EverenVale

  Malrath’s gaze lingered on the reunited family, the warm light from the doorway casting soft shadows across the wn. When he finally turned back to Opharel, his expression had changed. The hostility was gone, repced by something more contemptive.

  “So… you didn’t steal his free will after all,” he said, a hint of surprise in his voice. “What was your game here, Opharel?”

  A sad curve pulled at Opharel’s lips. “We all have our darkness. I take away their fear of goodness.”

  He chuckled softly. “Well... not everyone. Only those who’ve been burdened with the darkness of others… and didn’t deserve it.”

  He sighed. “We all have our orders, and we carry them out without care.”

  He shrugged. “I chose to care.”

  Then he looked straight at Malrath, voice low but steady.

  “That’s why Heaven and Hell are after me. Because I undo what they did.”

  Malrath’s gaze lingered on the young child, curiosity flickering at the innocence the boy radiated. But he quickly diverted his attention back to Opharel, careful to maintain a respectful distance between them.

  “Interesting,” he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “So, you’re saying you alleviate their suffering instead of causing it. Quite the rebel, aren’t you?”

  He chuckled softly, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “But how does that expin your control over these people? Surely, they could resist if they wanted to.”

  Opharel chuckled at the description, his voice calm but ced with exhaustion.

  “Did Hell tell you I have control over them?” he asked. “Because that’s not my thing. On the contrary… all I do is break the chains binding them to Heaven or Hell... sooner than they deserve.”

  Malrath watched as the young boy was pulled into the arms of his relieved family. A strange warmth spread through his chest, foreign and uninvited. He turned to Opharel, eyes narrowing, not in suspicion, but in thought.

  “You really care about these people, don’t you?” he asked, tone softer now. Curious. Genuine. “It’s not just about rebelling against Heaven or Hell anymore.”

  He paused, turning that truth over in his mind.

  “But I guess that’s what scares them the most, isn’t it? Not your powers. Your compassion.”

  Opharel gnced once more at the reunited family, then turned away and began walking down the sidewalk.

  “I care about all creatures,” he said quietly. “That’s what scares them. Someone who cares enough to correct their wrongs… to stop their greed.”

  He walked leisurely, hands tucked into his pockets, his voice a steady hum against the backdrop of the sleeping city.

  “Have you ever asked yourself,” he mused, “why there’s this constant war between Heaven and Hell?”

  Malrath fell into step beside him, movements fluid and unhurried. The question drew a soft snort from him, less mocking than before.

  “Power. Control. Territory,” he replied. “Pick your poison.”

  He shrugged and gnced sidelong at the angel. “You got some grand theory that’ll enlighten me?”

  His tone wasn’t confrontational. If anything, there was real curiosity now.

  Opharel nodded as they strolled back toward the city center.

  “All you said is true,” he admitted. “But more importantly… it’s about who owns the souls.”

  He gnced at Malrath, eyes flickering with something ancient and weary.

  “Souls are the energy source. The one thing that keeps Heaven or Hell in pce. So both sides try to gather as many as they can.”

  He shook his head slowly.

  “I meant it when I said we’re made of the same material. Angels lure souls with the illusion of a dream paradise. And demons…” He chuckled softly. “Well, you’d know better than me.”

  “They promise paradise in this world, in exchange for the afterlife.”

  He looked at Malrath with an amused smile.

  “If you ask me, demons are even more honest about their intentions.”

  Malrath smiled faintly, eyes never leaving Opharel.

  “You mentioned energy sources earlier,” he said, voice thoughtful. “Are you implying that humans are merely fuel for Heaven and Hell’s eternal conflict?”

  Opharel shook his head slowly, side to side.

  “Hmm… you could say that,” he replied. “But that’s putting it mildly.”

  He paused, then continued, his tone steady but ced with something heavier.

  “It’s not only human souls... but all creatures. And souls aren’t just fuel. They’re the source of energy that literally holds Heaven and Hell in pce.”

  He rolled his fingers through the air, and the relic orb shimmered into existence between them. He held it up.

  “Neither angels nor demons have souls,” he said, gazing at the glowing sphere. “Yet we need energy to live. Where do you think that energy comes from?”

  Malrath’s tone remained serious, but a sliver of humor slipped through as he tried to lighten the weight of it all.

  “A soul viginte, then? Or maybe a celestial Robin Hood... stealing from the rich afterlives to give to the poor ones?”

  He arched an eyebrow, lips twitching into a half-smile.

  “But seriously,” he added, his expression sobering. “What do you want me to believe about you, Opharel? That you’re some kind of savior? An angelic revolutionary fighting the system?”

  Opharel chuckled bitterly and shook his head. The orb vanished again into thin air.

  “Hardly.”

  He sighed, fatigue creeping across his face like a shadow.

  “In the beginning, it was all about bance. Heaven and Hell did what they do now… but they were fair.”

  His tone dipped into sadness as he looked out at the bustling street around them.

  “Then they got greedy. Started pulling souls too early, hauling other creatures into their irs before their fate had time to settle.”

  His eyes hardened.

  “Demons gave humans things that fueled their greed, changed the world in decades... people like Hitler. And angels? They sold false paradise, made martyrs out of monsters. Like Osama bin Laden.”

  Another deep sigh escaped him.

  “Each side is trying to bring in more souls, faster, in mass. I’m just… tired of Heaven and Hell’s greed.”