The winter sun broke over Pinekeep's horizon, painting the sky in shades of gold that promised warmth but delivered none. A sharp breeze cut through the camp, making Neiva's teeth chatter as she crawled out of her tent, clutching her toothbrush and water bottle like precious treasures.

  "Day five without a shower," she grumbled, settling onto a fallen log that served as their makeshift bench. Living rough was taking its toll – her bright red hair was tangled from sleeping on the ground, and her clothes had that particular stiffness that came from too many days of wear.

  Experience had taught her to be cautious. She twisted around, scanning the clearing like a paranoid squirrel checking for predators. No sign of Red's crimson smoke or his annoying grin. Maybe just this once she could brush her teeth in peace—

  "BOO!"

  The shout came from directly above her head. Neiva shrieked, nearly dropping her toothbrush as Red materialized – and promptly fell down from the sky. He landed flat on his back, his gray-tinted copy of Angelo's form somehow radiating smug satisfaction despite the undignified position.

  "Still priceless," he snickered, folding his hands behind his head like he was lounging on a beach instead of forest dirt.

  Neiva just kept brushing her teeth, scrubbing with way more force than necessary. She pointedly refused to look at him, which only seemed to encourage his antics.

  "Aw, what's wrong? No comeback today?" Red's predatory grin could have split his face.

  Blue appeared beside them in a swirl of azure smoke, his perfect posture making everyone else look like slouching teenagers. "Must you insist on being an absolute menace?" His scholarly voice dripped disapproval. "These juvenile pranks stopped being amusing approximately never."

  "Still amusing for me," Red said with a shrug, still grinning from ear to ear.

  Neiva spat out her toothpaste with impressive accuracy, barely missing Red's head. "You're one to talk, Blue! If you disapprove so much, why don't you ever actually stop him? Or at least warn me?"

  "Oh snap!" Red bounced to his feet, practically vibrating with glee. "If you could feel temperature, blueberry, you'd be getting frostbite from that cold shoulder!"

  Blue somehow managed to make his already rigid posture even stiffer. "As I have repeatedly explained, my role is primarily that of an observer. It would be inappropriate for me to enforce my personal views upon others' behavior choices. It is simply not my place to judge."

  "Is it just me," Red stage-whispered to no one in particular, "or did winter just get colder?"

  "We all know you can't feel temperature," Blue sighed with the particular exhaustion of someone who'd had this exact argument a thousand times before.

  The sound of a tent zipper made them all turn as Angelo emerged, running a hand through his messy dark hair. "Why," he asked the universe at large, "does every single morning have to start like this?"

  "I don't know!" Neiva threw up her hands dramatically. "Maybe you should ask Red, your chaos-loving gremlin over there!"

  "Who's Red?" Sol's cheerful voice chimed in as he poked his silver-white head out of his tent, eyes twinkling with mischief.

  Neiva slumped forward, dropping her face into her hands. "Not this again. I swear you're all conspiring to drive me completely insane."

  The morning continued its familiar dance as everyone settled around their makeshift camp. Sol began his own teeth-brushing routine while Angelo heated water for something that technically counted as coffee if you didn't think about it too hard.

  "So what's on today's agenda?" Angelo asked, taking a sip and immediately regretting it. "Please tell me we're doing something other than driving Neiva crazy today."

  Sol held up one finger in the universal sign for 'let me finish brushing first.'

  "We should investigate Pinekeep," Blue suggested, his scholarly precision unchanged by the early hour. "Assess the refugee situation and determine if resupply is possible."

  Sol made a noise around his toothbrush that could have meant anything from complete agreement to 'you're totally wrong but I can't argue right now.'

  Neiva's expression softened as she looked toward the distant town. "Maybe we could help some of these people? They've lost everything..."

  "That's really none of our business." Angelo's voice wasn't unkind, but it carried the weight of experience.

  "But– but you're the Angel of Death! You're supposed to be a guardian for the people!" Neiva protested, her idealism crashing against harsh reality.

  "Exactly," Angelo said quietly. "I'm a guardian. Not some charity or a miracle worker. I can't conjure food or build houses."

  "Oh!" Red's face lit up with sudden inspiration. "What about houses made of forged energy? Like glowing mansions!"

  "That's brilliant!" Neiva bounced in place, hope rekindling in her eyes.

  Angelo pinched the bridge of his nose. "Red, stop giving her false hope. It's not happening."

  "Actually," Blue interjected gently, "while such forged energy constructs are theoretically possible, they would be far from practical as dwellings."

  "But these people are sleeping in tents," Neiva argued, gesturing toward the refugee camp. "How could solid energy be worse than that?"

  Sol set down his toothbrush, his usual playful demeanor turning serious. "Think it through – would energy houses keep people warm? What if they exploded? And even if Angelo, Red, and Blue worked non-stop creating permanent constructs, it would take forever to house everyone."

  "Oh." Neiva's shoulders slumped as reality sank in. "I didn't think about all that... Sometimes having powers doesn't feel very powerful at all," she added quietly, wrapping her arms around herself.

  Blue's scholarly voice softened with genuine sympathy. "There are earth Aurons who could reshape the ground into shelters, but I doubt Pinekeep's residents would appreciate such dramatic changes to their landscape."

  "So we just... do nothing?" The hurt in Neiva's voice was painful to hear.

  Angelo stood up, his coffee forgotten. "We focus on what we can actually accomplish. These people need real help – the kind that comes from governments and aid organizations, not vigilantes with flashy powers."

  The morning sun climbed higher, warming their little camp but doing nothing to ease the weight that had settled over them all. Sometimes the hardest part of having power was accepting its limits.

  Eventually they decided to head to town. Pinekeep hit them like a wall of sound and desperation. The small town had transformed into something that looked more like the New Light Festival gone wrong – people packed every street and alley, their voices blending into a roar of need and frustration.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  "Holy—" Sol started.

  "Shit," Red finished, his usual wild grin fading at the sight.

  Everywhere they looked, chaos reigned. People shoved and pushed around food stalls, desperate to get in line before supplies ran out. Inn keepers argued with crowds at their doorsteps, repeating over and over that they had no more rooms. The sound of shouting adults and crying children filled the air like a terrible storm.

  Neiva's face went pale as she took it all in. Even Angelo's usual stoic expression cracked slightly, his jaw tightening at the sight of so much suffering.

  "Well," Angelo said, his voice rough, "guess restocking supplies is out of the question."

  Sol tapped his foot against the packed dirt street, thinking hard. "We need somewhere to charge our phones at least. But in this mess..." He gestured at the crowd. Getting into any building would mean hours of waiting.

  Angelo's eyes lit up with sudden inspiration. "Red, Blue – scout around. Find us somewhere to charge up."

  "Way ahead of ya," Red's form dissolved into crimson smoke that streamed into Angelo before emerging again, now fully in control of his gaseous state.

  "Very well." Blue followed suit, his perfect posture somehow maintained even as azure mist.

  "Now that's handy," Sol said with an approving nod.

  "One of the few perks," Angelo admitted, watching his duplicates drift away.

  Neiva's forehead wrinkled with confusion. "But wait – how are they supposed to plug in our stuff? They can't exactly carry phones in smoke form."

  Angelo's eye twitched. "We'll... figure that out when we get there."

  "Come on," Sol said quickly, trying to break the tension. "Let's check some other areas. Maybe it's not this crowded everywhere."

  They hadn't gone far when a blast of pink light caught their attention. A man wrapped in rosy energy went flying past them, crashing through wooden crates before slamming into a wall. The impact sent splinters flying everywhere as boxes shattered.

  Angelo's whole body tensed like a drawn bow. His eyes locked onto the attacker – a water Auron carrying what looked like a massive container made of ice. The contents were hard to make out through the fractured light, but the thief's red aura blazed around him as he bolted away, the ice box strapped to his back.

  "Thief!" The fallen man pointed with a shaking hand. "Stop him!"

  Orange light erupted around Angelo as he shot after the runner. His smoky energy tendrils pushed him forward like living springs, eating up the distance between them.

  "Oh no..." Sol's face went dark as his own silver aura flared to life. He took off after Angelo while Neiva followed, already falling behind.

  Angelo caught up to the thief in seconds, but the water Auron was ready. He spun around, his red aura pulsing as he launched a blast of water that caught Angelo right in the stomach. The impact sent him sprawling onto his back, knocking the wind from his lungs.

  Sol reached him first, offering a hand up. Angelo took it, but his expression had turned deadly. Orange light swirled around him like smoke caught in a gentle breeze, transforming into his evolved state. His flowing robes of forged energy materialized while a halo of pure power formed above his head as his forged energy scythe conjured into existence in his grip. Massive wings burst from his shoulders, sending him skyward to the gasps of gathering onlookers.

  "Angelo, wait!" Sol's shout came too late.

  The Angel of Death landed in front of the thief like an avenging spirit. The water Auron attacked in panic, but Angelo's fist – wrapped in forged energy like a glowing gauntlet – sent him tumbling to the ground.

  Now that they faced each other, Angelo could see just how young the thief was – seventeen at most, the boy's features twisted by fear and determination. But there was steel in his spine as he pushed himself up, ready to fight again.

  "If staring death in the face doesn't change a man," Angelo's voice carried terrible purpose, "nothing will. I'm giving you one chance: Have a change of heart and surrender, or strike and meet your end."

  "Stand down!" Sol's voice cracked with urgency. "He means it – this isn't a game! You could actually die here!"

  Neiva finally caught up, doubled over and gasping for breath.

  "I—" The boy's voice shook, but his chin lifted with desperate pride. "I can't! If I give up this food, my family will starve!"

  Sol's face softened, the boy's words stealing his voice.

  "So?" Angelo's response could have frozen fire. "Lady Justice doesn't care about excuses."

  "What?" The boy and Sol spoke together, equally shocked. The thief continued alone: "Justice? Is it just to watch my family starve to death?!"

  "And what about everyone else?" Angelo's aura flared like captured lightning. "Should I let you steal while others suffer? What about the shop keeper's family – the ones you just sentenced to hunger?"

  The boy's mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. Neiva and Sol could only watch as predator and prey locked eyes.

  Something in the boy finally broke. His red aura flickered and died as the ice container melted away, spilling food across the street. Hungry eyes watched from the crowd, but no one dared move closer – not with the Angel of Death standing guard.

  Tears gathered in the boy's eyes as he jabbed an accusing finger at Angelo. "Who– who are you? What gives you the right to threaten me over stolen food?"

  Angelo lowered his scythe, but his orange eyes still burned like twin suns. "I am the Angel of Death – the messenger of justice. And a crime against another person is always severe, no matter how small it may seem."

  The words hung in the air like a judge's sentence, heavy with the weight of absolute certainty. Around them, the crowd watched in silence, bearing witness to the harsh truth that even desperate times couldn't make wrong things right.

  The young thief's shoulders trembled as he stared up at Angelo, tears finally spilling down his cheeks. "You think I wanted to steal? My sister's sick..." His voice cracked like thin ice. "Mom says she needs food and water to get better, but we ran out days ago. She has such a high fever..."

  Angelo's stern expression softened just slightly, like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. "Did you try asking for help before turning to theft?" His voice remained steady but had lost its terrible edge.

  "Of course I did!" The words tumbled out too quickly, too defensively.

  Red's gleeful voice echoed through their shared mind like a mischievous tune: "Liar, liar, pants on fire!"

  Angelo's eyes narrowed, and the boy's brave front crumbled like a sandcastle in the tide. His gaze dropped to his feet. "Fine. No, I didn't ask anyone for help..."

  Angelo's scythe faded away as he crossed his arms disapprovingly.

  "Look around!" The boy's hand swept through the air, gesturing at the crowded streets full of desperate faces. "Who would even give me a second thought in all this mess?"

  "He's got a point," Sol said quietly, his usual playful demeanor replaced by genuine concern.

  Before Angelo could respond, heavy footsteps approached through the crowd. The pink-glowing Auron they'd seen earlier came stomping toward them, a man and woman in police uniforms close behind. The shopkeeper's face was red with anger as he jabbed a finger at their group. "That's him, officers! The one who stole my goods!"

  The male officer squinted uncertainly at Angelo in his glowing robes. "The scary one with the beard?"

  "No, no – he caught the thief. It's the kid!" The shopkeeper's voice carried years of frustration at losing inventory to desperate hands.

  The female officer stepped forward, her uniform crisp despite the dusty streets. "You're coming with us, young man."

  To everyone's surprise – especially the officers' – Angelo moved between them and the boy like a shield. His sudden movement made both officers tense, their hands drifting toward their weapons. But then Angelo let his evolved state fade away, the orange light dissolving into sparkles that drifted away on the breeze. His intimidating robes vanished, leaving just a young man in normal clothes.

  "Leave him be," Angelo said, his voice carrying quiet authority. "He's had a change of heart. I'll handle this."

  The shopkeeper's face twisted with fresh anger. "I don't care if he's sorry – he stole from me! He needs to face consequences!"

  "And who exactly are you to interfere?" The female officer's hand hadn't moved from her weapon.

  The shopkeeper crossed his arms. "Let the local police handle this, stranger."

  Angelo glanced between them before addressing the female officer directly. "I'm a former officer myself – Novaria's Auron division." He turned slightly, calling over his shoulder: "Hey kid, how old are you?"

  "F–fifteen..." The boy's voice shook slightly.

  "See?" Angelo turned back to the officers. "He's a minor. That means mountains of paperwork for very little result. Let me save you the headache. I promise you – I'll set him straight."

  The officers exchanged loaded looks while the shopkeeper shifted from foot to foot, clearly wrestling with the decision. Finally, his shoulders slumped in defeat. "Fine, fine! But that kid better come apologize properly later!"

  "He will." Angelo's tone left no room for doubt. "I guarantee it."

  They watched the officers help the shopkeeper gather his scattered goods. Once they disappeared into the crowd, everyone seemed to breathe easier. Neiva let out a shaky sigh that carried all the tension she'd been holding.

  "Hey." The boy looked up at Angelo, wonder replacing his earlier fear. "Thanks for having my back..."

  "Well, well!" Sol's trademark grin returned full force. "The kid you just threatened is thanking you. Now I really have seen everything!"

  Angelo ignored them both, his gaze fixed on the distant refugee camp. "Where's your family staying, kid? Take me to them."

  His voice was gentle but firm, like a parent who knew their child needed help but was too proud to ask. The boy hesitated for just a moment before nodding, hope finally replacing the desperation in his young face.

  As they followed him through Pinekeep's crowded streets, Neiva caught Angelo studying the boy with an expression she was starting to recognize – the same look he got when he talked about Bill. Sometimes the Angel of Death's mercy could be just as powerful as his judgment.