Three colossal stone spires jutted out of St. James Catholic Church—two up front, one in the back. A cross, the same cloudy gray as the building proper, rested atop each spire like Christmas tree angels.

La’el sat on the sloped roof separating the three spires, gazing up at the ever-changing fluffy white clouds scattered across a deep blue canvas.

He and Jai had frequented this spot years ago, spending hours shooting the shit about a variety of topics. But without fail, what started as an equal exchange, eventually turned into La’el absorbing the horizon as Jai prattled his way to exhaustion.

Pathetic, La’el thought. Reminiscing over time spent with a human. How far I’ve fallen. Jai’s death was to signify the removal of his only remaining crutch. Loss induced pain was expected. Even as an Ensolian, La’el remained subject to human emotions. But the sting of heartache gradually dulled, refusing to disappear.

Weakness! He was no different from the others!

A roaring belch came from behind, causing La’el to leap out of his resting position to inspect the source of such blatant disrespect.

A slender man with disheveled black hair stood holding an empty Coca-Cola bottle, a grin stretching across his face. “Nothing better than real cane sugar. You can taste the difference.”

La’el’s mouth hung open. Gawking was the only response he could muster.

The man shook his empty bottle. “I think this is what I’ll miss the most.”

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“Who the hell—”

The stranger’s eyes hardened. “I’ll give you one chance. Come with me and put a stop to this childish tantrum. I’m offering you this grace because I accept my part in fostering your warped perspective.”

Such a presence. It was as if every molecule in La’el’s body was telling him to submit. His father had been the only one to elicit such a reaction.

It can’t be…

“How could I have produced such a fool?” the stranger said. “You expect your nephew to join you after slaughtering everyone he loved? Grief has rotted your human brain.”

His words actually stung. That alone was confirmation enough.

“I’m the fool? You created a race of paradoxical creatures whose existence is defined by conflict. And you had the temerity to refer to them as your most cherished creation? Even though he’s tainted, my nephew is still an Ensolian. I know a part of him understands my perspective.”

“Your resentment is understandable. Passing judgement on the worst of humanity is a difficult task. But you are not the La’el I created. What you witnessed has twisted you into something I can no longer recognize.”

La’el cackled until tears formed. “I’ve never known you to be this direct. Did Luna put you up to this? She was always your favorite.”

“I already tried the indirect approach, but you’re a stubborn one, holding on to your prejudice with all your might.”

“I spent nearly two decades trying to broaden my understanding of your precious race. Seeing the source of the depravity I encountered in hell only enriched my understanding. Humans are scum.”

“Can a photographer take a clear picture with a smudged lens?”

“Hiding behind metaphor. That’s the father I know and love.”

“You’re wrong, La’el.”

“About what? I’m sure you have several options to choose from. You love to play the jester, but I know how you really operate. So please, tell me what I’m wrong about now.”

“You’re wrong about humanity. But most importantly, Luna was never my favorite. You were.”

His father showing genuine sincerity was an oddity. It left La’el so dumbstruck that he couldn’t muster up a response.

“I’m telling you one last time. Come with me and return to your rightful place in hell. Jai showed you—”

“How dare you evoke that name as if it holds any weight. He was nothing more than an optimistic, sentimental fool. Dressing like a vagabond and espousing platitudes doesn’t make you a religious leader.”

“You’ve never been a good liar. Besides, he convinced you, for a time at least. Now hurry up and come with me.”

“I refuse. Hold on, how could you have possibly—”

“La’el!” screamed a voice below.

He spun around to the sight of his dear nephew at the church’s entrance, standing tall with his left arm in a cast.

When he turned back around to gloat, his father had vanished.

How nostalgic.