“We think,” Astrael said slowly, “you’ve got something worse.”

  “Somethin’ worse? You tryna scare me Agent Quinn?” The sheriff's eyes flicked up from his monitor, a twitch of skepticism in the corner of his mouth

  Astrael shook his head “No, we think its ghouls”

  “I'm sorry did you say ghouls? Are you sure you’re from the FBI?”

  Sera didn’t miss a beat.

  “Slang, Sheriff,” she said crisply, stepping in before Astrael could dig the hole any deeper. “Internal code word. Every agency’s got them. We’re talking about a pattern of behavior tied to certain violent offenders—cannibalistic tendencies, desecration of corpses, possible drug-induced psychosis.”

  The Sheriff just stared at them, unconvinced, but willing to play along. “You’ve got some strange slang Agent Kendall, never heard of this slang around here”

  “Midwestern slang, anyways, we just need the autopsy report and a copy of the case and we’ll be out of your hair” Sera said, confidently.

  The sheriff grunted and swiveled in his chair with a slow creak, pulling open a desk drawer. “You fed types always show up with your own lingo and disappear just as fast,” he muttered, tossing a worn manila folder onto the desk. “Autopsy report in there. Case notes to. Make a copy if you want, but I’ll need the original back.”

  Sera nodded, already producing a slim scanner-looking device from her coat pocket—just advanced enough to pass as FBI tech, not enough to raise suspicion. “We’ll be quick.”

  She flipped through the folder briefly, just enough to make sure it wasn’t full of fluff, then scanned it with a quiet beep. The sheriff watched, arms crossed, brow furrowed.

  “You got anything else for us?” she asked.

  “Nope, have a good trip back to the ‘midwest’ Agent Kendall”

  Sera offered the sheriff a thin smile, pocketing the scanner. “Appreciate the cooperation.”

  Astrael gave a curt nod. “We’ll keep in touch.”

  “Don’t,” the sheriff replied, already turning back to his monitor. “Just keep whatever’s out there off my streets.”

  They stepped out into the dry afternoon sun, the sheriff’s door creaking shut behind them. The town of Ashford stretched quiet and still—too still. Even for a place like this.

  Astrael exhaled through his nose. “He didn’t buy a word of it.”

  “He doesn’t need to,” Sera said, slipping on a pair of dark sunglasses. “He just needs to stay in his lane.”

  She began walking toward the black government-issued car they’d "borrowed" from the nearest outpost.

  “Where to now?” Astrael asked, glancing down at the folder’s case notes.

  “Well Astra, lets go ask the cherubs. Unlike humans, we have a slight advantage, our scouts”

  “Its Astrael”

  “Whatever, I know you’ve heard about them,” Sera said, walking on the pavement. “The cherubs. Our scouts. They’re not your average celestial beings, not with the way they interact with humans.”

  Astrael frowned. “I’ve only heard stories. I didn’t realize we were actually going to use them, i heard they barely have the power to enter heaven”

  “They’re just... not the type you'd think of when you hear 'angelic.' They're less 'holy warriors' and more... ‘informants,’ if you want to call it that.” She turned sharply, heading down a narrow, winding path leading into the outskirts of the woods.

  “So, you think they’ve seen something?” Astrael asked.

  “They don’t see things, Astrael. They know things. They're always watching, always listening. They see things the way mortals don’t—what doesn’t make sense, what doesn't fit with the natural order of things. And they’re better at it than anyone.” She came to a stop near an old, dilapidated church that looked like it had been abandoned for decades. A low mist curled around its crumbling stone walls, as though trying to conceal the secrets hidden inside.

  “This is where I set up the meet spot,” Sera said, pushing the door open . “Come on. Time to talk to the cherubs.”

  “What could they know that the average angel doesn’t?”

  “You know, Astra, if you spent less time questioning everything and more time following orders, we’d actually get to work faster.” She flashed a grin, her eyes glinting with mischief. “But hey, that’s what makes you so charming to deal with, right? There's a reason Cherubs are our scouts, they have better senses than us angels, and unlike us, they can go invisible. Lots of information comes from them, it’s especially useful for us patrols”

  Astrael grumbled under his breath at the word “patrols..”

  “I assume thats what you are?” a voice sounded from behind them

  Sera’s smile didn’t budge as Astrael gripped his knife tight

  “Better safe than sorry” He thought, preparing to stab anything that came at him.

  A small, delicate figure stepped from the shadows of the church. A cherub—taller than most humans but with barely-there wings, more like a suggestion of feathers than a weapon. His eyes were bright, nearly glowing, as he tilted his head, studying them both.

  Sera didn’t flinch. “This is Astrael, he’s a bit new to the whole patrol thing,” she said with a smirk. “But he’ll learn. Astrael, this is Casel. He’ll be helping us gather intel on this case.”

  Astrael sized up Casel, trying to read him. No armor, no sword—just an angel in simple robes. The cherub’s wings barely fluttered, almost a joke compared to the mighty wings of the higher angels. Still, Astrael had been taught never to underestimate them, they’d inflicted heavy casualties on their own back when the fallen had attempted a coup.

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  Astrael stepped forward, his face expressionless. "Casel," he said in a flat tone, nodding at the cherub. "What information do you have?"

  Casel blinked at the directness but didn’t hesitate. "I've been tracking strange disturbances—unusual energy spikes, sudden deaths near the outskirts of Ashford. Some of it doesn’t align with typical human activity."

  Astrael’s gaze sharpened. "Get to the point. What did you see?"

  Casel looked at Sera, unsure of Astrael’s abruptness, but Sera gave a slight nod.

  "It’s not human. I believe it’s a demon, probably created the ghouls too. It was sighted 5 days before the ghoul activity." Casel looked serious “and… and..”

  Sera steps forward, voice soft but firm. “Casel. What aren’t you telling us?”

  Casel looks between them, then lowers his voice. “There was a symbol, carved into one of the trees near where the demon was spotted. I didn’t recognize it, and that scares me.”

  Sera looked serious, all the joyful sarcasm dropped instantly “could it be it?”

  “What the hell is it” Astrael shouted

  What aren’t they telling me

  That was when a soft rumbling started, growing in magnitude.

  A harsh crack echoes through the chapel — like wood splitting under pressure. All three snap to attention.

  Casel whispers, “It’s here.”

  The chapel groaned, ancient wood buckling inward as if something enormous pressed against it from outside.

  Sera’s blade was in her hand before Astrael could even blink — a jagged, narrow thing that hummed faintly, like it was hungry.

  Casel backed away from the pulpit, wings twitching. “It’s not the demon—it’s them. It sent them.”

  Astrael was already moving, drawing the concealed blade from under his jacket, activating the light woven into it. The blade glowed weakly—like even Heaven wasn’t quite sure what to make of what was coming.

  Then the chapel’s rotted floorboards burst open.

  A ghoul clawed its way through the wood, teeth snapping, eyes wild and blind. Another dropped from the rafters with a shriek, its jaw distended far beyond human.

  Casel cried out and dove behind a pew, while Sera didn’t hesitate—she vaulted forward, blade singing as it sank into the nearest ghoul’s chest.

  “They’re not supposed to be organized!” Astrael barked, thrusting his own blade into the second ghoul’s forehead. It sizzled with light, but didn’t drop immediately—just screamed.

  Sera grunted as she kicked the body off her blade. “Demons don’t organize ghouls unless they’re planning something big.”

  Another group of ghouls burst through the front doors, dragging the body of a deer—freshly gutted and still twitching.

  Casel scrambled from cover, voice shaking. “They’re not supposed to be this many, ghouls move in small packs” Thats when he felt warm, blood covered hands, grip his shoulders and pull him out the window into a forest.

  “Shit! Astrael get on it, I’ll hold em off here” Seraphiel charged up something in her hands, extending her wings and showering the whole church in a great shower of light as her eyes glowed and she held her left arm to the sky

  “You sure you can, Seraphiel?” Astrael grabbed his blade, gouging a hole into a ghoul’s throat. “I can barely take them one at a time”

  “Oh Astrael, I’m not a seraphim for nothing, get the cherub before he dies, god knows how many angels already have”

  Astrael didn’t argue. He vaulted through the shattered window without looking back, boots hitting moss and loam as he landed in a low crouch. The forest was a mess of shadows and fog, moonlight barely cutting through the tangled branches overhead.

  “Casel!” he barked, blade already drawn, eyes cutting through the gloom.

  No answer—just the wet crunch of underbrush and the low growl of something slinking through the dark.

  He sprinted. His grace flared hot and sharp in his chest, adrenaline and divinity combining into instinct. Ghouls weren’t fast. They weren’t this coordinated either.

  A scream rang out—short, sharp, and close.

  He twisted toward it—just in time to meet a snarling face inches from his own.

  The ghoul launched from the trees with a wild screech, and Astrael brought his blade up to intercept—but it didn’t aim for his throat. With a guttural snarl, it kicked, its clawed foot catching his wrist and sending his blade flying into the underbrush.

  “Shit—!” Astrael staggered back, arm already coming up defensively as the ghoul lunged again.

  He caught it with a shoulder-check, slamming it into a tree, but more shapes flickered in the mist now—closing in. Casel’s scream echoed again, further this time.

  The ghoul hissed, lunging at him again.

  Astrael caught it mid-charge, his blade gone, instincts sharper than steel. He grabbed the creature by the head—fingers digging into its greasy, rotting scalp—and slammed it against the ground.

  No words. No theatrics.

  Just purpose.

  His hand remained pressed to its skull, and for a second, the ghoul writhed beneath him—snarling, clawing.

  Then it stopped.

  A bright, soundless flare of holy light pulsed from his palm, searing through the creature in an instant. Smoke curled from the cratered remains as the body crumbled to ash beneath his grip.

  Astrael rose without a word, eyes already scanning the trees for Casel.

  “So you’re that patrol sent down here to keep us in check” a voice boomed from the trees, far off, he saw the glint of white in the forest, somewhere far off, eyes bearing a red glow “fair bit of warning, smiting drains your feathers and light, if you run out, well, you’ll lose your divinity”

  Astrael stilled.

  The wind rustled through the trees, but it felt wrong—like it carried breath, like it listened.

  “Funny thing about angels,” the voice continued, silk-slick and distant. “You think your fire makes you untouchable. But every time you burn a little brighter—” a pause, almost thoughtful, “—you’re just running out faster.”

  He didn’t answer. His eyes flicked tree to tree, steps slow and measured as he pushed deeper into the woods. The shadows felt closer now. Thicker.

  “You don’t even know what you’re hunting, do you?”

  Astrael’s jaw tightened. “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Oh, but it does,” the voice crooned. “Because I’m not one of your little ghouls. I’m not bound by flesh and bone. I’m not a mistake that crawled out of Hell. I was built for this.”

  A soft thud behind him—something dropped from a tree.

  Astrael turned—just a flash of movement. A trail of blood. Casel’s.

  The voice whispered now, inside his mind.

  “Go on. Keep smiting. Let’s see how long that light of yours lasts.”

  “Who are you” Astrael narrowed his eyes, wary of the one far off in the trees”

  “You really wanna know? I am Legion, for we are many”

  Astrael shook, gripping his blade till his hand bled and his knuckles cracked

  “A fallen angel”