Heaven was perfect.

  Everything shimmered with a kind of still joy. There were no humans yet—only the angels, timeless and serene. And Nyra… Nyra loved her life there.

  Every morning, her father brought her tulips. Always fresh, always golden. She’d wake with joy, stretch her wings, and feel the glow of eternity on her skin. She never questioned anything. Her heart belonged here—how could it not?

  Until the day of war.

  It happened so fast. She didn’t understand it. One moment, the skies were calm. The next, they cracked open with fire and light.

  Seraphim surrounded her. Their eyes glowed with urgency.

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  “Go. Now. Protect the soul.”

  Before she could speak—before she could even say okay—they reached out, and the world blinked.

  She woke in a forest.

  Flat on her back. Earth beneath her. A strange, heavy sky above.

  Nyra sat up slowly, head spinning. The light here felt wrong. She pressed her palm to her chest, trying to breathe, trying to remember.

  Then it hit her.

  “Oh no,” she whispered. “No, no, no—no!”

  She staggered to her feet and ran—nowhere, just away. But the sun followed. A real sun, fierce and hot, not like the gentle glow of Heaven. It burned her skin with every step.

  She screamed as the fire licked her arms, her back, her wings.

  Then—boom—she hit the ground, hardly, because of a big rock she hit.

  Her face throbbed. She reached up, fingers brushing a deep gash just beneath her eye. Warm blood. Real pain.

  She grit her teeth, tore a strip from her white, angelic dress, and pressed it to the wound. The fabric soaked through instantly.

  She looked around. Bugs crawled on the dirt. Trees loomed like silent watchers. Everything felt alive—but nothing felt kind.

  This place was nothing alike with Heaven.

  And Nyra hated it here now.