In a hidden world where angels and demons clash, Cecelia White's life takes a thrilling turn when she discovers her connection to a powerful relic, the Angel Key. With her best friend Evie by her side, Cecelia is thrust into a supernatural conflict...
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Cecelia jolted awake, sheets twisted around her, drenched in cold sweat—the aftermath of a night haunted by vivid nightmares. Reality seeped in slowly as she disentangled herself from the bed, only to stumble and crash onto the hardwood floor, still wrapped in sheets.
Wriggling free, she straightened her rumpled clothes and shuffled to the window. It was still dark outside, but the clock read 7 AM. Only a few hours of sleep, yet it felt like an eternity. The nightmare lingered vividly in her mind, as if she had truly lived it.
"Coffee," she murmured to herself. "Coffee will make this better. Coffee makes everything better."
Cecelia had this theory, that the mood of your day could be predetermined by the size and variety of your breakfast and how thoroughly you enjoyed it. She wandered into the kitchen, ingredients sprawled across the counter—strawberries, bananas, blueberries, pancake and waffle mixes, fresh bread, eggs, and chocolate chips. Today, her first day of school, demanded an exceptional breakfast.
Connecting her smartphone playlist to the blue tooth speakers, The Format's upbeat rhythm filled the kitchen. With "The First Single" blaring, she embarked on a cooking frenzy—blending, flipping, and stirring with a fervor that only music could inspire. Cecelia didn't just cook; she choreographed a symphony of flavors.
Sitting down to a table laden with an array of dishes—French toast, scrambled eggs, chocolate chip pancakes, blueberry waffles, a strawberry banana smoothie, and a steaming cup of coffee—she savored the moment, a serene fulfillment washing over her. The kitchen buzzed with scents of cinnamon, vanilla, berries, and chocolate, a sensory delight that promised a great start to the day.
Despite her petite frame, standing at a mere five foot three, Cecelia's appetite was legendary among friends, who often joked about her "bottomless pit" stomach. What they didn't see was her perpetual activity—karate, gymnastics, swimming—a lifestyle that demanded constant refueling.
BEEP! BEEP!
"The ride's here," she muttered, pushing her chair in with practiced precision. Passing beneath the staircase, a familiar DING DONG signaled Edward's arrival—a tall, elderly gentleman in a suit and driver's cap.
"Good morning, Miss Cecelia. Ready for your big move today?" Edward greeted warmly.
"Of course, Edward," she replied with mock enthusiasm, waving her hands dramatically. "Overwhelmed with joy, it being my first day at Uni and all. Quite the momentous occasion. Shouldn't one's parents be here for such milestones?" Her jest was laced with a touch of wistfulness.
"Sarcasm, Miss Cecelia?" Edward's concern creased his brow. "Your parents are on important business. If they were always here, I'd be out of a job."
"Don't be silly, Edward," she chuckled, fondness softening her tone. "You've been part of this family forever."
As Edward attended to her bags, Cecelia readied herself—packing her blue tooth speaker, donning headphones, and settling into the backseat of the black Lincoln Town Car. A playlist awaited the journey to NYU, her sanctuary against the lingering unease from the previous night's power outage. As they rolled through Montauk and Manorville, Cecelia's fatigue mingled with fragments of her unsettling dream—a vision of golden-eyed angels and inexplicable cruelty that defied all she knew from stories and faith. She drifted in and out of sleep, the highway's rhythm a lullaby punctuated by her growling stomach.
