The sky was still burning when Francis descended.
His wings folded inward as he lowered himself through the smoke, drifting down like a ghost made of light and ash. The fires of St. Louis reflected off his feathers, turning them gold and crimson.
Leonte stood among the rubble, chest heaving, dust clinging to his clothes. He expected another attack. Another judgment. Another impossible display of power.
Instead, Francis landed softly in front of him.
His white eyes dimmed slightly—still glowing, but calmer, almost human.
"Leonte," he said, voice echoing like it came from everywhere at once. "Go home to your family."
Leonte's fists clenched. "Why? After everything you just did—why spare me?"
Francis tilted his head, wings rustling.
"I have nothing against you. Your home is untouched. As are the homes of the chosen."
Leonte's breath caught. "Chosen?"
Francis didn't elaborate. He simply stepped back, wings spreading again.
"Go. Before the next seal breaks."
And with a single beat of his wings, he shot upward, disappearing into the smoke‑filled sky.
---
The Ambulance Escape
Leonte didn't wait.
He sprinted toward the overturned emergency vehicles, climbed into the least damaged ambulance, and hot‑wired it with shaking hands. The engine sputtered, then roared to life.
He sped through the ruined streets—past burning buildings, overturned cars, and clouds of ash drifting like snow. Sirens wailed in the distance. The city was unrecognizable.
But as he turned onto his street—
Everything changed.
The destruction stopped abruptly, like a line drawn across reality.
His neighborhood stood untouched.
And around several houses—including his—shimmered a faint blue barrier, like a dome of light barely visible in the smoke.
Leonte slammed the ambulance door open and ran.
---
The Reunion
Hazel was at the top of the basement stairs, ushering the kids downward. Her white nightgown was wrinkled, her curly hair wild, her glasses crooked. She froze when she saw him.
"Leonte?" she whispered, disbelief flooding her face.
He didn't answer.
He ran to her, pulling her and the kids into a tight embrace. Hazel clung to him, shaking. Noah and Jacob wrapped their arms around his waist, burying their faces in his shirt.
Hazel pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes wide and terrified.
"Please tell me you all have some kind of plan to stop him."
Leonte swallowed hard. "I'm not sure. Everything's changing too fast."
He looked around the house—perfectly intact, glowing faintly with the blue shimmer outside.
"But why are you all still inside? Why didn't you evacuate?"
The twins exchanged a glance.
Noah spoke first, voice small. "A voice told us to stay."
Jacob nodded. "It said we'd be safe here."
Hazel's face went pale. "A voice? What voice?"
The boys looked at each other again.
Then Noah whispered:
"The same voice that told us your name before we were born."
Leonte's heart dropped.
Hazel covered her mouth.
The house was quiet—too quiet—when Leonte finished checking the basement door. Hazel stood beside him, still trembling, the boys pressed close to her legs.
Then a soft voice drifted from the kitchen.
"Glad to see your family is fine."
Hazel gasped.
Leonte spun around.
Francis stood calmly in the kitchen doorway, wings folded neatly behind him like a cloak of white feathers. His long black hair fell over his shoulders, and in his hand he held a single red apple, polished and perfect.
He looked almost peaceful.
Almost.
The kids screamed and bolted down the basement stairs, slamming the door behind them.
Hazel stepped in front of Leonte instinctively. "Why are you doing this? Why destroy the city? Why kill all those people?"
Francis rolled the apple in his palm, studying it as though it were more interesting than the chaos outside.
"So much noise," he said softly. "People are so rude nowadays. No manners. No compassion. They walk past the suffering as if it's invisible."
He lifted his eyes—white, glowing, unreadable.
"The world is overpopulated anyway. Madness fills their minds. They've forgotten how to be human."
Hazel's voice cracked. "So your answer is to wipe them out?"
Francis tilted his head. "To cleanse. To reset. To give the pure a chance to rise."
Leonte stepped forward. "Are you planning to destroy other cities?"
Francis didn't answer.
He simply smiled.
And that silence was worse than any threat.
---
The Shimmer Breaks
A loud metallic clang echoed from outside.
Edward.
He was pounding against the blue shimmer with his armored gauntlet, trying to break through. Sparks flew with every strike.
Francis sighed, almost annoyed. "Persistent man."
He walked toward the back door, wings unfolding with a soft rustle.
Hazel grabbed Leonte's arm. "Don't let him—"
But Francis was already outside.
He moved with effortless grace, lifting Edward by the front of his exo‑suit as if he weighed nothing. The shimmer rippled around them.
Edward shouted through his helmet, "Leonte! Stay inside!"
Francis rose into the air, carrying Edward upward like a hawk lifting prey.
Leonte ran to the door. "Edward!"
But Edward wasn't panicking.
He was preparing.
At two hundred feet in the air, he hit the emergency eject.
The exo‑suit detached instantly, dropping away from him and latching onto Francis like a mechanical parasite. The suit's core began to glow—pink, blue, and white lights swirling together.
Francis realized too late.
The suit detonated.
A burst of shimmering light exploded across the sky, painting the clouds in neon colors. Edward deployed his parachute, drifting downward through the glowing haze.
His voice crackled through the comms:
"Target hit. Repeat—target hit. I got him."
---
The Shimmer Falls
Leonte and Hazel ran outside, breathless.
The blue shimmer around their home flickered… then dissolved like mist.
Hazel clutched Leonte's arm. "They must have gotten him."
But before Leonte could answer—
A blinding white flash streaked across the sky.
Something fell from the clouds.
A body.
Francis.
But as he plummeted, his form began to break apart—not into blood or ash—but into white butterflies, hundreds of them, scattering in the wind like pieces of a dream unraveling.
By the time the shape reached the ground, there was nothing left but a swirl of wings drifting away on the breeze.
Hazel whispered, "What… what does that mean?"
Leonte stared upward, heart pounding.
"I don't know."
But deep down, he feared the truth:
Things that turn into butterflies
don't always die.
Sometimes…
They transform.
In the weeks that followed the destruction, something remarkable happened.
Convoys from Illinois, Kansas, Iowa, Arkansas, and Tennessee poured into Missouri. Construction crews, volunteers, medical teams, and engineers worked side by side with St. Louis residents. The skyline was scarred, but the spirit of the Midwest was unbroken.
Tents became temporary clinics. Stadiums became shelters. Churches opened their doors.
And slowly—brick by brick, beam by beam—the city began to rise again.
Refinement HQ held a gathering to honor the team that had stopped Francis. The building was still half‑repaired, but the atmosphere was warm, buzzing with relief and gratitude.
Edward stood at the center of the room, surrounded by applause.
"Edward, you saved the city," someone said.
Another clapped him on the back. "You took down a flying supernatural nightmare with a suit explosion. That's insane."
Edward gave a tired smile. "I had help. And a lot of luck."
Jamal raised a cup. "To Edward. The man who punched an angel."
Laughter rippled through the room.
Mark added, "Let's hope we don't need to do that again."
But the three of them—Edward, Jamal, and Mark—soon drifted into a quieter corner, their expressions shifting.
The Conversation in the Corner
Edward's voice lowered. " I barely killed him. "
Jamal nodded. "Those butterflies… that wasn't death. That was transformation."
Mark crossed his arms. "And we are the first to see what he is capable of."
Edward exhaled slowly. "We stay ready. We stay sharp. And we don't tell the public anything until we know more."
Jamal looked toward the window, where the city lights flickered against the night sky. "I just hope we get time to breathe before whatever comes next."
The Balcony
Later that night, Leonte stepped out onto the balcony of the partially rebuilt HQ. The air was cool, carrying the scent of fresh lumber and distant smoke. The city below glowed with construction lights and the hum of recovery.
Mark joined him, leaning on the railing.
"Hell of a month," Mark said quietly.
Leonte nodded. "Feels like a lifetime."
They stood in silence for a moment, watching cranes move across the skyline.
Mark finally spoke. "You feel it too, don't you?"
Leonte didn't pretend otherwise. "Yeah. Like something's still… off."
Mark nodded. "Like the air's holding its breath."
Leonte looked up at the stars—clearer than they'd been in weeks. "Francis said the first seal was broken. If that's true…"
Mark finished the thought. "Then something else is coming."
The wind shifted, brushing past them like a whisper.
But below, the city kept rebuilding.
People kept working.
Families kept hoping.
Mark straightened. "Whatever happens next, we'll face it. Together."
Leonte gave a small, steady nod. "Yeah. We will."
Behind them, laughter and music drifted from the celebration inside.
Ahead of them, the future loomed uncertain, but theirs to defend.
The End