The road hadn't changed. Still cracked. Still empty. Still leading nowhere.
I drove in silence. The kind of silence that wraps around your skull and never lets go. The engine hummed beneath me like it was tired too—like it wanted to give up just as badly.
I hadn't eaten since yesterday. Didn't care.
The sun hovered above the horizon like it was afraid to rise any higher. Like it knew what was coming.
My eyes were heavy, but I kept going. I didn't know where. I didn't care.
Then I saw it.
A small house, hidden between dead trees and dry brush. Paint peeling off its sides. A single broken window staring at me like a tired eye. Smoke rose weakly from the chimney.
For some reason, I pulled over. My hands acted before my brain did.
I grabbed what little I had and stepped out of the Humvee. The air was still. No birds. No wind. Not even the sound of my boots crunching on gravel felt real.
I walked to the door. Placed my hand on the knob.
Then I heard it.
"Come in," it said.
A whisper. But not like wind. Like something inviting.
I opened the door slowly. The inside of the house was cleaner than expected. Dusty, but lived in. A photo on the wall showed a man, a woman, and a young boy. None of them looked familiar.
The sound came again—this time from below.
"Come in."
It was calling me.
I found the basement door in the hallway. It was already open, like someone knew I'd show up.
I stepped down. One creak at a time. My heart beat faster the deeper I went.
At the bottom—light.
Blinding, pure, white light.
And there he was.
Raziel.
Sitting in a chair. The basement looked nothing like what it should have. No stone, no boxes, no mold. Just a white room. Like a void with furniture.
A wooden table stood between us. Two chairs. A tea set. Steam rising from the cups.
"Sit," he said softly.
I did.
"You're still running," he said.
I looked at the tea. Didn't touch it. "You're supposed to be dead."
"I was."
"Then why are you here?"
"To give you a warning. One last time."
I said nothing.
"You are the chosen one," he continued. "The last chosen fell to pride. He believed he could outsmart fate. He thought he could bend destiny. He was wrong."
I leaned back in the chair, my eyes stinging. "I didn't ask for this."
"None of us do. But we all have a part to play."
"I'm not strong enough," I snapped. "You think I can face Uriel? That I can change something that was written long before I was even born?"
Raziel didn't blink. "You are not chosen because you're strong. You're chosen because you feel. Because you break. Because you doubt."
My chest felt tight. I stood up, pacing now. "No. No. I can't. I've seen what happens. Amy… Matilda… I can't even save the people I care about. I let them die."
"You didn't let them die," Raziel said calmly. "You survived."
"I ran."
"You chose to live. And now, you must choose again."
"No," I whispered. "No, no, no..."
It built up. My heart racing. My vision blurry. My hands shaking.
"I'm not the fucking chosen one!" I screamed, slamming my fist into the wall. "I'm not anything! I'm just some guy who wanted to survive the end of the world!"
Silence.
Raziel stood slowly. "And yet… here you are."
I couldn't take it.
I turned. I ran. I climbed the stairs without looking back.
The house didn't stop me. Neither did Raziel.
The second I got outside, I jumped into the Humvee and slammed the door shut. My breaths came out in bursts, shallow and sharp.
I turned the key and peeled off the dirt driveway. Fast. Tires screeching. Kicking dust into the dying air.
I didn't know where I was going.
I didn't care.
The sun was nearly gone now. Only orange and purple streaks in the sky.
I gripped the wheel tight.
"What the fuck am I supposed to do…" I muttered to myself.
He said I was chosen.
But chosen for what?
To die?
To fight?
To suffer?
I didn't want any of it. Not the destiny. Not the guilt. Not the weight of the world.
I just wanted to go back to a world that didn't exist anymore.
The night swallowed the road ahead. The headlights of the Humvee barely cutting through it.
I looked at the passenger seat.
Empty.
The feathers were gone.
The lance was gone.
The book? Still there. But I didn't touch it.
Not yet.
I just drove.
And waited.
Waited for fate to catch up.