Divine Destiny - Part Six(Kanesha Andrews) At 8:29 a.m., Kissara arrived early at the airport and sat in the waiting area for the flight from New York. Feeling a bit self-conscious, she held a sign with “Damian Michaels” written on it, figuring he hadn’t been told who would meet him. She hoped her outfit was suitable—a light pink blazer over a black blouse, a knee-length skirt, and modest heels. Her makeup was minimal, as she only went all out on her girls’ nights with Nina and Roxanne.

Her phone rang, startling her. It was Warren Banner. She answered.

“Hello?”

“Kissara, are you at the airport?” he asked, his tone anxious.

“Yes, I am, sir,” she replied, a hint of annoyance creeping into her voice.

“Good! Bring him straight to the office once he arrives.”

Kissara sensed something off. “Mr. Banner, is everything all right?”

“Yes, yes, we’re just… eager for Mr. Michaels to arrive.”

“His flight hasn’t arrived yet, but I’ll text you when we’re on our way,” she assured him.

“Good, good! And one more thing…” Warren hesitated, and she could tell he was about to say something unnecessary.

“What is it, Mr. Banner?” she asked, suppressing an eye roll.

“Please don’t ask too many questions when he arrives. His visit is confidential.”

“Understood, sir.” She ended the call, muttering, “Good Lord, as if I’d bombard the man with questions the moment he lands.”

She pocketed her phone and sat back, contemplating her job. Working at Banner & Associates of Law had become tiresome. The pay was decent, but the constant dealings with the demanding lawyers were wearing on her patience. Yet, she knew better than to leave before finding something more fulfilling. For now, stability was key.

With a sigh, she murmured a small prayer. “Heavenly Father, just help me get through this day. Whatever challenges come, give me strength. Amen.”

As she finished, an eerie feeling washed over her—not ominous, but electric, like the thrill of something imminent. It made her jittery, and she worried her Pyrae abilities might activate involuntarily. After a moment, the feeling faded, leaving her calm.

“What was that about?” she wondered aloud.

A new announcement came over the speakers. “Attention, Silver Eagle Airlines Flight 752 from Manhattan, New York is now arriving at Gate 14-C.”

Kissara checked her watch—8:59 a.m. The flight was early. Shrugging, she got up and headed to the gate, silently thanking God for nudging her to come early.




As Kissara stood at the gate, holding up the sign that had Damian’s name, once again that feeling that felt earlier washed over. She prayed to God that her Pyrae abilities would surface, the last thing she wanted was frighten people. Once again the feeling faded.

Passengers began trickling out of the gate, some looking weary, others rushing by with relief, clearly glad to be on solid ground. Kissara scanned the crowd, mentally preparing herself to spot Damian Michaels. She wasn’t entirely sure what to expect; Warren had been cryptic about him, only emphasizing that she show the utmost respect and discretion.

Just then, a tall, blonde haired man emerged from the crowd, his sharp eyes scanning the waiting area as if he already knew who he was looking for. He was dressed in a tailored black coat over a charcoal-gray suit, and though he looked polished, there was an air of intensity about him, something guarded and enigmatic.

Their eyes met, and she instantly knew this had to be Damian. He moved toward her, his gait smooth and unhurried. As he approached, her nerves fluttered again with that strange, electric sensation, almost like a warning—or was it excitement?

“You must be Damian Michaels,” she said, trying to sound professional, though her voice came out softer than intended.

“Yes, I am,” he replied, a glint of interest in his eyes as he took her in. “And you are?”

“I’m Kissara Firecrest, receptionist for Banner & Associates. I was asked to pick you up and take you straight to the office,” she said, trying to keep her composure. Damian’s gaze lingered on her, and though she felt a touch flattered, she reminded herself to stay professional.

“Well then, I’m ready to go,” he replied with a smile.

“Is that all you brought?” she asked, glancing at the briefcase and large duffel bag he carried.

“Yes, this is all I need,” Damian replied confidently.

“In that case, let’s get going,” Kissara said, gesturing toward the exit.

As they pulled out of the airport and onto the road, Kissara couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this meeting than what had been explained. As for Damian, he couldn’t help but glance over at Kissara, his gaze tracing her profile. Kissara noticed his lingering looks and kept her focus on the road, though a smile tugged at her lips.

“Is something on your mind?” she asked, glancing over.

“Just admiring your beauty,” he replied, smiling warmly.

Her small smile grew a bit. “Thank you.”

“Have you lived in Fire Point all your life?” he asked, shifting the conversation.

“Yes, born and raised,” she replied. “And judging by your accent, I’d say you’re not from New York?”

Damian chuckled. “Good guess. I’m from London.”

“Is this your first time in America?”

“Yes, it is,” he said, though something seemed to tug at the edges of his memory.

“Well, I hope you like Fire Point. Fair warning—it’s a bit quirky, just like its residents,” she said with a smirk.

“Are you one of those quirky residents?”

“Definitely,” she laughed. “My perspective is a bit...unique.”

“Oh?” Damian asked with interest. “What makes it unique?”

“Well, I believe none of us are perfect, but that we can live in harmony if we accept our differences. I see all people as a bit flawed yet capable of incredible goodness. If we could just look at the world through God’s eyes, maybe we’d all understand that a little better.”

Damian smiled, impressed. “You sound like someone who truly believes in people. I have a feeling you make it a point to see the good in everything.”

"I try to," Kissara replied. "I want to believe there’s good in everyone, but I’ve learned the hard way that sometimes it’s just not there. That doesn’t change my perspective, though—it just makes me careful about who I trust. Plenty of people have thought I’m naive for it."

Damian nodded thoughtfully. “Seems like they’re missing out on a rare kind of kindness.”

Kissara smiled, her eyes lighting up. “That’s exactly what my best friends, Nina and Roxanne, say. And heaven help anyone who tries to take advantage of me—Roxanne especially won’t stand for it.”
A laugh slipped out as she remembered something.

Damian smiled. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh, just a memory,” she said. “Back when we were nineteen, a boy visiting Fire Point was trying to talk me into meeting him at this secluded spot. Roxanne didn’t trust him one bit, and honestly, neither did I, but he was persistent—and cute—so I entertained the idea. But he kept pushing, and when I finally told him no, he got nasty, calling me a ‘spoiled sheltered brat.’ That hurt, so I told Roxanne and Nina, and Roxanne was ready for war.”

Kissara laughed. “She hunted him down with us right behind her. She gave him an earful in front of everyone, laid out exactly what he was trying to pull, and left him totally humiliated. To top it off, the sheriff himself overheard as his daughter was also taken with the boy. The sheriff made it very clear that if the boy went near his daughter, he’d regret it. Roxanne, meanwhile, told him I was just fine the way I was, and if he didn’t like it, he could look elsewhere.”

Damian chuckled, shaking his head. “I can only imagine what it’s like to have Roxanne on your side.”

Kissara laughed again. “She’s a force of nature, that’s for sure.”

"And what about you?" Damian asked. “Do you think you’re just fine the way you are?”

Kissara thought for a moment. “I do. Sure, I’ve got things to work on, but who doesn’t?”

Damian looked at her, his expression soft. “You’re beautiful, Kissara.”

“Thank you,” Kissara said, smiling warmly. “And I'll admit, I think you’re quite handsome too.”

Damian grinned. “Much appreciated.”

Just then, Kissara’s phone rang, and she rolled her eyes. “Of course, right when I’m driving.”

“Would you like me to answer it?” Damian offered.

"Yes, please," she said, nodding gratefully.

Kissara’s phone rested in the cup holder, so Damian picked it up and answered. “Hello, this is Damian Michaels speaking on Kissara’s phone.”

“Oh, hello, Mr. Banner... Yes, she’s driving me to the office, we’re en route... No, she hasn’t been asking me any personal questions; we’re just having a friendly conversation... Because I asked her a question... Yes, Mr. Banner, I started the conversation.”

Damian’s eyes narrowed slightly, and his voice grew firmer. “With all due respect, if you were that concerned, perhaps you could’ve picked me up yourself instead of sending your kind and professional receptionist. Now, we’ll see you in about fifteen minutes.”

He hung up, and Kissara’s eyes widened, a smirk tugging at her lips. Damian glanced over and chuckled. “I take it you’re not a huge fan of your boss?”

"Mr. Banner's okay, just a bit much when he’s on edge. But then there’s Leland Owens, one of the firm’s attorneys. He’s a creep—always pestering me to ‘dress more attractively,’ by which he means ‘short skirts and low tops.’ The guy has zero charm with his outdated polyester suits, a tragic toupee, and he reeks of some cologne that I swear came from the ‘70s.”

Damian laughed, shaking his head. “Sounds like your friend Roxanne isn’t the only one with a fierce side.”

Kissara chuckled. “Maybe not. Nina and I have our moments too. Nina’s mom is legendary for her disapproving looks—they could make anyone squirm. We say, ‘If looks could kill,’ every time she gets that look.”

Damian grinned. “And your mother? Is she outspoken too?”

“She can be,” Kissara said thoughtfully, “but she’s more reserved. I take after her, mostly. Though, lately, she’s been getting pretty sarcastic. I guess I inherited that part early.”

“And your father?” Damian asked gently, sensing the shift in her tone.

Kissara’s eyes softened with a touch of nostalgia. “He was a bit of a character. Mischievous sometimes, always quick to let me get away with things that my mom wouldn’t, like staying home from school if I wanted a day off. He had this quirky sense of humor that often made my mom raise an eyebrow. But he was protective, sometimes overly so, and a little bossy now and then. Still, he was kind-hearted, always ready to lend a hand to anyone who needed it.”

“You said ‘was.’ When did he pass away?” Damian’s voice was gentle.

“When I was eighteen,” Kissara replied softly. “A car accident.”

“My condolences,” Damian said, his voice sincere.

“Thank you,” she replied, nodding.

They fell into silence as Kissara pulled into the parking lot of Banner & Associates. She’d told people the story of her father’s passing enough times that it had become almost routine. In reality, there had been no funeral, only a quiet memorial. His ashes had been placed in an urn that her mother kept, a token of his memory.

As they entered the law office, they were met by Warren Banner, who was slightly shorter than Damian, with graying dark brown hair, sharp green eyes, and a fair complexion. Standing beside him was Constance Pierce, another attorney with an air of icy vanity. She wore towering four-inch heels to make herself appear taller, and her dyed red hair—a harsh shade that clashed with her very fair skin and cold brown eyes—seemed to reflect her rigid personality.

“Mr. Michaels, I’m glad you arrived safely,” Warren greeted with a courteous smile.

“Thank you, Mr. Banner,” Damian replied.

“This is one of my associates, Constance Pierce,” Warren introduced.

“A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Pierce,” Damian said.

“It’s Ms. And I hope Kissara didn’t bother you on the drive,” Constance remarked icily, casting a withering look at Kissara.

“Not at all. In fact, I was the one who started the conversation,” Damian responded, his eyes narrowing at Constance’s unwarranted attitude. “I don’t understand why anyone would see a simple conversation as an issue.”

“The issue,” Constance replied in a cold, clipped tone, “is the sensitivity of this case, Mr. Michaels.”

Damian’s expression turned steely. “Allow me to remind you of the penalty this firm could face for delaying its report to the relevant authorities—my department included—about the whereabouts of the individual in question. Let me be clear, Ms. Pierce: I don’t take kindly to disrespect.”

Warren intervened with a sigh, “Please excuse her, Mr. Michaels. Ms. Pierce means no disrespect; she’s simply committed to this case.”

“Commitment is one thing, but unwarranted coldness is another,” Damian replied, his voice firm. “If Ms. Pierce has unresolved issues, I’d suggest she seek help and not take them out on others. Rudeness and grandstanding aren’t impressive.”

Kissara stifled a chuckle and moved briskly to her desk, though she noticed Constance shooting a frosty glare at Damian as he and Warren headed to the conference room. Turning, Constance directed her bitterness at Kissara.

“What exactly did you say to him?” she demanded.

“Nothing at all. As Mr. Michaels said, he started the conversation,” Kissara replied evenly.

Constance’s voice dropped, laced with venom. “You’d better be grateful I can’t fire you.”

Suddenly, Kissara felt a familiar electric surge within her, fueling a quiet, unwavering confidence as she crossed her arms and stared Constance down. Something in Kissara’s gaze unsettled Constance, and a flicker of discomfort, even fear, flashed across her face.

“Your icy demeanor is just a cover for your own insecurities,” Kissara said firmly. “If you want me gone, say the word. But don’t fool yourself—it won’t solve your problems.”

Constance said nothing more and headed back to the conference room.



Inside the conference room, the attorneys sat around the table, each one on edge. Their client, Gavin Price, was being remarkably arrogant towards Damian.

“Mr. Price, do you not understand the gravity of the situation you find yourself in?” Damian asked, giving Gavin an unimpressed look.

Gavin merely grinned. He was slightly older, with graying dark brown hair, hazel eyes, and a deep natural complexion. Though dressed in a dark gray suit and light gray shirt, his callous attitude tarnished his sophisticated facade.

“Mr. Price, we took a chance on you when this law firm accepted you as a client. Do you not understand the trouble we could face for not informing Interpol of your presence? Not to mention the laws you've broken since your arrival,” Warren stated.

“I've made it clear that the laws in this small, boring town mean nothing to me,” Gavin replied arrogantly.

“Yet here you are, on the run and hiding from the very criminal organization you willingly did business with,” Damian said, narrowing his eyes.

“Pfft, I'm not afraid of the Obsidian Syndicate!” Gavin barked.

“If that were true, you wouldn't be hiding from them,” Damian shot back. “If you were truly unafraid, you wouldn’t have stolen these documents from them, which your attorney, Harold Rennet, gave to me.”

Damian placed a folder on the table.

“On the way here, I read through each document. It appears you are in deep with the Obsidian Syndicate. So deep that you signed everything, including your life, in perpetuity to them,” Damian said, giving Gavin a cold look. Despite his smile, fear lurked behind Gavin's eyes.

“All of you, take a look,” said Damian.

“Yes, take a look. You'll see how much I've benefited from the Obsidian Syndicate,” Gavin said smugly.

“Mr. Price, your smug and callous attitude hides the fact that deep down you are quite afraid of the Obsidian Syndicate. If you weren't afraid, you wouldn't be hiding from them,” Damian said.

“Who says I'm hiding?” Gavin asked, maintaining his smug smile. “For all you know, I'm merely expanding the Syndicate's fortunes by exploring new opportunities.”

Suddenly, the conference room fell silent. The attorneys were still like statues. Gavin looked around in panic.

“What's going on?” he asked fearfully, then noticed Damian's eyes glowing with an ethereal aura.

“You! You are one of them!” Gavin shouted.

“No, I am not," Damian said in an ethereal voice as he stood, a fiery white aura surrounding him. "I am an Angyprx, one of God's angels. You, Gavin Price, are a willful fool. You allowed yourself to be touched by darkness for wealth and power, disregarding all laws, human and divine. Now that it's time to pay, you'd rather run and hide than fulfill your end of the bargain. You knew exactly what you were getting into. Did you think they would let you do as you please without calling in the debt?”

Tears fell from Gavin's eyes as he shook in terror.

“Your tears are not of remorse. They are the realization that you sold yourself to darkness and now must pay what you offered. Everything given to you was simply a means to control you. Once you realized that, you ran and hid,” Damian said.

“No one controls me!” Gavin bellowed.

“Yet everything you have, the Obsidian Syndicate gave to you to spread their corruption and darkness. You've realized too late how deep you're in, and you cannot escape.”

Hearing these words, Gavin broke down. Damian shook his head.

“While hiding, you continued their work, believing it was your own. Now I understand why I'm here. I'll seek out those you've harmed and try to help them. As for you, it's too late.”

Gavin remained silent as Damian sat back down. Suddenly, everyone resumed moving and speaking.

Warren sighed. “After viewing these documents, I move that we drop you as a client, Mr. Price. You are too far gone for us to help, and I won't let you bring down this firm.”

“I agree,” said another attorney.

“I agree as well,” another attorney added.

One by one, the attorneys of Banner & Associates agreed to drop Gavin as a client—all except one.

“I disagree,” said Constance. “He came to us for help; let's help him.”

“I don't think so,” Warren countered. “This firm prides itself on being law-abiding and fair. I won't let one client ruin that because you’re impressed with his large bank account.”

Constance snorted. “Fine! Then I'll take him on as a client and leave this firm. I dislike Fire Point anyway. It's boring, the people are weird, and no one has high standards.”

“You mean we're not like you, thinking everyone should share your views,” said one of the female attorneys. “For the record, no one here actually likes you either. Your constant whining about missing the big city, your unnecessary nastiness towards the women here because we don't share your vanity, and your unprofessional behavior towards clients—all of it is unwelcome.”

Constance stood up and turned to Gavin. “Mr. Price, I offer my services as your personal attorney. Let's leave,” she said.

Gavin nodded slowly as he stood up. Once he and Constance left the room, a feeling of lightness swept over everyone.

“What now?” Warren asked Damian.

“If Ms. Pierce is smart, she'll advise her client to leave Fire Point immediately. I'll report everything to my superiors, along with the evidence,” Damian said.

“Why take these documents, give them to his attorney in New York, and go into hiding if he wasn’t afraid of the Obsidian Syndicate?” another attorney asked.

“I suspect he wanted to continue his activities without the Syndicate's involvement. However, they weren't done with him, and he realized that—too little, too late,” Damian said.

“What do you think will happen once you report this?” Warren asked.

“I'll speak to my superiors. Since you dropped him as a client after learning how deep he's in, I may convince them not to press charges,” Damian said.

“Thank you, Mr. Michael,” Warren said.

“Of course. As for Gavin Price, his fate is his own,” Damian replied.


At the hotel that Damian was staying in. He was relaxing on the bed after reporting to his superiors. He was happy that Banner & Associates would not be charged for harboring Gavin Price. However, the fact that Gavin Price was not turned over to the authorities and thus, still on the run meant that Damian's job was not done.

Damian stared up at the ceiling and found himself thinking about Kissara. There was something about her that felt familiar to him, although he had just met her. He loved the way she smiled and laughed and found her personality to be kind and open.

“What it about you that is so familiar to me?” Damian asked.

Suddenly he felt a surge of power running through his body as bright glowing aura surrounded him.

“What’s going!” he said loudly.

The room's temperature seemed to drop several degrees as the glowing aura intensified around Damian. He felt the energy coursing through his veins, stronger than anything he'd ever experienced. It was as if a dormant power within him had been awakened by some unseen force.

As the light around him grew brighter, he heard a faint whisper in his mind, a voice that was both comforting and unsettling.

Now Zaen!

Damian's eyes began to glow with an otherworldly intensity, bright and fierce, radiating a golden light that lit up the room. The air crackled with energy, and the faint shimmer of light surrounding him swelled, enveloping him like a living aura. His short blonde hair shifted and lengthened, flowing past his shoulders, each strand shining as if woven with threads of light.

A metallic sheen began to spread across his skin, forming intricate patterns that seemed to pulse with life. The metal wasn't cold or rigid; it moved and flexed like an extension of his own flesh, coiling up his arms, chest, and legs. His clothes tore away as the armor grew, melding perfectly to his frame, its organic form both elegant and fearsome. Every line and angle of the armor seemed to glow from within, pulsating in rhythm with his heartbeat, casting shadows that danced with a life of their own.


In that moment, Damian no longer appeared as an ordinary man. In truth, he was no longer Damian Michael. He was Zaen, the Angyprx, and he was now fully awakened.

Zaen rose from the bed, stretching his arms as if shedding the final remnants of his mortal guise. He turned to the mirror, his reflection staring back at him, radiant with a familiar yet ancient power. A satisfied smile formed on his lips. He was himself once more, and he relished in the simple pleasure of seeing his true self again as his silvery white wings unfurled from his back.

Zaen, remember... Armaita – Kissara – does not yet know who she is. For now, she only knows that she is a Pyrae.

Zaen’s eyes softened, a hint of worry clouding their brilliance.

She touched the stone, Creator. She saw me, she spoke to me... and she saw herself as she truly is.

Yes, Zaen, But that awareness was only for a moment.

Zaen sighed, his shoulders relaxing in resignation. But the Creator's voice remained steady, comforting.

Zaen, take heart. Today, for the first time, you have met face-to-face.

Zaen inclined his head in solemn agreement, yet a question lingered, forming at the edge of his thoughts. His gaze lifted, eyes bright with anticipation and the weight of responsibility.

Creator... since you have fully awakened me, does that mean…?

When I say so, be ready.


Since Kissara had arrived home from work, she’d been on edge. She’d tried everything to shake the restless, jittery feeling—quick exercises, chatting with her mom, hoping distractions might help. But nothing worked.

“Why am I feeling like this? I was fine this morning,” she murmured to herself.

Her phone chimed suddenly, and she jumped. Glancing at the screen, she saw it was Nina.

“Hello?” Kissara answered.

“Kisa, are you okay?” Nina’s voice sounded concerned.

“Yeah... why?” Kissara replied, catching the murmur of voices in the background. “Is that Roxanne?”

“Yes,” Nina confirmed. “Her father and mine are on high alert.”

“High alert? What’s going on?” Kissara’s heart skipped.

“Dark entities are here in Fire Point,” Nina explained. "Papi destroyed three of them earlier today, and Roxanne’s father just fought another one. He’s okay—just a few scrapes."

Kissara fell silent.

“Kisa? You still there?” Nina asked.

“Yeah, I’m here. Dark entities?” Kissara repeated, a chill creeping up her spine.

“Yes,” Nina said, her voice edged with nerves. “Papi and Mr. Bishop don’t know where they came from. They took care of the ones they encountered, but they think more are still here.”

Just then, a name surfaced in Kissara’s mind. “Gavin Price,” she said.

“Who?” Nina asked.

“He’s a guy Banner & Associates dropped as a client today. When he left the office, I felt something… strange and dark. I sensed fear. Intense fear.”

“He might be connected,” Nina suggested.

“Might be? I’d bet a hundred bucks he’s the reason they’re here,” came Roxanne’s voice in the background. "He either brought them or they followed him.”

Though Nina and Roxanne weren’t Pyrae themselves, they had undeniable spiritual gifts.

“I’ve felt on edge since I got home,” Kissara admitted. “Actually… now that I think about it, something felt off this morning—and last night too.”

“Tell us,” Nina urged. “You’re on speaker.”

Kissara recounted the strange events from the night before and that morning, including her tense encounter with Constance Pierce.

“Kisa, it sounds like your Pyrae abilities are trying to surface,” Roxanne said.

“I agree,” Nina added. “I think they’re trying to break through, and that’s why you’re so on edge.”

“More than likely” said Kissara. “But I feel that there’s something else. Like something is here”

Suddenly, Nina’s phone beeped. “Kisa, that’s Papi. I’ll call you back”

“Alright” said Kissara and the call ended.


Just then, a surge of power shot through her body, and a bright, glowing aura enveloped her. Kissara fell to her knees, her phone slipping from her grasp.

“What… is… happening?” she gasped, her voice strained as the energy intensified.

The aura around her grew brighter, and then, she began to hear thoughts that weren’t her own—ancient, powerful whispers that echoed through her mind. She felt her consciousness expanding, opening like never before, as the energy surged through her body, filling her with strength she hadn’t known.

Her eyes burned with a fiery glow, and as she glanced down at her hands, she saw organic, metal-like armor spreading across her skin. It shimmered in shades of silver and rose gold, encasing her hands and climbing up her arms. Her clothes tore away as the armor continued to form, covering her torso and rising to her neck, each piece fitting her like it had always been meant for her.

Then, with a powerful surge, wings the color of rose gold unfurled from her back, stretching wide and glinting in the light. Kissara took a shuddering breath, feeling the transformation complete as she knelt there, cloaked in a new, unearthly form.

Hello Kissara or rather should I say….Welcome back Armaita.

Creator, what is going on? Where am I?

You are on Earth, Armaita. It’s where I sent you after you left the Celestial Universe.

Where is Zaen?

He’s here, Armaita


At the hotel, Zaen had resumed his human guise as Damian Michaels. He paced, tense, until the voice of his ally pierced his thoughts.

Zaen! She’s awake! Follow her aura!

Zaen closed his eyes, honing in on Armaita—Kissara’s unique aura. Once he locked onto it, he shed his human disguise, his Angyprx form emerging as he slipped through the sliding glass door and streaked into the sky.

In the desert, Armaita stood alone, waiting, bathed in the fading glow of the setting sun. As the light dwindled, memories from her past life and her earthly existence rushed through her mind. She smiled, seeing that God had chosen Aerex as her earthly father. Her gaze softened, and she whispered, “I’ll miss you, Mama,” as memories of her mother, Alphonetta, surfaced, filling her eyes with tears.

“Worry not, Armaita. She will be fine.”

Startled, she turned to see Hector/Trazel and Evan/Conah approaching her.

“Trazel, Conah,” she greeted them with warmth, “who would have thought the Creator would send you both to be fathers of my closest friends?”

Evan/Conah returned her smile. “Indeed.”

“I’m going to miss them,” Armaita said, sadness lacing her voice.

“Being reunited with Zaen and fulfilling your purpose doesn’t mean you won’t see them again,” Hector/Trazel assured her gently.

Armaita raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Papi Trazel, what do you know?”

“That’s for the Creator to reveal,” he replied with a knowing smile.

A sudden shiver ran through her, and she looked to the horizon. The sun had nearly dipped below the sands, stars flickering awake in the night sky. In the distance, a streak of blue fire blazed toward her—it was Zaen. Without hesitation, she launched herself into the sky to meet him halfway.

As they drew close, Zaen slowed, his smile radiant as he pulled her into his embrace. Armaita wrapped her arms around his neck, and they shared a passionate kiss, lost in the joy of their reunion.

Zaen, Armaita... now that you are reunited, you will undergo the Celestial Fire Rebirth and become the Ember Consorts.

Suddenly, a fiery aura enveloped them, swirling around in the night. Their souls entwined, and memories of their celestial lives and earthly experiences flooded through them.

“You…you came to me when I was nine years old,” Armaita murmured.

“Yes,” Zaen admitted. “I wanted to see you, talk to you. I wasn’t supposed to be there, but I couldn’t resist. The Creator made me leave, but not before I saw the amazement on Aerex’s face, realizing your destiny.”

Armaita chuckled, her voice soft with nostalgia. “I do miss the mischievous, slightly overbearing Angyprx.”

Zaen laughed. “Maybe someday… the Creator will allow our paths to cross again.”

You are now bonded, Zaen and Armaita… Ember Consorts.

“And our mission, Creator?” Armaita asked reverently.

For now, heal those whom Gavin Price has wronged. Restore their hope, and dispel the darkness he brought upon them.

“I assume you want us to do this under human identities?” Zaen asked.

Yes. Armaita shall remain Kissara Firecrest. But as for you, Damian Michaels will be no more. You’ll return to your former life as Alec Gibson. A traveling musician with his freelance writer wife would be a fitting cover.

Zaen and Armaita exchanged glances, warmth and excitement igniting their smiles.

“I think so too,” Zaen agreed.

“I second that,” Armaita replied, her voice brimming with purpose.



As Armaita and Zaen touched back down on Earth, Armaita noticed that Roxanne, Nina, their mothers, and her own mother had joined Hector/Trazel and Evan/Conah. Alphonetta stood apart, her expression tinged with sadness.

“Mama, please don’t cry. I’ll still be around to visit,” Armaita said, wrapping her arms around her mother in a warm embrace.

“I know, dear. It’s just… a lot to take in,” Alphonetta replied, wiping away a tear.

Zaen stepped forward, his gaze steady. “You have my vow that I’ll always be by Armaita’s side. We’ll come back to visit. The Creator would never want us to forget you or anyone here.”

His words seemed to ease Alphonetta’s heart. She managed a smile and said, “So, I suppose that makes you my son-in-law?”

Zaen grinned. “As long as you don’t mind me calling you Mum.”

“Not at all,” she replied with a smile.

Roxanne broke the moment with her usual sass. “And what about us? Are we just chopped liver?”

Armaita laughed as Nina shook her head. Zaen gave Roxanne a bemused look before glancing over at Evan/Conah. “This one’s your daughter?”

Evan/Conah burst into laughter. “Yes, indeed. She’s a mix of both her mother and me—through and through.”

“Yes, I am!” Roxanne said proudly. Nina and Armaita continued to laugh.

“I have a feeling that Rox might get on your nerves...just a titch” Armaita giggled.

“I’ll live” said Zaen with a smirk.

Everyone soon laughed along.


On Tuesday morning, Gavin Price and Constance Pierce prepared to board a private plane. With them was Sienna, the sheriff of Fire Point’s daughter, whom Gavin had seduced with promises of fame. Constance thought nothing of it, assuming Gavin would simply use Sienna and then discard her.

As they neared the plane, five men dressed in black approached, moving like shadows across the tarmac.

“So, you’ve ensnared another one, Gavin,” one of them sneered. “Good…this might make amends for your betrayal.”

“Leave. She’s not for you,” Gavin shot back, his voice tense.

The men’s expressions hardened. “You struck a bargain with us,” one of them hissed, his voice serpentine. “We granted you wealth, power, protection from human laws. And in return, you agreed to do as you’re told.”

Constance scoffed. “Who are these wanna-be FBI agents, Gavin?” Her voice dripped with arrogance.

One of the men snapped, “Mind your place, woman. You’re not part of this, nor can you protect him.”

Just then, a ripple of fear crossed the men’s faces. Without warning, they erupted in flames and vanished, leaving nothing but a scorch mark on the ground.

“What just happened?” Sienna gasped, her face pale.

She felt a gentle hand on her shoulder and turned to see Kissara, her ethereal form striking against the morning light.

“What on earth are you wearing?” Sienna asked, attempting to sound superior but faltering in awe.

Kissara/ Armaita raised an eyebrow. “Let me show you something, Sienna.” She placed a hand on Sienna’s forehead, and in an instant, Sienna was bombarded with visions—of being used, abused, discarded, and spiraling into addiction. She gasped, recoiling in terror.

“What…was that?” Sienna stammered, her bravado gone.

“Your future, if you stay with this man,” Kissara said simply as she pointed at Gavin.

Heart pounding, Sienna stumbled backward, recognizing the truth of what she’d seen. She turned and fled.

As Gavin watched her go, he spun around, only to find Zaen standing in his path.

“You’re too far gone, Gavin. There’s no saving you. But for those you’ve wronged, for the lives you destroyed, Armaita and I will be there to help, to heal,” Zaen said, his eyes narrowing. “And to rid this world of every malevolent force you summoned and abandoned.”

Zaen stepped aside, allowing Gavin and Constance to board the plane. Once they were airborne, he walked over to Armaita, placing a gentle arm around her.

“He’s lost, and that foolish woman will fall with him,” she murmured.

“People choose their own fate,” Zaen replied. “That’s why the Creator gave us all free will. And with it, there are always consequences.”

Armaita nodded, a calm certainty in her voice. “And yet, the Creator never stops guiding those who seek Him, or even those who haven’t yet realized they need Him.”

Zaen glanced at her, a faint smile on his face. “Indeed, He does.”


Six Months Later

Alec sat on the patio of his and Kissara’s home in rural Southern California, gazing at the setting sun with a peaceful smile. His hair was long again, catching the golden evening light.

“I can tell another song is taking shape,” Kissara said, stepping out onto the patio. She settled close to him on the sofa, her presence a quiet comfort.

Alec turned, smiling at her. “Your spiritual poems and compositions are my inspiration.”

“And your songs inspire me,” she replied, her eyes warm with affection.

He looked back to the horizon. “I feel like we’re meant to do more than just heal those Gavin left wounded.”

Kissara nodded, leaning her head on his shoulder as they watched the sun sink lower. “I sense that too. I believe God wants us to bring a message of peace, love, joy, and unity. Your music and my writings—that’s how we’re meant to share it.”

“Then let’s do it,” Alec said, a quiet resolve in his voice.

Kissara closed her eyes, bowing her head slightly. “Heavenly Father, we thank you not only for bringing us together but for entrusting us with this mission. We ask for Your continued blessings and protection as we carry out Your work. Amen.”

“Amen,” Alec echoed softly, taking her hand.

---