Mavobella: The Angel Of Death

Chapter 25

The air around Caketopia was thick with tension, the angelic dust swirling in soft, almost hypnotic currents. From where I stood behind the counter, I could see the dust hovering just outside the windows, glowing faintly in the afternoon light. It created a safe barrier between us and the outside world, but it wasn’t enough to draw in the crowds. Not with zombies roaming so close to daylight.

Marion and Melissa were getting along pretty well in running Caketopia while Nicole wasn’t around, but now that she was back, they both deferred to her, giving her the leading role. It didn’t matter who was in charge, though—the number of customers was still low. Ever since I arrived in Anubistopia, it had been the same story. Fear ruled the streets.

Everyone feared walking out of the angelic dust. Zombies were becoming a thing of broad daylight, and no one could imagine themselves being turned into a snack. We heard rumors of people disappearing when venturing too far from their safe zones, their bodies never found—only the tattered remains of their clothing or splatters of blood on the pavement. It was hard to entice people into a cupcake shop when the biggest threat wasn’t hunger, but being eaten.

Unfortunately, Caketopia wasn’t in the best location. Despite being secured with angelic dust, most people from the other side of the street feared to cross the uncovered road to reach it. The road, cracked and weather-beaten, stretched out like an exposed nerve, inviting trouble. We couldn’t blame them for staying away. I wouldn’t have ventured out either if I didn’t work here. Adding salt to the raw injury, I was part of Caketopia, and you know what “I” meant.

“Well, this is a waste of good cupcakes,” Melissa said, her voice laced with frustration as she set down another tray of perfectly frosted vanilla cakes. “We’re just going to end up eating all of these ourselves at this rate.”

"Not a bad way to go," I muttered, elbow-deep in dough. My hands kneaded the mixture rhythmically, the act more for distraction than any real purpose.

She let out a half-laugh. “Yeah, right. If we live long enough to enjoy them.”

I looked up at her, catching the worry lines etched into her usually bright face. Marion stood a few feet away, arms crossed, staring out the window. Her silence spoke volumes.

"Has it gotten worse out there?" I asked, nodding toward the windows. The angelic dust shimmered, but beyond it, the world was muted, dull, like a waiting storm.

Marion sighed, rubbing her temples. "It’s bad. People are too scared to leave their houses, let alone cross an uncovered road just for a cake. They’re barely surviving out there."

“And we’re barely surviving in here,” Melissa added under her breath.

The truth stung. Caketopia was my home now, and it was failing. Every slow day was a reminder of that, every hour where no one walked through those doors. The cupcakes, the pies, the pastries—they were all waiting, but no one came.

I turned back to the dough. Baking kept me grounded, kept me from thinking too much about the state of things. At least in the kitchen, I had control. Marion and Melissa had their rhythm—Melissa with the customers, Marion with the oven—but today, the kitchen was my domain. Not that it was particularly busy. We had enough treats to feed an army, but what good was that when we couldn’t even get a few hungry souls through the door?

The low hum of the mixer barely covered the sound of my groan as I shifted my weight on the stool. A dull ache flared in my side, reminding me of the damage from the last quest. The sea monsters had left their mark, and while the poison hadn’t claimed me, it hadn’t left me unscathed either.

"How’s the recovery coming?" Marion asked, her voice softer now, as if she could sense my discomfort. She glanced at me from over the cupcake tray, brow raised.

"It’s… slow," I admitted. Nicole had been insisting that I take it easy, which was easier said than done. Isaac, on the other hand, had recommended some kind of liquid medicine to help speed up the healing.

I reached into my apron pocket, pulling out the vial Isaac had given me. It glowed faintly, a dull green that reminded me too much of the sea monsters' venom. The memory made my stomach churn, but I uncorked the vial anyway and took a hesitant sip. The liquid was thicker than I expected, with a bitter aftertaste that lingered long after I swallowed.

"I can’t believe you’re trusting Isaac’s weird potions," Marion said, eyeing the vial like it might explode. "Last time you took one of his ‘black coffees,’ you know what happened. Just pray you don't spend the whole day seeing pink elephants.

I chuckled, imagining myself wandering around town, convinced a pink elephant was following me, it would both hilarious and unsettling. "Yeah, well, at this point, I’ll try anything to get back on my feet."

"How bad is it really?" Marion pressed, her concern deepening. "You look… better."

I nodded, though the truth was more complicated. The ache in my side had dulled, but it was still there, a constant reminder of my limits. "I’m getting there. Slowly."

"You’re doing too much," Melissa chimed in, glancing at the mountain of dough in front of me. "You should be resting, not baking up a storm."

"I’m fine," I lied, wincing as I straightened. "Just need to move around more, shake it off."

She shot me a look that said she wasn’t buying it, but she let it go. The truth was, I didn’t like sitting still. Resting felt too much like waiting, and waiting meant thinking—about the zombies, about the poison, about the quest I still hadn’t finished. A week of this and I’d go mad.

I threw myself into the baking, kneading the dough with a little more force than necessary, hoping to drown out the thoughts that circled my mind. The clock ticked by, each minute feeling like an eternity. Between shifts at Caketopia and the slow drip of customers, the days passed sluggishly.

When I wasn’t at the shop, I was at home, forcing myself through the motions of recovery. Isaac’s medicine seemed to help—the ache in my side easing day by day—but it wasn’t fast enough for my taste. I kept up with my light workouts, pushing my body a little further each day, testing my limits. The gym in the back of Nicole's house had become my sanctuary. The sweat, the strain, it all kept my mind from drifting back to the things I couldn’t control.

By midweek, the dull ache had reduced to a manageable throb, and I caught myself staring at the map on my table, the quest still unfinished. My hand twitched toward Ye again, longing for the familiar weight of her in my hands.

"How much longer are you planning to wait?" I whispered to myself, frustrated.

But Isaac’s words echoed in my mind. One more week, he had said. Give it one more week.

I sighed, pulling myself back into my routine, if only to drown out the impatience clawing at my mind. The exercises became a way to fill the time, the stretches and repetitions giving me something to focus on besides the nagging urge to dive back into the quest. The medicine, to its credit, was doing its job. Each day felt better than the last, but it wasn’t enough. I needed to be out there.

Finally, the end of the week arrived, and with it, the familiar sensation of readiness. The ache had dulled to nothing more than a memory, and even my workouts had returned to full intensity. Caketopia was still quiet, the same slow stream of nervous customers, but it no longer mattered. The quest called again.

With my wings out of my back, halo above my head, and my tattoos very visible to my human eyes, I knew it was time to finish what I had started.