After purgatory

I

The seat Pandora sat upon was made of midnight velvet and pure silver. The marble floor was almost clear enough to see herself in and the domed ceiling encompassing the room was majestic. And overwhelmingly intimidating.
A woman with skin of chocolate and a long hazel braid stood strong, posted by Ebraham Uhran's desk. A twinned man on the opposite side, though he was less trained and kept sneaking glances her way. The large man entered the room flanked by two more guards, all in the same white and black body suit--made to represent equality and balance between good and evil.
Ebraham seated himself opposite her, his massive form blocking out the sunlight. His dark skin was squeaky clean looking which matched his bald head and black moustache.
"Pandora . It is a pleasure."
She smiled weakly, not showing fear necessarily but more of a deep running weariness. "Just tell me what happened, Ebraham." Her voice was small, tired and croaky. Ebraham seeming put off by her forward attitude.
"Please." He shifted.
"How long have you had your...gift?" He asked.
"As long as my memory can take me."
"Pandora, tell me exactly what you did and saw today." He stated, his patience obviously wearing thin already.
"Well," she began, "Elizabeth asked me to run out to get some milk for breakfast...s-so I did...but then when I came back..." she trailed off.
Ebraham leaned in, every inch the persuasive professional he was, "Go on..."
"She was dead... and there-there was this thing. A being. It had no shape, no colour or made of any matter I know. But the sound it made, I knew it. It screamed when I walked in. But it disappeared very quickly. Then, within a few moments your people arrived and took me here."
His hands were balled under his chin,"And what is your gift exactly? Why did the sound sound familiar?"
"I can hear things. Screams and laughs. A language I don't understand but still has a meaning. I've always had it. People sometimes ask me if it's scary, when I'm just sitting and I hear screams but... I mean, I haven't known any different. The scream was familiar I guess because, it was one of the screams I usually hear. It doesn't match the human tone but still is a scream, that's what I hear, same with the laughs." Pandora knew Elizabeth wasn't her mother and she'd been open about it since she was five and was taken out of her adoption home. Elizabeth was only ten years her senior but acted as a friend more than a mother. Maybe she couldn't process it right, that's why she couldn't cry. It had all happened so quickly. "Would you like to know why all of this has happened?"
Pandora leaned forward, tucking a black lock of wavy hair behind her ear.
"Have you heard ever heard of Lucifer?"
"Of course." She had been taken into a world of myth and magic two years previous when her gifts had began to visualise, take shapes and images. She understood that there was a world that mortals did not understand.
"Lucifer was a fallen angel, meaning he had a life in heaven before his fall. Once Lucifer had created his idealistic world of freedom and impulse, he'd gone back for the woman and goddess he'd once loved." He explained, "Aphrodite. Goddess of love and beauty. But, because she was a goddess, bound by love, she said she would meet him one last time, in the land between them... Earth. Once she was found to be pregnant by her close friend, the angel Raphael, told all others it was their child but once the child was born, Earth was where Aphrodite and Lucifer agreed for her to live." Pandora shrugged, printing him on, "Raphael's last wish in repayment was for her to be called Pandora, his true love. You are Pandora. Daughter of Lucifer and Aphrodite, Angel of imbalance, the angel with a choice."
Pandora was speechless, her words clogged in her throat. Her. Pandora Nichols--"So, what is my real last name? Or do gods just not have any?"
Ebraham chuckled, "Any son or daughter created by angels has the same last name, your real name is Pandora D'Angelo. An Italian phrase meaning "from the angel". Despite herself, Pandora smiled slightly, the simplicity of the name charming her.
"Welcome to Purgatory, Pandora."