare of scorn masking his face.

No, this man wasn’t her parent. Everything was so wrong with him, she could hardly recognize him. “I can’t.” Sara choked. She bowed her head, her tangled hair clumping around her. I surrender. Catching a glimpse of a blade, her body trembled, not from the cold atmosphere but from fear.

Michael lifted his chin and spat out, “Look at me.”

Nails digging into her palms and wishing to cry, Sara stared away from him.

“Look at me,” repeated Michael with a low growl.

Sara shook as she looked upon her father’s angelic countenance, abhorrence piercing at her for no reason. The Archangel flickered the blade, and she didn’t stop him as he plunged it into her heart.

***

Jolting awake, light streamed into her room. Her friend was gone, and knowing she slept through the morning on a regular basis, Sara assumed it was well past noon. Turning to her side, she rolled off the bed, letting out a yelp and crashing onto the floor.

The clock fell on her head in the process, and she messaged her forehead with a grunt. She fixed her clock, and the long hand flicked back and forth, struggling to tick. Broken again, seriously. She tossed it on her wall to maybe work again, the simple machine thumping on the floor.

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Her chest ached as if the blade was in her. Tears prickled down her cheeks, and she curled into a ball.

Those nightmares, no matter how many times they repeated, she could never get used to them. Sara grabbed her phone and saw no text messages or notifications; yet, the time read two in the afternoon. She threw her phone on the bed and combed her fingers through her messy hair in agitation.

Taking her sword lying against her bedside table, Sara swung it. She scraped the blade against the blade and flung it on her bedpost, cutting sharp dents in the process. “Leave me alone!” Her emotions tore inside of her, and she rasped back tears, pushing discomposure deep within her. You’re not real.

Squinting her eyes closed, tears rolled down her face, and she slumped on the bed. Looking at her weapon with adoration, she hugged it. This is no way to treat a sword. Then, she froze in the realization that she was treating this item like a person.

Sara dropped her sword, which was clattering on the floor. Needing to get her mind off her troubled state, she found her computer and watched something that turned her burn off, but a knock came to her door. Wishing to throw everything at the door to be left alone, instead, she hissed between her perfect teeth, “What?”

“Your father would like to see you in his office,” a Choir replied.

“Tell him to me that in person!” Sara sniped, but then she swallowed her anger and stammered, “I mean, tell him I’ll be down there soon.” The footsteps receded, and she muttered about her father never coming to see her.

In a flat five minutes, she managed to spray expensive perfume, brush her hair, take a deep breath, and stare at the mirror before leaving her bedroom. “It’s just a nightmare. He’s not real.” Casting her gaze in the far distance and imagining her future of adventures, she mumbled, “I hate my life.”

The girl regretted saying that and looked at herself again, seeing her ghastly pale complexion. She splashed water to wake her up more and pinched her cheeks to add color to her face.

I’m a perfect daughter who doesn’t sleep for half the day and doesn’t complain about her impeccable life. Also, as a bonus, the Harmonies freaking adore her.

After her pep talk, she forced a smile and headed to the office, forgetting her phone. Her stomach rumbled, and she flashed smiles to anyone who passed her. Racing down the stairs to not keep Michael waiting, Sara flung open the doors. “Morning—I mean, good afternoon, Father.”

Eyes glanced her way, and some narrowed at her, others judging her. Sara swallowed, nerves splinting through her. She slammed the door a bit too hard, and the walls shook as it banged to a close.

Michael sat in his chair, raising his eyebrows. Her best friend looked like she belonged in a model magazine for jeans, her tight jeans fitting her muscular legs, her cinnamon hair shiny, and her skin breathlessly tanned. She sat her brothers on the sofa with Ashley. The Choirs scattered around the room.

They were watching her, and she flashed another smile, striding ‘confidently’ in. Her father cleared his throat and said, “I’m glad you could join us, sweetie.” He gestured to the Harmonies, “We were discussing this Gala, who claims to be Thomas Pitch. My brother mentioned that the same person was in Hell causing some destruction. So, I was talking about any plans to deal with whoever this is.”

Sara blinked blankly and shrugged nonchalantly, answering as if this would solve their problems, “Just kill him.” As an assassin, she had been taught to come to this decision quite quickly without any further investigation.

The Harmonies stared at her and stepped back. Michael chuckled. “That, my little assassin...sweetie, you, um...”

Like shit? I agree. Sara waved her hand, trying to ignore the fact that her skin looked as white as snow. Some Galas would’ve mistaken her for a vampire if she went out into the real world. “Probably need more sun.” She added, clasping her hands together in awkwardness.

“Anyway,” Michael continued with the meeting, “My brother wants, you could say, a discussion to talk about this Gala and what our next move should be.” He chewed on his peach pastel lips. “You should know that’s the last thing I want to do.”

“I had a meeting a few hours ago about what the Choirs thought, but they weren’t helpful. Many pointed out the need to capture this man, but we first need to find him. There’s no whereabouts where he could be. To my knowledge, only Kate has seen him in person and given me every detail she can remember. Now, for Lucifer, I have no idea much.”

Michael finished, “I informed the other Sanctums and updated them on what was happening. I brought you to see if anyone here has any thoughts or concerns about what to do.”

“You don’t think Thomas Pitch is alive?” John blurted, crossing his arms, and a snarl was planted on him.

“It’s…” Ashley stammered, “It’s impossible!” She threw her hands in defeat, but everyone else nodded in agreement.

Why did her father need her to be in this office? Sara had no clue what to say. If no one else had an answer to this, how could she?

“Besides being in Hell and tossing me around, did he cause anymore mayhem?” Kate asked.

“Not to our knowledge,” answered Daniel.