Zoya once fell from Heaven, but even clipped wings could not stop her from chasing the fires of Hell.

  A long time ago, she was the twenty-sixth warrior angel of Heaven’s Aegis. Her title had come with reverence, her shimmering wings defining her identity. But no more. Her sisters were gone, fallen in a war that Father Celestial had forbidden. For her “interference” in mortal affairs, saving humanity, Zoya had been cast out of Heaven, her wings clipped and her powers crippled. All she had left was her Celestial Glaive, a relic of Heaven’s armoury, and the memory of fire—both the one she had extinguished and the one she had ignited in the hearts of those she had saved.

  She was known as the Saviour of London. A hero. But in Heaven, she was forgotten, like a scar from an old splinter, merely healed away.

  Zoya had defeated Liam Thorne, leader of Scorched Earth, the zealot army of terrorists prophesying the apocalypse. Thorne had been a creature so vile, obsessed with the sins of men, that he’d transformed into an immortal archdemon. He’d become the harbinger of death, convinced that humanity’s salvation lay in its annihilation.

  Zoya and her rogue squadron had defied Father Celestial, descending upon Earth to save it, convinced it was the right thing to do. Thorne had killed her sisters, consuming them in flames along with countless innocents at the Battle of Blackfriars. Even after losing her loved ones, Zoya had continued to fight. With the aid of MI5 and her celestial gifts, they’d captured Thorne and locked him in the Crucible, a quantum-locked prison built by the brightest scientists of the world, designed to hold even the most unearthly threats.

  The world could breathe again. Zoya, cast out and with faded powers, now wandered the streets of London, fighting petty crime and responding to Amber alerts. But that kind of peace could shatter at any minute, because Liam Thorne was not truly gone, and even if he was locked away in an unbreakable prison, she could still feel his dim flame like a candle in the dark, ready to blaze.

  A cloud of dark smoke hovered above the east wing of Porton Down. When Zoya arrived in the early morning, the Lab was destroyed. A pile of ashes remained in its stead. Her glaive shone the path forward through collapsed walls and scorched concrete. Dead bodies lay piled, some whole, some in puzzle pieces.

  Gale, who’d sent a distress call, was, thank Father Celestial, still alive. His face was pale, and he was in shock. He lay on the ground, unhurt but paralysed with fear.

  Gale was no warrior, only a scientist whose hand trembled. He pointed at the shattered remains of the Crucible’s containment unit.

  “They came out of nowhere, ten or twelve men,” he said, scrambling for words. “And they were fast. They had weapons—celestial swords from the Battle of Blackfriars. Our bullets were absolutely useless.”

  “It’s alright, Gale,” Zoya said. His frustration was palpable, but more so his shame at failing to protect the Lab. “There’s nothing you could have done.”

  How can a small unit, even with celestial weapons—scavenged, if anything—break into a top secret military facility? The shame was justified, but Gale wasn’t the one who should feel it. They should have known better.

  Zoya searched the ruins in search of a clue, something that would tell her who did this and why. The lingering energy signature was unmistakable—celestial, but stronger than Heaven’s swords. Something else. It clung to these ruins, like a persistent, foul stench.

  “What can you remember?” she asked, hoping Gale had seen something.

  Gale hesitated. “There was an insignia. On their suits. It looked like… No. It can’t be...”

  Zoya said nothing and waited instead, but she had no time for stutters.

  “It was an eclipse,” he said quickly, lying.

  “Gale. Say it.”

  “I… It’s not possible. They’re gone. We beat them.”

  “Say it.”

  He took a deep breath. “It was…Earth…burning,” he said with a deep sigh.

  “It was Scorched Earth.” Zoya’s memory clicked into place, and her two hearts beat faster in unison.

  She knew it. Scorched Earth was back, and they took Thorne.

  “But,” Gale began. “They did not free him. They took him in the Crucible, as prisoner.”

  Why would Scorched Earth, loyal to Liam Thorne, retrieve him only to take him as prisoner? It made little sense. Zoya must find out why. She pressed on her glaive’s rune, and it folded into a compact rod with a whispering hum. Its light extinguished as she hooked it to her belt.

  She escorted Gale out of the ruins. Reinforcements were already outside and within minutes, they sent their own men to investigate the Lab. Gale was safe, and Zoya returned to London.

  If anyone knew anything about Scorched Earth down in the underground, it’d be her contact in Mayfair. She must find him at once.

  M.H. usually hid behind a heavy velvet curtain seated at a large oak desk in Mayfair’s most private club. Zoya knew she’d find him there. M.H. was neither government official nor criminal, or maybe he was both, but he knew everything that happened up above and down below. Despite the club being empty at this time of day, he was there.

  “I had a feeling you’d be coming,” he said, gesturing for her to sit. He held a paper in his hands and his eyes remained fixed on it.

  “So you know why I’m here.” She couldn’t sit because of wings, so she remained standing, her arms crossed.

  “Yes,” he hummed, scribbling something on the paper, his tiny glasses resting on his enormous nose. “Scorched Earth is back.”

  “You knew?”

  “Rumours,” M.H. admitted. “Nothing concrete until now. But if they’re bold enough to strike Porton Down, they must have someone influential pulling the strings.” He paused. Now he looked up at her. “Aadhya Khan.”

  Zoya’s stomach sank. She knew this name. Khan had been one of Thorne’s closest allies before Scorched Earth fell apart. Ruthless, brilliant, and with her own appetite for destruction, she was no mere follower.

  “She’s taken over, or so I hear,” M.H. continued. “And she has something. Something…otherworldly.”

  Zoya came closer and leaned forward. “What is it?”

  M.H. shook his head. “That, I do not know.”

  Zoya clenched her jaw. “Where are they?”

  “Under the Thames, I presume,” M.H. said. “There are old tunnels beneath the river, accessible through the abandoned Aldwych station. If Scorched Earth is back, that’s where you’ll find them.”

  How did he know all this? Zoya preferred not to ask the question.

  M.H. had given her the information she needed. She was ready to leave. “Thanks, Mycroft.”

  “At your service. But Zoya,” he called, and she paused. “Be careful. Aadhya is no Liam Thorne.”

  “She is no archdemon indeed.”

  He smiled. “She might be worse.”

  Nothing was worse.

  As if he’d read her thoughts, he added: “She’s desperate.”

  Grime and graffiti coated the walls of Aldwych station. Zoya pressed her glaive’s rune, and it expanded, radiating light that cut through the suffocating darkness. She pointed at the tunnel that stretched before her into the darkness. A few rats scurried at the sudden presence of light, their squeaks a reminder that there is life below, even deep under the city. She started walking.

  Her steps echoed against the walls, gravel cracking under her feet like tiny bones. That same energy signature lingered here too, confirming she was on the right path. The deeper she went, the stronger the energy pulsed. What in Father Celestial’s name could it be?

  Time and neglect marked these walls. Her glaive illuminating her path, she sunk deeper until the tunnel opened into a large hall. The air here was different, heavy with a strange metallic tang. Zoya stopped to scan the expanse. Rusted machinery stood like skeletons of some forgotten era, gears and pipes frozen in time. At the center of the hall was a massive turbine, and Zoya knew where she was: an old power plant. The Thames’ current must have powered these turbines long ago, giving life to a city that now moved on without it.

  Suddenly, a sound. A click. And voices. Zoya retracted her glaive quickly and hid behind the turbine. She watched, her breath halted, her ears alert.

  Two guards, one male and one female, marched through the hall, chattering. She spotted the armband around the woman’s arm and recognised Scorched Earth’s insignia. Planet Earth burning under a dark sky. Their voices were low but distinct enough that she could make out a few words—Khan’s name was one of them.

  They were patrolling, yet they hadn’t noticed her. Silently, Zoya crept closer. As she closed the distance, she readied herself. A swift, calculated strike could neutralize both before they raised an alarm.

  Her first blow was efficient, the edge of her hand striking the man’s neck. He collapsed without a sound. The woman turned, her eyes wide with surprise, but before she could react, Zoya slammed her unconscious to the ground.

  She dragged their bodies behind a rusted control panel. She’d seen where they’d come from, and she rushed in that direction, moving silently, her grip tight around her retracted glaive. This was too easy, and she knew it. She was about to step into the hornet’s nest and, with limited powers, she’d need to stay quiet. Zoya took the corner and headed into a dimly lit corridor of metal and concrete.

  Another sound—a faint shuffling from a nearby corridor. Zoya moved toward it cautiously, keeping to the shadows. A third guard stood near a doorway, his back turned. Unlike the others, he seemed more alert, his hand resting on the hilt of a glowing weapon. A celestial sword.

  How dare they scavenge her sisters’ weapons!

  Zoya approached slowly, and when she was close enough, she struck, wrapping an arm around his neck and pulling him into a chokehold. He struggled, but her grip held firm until his body went limp. She eased him to the ground, careful not to make a sound.

  He’d been guarding a metal staircase leading to a door. She dragged the guard’s body under the stairs and ascended, the structure creaking under her weight. The door had a small window she could peer through. Zoya rushed forward, her gaze sweeping the space as she absorbed every detail in an instant. Another large hall, brightly lit. Soldiers marching below. A woman, long dark hair, fixed gaze. She stared at something.

  The door led onto a metal platform suspended high above the hall, its framework wrapping around the entire perimeter. Zoya could have the high ground. She would be out of sight and she could watch what was happening below.

  She opened the door slowly, careful not to make a sound. She snuck onto the platform and, from this vantage point, she observed the scene below.

  Scorched Earth soldiers marched beneath her, most carrying guns, some celestial swords. They marched in rhythm around the place, casting glances at the woman in the middle: Aadhya Khan. She had her back toward Zoya and she commanded attention like the sun piercing through clouds. Zoya recognised her voice, Thorne’s strategist. A woman who, if she had a button to eradicate mankind, would press it with no hesitation.

  Khan stood at the center of the hall, barking orders to her subordinates, but fixated on something unseen in front of her. At first, Zoya thought Khan was staring at empty space, but as she shifted her gaze, she noticed a faint sheen—a glass-like contour that refracted the dim light. Her breath caught as the object came into focus: an eerie, transparent lens structure, visible only in shifting glimpses. Zoya blinked repeatedly, as if her mind was playing tricks, but it remained—a presence so subtle and unnatural that it made her skin crawl.

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  What in Father Celestial’s name was that? That energy—she recognized it. The same celestial signature she’d felt was emanating from that artefact.

  And when she saw him, both her hearts stopped.

  Liam Thorne, restrained before the strange, hovering artefact, bound by glowing chains that pulsed with celestial energy. The chains weren’t attached to the lens—they weaved into it, merging as if the artefact held him under its power.

  A low hum resonated, a whirring sound that echoed through the space. It grew louder.

  As the sound swelled, a darkness coalesced within the lens, swirling at its center like a drop of blood.

  Thorne, his skin blistered red from hellfire, horns growing from his head and coiling behind it. His once-blond hair from when he was still human, now matted and dark, clung to his face. It was unmistakably Thorne, but he was not himself. His body trembled as he knelt on the ground, visibly drained and gasping for air.

  Khan called out something, her voice sharp. Thorne nearly collapsed to the ground when the guards appeared at his side, hoisting him upright. Khan turned around so Zoya could see her face, her lips curling into a satisfied smile. She clutched some sort of ancient tablet, one that was clearly not from Earth.

  “Bring him back in an hour,” she said. “We need more.”

  The sound had stopped, though the lens stayed in place, the darkness within it now frozen and motionless. The guards unshackled Thorne and began dragging him toward a corridor beneath the platform. Zoya’s eyes followed them until they disappeared from view.

  Her jaw tightened, her thoughts racing. She couldn’t take on everyone here—there were too many soldiers. But whatever they were doing, whatever this artefact was meant to achieve, felt wrong. Was wrong.

  Steeling herself, Zoya moved silently toward a metal staircase at the far side of the hall, gambling that it would lead to the same corridor the guards had taken. Through the gaps in the steps, she spotted them hauling Thorne toward the corridor’s end. Only two guards. She could handle two.

  But she needed the Crucible. Perhaps they were taking him back to it. If she followed them, she could steal it—and Thorne—when the moment was right.

  The irony wasn’t lost on her. Zoya was about to rescue the archdemon who had destroyed everything she held dear.

  Was this how far she would fall?

  Zoya descended the staircase, her gaze fixed on the two guards dragging Thorne through the long corridor. The concrete walls were lit by flickering lights, so dim that this place looked like it was about to plunge in darkness.

  She kept her distance, blending into the shadows as the guards entered a secluded room at the end of the passage. They closed the doors behind them.

  Zoya snuck to the door and peered through the tiny window. They still hadn’t noticed her.

  This must have been some sort of storage room a long time ago. Now they’d repurposed it to a holding cell with dull, gray walls stained by years of neglect. A remnant smell of old and dust. The soldiers lay Thorne on a crude table and strapped him tight. Zoya would have never trusted these bindings to hold him, but seeing Thorne like this, so vulnerable, she knew he wouldn’t free himself.

  The guards were about to leave, she had to act fast. She could take them by surprise here. She pressed on her glaive’s rune, preparing for a fight. It expanded, and even in her reluctance to save Thorne, she burst into the room.

  The first guard turned, startled, but Zoya struck him before he could react, using the base of the blade to render him unconscious with a strike to the head.

  The second guard lunged at her with a celestial sword, but she parried his attack. The blades clashed in a flash of light, and she pushed him back, sweeping his legs from beneath him with sheer strength. With one swift swing, she cast him against the wall and knocked him out.

  With the guards incapacitated, Zoya turned to Thorne.

  He was unconscious.

  She hated the fact that she tore the straps and pulled him off the table. She hated the fact that she hoisted him over her shoulder.

  She hated that she was getting him out of here.

  Thorne was heavy, more than regular humans, but she was strong. Scanning the room quickly, she searched for the Crucible. The small, multifaceted sphere of polished metal, with its faintly pulsing core, was nowhere to be seen. No trace of it.

  No time to waste. She’d carry Thorne out of here and contact Gale. If Khan thought one hour was enough for Thorne to regain energy but still subdue him, she’d have to trust that.

  Zoya exited the room carrying Thorne and made a run for the staircase. Once upstairs, undetected, she stopped briefly, pulled out her MI5 communicator, and pushed the button. Even from deep underneath London, she knew Gale would get the message. Zoya pressed on.

  As she snuck onto the platform back in the hall, she cast a quick glance at the artefact. It hovered in place like a silent ghost. She ran to the next door and down the next metal staircase and through the corridors, and she was back in the room with the large turbine.

  She passed the turbine and Liam stirred, groaning softly, and she realised she needed a break. She was strong, but this escape pushed her limits.

  She set him down, her glaive at the ready in case he tried anything.

  His crimson eyes flickered open, and for a moment, there was a spark of recognition, then something else—bitter amusement.

  “Of all people,” he rasped, his voice hoarse, “you’re the one carrying me.”

  O Father Celestial, how she hated him.

  Zoya held her glaive by his neck, its light making his battered face even more visible. For a moment, she considered leaving him here, but her instincts wouldn’t let her. He stirred again, his lips twitching into a bitter smile.

  “Do you know how many times I’ve imagined this?” Thorne said, his voice like gravel. “You saving me.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself!” Zoya snapped, her voice hot, filled with rage. “You don’t deserve it.”

  Liam chuckled weakly, coughing through the effort. “Deserve… Doesn’t matter. Nothing ever does.”

  “What are they doing to you?” she demanded. “What is that thing they’re using you for?”

  Liam’s expression darkened, and for a moment, he hesitated. Then, with a resigned sigh, he began to speak. “They’re siphoning my immortality.” He made it sound like a simple thing. “They call it the Singularity Core. It can be used as a weapon, but that’s not its original purpose. And you know it. I’m sure you can feel it too.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Enlighten me.”

  “It changes matter,” he said bluntly. “Manipulates it, enhances it, collapses it… It can be used for terraforming or, with enough energy, it can turn a planet into a black hole. Something Aadhya would certainly love to do.”

  Zoya had only one question: how? How had such an artifact landed on Earth?

  “A ‘last resort,’ she calls it.” Thorne said with a sigh. “Something I never dared to use.”

  Never dared to use? Was Thorne already in possession of this artifact six years ago?

  As if he’d read the question on her face, he smiled. “You did not know… Of course you didn’t. He made sure you wouldn’t find out.”

  He? Who was he?

  Something clicked in Zoya’s mind. That energy coming from the artefact—celestial. That could only mean one thing: the Singularity Core came from Heaven. And he? That was her father.

  Why?

  “Now you understand,” Thorne said, reading her like an open book. “Do you know how I felt when I realised I was part of God’s plan all along? Turning into an archdemon was easier than I’d ever imagined. I never stopped to wonder why. When the Singularity Core landed on earth, I started asking myself the question. The temptation to activate it, to destroy humanity for good, was…unbelievable. But I refused.”

  Zoya struggled to speak, her voice was stuck in her throat. “So you’re saying Father Celestial orchestrated this?” she rasped instead. Suddenly, all she felt was rage again, and she pushed him down to the ground with her glaive, the blade cutting his throat slightly. “I don’t believe you!” she shouted. “You wanted to destroy humanity! Don’t you dare tell me otherwise. My father would have never created such a despicable device for that purpose. You are lying!”

  “How do you think the Great Flood happened? Did you ever stop to wonder why your ‘Father Celestial’ had done that? Humanity is WRONG!” He was shouting too, louder and louder. His energy was returning quickly.

  Thorne pushed the glaive away with one sway of the hand and rose to his feet. He towered above her, his eyes burning like embers. “How can it be that one man goes to space while millions are starving? How can the planet dying become a political debate? We are termites! We destroy each other and the very thing that gives us life and for what? Glory? There’s no glory in self-destruction.” Thorne caught his breath, calming himself. His energy had not yet completely returned. “But I never wanted to destroy humanity,” Thorne admitted, but Zoya still didn’t want to believe him. “What I wanted was a reset, so we could do things better. A ‘Great Flood’. Aadhya, on the other hand, she wanted this.” He pointed toward the staircase, toward beyond these walls where the artifact loomed. “The only reason you could stop me is because she’d already started draining me long before I realised it.”

  Only now did Zoya realise she was fighting back tears. Thorne was not lying. That celestial ability, knowing when someone lied, had never left her. But she wanted him to lie. Because that was better than facing the truth: this had been part of Father Celestial’s plan all along.

  “If you want to save humanity, you can stop Aadhya,” Thorne said. “She’s your father’s new puppet, not me.”

  Zoya’s grip tightened on her glaive as her mind churned with fury and doubt. If what Thorne said was true—and it was—then the battle she had fought, the sisters she had lost, the humanity she had saved—it had all been part of her father’s twisted divine scheme. Her faith, already fractured, now felt like shards in her hands, cutting deeper with every thought.

  Before she could say anything, she heard voices, shouts, orders, and within seconds, tens of soldiers crawled out of their tunnels like termites and aimed their weapons at the both of them. Khan emerged from the shadows, clutching the same tablet. Behind her, the Singularity Core materialized, phasing through the wall as if it didn’t exist.

  The first shot rang out like a thunderclap, followed by a hail of bullets. Zoya dodged immediately and folded her wings. They may be clipped, but they still protected her against human weapons. Thorne remained still, and when she got a look at him, he was smiling. Each bullet tore through his body, only to be ejected seconds later as his wounds closed. His crimson eyes flared with rage as he surged forward, turning the tide with brute force.

  Zoya clutched her glaive, its light cutting through the chaos. She launched herself into the fray, spinning and striking with precision. The guards were well-trained, but none could match the might of a warrior angel wielding Heaven’s own weapon. Her glaive carved arcs of light through the room, disarming and incapacitating soldiers as she fought her way toward Aadhya Khan.

  Soldiers who reached Thorne and struck him with celestial swords inflicted damage, cutting through his skin. Thorne roared before launching a column of fire at those who dared touch him.

  At the center of the chaos, Khan stood resolute, her hand gripping the ancient celestial tablet. With a few swift motions, she activated the Singularity Core. The device pulsed louder and louder, and a wave of crushing gravity rippled outward, pinning everyone to the ground. Machinery groaned and crumpled under the immense pressure, and Zoya felt her strength waning. A shimmer of light evaporated from her skin and formed a flux ribbon toward the Singularity Core.

  She tried, with all her might, to push herself up, but the pressure was too much. She couldn’t move at all. Her glaive retracted on its own. Zoya managed to raise her head, only to see Thorne rising from the ground.

  He had regained enough of his stolen energy. With a guttural roar, he unleashed a devastating explosion of hellfire, obliterating the nearest guards and sending shockwaves through the hall. The Singularity flickered and faltered but remained active, its pull growing stronger. Objects, debris, and even bodies were dragged toward the forming black hole.

  Zoya scanned the area. Khan stood before the Singularity Core, the artifact almost entirely consumed by darkness. She was unhurt and unaffected by its gravitational pull. If only Zoya could get to her, she could take her down with one strike, easily. Zoya clawed her way toward the woman, the crushing force increasing as Thorne launched another column of fire.

  Khan noticed Zoya approaching, and the flicker of fear glazed her eyes for a mere second. She pressed a few keys on the tablet in a hurry, and Zoya was immobilised again, right at Khan’s feet.

  Khan was no longer looking at her, but at Thorne, doing everything in her power to hold him in place. Now Zoya could strike. With all the strength she had left, she raised the rod of her folded glaive towards Khan. With one quick press on the rune, her glaive unfolded, and the blade pierced through Khan’s stomach. The only expression on Khan’s face was shock.

  Khan fell to the ground, defeated, dropping the tablet by Zoya’s side. Zoya seized it and touched its surface. She recognized the glowing celestial script. The language of Heaven. She saw and pressed the kill switch on the side of the tablet. The Singularity Core emitted a deafening wail before imploding, its swirling mass collapsing into nothingness.

  The effort left Zoya drained. She dropped her glaive and collapsed to the ground, gasping for air. Nearby, Thorne stood among the carnage and flames, the hall littered with lifeless soldiers and Aadhya Khan’s bleeding corpse. Blood dripped from his skin, his wounds no longer healing.

  Still, he approached her, his towering form casting a shadow over her weakened body. Zoya felt around for her glaive, but she couldn’t reach it. Thorne crouched beside her, his expression unreadable.

  “You could have run and left me here,” he said, his voice low. “But you didn’t. You fought by my side.”

  She said nothing, glaring up at him. He studied her for a moment, then rose to his feet.

  “I could easily kill you now,” he mused. “Get rid of you for good, the thorn in my side.”

  He then paused and let out a deep, resolute breath.

  “I was a pawn in God’s game,” he said. “But you defied him. Twice now. Your fate will be worse than me killing you.”

  He turned to leave. His wounds weren’t healing. And Zoya no longer felt his oppressive energy.

  That could only mean one thing: his immortality was gone.

  Zoya saw an opportunity she never thought she’d have. She found her glaive in an instant, fury and resolve burning within her. Could she strike him now and kill him for good? The man who’d killed so many innocents, her sisters, the man whom she’d sacrificed so much to defeat. The man so vile he’d become an archdemon.

  With a surge of energy she didn’t know she had, she lunged, driving her glaive through Liam Thorne’s back. It pierced straight through his heart, its light beaming as it struck true. Thorne staggered, choking on his own breath. She pushed the pole even further through as she rose to her feed. He tried to turn his head, but their eyes couldn’t meet.

  “Wha—” His own blood gurgling in his throat interrupted him. “Well, that was glorious.”

  His body fell with a thump.

  Zoya stared at the body, still clutching her glaive. Her glaive was covered in darkened blood, so much so that the blade was no longer glowing. But then Zoya noticed it wasn’t just blood. Dark veins spread across the once-lustrous surface of the glaive. An icy chill crept through her as she felt something inside her shift, an irreversible change. She wanted to drop the glaive but she couldn’t, as if the darkness wanted to attach itself to her, like…a thorn in her side.

  Zoya, once a warrior angel of Heaven’s Aegis, became something else—shadows creeping into her very essence. She turned away from Thorne’s body, knowing she would never be the same. The fires of Hell she had chased for so long had finally found a home within her.

  When MI5 soldiers arrived, they stormed the rest of Scorched Earth’s base. They took no prisoners. And when Gale finally saw Zoya emerge, he could no longer speak. All that was etched on his face, was terror.