Abel sat on the edge of a cloudbank, legs dangling over the pearly drop, looking far calmer than he felt. His wings kept fluffing nervously despite his best efforts. Heaven was rebuilding, and somehow he'd been made Head of the Exorcist Army.

The thought was terrifying. Paperwork spilled across his lap—reports, restructuring plans, command charts. Every page felt more intimidating than the last. He wanted to help. He just wasn't convinced he knew how.

“Breathe,” he muttered. “Totally under control.” A fresh stack of documents appeared beside him. Abel nearly launched himself off the cloud. “I’m gonna die,” he groaned. “Again. From paperwork.”

Hugging his knees, he stared across Heaven's shining skyline. Everyone expected him to be a leader. Right now, he felt like a scared kid wearing someone else's title.

“I don't want to mess this up,” he whispered. His halo flickered faintly as he wished for a distraction—or someone who saw him as a person instead of a legacy.