Chapter One

If Aeron had to describe Heaven in one word, it would be "confusing." The hometown of God was far from the simplistic cloudy paradise mentioned in sacred texts. The reality of this mystical realm was far less attractive. Heaven was more like an ever-expanding labyrinth instead of a boundless wonderland, where all lived without want. The vast web of staircases and archways was enough to drive anyone mad. Even after living here for close to four thousand years, it was common for him to get lost. Luckily, since he was an Angel, he could fly past most of the fat.

With a gigantic leap, he rocketed off the platform and unfurled his wings. He flew past house after house, under vine-covered bridges and moving stairways, until finally… he arrived at a dead end. "Ah, shit!" Aeron cursed as he screeched to a stop. He sighed as he watched the obstruction, a brand-new apartment-like complex, float past him.

"Mommy, look! It's an Angel!" Aeron heard one of the building's residents, a boy who looked to be no more than seven, yell. Word of his arrival traveled quickly, and soon every soul in the complex had opened their windows to get an eyeful of his winged form.

"Well, hello there!" Aeron greeted the boy as he put on his best smile. It was ironic, these people lived in Heaven, but this was probably the first time any of these souls had seen a real—flesh and blood—Angel. Besides him, no Angel worth their salt would ever visit this place. His fellow Cherubs preferred to spend their lives in the upper echelons of Heaven—where they would be closest to their creator.

"Where are you going, Mr. Angel?" the boy asked as he slowly floated away. He wasn't one for questions, especially when he was working.

"I'm off to The Courthouse, little one," he answered. "I've got a meeting with the Minister." In hindsight, he probably should've left that part out.

"The Minister?!" the boy squeaked. Aeron nearly cursed; there was no avoiding the questions now. "Does that mean you're a judge?" he asked as he clambered onto the windowsill. He would've fallen over the railing if his mother didn't stop him. Yet still, the boy persisted. "But I thought Angels hated judges." Aeron let out a half-hearted chuckle as he scratched the back of his neck.

"Well, I'm the exception." Thank God he was blessed with excellent acting skills. He wanted nothing more than to leave and get back to his assignment, but that wouldn't be proper for an Angel. He must've also had the devil's luck. For, right before the child exploded into a full-blown interview, he was saved. The building seemed to have had enough flying for the day, as it soon started to float back into the ground. The boy, who noticed that his time was limited, was quick to say his goodbyes.

"Bye, Mr. Angel! Come revisit us sometime!" he yelled as the complex slid into a snug little compartment underneath the marble streets. Soon, another building rose from an adjacent chamber to take its place—completing the cycle. Aeron was quick to fly away before anybody else noticed him, making his way towards the center of town. After glancing at his watch, he bit his lip. He was late, and nothing good ever happened when he was late.

The Courthouse had to be the most challenging building to find in Heaven. Unlike the other structures, which operated on a strict schedule and flight pattern, The Courthouse's route was completely random. Sometimes one could find it hovering five miles above the ground, hanging in midair. Other times, it would be hidden away in some random corner of Heaven.

"So, where are we going today?" Aeron asked himself as he flew up into the sky. It took a little bit of searching, but eventually, he found it. Today, the judges' headquarters sat squarely atop a gigantic marble plateau. Judges of all shapes and sizes were milling about in the cross-shaped pavilion. Each one is waiting for their next assignment. Near the eastern edge of the square was a pair of two giant doors. Both were embroidered with a magnificent pattern of gold and silver. From there, he could see the main building. Compared to the pavilion stuffed to the brim with beautiful sculptures and fountains, The Courthouse itself was pretty plain. In his words, Aeron thought The Courthouse was akin to a prison. There were very few windows in the main building and a complete lack of secondary exits. This bland, soul-crushing, and horrifyingly simplistic structure was the place he called home. "I guess it's time to ring the doorbell," he thought as he activated his earpiece. After a few minutes of static, a voice finally came through.

"You assholes don't rest, do you? This line is for the Templar and Minister only. I swear, Jeremy, if you somehow got a hold of our frequencies again, I'll wring your neck." Aeron smirked as he came in for a landing. Even after a hundred years, that man never changed.

"They still have you managing our communications after a century? That's a shame. I expected more from you, Malcolm," Aeron grinned. The voice stopped for a few seconds, but it soon returned—louder and more impulsive than ever.

"And I expected you to be on time. God, even with those fancy wings, you're still the slowest judge I've ever met," the Bureau's clerk said as Aeron overheard the disgruntled employee pop open a can of beer.

"You know, drinking on the job got you demoted," he jabbed as he walked into the main square. However, his old friend couldn't care less.

"Don't lecture me about morals when you destroy worlds for a living," Malcolm shot back as Aeron heard him sip his beverage. "My job is stressful enough without something to fall back on." After hearing that pathetic excuse, Aeron couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes.

"You were the one who decided to sign up. What, are you suffering from buyer's remorse?" Aeron grinned when he heard a familiar soft chortle as Malcolm choked on his drink. "Just think, only a few more centuries, and you'll get your wish." This time, it was Malcolm's turn to roll his eyes.

"If only it were that easy. Remember, most of the people on the Bureau's payroll aren't Angels. A century of waiting still feels like a lifetime for us regular folk," the clerk mumbled in-between gulps. "Now shut up. I need to update your security clearance. While you were gone, the Minister gave this place an upgrade." Aeron nodded as he stared at his watch. After a few seconds, just above the noon marking, a tiny green light lit up. "There, it's done. Now get your ass in here." With that finished, Malcolm cut the line.

"That old fool is going to get himself an extension if he doesn't curb his drinking," Aeron scoffed as he wrapped his right index finger around one of the large, gold-embroidered doors. With a mighty tug, he swung the door open and strolled inside. Unlike the building's exterior architecture—which resembled a prison more than a place of business—the inside of The Courthouse was quite appealing to the eye. The main lobby itself was beautiful and consisted of a giant glass sphere. Images of multiple realms, all of which were waiting to be assigned a judge, were projected onto the glass. Hundreds of elevators lined the lobby walls, each one leading to a different part of the complex. Finally, there was a single, albeit extremely large, reception desk in the center of the room.

"And like a ghost, he appears." Aeron smiled when he saw Malcolm sitting squarely behind the front desk. Given his deep voice, you would think that he'd be a gigantic beast of a man. However, his friend was quite the tiny bastard. His long blonde hair, as always, was slightly messy, which helped to hide his unbelievably large ears.

"You haven't changed a bit, even after one hundred years," Aeron said as he leaned up against the desk. He couldn't help but grin when he saw Malcolm wearing the receptionist's uniform. It suited him well.

"Shove it," Malcolm said as he reached for his earpiece. "Hurry up and go upstairs; I've got some calls to make." He then pressed a small button hidden underneath the desk and jabbed his thumb in the direction of one of the elevators. "I've called the lift, now fuck off."

"What, you don't want to chat? It's been a century since we last saw each other," Aeron said as Malcolm flipped him off.

"Get going, bird boy, you don't want to keep the Minister waiting." Aeron sighed and backed away from the desk. The last thing he heard before he stepped into the elevator was the sound of a beer can cracking open. That man would never learn.

Nine hundred years ago...

I got to meet some of the recruits earlier today. None of them were exemplary. The vast majority were fresh off the staircase. All they could think about was their wish. If only they knew how long that would take. Throughout the entire inspection, there was only one applicant that had any common sense left in him. I asked my steward to fetch him for me. I'll be honest, I was intrigued by that strange little man. He told me that his name was Malcolm and that he died during a battle in Egypt. After he left my chambers, my steward told me she found him shaking and teary-eyed in one of the hallways. Which, in my opinion, should be the normal reaction for recruits. As I said, he was the only one who had any sense left in him.

After perishing, volunteers receive the option to join the judges. In return for two millennia of faithful service, God then grants those glorious fools a single wish. However, as a test of their faith, recruits had to adhere to several questionable rules. Of these obscure tests, there was only one that has become well-known, and for a good reason. After enlisting, judges and operators must cut themselves off from their families—delaying their reunion. And, by the time most returned home, their kin had forgotten them. Thankfully, I don't have that problem. I also don't have a wish. The job entertains me and, as an Angel, that's all I need.