Divine Destiny - Part Five(Kanesha Andrews) Kissara sat on the edge of her bed, her heart pounding as she tried to process the strange message. The words hung heavy in her mind, filling her with a mixture of anticipation and dread. Many things are about to be revealed, and your life will change. She touched her fingertips to her temples, attempting to ground herself.

She glanced back at the blue stone on her desk. It looked innocuous, lying there as if it hadn't just transported her into a vision of herself dressed in celestial armor beside a man who claimed to be her soulmate. The memory of his face, the warmth in his eyes, and the strength in his voice lingered in her mind, sending a strange comfort through her.

“Who are you?” she whispered to the empty room, half-expecting an answer.

Silence.

The blue stone lay innocently on her desk, the soft glow now dimmed. She hesitated for a moment before grabbing her journal and scribbling down every detail she could remember. She had to make sense of it all somehow. After finishing her notes, Kissara sank back onto her bed and stared at the ceiling. Ember Consorts? For some reason that term sounded familiar to her, but didn’t know why. There was so much that she still didn’t know about her Celestial heritage.

Suddenly, an eerie feeling crept over her. She tried to ignore it, but it lingered, pressing in on her. Just then, her Pyrae abilities surged within her, and her eyes flared a fiery brown.

So, it’s true. A Pyrae walks among the humans in Fire Point.

Who are you?

A mocking laugh echoed in her mind.

I am one who dwells within the shadows of the unseen. You will not stop us, Fiery Angel of God.

Kissara silenced her thoughts, shielding herself. The voice sneered.

Formidable, I’ll give you that. But you cannot stop us. He has surrendered himself to us—he belongs to us now. You cannot save him.

A storm swept in suddenly, thunder rumbling so violently it shook her apartment. Kissara felt no fear, but sensed that her unseen visitor did.

I will leave the Pyrae be. But remember: he is ours. Neither she nor the Angyprx can save him.

And then, just as abruptly, the eerie presence vanished, leaving her with an unsettling calm.

What was that malevolent spirit speaking about, Creator?

A human… who made a grave mistake, driven by greed.

Dare I even ask?

Understand this, Kissara: you and another are not meant to save him. There are others whom this foolish man has wronged and ensnared in his pursuit of wealth and power.

Who is the other that is like me, Creator?

It is as I said. Be ready—your life is about to change.

Kissara snapped out of the trance, yet the conversation lingered, etched in her memory. A sense told her that God’s words would soon come to pass.

“What in Heaven’s name is happening?” she murmured, feeling the weight of impending change settle around her.


At precisely 3:00 a.m. on Monday, Damian arrived in New York. At the airport, he was met by a short, slightly stocky man with a balding head and a noticeable paunch. The man wore a dark gray suit, white shirt, and tie, all neatly pressed, yet there was something off about Harold Rennet. His demeanor was an oily mix of ignorance and opportunism, like someone who would do anything to get what he wanted.

“Damian Michaels, I presume?” Harold greeted him with a smile that was as cheesy as it was untrustworthy.

“Yes, I am. And you must be Harold Rennet,” Damian replied, his tone measured.

“That’s right.” Harold handed over a thick folder. “Mr. Price wanted you to have these documents.”

Damian took the folder and gave it a cursory glance. “How long has your client been hiding out in Fire Point, New Mexico?”

“Two months now. Says it’s quiet out there. Thinking of starting a few ventures once this…mess blows over,” Harold said, still flashing that forced, insincere smile.

“Mr. Rennet,” Damian replied coolly, “even if your client decides to cooperate, he’s facing serious time in Bridewell Prison for what he’s done. And that’s if Italy, Germany, Romania, or Sweden don’t request extradition.”

“You’re a bit high-strung, aren’t you?” Harold chuckled. “Maybe you should relax, take some time to see the city.”

Damian raised an eyebrow, then, unexpectedly, his eyes began to glow with an intense, celestial light.

In a voice that was not entirely his own, Damian spoke. “You’ve been touched by them. You were offered something, but you understand nothing of what they are. You’re a greedy, ignorant fool.”

Harold’s eyes widened in terror. “What…what are you?” he stammered, his voice shaking.

Damian seized Harold’s wrist. “You will not speak a word of this to anyone. If you do, it is not my wrath you’ll face.”

“Whose wrath, then?” Harold stammered, trying to sound braver than he felt.

Damian smiled slightly. “Mr. Rennet, I’d suggest paying a visit to a holy place. You may find it…enlightening.”

An announcement echoed over the speakers: “Silver Eagle Airlines, Flight 752 to Fire Point, New Mexico is now boarding.”

“I’m leaving now, Mr. Rennet,” Damian said, turning toward the gate. “Pray for your soul. Pray you’ll never see me again.”

As Damian walked away, Harold let out a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He reached for his phone, intent on making a call, when he heard a voice, clear as day, in his mind:

Mr. Rennet, God sees everything. He’s showing me exactly what you’re planning and who you intend to call.

For the first time in his life, Harold felt true fear. He put his phone away and, once he reached his car, whispered a prayer—the first he’d ever said.

Zaen, once you land, go dormant, the voice continued.

Damian—now aware as Zaen—sighed.

Why must I hide? I have no reason to.

Do not be prideful, Zaen. There are innocent lives at stake.

Yes, Creator.

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