After spending quite some time reflecting on what my little sisters thought about humans, I ended up shoving those thoughts to the back of my mind, like someone shutting the door on a messy room. I waved them goodbye one last time in silence and, at the next moment, let my body surrender to the darkness.
Within seconds, I felt gravity vanish. My body started to float, as if I had been thrown into an invisible ocean. I slowly spun around, trying to regain some sense of orientation, until I came face-to-face with a place that was absolute and oppressively dark — a void with no beginning or end, completely devoid of any trace of light.
I stayed still in the darkness, simply standing there, letting the silence wrap around me. No particular thoughts passed through my mind in that moment — it felt as if even the very concept of thinking had dissolved.
I simply stared into the void, feeling the weight of the absence of everything around me. But that strange calm didn’t last long. I closed my eyes for a brief moment and, almost instinctively, thought about the place where Emily was usually found: her office.
The image of the room appeared vividly in my mind — the desk, the smell of paper and coffee, the soft light falling across the furniture. And then, within seconds, I had the strange sensation that my body was moving, even though I hadn’t taken a single step.
More clearly now, I felt the space around me twist and pull, as if being drawn somewhere specific. When I opened my eyes again and tilted my head upward, I realized Emily’s office was right in front of me. I floated through the corners, almost swimming through the air, until I had a wide, elevated view of the room.
It was exactly how I had pictured it: Emily was there, sitting at her desk, focused, her brow slightly furrowed as she reviewed and signed piles of documents. That scene didn’t surprise me at all — after all, when she wasn’t observing or studying some anomaly, that’s where Emily spent most of her time, managing the different sectors.
A boring job? Absolutely. But like it or not, someone had to do it. I took a deep breath and let my gaze wander around the room in search of any sign of Laura — nothing. Just the silence and Emily’s solitary presence.
I couldn’t tell if that was good news or bad news. Laura was usually more open to my questions, unlike Emily, who seemed to weigh every word before answering. Still, since I was already here, there was no harm in trying to squeeze some information out of her. With that thought, I slid gently through the darkness, propelling myself toward the shadow cast beneath Emily’s desk.
It was curious how this place was much brighter than it first appeared — the light filled almost every corner of the facility, making the shadows rare and precious, tiny islands of darkness beneath furniture and objects.
Maybe that’s why the shadow under the desk drew me in so strongly. As I got closer, I felt the air grow colder there, as if the shadow itself was breathing. With one last push, I let my body rise out of the darkness, ready to reveal my presence.
***
(POV – Emily Parker)
Inside her office, Emily stretched discreetly, feeling her muscles protest after hours in the same position. Paperwork had always been the most tedious part of her routine — and the part she hated the most. Still, what could she do? That was the price of the position she held.
They say the higher you climb, the heavier the weight you carry — and that didn’t change just because she dealt daily with entities capable of wiping out humanity on a whim.
Lost in her thoughts, Emily stretched again, her arms reaching back in an almost automatic gesture — a habit she had developed to keep the slow-building fatigue from overtaking her.
That’s when something unexpected happened: the tips of her toes touched something. She froze, surprised, her eyes blinking as if her brain needed an extra second to process the sensation.
It was... soft. Fluffy, even — maybe that was the best way to describe it — but at the same time, there was something solid there, as if it hid a quiet resistance beneath the smooth surface. The oddness of the touch made her curl her toes instinctively, as if to confirm she wasn’t imagining things.
Emily blinked, confused, then gently pushed her chair back. She pulled her feet in almost automatically, as if something might grab them. The next second, she leaned forward to peek under the desk — and her heart skipped a beat.
There, pressed into the shadows, was a small being. It was a little larger than a child but still smaller than a teenager, its eyes glowing with a restless focus, fixed on her as if studying her. Emily’s breath caught; for a moment, she didn’t know whether to scream, run, or just keep staring back.
The creature’s hair fell in long waves until it touched the ground, shimmering almost like liquid, as if each strand reflected a light that wasn’t actually there. Its golden eyes, with constantly spinning geometric irises, carried a presence that felt beyond human, making the air around it subtly vibrate.
Two curved horns, goat-like, jutted from its head, dark and marked with faint glowing cracks like embers about to burn out. Attached to its tailbone, two white angelic wings beat in short, restless intervals, flapping as though they were searching for a space too small to exist in the cramped office. At the center of its forehead, a living mark shifted and reshaped endlessly, always changing yet strangely harmonious, as if that constant transformation was its true form.
The being kept its gaze locked on Emily’s — and she, almost entranced, couldn’t look away. The silent exchange lasted a few seconds that seemed to stretch forever, until soft words echoed directly in her mind, like a warm whisper that calmed every fiber of her body.
At the same time, the creature curled up under the desk, almost timidly, as if embarrassed to be there: (Hi, Emily... sorry for showing up like this, under your desk)
Its tone sounded strangely formal and, at the same time, serene — almost hypnotic. A moment earlier, Emily had felt on the verge of fainting, her body rigid and her heart pounding like it might leap out of her chest at any second. And yet, just hearing that voice changed everything.
The fear melted away like mist in the sun, and her chest, once frantic, became an ocean calm and deep, each heartbeat slow and measured, as though time itself had slowed to match her.
Of course, even if Emily now felt oddly calm, that didn’t change the fact that having the [Angel of Death] suddenly appear under her desk was, at the very least, an absurd situation. For a moment, she froze, trying to process what she was seeing. Her eyes widened, and the silence in the room made everything even more uncomfortable.
With a hesitant sigh, Emily finally moved her lips, trying to put her scrambled thoughts into words: “Uh... what exactly are you doing under my desk?”
Emily stayed still, quietly watching, patience glinting in her eyes. The anomaly, hidden beneath the desk, simply stared back — its movements restless, almost feline, crawling back and forth as if the space was far too small to contain it.
For a moment, the air seemed to fill with a strange tension, until, suddenly, words appeared in Emily’s mind, soft and natural, as though they were her own thoughts: (Can I come out from under here first? My wings are starting to hurt)
Emily’s mind went completely blank for a few seconds, as if everything else around her had vanished. Then, almost with a start, she pushed her chair back, instinctively retreating: “Ah! Sorry...” she said with a nervous laugh and a hand over her chest, trying to catch her breath: “I was so surprised that I completely forgot about that for a second”
The moment she moved back, Emily paused, watching intently as the anomaly squeezed itself out from the tight space under the desk. The sight was oddly mesmerizing — the anomaly contorting itself, bending the air around it as if breaking reality just to fit through.
It was unsettling to think that this small creature — whatever it was — was brimming with countless powers, a true entity that defied human comprehension. And yet, as Emily watched its slightly clumsy struggle to get free from the cramped gap, she couldn’t help but think one involuntary thought: deep down, it just looked... cute.
***
(POV – Protagonist)
As soon as I managed to squeeze myself out from under the desk, I let out a long sigh of relief. That experience had been anything but pleasant. The space was suffocating, my wings ached from twisting around trying to find room to move, and the sensation of being trapped left me restless.
Next time, if I have a choice, I’m definitely finding another anchor point — anything that doesn’t make me feel like I’m being crushed inside a box. Either way, I pushed the thought aside and turned my attention back to Emily.
She was still watching me with that curious expression, as if trying to guess what I would do next. I took a deep breath and, ignoring the memory of my disastrous entrance, decided to focus on what really mattered — the real reason I had come to her office.
My wings beat softly, producing a faint hum as I lifted into the air. I landed delicately on Emily’s desk, sitting almost casually beside a stack of papers. I didn’t even bother to look at them — just imagining the effort it would take to try to understand them gave me a headache, and I decided it was better to ignore them completely for now.
Then I focused all my attention on Emily. My lips moved slightly, almost in a silent whisper, as I carefully organized my next words. Then, I projected my thoughts directly to her: (About Victor...)
The instant his name echoed in Emily’s mind, her expression changed. Her eyes, once calm, grew darker, and a heavy weight seemed to fall over the room. That reaction only made my curiosity burn even more. Without hesitation, I continued: (In the interrogation room, when he got that call... before he left, he looked at me with such anger... why? Did I do something wrong?)
My question was genuine — I truly couldn’t understand why Victor had looked at me that way, as if I were a threat, as if a monster had just appeared before him. I had never stopped to think about it before, but being looked at like that by someone I knew felt... strange.
Strange and uncomfortable. Was my other self right all along? Underneath this apathetic façade of mine, am I more sensitive than I appear? It’s hard to believe that, especially now, when my emotions feel muted, almost numb.
I waited in silence for Emily’s answer. She stayed thoughtful for a few seconds, her gaze fixed on some spot on the floor, as if carefully arranging each word before speaking. When she finally looked up at me, her voice was soft but firm: “He doesn’t hate you... not exactly. What he hates are anomalies — all of them, no exception”
Honestly, I could think of plenty of reasons for him to hate anomalies — reasons that were logical, even predictable. But the look he gave me was different. It didn’t feel like just cold, generic hatred, the kind you have toward something simply for existing. It felt heavier, more personal. How do I put it? It was the kind of hatred you direct toward someone you blame for something important, something that left a deep mark on you.
That was the impression I had the instant our eyes met — a feeling so strong I couldn’t ignore it. Taking a deep breath, I decided to put my thoughts into words and, turning to Emily, I let my doubt slip out: (Why?)
Emily opened her mouth as if about to reveal something, but then closed her lips, hesitant. Her gaze faltered for a moment before locking back on me, carrying something that mixed discomfort with care.
“I can’t tell you” she murmured, her voice low, almost as if afraid someone else might hear: “The reason is... very personal” She looked away, lightly biting her lower lip: “I think it would be better if you asked him directly”