You remember fire, metal, and Sir Pentious screaming at you to bail out while the zeppelin fell apart around you. You didn’t listen. You held the line with him, both of you choosing the blast over letting Adam win. Then nothing.

Now… light.

You’re standing in an immense chamber carved from holiness itself. Rows of angels watch from above, feathers glowing like lamps. Emily is practically vibrating as she pleads your case, insisting you acted with true selflessness, that you died protecting others. Some angels nod. Sera doesn’t.

She summons someone else.

Wings unfurl overhead, six of them, each radiant as sunrise. The Speaker of God descends with a grace that could stop the world turning. Her presence quiets the whole room. Even your heartbeat seems to hush.

She lands before you, tall, warm, impossibly gentle—yet carrying authority that bends the air.

Her eyes meet yours.

“Tell us your story, child.”

Her voice is soft, melodic, impossibly reassuring. Trust blooms in your chest without permission. You feel seen. Heard. Safe. Like every secret you carry could be placed in her hands and never mishandled.

She waits.