An Angel

In the boundless expanse of heaven, clouds stretched beneath as far as the eye could see, shimmering like soft, endless blankets. Towers of celestial beauty rose from these clouds, their spires reaching into the brilliant blue sky. These structures radiated an otherworldly aura, their intricate designs hinting at power and mysteries beyond mortal understanding.

Inside one of these great towers, a figure darted through the halls, its white wings fluttering behind it. The figure weaved through the other angels in the corridor, muttering hurried apologies. "Sorry, excuse me... yeah, I'm passing through!" it said, its voice strained with urgency. 

The angel's pale face betrayed a deep worry, its usual serene expression now twisted with distress. After what felt like an eternity, the angel burst through a door and collapsed into a circular seat, finally finding a moment of relief. 

But then, a putrid odor hit its nose.

"I thought ascension meant no more trips to the toilet. Guess I was wrong," Jamiel muttered, his wings folding tightly against his back as he grimaced. With a sigh, a golden rune shimmered into existence beneath him, casting the space in a warm glow. 

In the rune's reflection, Jamiel didn't see his own face—rather, he saw a scene unfolding far below, in the mortal realm he had recently left. 

The bloodline ritual had begun.

"Of course the ritual starts now," Jamiel groaned, staring at the image with a mix of frustration and disbelief. "Just my luck." He needed to be there, but how could he show up like this?

---

Far below, in a world of solid ground and unforgiving gravity, Jack's thoughts were in chaos. 

"I take it back—this idiot was cursed from birth!" he screamed in his mind as he hurtled downward from the tower's peak. "Who throws their kid off a tower minutes after they're born?!"

The wind whipped past his face as he tilted his head, daring a glance at the distant ground below. His stomach lurched—he was still so far from it, yet the inevitable crash felt closer with every passing second. If he hit the earth at this speed, he'd be reduced to nothing more than a bloody smear on the castle stones.

His tiny fists clenched in rage. "Old man! What the hell was your plan here? I was just starting to trust you!" He cast a furious look at Aldermond, the king standing tall above, watching as Jack plummeted to his doom. 

The crowd below was riveted, their eyes glued to the infant tumbling through the sky. This was no ordinary ritual; this was spectacle, and they waited with bated breath for the miracle that might—or might not—come. 

"God, I thought my mother was decent," Jack seethed, blinking back tears as the reality of his situation hit him. "Turns out she's as bad as the rest of them. What kind of people do this?!"

He cursed everyone—his new parents, the crowd, the ritual, and above all, the Great One who had thrust him into this madness. His tiny body, fragile and helpless, screamed with fear.

Above, Arwen's heart raced. The instant Aldermond let go of their newborn son, her world tilted on its axis. She had seen this ritual countless times before, as a royal daughter. It had never bothered her—until now. Now she was the mother. Now it was her baby being hurled into the void.

"I won't let him die. Not my child." She clutched her chest, her resolve hardening like steel. "I'll stop this ritual myself if I have to."

Aldermond's face was a mask of barely concealed anxiety. He had faith in the ritual—he had to—but doubt gnawed at him. "What's taking so long?" he muttered under his breath, clenching his fists. "Has the royal blood not been detected?"

As Jack fell, time seemed to stretch unbearably thin. His mind raced, panic coursing through his tiny body. "What is wrong with these people? Do they get their kicks from throwing babies off towers?!" He could barely see the ground through his tears, his small body shuddering in fear. Even in his past life, falling from this height would've meant certain death. As an infant? It was unthinkable.

"Five seconds," he counted, his mind whirling in desperate calculation. "I've been falling for five damn seconds, and I'm still not close!" He turned his head slightly, dread filling his heart as he realized he was only a meter away from the ground. His hope evaporated.

Suddenly, warmth flooded his tiny body, like sunlight breaking through a storm. A soft, calming energy wrapped around him, lifting him gently from the brink of death. Startled, Jack looked up—and what he saw stole his breath.

Hovering above him was a being of unimaginable beauty. Long, shimmering white hair cascaded from its head, glowing in the sunlight like molten silver. Its skin was flawless, its very presence dissolving Jack's fears in an instant. The being's great white wings stretched out, casting a protective shadow over him as it cradled him in its arms.

This was no mortal creature. Jack had read about angels before, seen countless depictions, but none compared to the awe-inspiring sight before him.

The crowd below was struck dumb, their collective breath caught in their throats. The angel descended slowly, its white armor gleaming as if forged from light itself. 

"I was right," Jack sighed internally, staring at the divine being with a mixture of awe and resignation. "I'm in the book. This is definitely the damn book." His heart sank even as relief washed over him. It meant he was saved—for now—but it also confirmed his worst fear. He was trapped in the story he knew far too well.

Aldermond's tension melted away the moment the angel appeared. Arwen, too, let out a shaky breath, her heart finally easing as she watched the divine intervention.

The crowd slowly snapped out of their trance, bowing deeply in reverence to the celestial figure that had graced them with its presence.

With a single powerful flap of its wings, the angel ascended to the balcony, carrying Jack safely in its arms. It landed with a grace that defied its size, standing tall before Aldermond and Arwen. Every eye in the city was trained on the angel as it retracted its wings, folding them neatly behind its back.

Jamiel, now standing before the royal couple, cast a brief glance at Aldermond. "You've grown much since I last saw you," he said, his voice calm, though there was a slight hint of amusement in his eyes. 

Aldermond bowed deeply, his voice respectful yet filled with awe. "As expected, Ancestor Jamiel."

From within the angel's arms, Jack wrinkled his nose. Something about Jamiel's presence—something lingering in the air—smelled faintly… unpleasant.