Reyes opened her eyes.
The first thing she noticed was the light—soft, golden, impossibly warm. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, filling the space around her with a gentle glow that eased the ache in her bones.
The second thing she noticed was the platform.
It was vast, circular, its surface made of a material that seemed to shimmer like pearl. She couldn't see the floor beneath it—only endless white that stretched into infinity. It was as if the platform was suspended in a sea of clouds, floating between heaven and earth.
The third thing she noticed was the stairs.
A single set of stairs rose from the platform, impossibly white, their steps gleaming like polished marble. They stretched upward, disappearing into the golden light. She couldn't see where they led. She could only see that they went on forever.
She looked down at herself.
She was wearing casual clothes—a simple blouse, comfortable pants, practical shoes. The kind of clothes a normal citizen would wear. Her armor was gone. Her sword was gone. Her scars were gone.
Her body felt... light.
She tried to reach for her sword—muscle memory, instinct. Her hand went to her hip, but there was nothing there. She realized, with a jolt, that her muscle memory for combat was gone. The movements, the reflexes, the years of training—they were just... absent.
She didn't feel weak. Just... peaceful.
She looked at the stairs.
She started climbing.
The ascent took an impossibly long time.
Reyes didn't know how long she walked. Minutes? Hours? Days? Time seemed to have no meaning here. The stairs stretched on forever, the golden light growing brighter with each step.
She didn't tire. She didn't slow. She just walked.
And then—
She saw the doors.
They were massive, towering above her like the gates of a cathedral. Their surface was carved with scenes of impossible beauty—gardens, cities, figures embracing. The light that radiated from them was warm, inviting, alive.
And behind the doors, a figure.
It was massive—over a thousand feet tall, its form glowing with celestial light. It had multiple fiery wings, each one blazing with solar fire. In its hand, it held a blade that shimmered with the heat of a thousand suns.
Reyes froze.
The figure was overwhelming—beautiful and terrible, its presence pressing against her consciousness like the weight of eternity. She felt small. Insignificant. Less than a speck of dust in the face of such power.
A voice spoke in front of her.
"Do not fear."
She looked down.
An angel was descending in front of her. Not the massive figure—something smaller, more approachable. Its form was humanoid, its wings feathered, its face kind. It wore simple robes, its expression gentle.
"Normally, this task would fall to Uriel," the angel said, "but she is currently on a mission. I am Azrael. I have been sent to guide you."
Reyes stared at it. "Where am I?"
Azrael smiled. "You are at the threshold. The gateway between worlds. The boundary between the living and the dead."
Reyes's blood went cold. "I'm dead?"
"You have passed on from the land of the living, yes." Azrael's voice was gentle, reassuring. "Your body was too damaged to sustain life. But do not grieve—your journey here was not in vain. You fought bravely. You gave everything. And now, you have earned your rest."
Reyes looked at the massive figure behind the doors. "What is that?"
Azrael followed her gaze. "That is the Gate Guardian. It has stood at this threshold since before the first stars were born. Its purpose is simple—to judge those who seek entry. Only the worthy may pass through the gates."
Reyes swallowed. "And if someone is unworthy?"
Azrael's expression didn't change. "The Gate Guardian possesses a constant ability—it incinerates unworthy souls and bodies alike within a thousand-kilometer radius. If you were unworthy, you would not be here. You would have been consumed the moment you set foot on this platform."
Reyes stared at the figure. Then back at Azrael.
"I'm... worthy?"
Azrael nodded. "You are. The Gate Guardian does not err. It does not misjudge. It simply is. And it has deemed you worthy of entry."
Reyes felt something crack inside her.
She looked at the doors.
"Is... is my husband in there?" she asked. "Is he waiting for me?"
Azrael nodded. "He is. He has been waiting for a very long time."
Reyes's eyes filled with tears.
She stepped toward the doors.
But she hesitated.
"Am I really worthy?" she asked. "I've done terrible things. I've killed. I've ordered soldiers to their deaths. I've—"
Azrael raised a hand. "You have done what was necessary. You have fought with honor. You have protected the innocent. You have given everything you had to give." It paused. "The Gate Guardian does not judge based on perfection. It judges based on intention. On sacrifice. On love. And you have all of those in abundance."
Reyes nodded slowly.
She stepped forward.
The doors swung open.
The light that poured through was blinding, overwhelming, beautiful. It washed over Reyes, filling her with warmth, with peace, with love.
She stepped through.
The world changed.
Reyes blinked.
She was standing in a living room. A familiar living room. The first home she had ever shared with her husband, before the war, before the portals, before everything.
The furniture was simple—a couch, a table, a bookshelf. The walls were warm, painted a soft cream. The windows looked out onto a garden, filled with flowers that bloomed in impossible colors.
Reyes stared.
She remembered this place. She remembered the nights they had spent here, laughing, talking, dreaming. She remembered the quiet mornings, the lazy afternoons, the peaceful evenings.
It was perfect.
Azrael appeared beside her. "Your body has been reset to the moment you were happiest. It eases the transition to heaven."
Reyes nodded slowly, tears streaming down her face.
"Before I depart," Azrael said, "do you have any questions?"
Reyes looked at it. "My son. Is he... is he okay?"
Azrael smiled. "He is alive and well. He is strong, brave, and kind. He carries your memory with him. And he will live a long, full life."
Reyes's tears flowed freely. "Thank you."
Azrael nodded. "You are welcome. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have other duties to attend to."
It departed.
Reyes stood in the living room, her heart pounding, her tears flowing.
And then—
The doorbell rang.
She walked to the door, her hands shaking.
She opened it.
He was standing there.
Her husband. The same face, the same eyes, the same warm smile. He was wearing the same clothes he had worn on the day they had first met, the day they had fallen in love.
Behind him, her parents.
Reyes broke down.
She ran into his arms, sobbing, holding him tight. He held her back, his voice soft in her ear.
"I've been waiting for you," he said. "I've been waiting a very long time."
She sobbed, her words muffled against his shoulder. "I missed you. I missed you so much."
He held her tighter.
"I'm here now," he said. "I'm here."
Behind him, her parents were crying too.
Reyes pulled back, looking at them—her mother, her father, alive and whole. They were smiling, their eyes bright with love.
"Welcome home," her mother said.
Reyes laughed—a broken, joyful laugh.
"Home," she repeated. "I'm home."