FORTUNE FAVOURS ELYSIA | ᴀᴅᴀᴍ x ʟᴜᴛᴇ

1 | HARBRINGER

𝙻𝚄𝚃𝙴'𝚂 𝙿𝙾𝚅—

It all went by so fast, like a flash of lightning, a blitzkrieg. One moment I was alive, the next I wasn't. Life slipped from my fingers like sand. I can barely recall what happened before it all went black— or white, for that matter. The millisecond of pain I was in was overcame by a sense of warmth, an embrace that took all of my anxieties away. The further I was pulled into the warmth, the less my memory was reliable.

The sounds of warfare became fainter by each moment, the sound of gunfire and my comrades screams no longer being a splitting shriek in my sensitive ears. The rifle I clung to tightly vanished in my hands, as if dust in the wind. Every tie I had to this mortal world was severed, and it was as if I genuinely transcended upwards. The higher I got, the less everything mattered to me. In my twenty years of being alive, this was the only time that I truly felt at peace.

I felt myself lying on the ground, face-planted. It didn't really hurt, it was as if the cold tile was a relief against the warmth that embraced me. My eyes flickered open, yet were blinded by brightness. I squinted, seeing a stairway ahead of me, of marble white tile. I pushed myself up, a hand reaching in front of her to shield my weak gaze from the bright rays of sunshine. At the top of the staircase, a man— or some figure, was waiting for me. He beckoned over with his hand, and I obliged, shuffling up the stairs and standing in front of him. The man wore a suit of light colours, his hair was kept proper and clean. His eyes as blue as the tropical oceans, his grin was contagious, yet scripted at the same time. He broke the silence between us, glancing upwards from a book he kept in grasp.

"Miss Layla Nightingale, you have done well."

Before I could say another word to this man, the environment around me changed, as if I had been teleported. As my eyes adjusted, I realized I was in a conference room, adorned with gold accents and a view of a rather futuristic city through the floor to ceiling windows. Standing in front of me, were two angelic figures. Their beauty was striking, otherworldly. They had mostly human faces, yet the rest of them were an intriguing mess of robes, feathers, and eyes. This was far from how I expected angels to look— or what I assumed are angels. By this point, I think I know where I am. This has to be heaven, I have to had lucked out.

The tallest one spoke towards me, "Hello, Miss Nightingale. My name is Sera, the head seraphim. I know your death must have come as a shock to you. Your body and soul are still adjusting, so take your time to breathe. I am here to help you."

Sera beckons towards a chair, which I immediately find myself sinking into. My eyes are kept low, barely feeling like I'm able to get air into my lungs. I'm really dead, huh? Like that, my life is over? As much as I would love for this to be a dream, I just know it isn't, for I have never felt so raw and alive until this moment.

"Turn your attention towards the TV on the wall. This is a necessary step into beginning the path to acceptance."

Mounted to the wall, a box CRT TV was displaying some type of footage from a third person view. After a moment to really focus, I realize one of the people visible in the frame was me. My squadron and I were behind a building trying to keep full cover, occasionally volleying gunshots with the insurgents trying to shock attack us. The scene was tense, nobody was barely able to get a shot that would land. The enemy was still pursuing closer, and we were running out of room. I held the front of the squad, my brown hair flowing from beneath the helmet. My face was dust covered and shellshocked, and I watch as I eye downwards towards an explosive device thrown in front of us. Without a second thought, my body would dive on top of the device, taking most of the blow to shield my comrades. Before it could show too horrific of a scene, the tape would end and the TV returned to static.