I couldn't take my eyes off him.
There was something familiar about the angel—something gentle, almost painfully wholesome. As if I had known him long before this place… before everything broke.
He extended a hand toward me.
I hesitated.
Still shaking.
Still hollow.
I took it.
"Am I… really in Heaven?" I asked.
He laughed softly as he helped me to my feet, then guided me to sit beside him beneath the defiled tree—the only thing in this endless white that felt real.
"No matter how much Heaven gives mortals," he said quietly, "their greed always overwhelms their sense of reality."
He sighed, sorrow heavy in his voice.
"You are proof of that, Adam. The first man to live. No matter how many times Heaven restores you, rebirths you, cleanses you… your soul always finds its way back here."
He plucked a crimson flower from the ground—one drenched in my blood.
"This tree," he continued, "is the only defiled place in Heaven. The one you wandered toward without realizing why."
I stared at it, my chest tightening.
"The garden you lost yourself in," he said, "is where it all began. The Garden of Eden."
Then, almost gently:
"The root of all evil."
What…?
My head spun.
"Sir," I said, my voice unsteady, "I don't understand what you're saying. Yes, my name is Adam—but I'm not who you think I am."
I looked at him desperately.
"Please… tell me who you are."
He smiled—a smile so full of compassion it hurt to look at. His gaze drifted toward the endless beam of light above us, the artificial sun that never warmed, never burned.
I felt safe.
For the first time in what felt like eternity.
So I asked the question I'd been avoiding.
"Am I… the Heart of Heaven? The one Jester claimed he abducted?"
His eyes met mine.
No—pierced me.
Not my body.
Not my mind.
My soul.
"Do you truly wish to know the truth," he asked softly, "Heart of Heaven?"
The roses around us slowly turned white as he spoke.
"The truth of everything."
He paused.
"And would you reclaim your memories?"
My throat closed.
I wanted to scream yes—
But what had truth ever given me except misery?
I had just learned that I helped destroy my stepbrother.
That I shaped the monster who killed me.
The angel looked at me with disappointment.
And pity.
The same look I once gave him.
He stood.
Turned away.
"See you soon, Adam," he said calmly, already walking.
Something inside me shattered.
I ran after him.
"Wait!" I screamed. "Please—I want to know!"
My voice cracked, tears blinding me—not from fear of him, but fear of what truth would uncover.
What would it reveal?
What would it take from me?
I didn't want to know.
But I needed to.
The angel laughed softly.
God, I hated that sound.
It reminded me of him.
He cupped my face with both hands—gentle, motherly.
Wrong.
We were both naked.
And yet it felt sacred.
"Your memories will return," he whispered.
"Brick by brick.
Slowly.
Painfully.
But alive."
"Will it hurt?" I asked.
He smiled.
"Less than remaining in oblivion."
He unfolded his wings and rose into the white sky—like a ray of light that could never find a place to land.
It was nothing like anything I had ever seen.
Yet it felt unbearably nostalgic.
"My name is Uriel," his voice echoed through Heaven, "Archangel of Truth and Knowledge."
"You'd better remember everything by the time I return."
"I will," I whispered.
"My old friend."
The words slipped out without thought.
Uriel heard them.
I knew he did.