Prologue ┊ The Archangel of Delusion

The large set of ivory doors loomed before me, accented with golden handles that formed a beautiful arch shaped like wings. I stared down at my warped reflection within them, wondering whether this would be the last time I saw anything as effortlessly perfect.

It wasn’t often I got to see the Overseer, let alone speak with him face to face. The Sanctum of Celestial Concord had always adhered to the traditional method of writing letters. The upper council preferred leaving a paper trail.

I did too, though for very different reasons.

There was always something so whimsical about receiving a letter. I liked to make a ritual of it. Getting cozy at my desk and putting on some music as I read through the contents over a relaxing cup of tea.

But relaxing wasn’t the word I’d used to describe how I felt when the Summoning Letter arrived in my mailbox. Stamped with the Concord’s official emblem, no less.

‘Angel No. 1314,’ It read. ‘Your Presence is hereby requested by the upper council of the Sanctum of Celestial Concord for further disciplinary action and formal review.’

The upper council didn’t summon Angels often, and when they did, it was often for rather… polarizing reasons. And I was pretty sure I knew where I fell on that scale.

As Messenger Angels, our duties were simple. We were responsible for couriering messages between Heaven and the mortal realm in the form of dreams. And for centuries, I carried my duties out flawlessly. To the point I became the fastest to be promoted to “Chief Messenger Angel” in Concord history.

Until one day, I nearly tripped over a box left out by a young woman I was visiting.

The box itself was quite unremarkable, tucked haphazardly beside the trash can. It had only recently been assembled, evident by the way its corners were still sharply creased and the fact that the packing tape had yet to collect a single speck of dust. The flaps lay open, and with the help of the flower-shaped nightlight, I saw a colourful assortment of books, carelessly thrown inside. A few even lay open, causing a slight tear to grow on one of the pages. It didn’t look right, so I knelt down to gather and fix them when a line of text caught my attention.

“I’ll find you. Wherever you go, whatever you look like… You’ll always have me. Forever and always.”

I paused.

I should’ve put the book down.

I should’ve closed it, organized the books as I had intended to, and completed my duties.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I read the entire paragraph.

Then the whole page.

Then another.

And another.

By the time the mortal began to stir, the first traces of dawn were peeking through her blinds. I heard her mutter something unintelligible and took that as my cue to leave. I set all the books upright to prevent any further damage, delivered the dream, and left.

Well, perhaps not all the books.

I had intended to simply borrow the one that caught my eye. Eventually, returning it to its rightful owner.

That eventually never came.

Messenger Angel didn’t have much room for hobbies. Our schedules made sure of that. But whenever I could find any moment of reprieve, I’d spend my time in the Sanctum archives. It was a magical place that documented the rise and fall of civilizations, great historical events, and the discoveries that shaped the mortal realm. It held answers to some of the world’s greatest mysteries, records that stretched back millennia, and prophetic texts written long before my awakening. I had read nearly all of it.

And yet, for all the knowledge I had accumulated, nothing could have prepared me for the first time I stumbled upon a book that wasn’t trying to tell me what happened. Rather, a book that was trying to make me feel what happened.

Not the historical account of a political pawn set to be married off to strengthen diplomatic ties.

But a story.

A story of a princess who fell in love with a dragon.

The archives would have detailed the political landscape of the continent. How beneficial the marriage could’ve been, if only the princess hadn’t been snatched away by the dragon. And if only she hadn’t stayed with him, on a selfish whim of her own.

But the book made me feel it.

The desperation of the princess to escape a loveless marriage. The petrifying fear when the dragon snatched her up. The confusion and wonder when he transformed into a man before her very eyes. The loneliness that radiated from him as they stood over his fallen kingdom.

It was mesmerizing, the way mortals behaved.

They were filled with contradiction. With desires that mounted almost tangentially with how forbidden they were. They’d hurt the last person they wanted to, cry, laugh, then make-up. And by the time I turned the next page, they’d be right back to the same song and dance.

I wanted more. I needed more. And when the archives proved woefully lacking, I returned to the mortal realm to scour, only to notice the same patterns emerging from the very mortals I’d deliver dreams to.

The tragic backstory of a woman crying over her deceased husband’s letter. The unshakable resolve of a young man determined to get into his academy of choice. The conflict between a single father and himself as he worked up the courage to speak to his crush.

Then one day, a thought hit me.

Why were our dreams so… boring?

They were important, sure. Messages from Heaven, premonitions to the future, guidance for the lost. But compared to the page-turners I’d been reading, our messages began to feel strangely dull by comparison.

Where was the emotion? The heartbreaking plot twists? The gripping resolutions?

It all seemed so obvious that I took matters into my own hands, and began altering the messages.

A narrow, hand-in-hand escape from the clutches of the demon king.

A journey for a grieving widow to revive their deceased love, just to hear their last words again.

A steam air balloon experiment gone wrong, one that required both sets of hands to fix.

I gave them adventures, romance, mysteries, heartbreak, and tragedies. I’d tailor each one to the recipient. Took whatever plot threads I could unravel in their waking lives, be it their fears and disappointments, their hopes and dreams, and wove them into stories. Sometimes I gave them happy endings. Other times, I didn’t.

Whatever suited the narrative best.

I suppose that was what landed me outside the Overseer’s office in the first place.

I puffed out my chest a little as I reached to open the doors. If I was going to be the second Angel ever banished from Heaven, I was doing it with my head held high.

The Overseer was a young man, dressed in a white robe, his long hair so pale it nearly blended into the marble floor it dragged along. In fact, all Messenger Angels in the Concord had white hair, with me being the only exception.

I had a pop of blonde peeking out—an underdye I’d done in my attempt to imitate the princess from the story. I didn’t turn out quite the way I wanted, because I ran out of hair dye. But I liked it enough to keep it.

The Overseer glanced up, and I felt myself deflate a little as his golden gaze settled on me. He gestured to the seat across from him, and I shuffled over.

Neither of us said anything.

My eyes began to wander, only occasionally jittering back when the Overseer flipped the page in a booklet he was holding. His office had tall windows, just like mine. The walls on either side were lined with postal sorting cabinets, each cubby filled with letters set to be distributed among the Messenger Angels.

Then, I spotted a ceramic vase filled with lilies tucked into the corner of the cabinets.

“You have lilies,” I blurted out.

He raised an eyebrow at me, then followed my gaze.

“Ah, yes. The flowers.”

“They’re lilies, sir. In the language of flowers, they can mean purity.” I learned that from a book about a florist. “I think they suit you very well.”

 The Overseer hummed, not sparing me nor the lilies a second glance.

“I presume you know why you’re here.”

I considered pretending I didn’t, but what good would that have done?

“Yes, sir.” So, I answered honestly. “B-But I can explain!”

He turned another page.

“I’m listening.”

I cleared my throat and sat a little taller. “I’m improving upon their dreams.”

For the first time since I sat down, the Overseer looked directly at me.

“Have you?”

“I like to think so.” I offered a smile. “I mean, they’re a lot more interesting now, aren’t they?”

“Interesting is not the purpose of your assignment, 1314.”

“Astra. I go by Astra now.”

Named after the princess from the very first novel I read.

The Overseer set down the booklet, and I caught a glimpse of the title.

‘Angel 1314—Dream Alteration Case #193.’

“That doesn’t change my point, Astra.” He pointed to the contents. “Here. You rewrote a grieving widow’s dream. You took the grief she carried into her dreams and turned it into an… adventure to the realm of the dead.”

I tilted my head. “Isn’t that so much more exciting than waking up to him standing over her bed?”

“The woman lost her husband. Do you understand what it means to carry that kind of grief?”

“I don’t get it.” I couldn’t help but frown. “I didn’t change the ending of her dream. I just made her story more interesting. She fought through the realm of the dead, vanquished demons. Some of her friends even betrayed her. But she kept going because all she wanted was to hear her husband’s voice one more time. She was the perfect protagonist for that kind of story.”

The Overseer gave me an incredulous look. Reaching down, he flipped past a few more pages.

“What about here?” He tapped the paper. “A young man, disheartened by not being able to get into his academy of choice.”

“Oh, I remember that one,” I said, leaning forward in the velvet chair. “The original ending was so stupid. Why would he work so hard to get into one school just to accept defeat and move on to the next?”

“Because that’s what he needed to do.”

“But that ruins everything.” I frowned. “He worked so hard to get into that academy. Why spend the entire story building towards something just to have the protagonist give up over one little setback?”

The Overseer fell silent. It could’ve been my imagination, but his shoulders seemed to slum a little.

“Is that what mortals are to you?” His voice was barely above a whisper. “Characters?”

I opened my mouth.

Then closed it.

For the first time since entering the room, I didn’t have an answer. Because I knew no matter what I said, it wouldn’t satisfy him. Yet at the same time, I didn’t know if there was another answer to give.

“I mean…” My gaze drifted to the lilies behind him. “Obviously, they’re real. I know they are.”

The Overseer studied me for a long time, his brows knitted together.

“I don’t understand. You used to be a model Messenger Angel.” At last, he said. “And yet you now have the highest number of unauthorized dream alteration cases in recorded Concord history.”

Part of me wondered how often that happened in general.

“Due to your numerous offenses, the upper council has decided to take action.”

My shoulders stiffened.

The Overseer towered over me at his full height, his six wings unfurling behind him. They covered the tall windows behind him, casting a shadow that engulfed me. Suddenly, I realized my fears might very well be coming true.

“Angel Number 1314,” he began, voice taking on a deeper cadence, fitting for an official decree. “For your numerous transgressions against the Sanctum Code of Conduct. I, representing the upper council, shall pass judgement upon thee.”

I sucked in a harsh breath, wondering if this would be the last time I ever saw the sun.

“You are hereby… promoted from your position of Chief Messenger Angel.”

I blinked.

“Huh?”

“You will ascend into an Archangel, and be granted the title Archangel of Delusion—“

“W-Wait. Wait!” I shot to my feet. “You’re promoting me?”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Did I not make myself clear?”

“No, no. I heard you perfectly fine. I just… I don’t know.” I staggered backwards, legs nearly giving out when my knees hit the velvet chair. My head was spinning, though I couldn’t tell if it was from standing too quickly or from the sheer whiplash of the situation.

To be honest, I’d walked into the Overseer’s office fully expecting to be banished from Heaven.

I knew what I was doing was wrong. Dream alteration was no small crime within the Concord. But I believed in my work. I believed in the stories I had written. So if the upper council wanted to punish me for it, I had been prepared to accept my punishment with my head held high.

This was not what I expected.

“No, it’s okay.” I pressed a hand against my temple and shook my head, still trying to process everything.

“Thank you,” was what I settled on. “Thank you so much. I never thought—”

“Do not thank me yet. You have yet to receive your halo.” The Overseer’s expression remained unchanged. Though from the centuries I’d known him, I could count on one hand the number of times I’d seen him express anything beyond mild irritation.

He motioned toward the wide-open space beside his desk, gesturing for me to move forward. I hurried to follow his directions, smoothing down the fabric of my knitted dress as I went.

Ascension.

I was going to ascend into an Archangel. That was the highest honour a Messenger Angel could receive. Along with the new title came a new halo, new wings, a new outfit, and of course, new responsibilities.

Though I couldn’t help but wonder what exactly the “Archangel of Delusion” was supposed to do. Though at the time, I thought it sounded rather glamorous.

“Okay.” I spun around to face him. “I’m ready.”

The Overseer made a sweeping motion with his hand, casting a splash of what I could only perceive as celestial magic in my direction.

It was gold and coarse, almost like sand shimmering beneath the sunlight. I subconsciously held my breath as it showered over me, and I felt a tingling sensation prick behind my ears. My wings, the shape of small fluffy clouds nestled between my shoulder blades, began to ache. And my clothes began to feel lighter against my skin, as though the fabric itself was being rewoven.

“You can open your eyes now.”

I hadn’t even realized I closed them.

I quickly turned to the tall window, scrambling to make out the changes in my reflection.

My hair was longer now, cascading over my shoulders in soft curls. The familiar pale white was gone, and in its place was a delicate pink that reminded me of a freshly bloomed peony. And tangled between silken strands, growing out directly behind my ears were a small pair of head wings.

I blinked a few times, and they fluttered along with my eye movements.

How strange.

As my eyes trailed down, I then noticed my underdye was gone.

“You took my hair dye,” I protested out loud.

“It looked messy.”

“But I liked it.”

He ignored me.

My pink knitted dress was changed for a blue one, decorated with layers of ruffles and golden accents that caught the light whenever I moved. A golden insignia bearing the Concord’s emblem rested against my chest.

And then there were my wings on my back.

They had nearly tripled in size, their previously soft appearance giving way to hundreds of feathers, each glimmering faintly. They possessed an extra joint now too, allowing them to fold completely around my body to cocoon me.

I experimentally flexed one, only for it to immediately droop, my shoulder going with it as the sluggish weight caught me off guard.

“Are they supposed to feel like that?” I asked.

The Overseer shrugged. “You’ll adjust.”

I pursed my lips, shifting my attention to the final new piece that hovered over my head.

A halo.

My halo.

It was simple. Gold, with small spikes protruding. Far simpler than the elaborate styles I’d seen on other archangels. But it was mine. And not in the way my fake halo made of cardboard and pipe cleaners would look whenever I pretended to have one.

I touched it, holding my breath as the halo dipped under the weight. Only to float back into place.

“This is amazing!” I twirled, feeling out the volume of my new skirt. “The hair, the wings, the dress…!”

“Archangel of Delusion, Astra. Reporting for duty.” Clicking my heels together, I beamed at the Overseer. “So what are my duties? Making people dream bigger? Rewriting more messages? Oh, I have so many ideas. There is this boy who needs just a little push to help his illness. I was thinking—“

“I have a very different assignment for you.” The white-haired man held up a hand, interrupting me. “One the Concord has never undertaken before.”

“Whatever it is, I won’t let you down.”

The corner of the Overseer’s lips quirked upward. “I know you won’t,” he mused. “As part of your promotion, you will be required to participate in a field study, of sorts.”

What?

“You will be sent to one of the many mortal realms to further your studies in understanding mortals and their way of life.”

“I’m sorry?” I couldn’t help but stare blankly at him. “But… But isn’t that just banishing me?”

“Hardly. You’ll still be an angel by name. Consider it sabbatical leave.”

“What’s the difference?!” I forgot myself in the moment, lashing out. “What about my office? All the messages and dreams I still need to deliver? Will I still be able to come back to Heaven? W-What’s going to happen to all that?”

“As an Archangel, your duties have changed. Those messages will be handed off to Angel No. 2109 to deliver.” The Overseer’s expression tightened as he once again outstretched his wings. Maybe it was due to my attempt at moving my wings failing so miserably, but he suddenly seemed that much more intimidating.

“As for when you can return to Heaven—” He gave it some thought. “—When I deem that you’ve completed your studies.”

“And… when will that be?”

“When I deem it so.”

I shrunk a little under his looming shadow. And when he lifted his hand, I froze.

Now? I was going to be put on sabbatical— banished now? Without the opportunity to say goodbye to my subordinates? Or given the grace to gather my belongings?

Before I could even put together a mental list of everything I’d miss during my absence, the air around me began to thin.

“Wait,” my words came out in a rasp.

The room blurred at the edges as a gust of wind erupted beneath my feet.

“Wait! Please! You don’t understand!” I felt myself levitating against my will. My new hair and dress whipped wildly. I tried to leave the Overseer’s magic that swirled around me, but found my hands pressing up against an invisible barrier.

“I’m an angel! I-I’m—” I could barely hear myself anymore. “I’m a reader! Not one of them!”

A golden white light spilled into my vision, clouding it. I held my breath, only to hear something that sounded like a chuckle from the Overseer. I looked at him, and for the first time since I entered his office, he was smiling.

“That,” his voice echoed in my head, “is what I’m counting on.”

Finally, the Sanctum washed away to a white light.

I hadn’t even realized I’d closed my eyes. But when I opened them again, gone were the marble floors and sorting cabinets. Instead, I found myself staring up at the clear blue sky. My hair whipped upwards with the wind, long strands streaming past my face to create a trail of pink.

It took me a moment to realize.

I was falling.

“AT LEAST PUT ME ON THE GROUND!” I screamed, hoping the Overseer could still somehow hear me.

I tried to turn myself around and assess what I was falling toward, but my massive new wings—the very ones I’d wanted for all my life—had completely blocked my view. All I could make out was the sliver of a blue lake, as well as the rolling fields of green rushing towards me.

It was now or never.

I’ve read stories about moments like these. About how, when things were at their most dire, the protagonist’s latent abilities would kick in and save the day.

This was my moment.

Engaging every back muscle I could feel, I tried to force my wings to move. I thought I felt them shift a little, though I couldn’t tell if that was genuine movement or simply a shiver from the chill of wind.

It felt like an entire, bulky fifth limb I’d somehow been expected to know how to use.

I clenched my fist, letting out a very disgraceful noise.

My wings twitched. And for a split second, relief flooded my system as thought I would be alright after all.

Only for them to flop uselessly to the side almost immediately.

My mouth went dry.

The ground was getting closer. Much closer now.

“Wait, wait, wait—”

I flailed my arms, hoping that would somehow help cushion my fall.

It didn’t.

THUD.

Everything came way too quickly as I felt a strong impact on my back. Or my head? I couldn’t tell anymore.

All I knew was that my body was hurting everywhere.

I lay there for who knows how long, watching as the clouds floated by.

I couldn’t help but compare them to the ones I’d see floating out my office window at the sanctum. They looked remarkably similar, even from beneath. Smaller, but just as fluffy.

A breeze combed through the grass, and my skirt swayed along with it.

This all felt like a bad dream.

By the time I gained the will and strength to move, the clouds were tinted orange by the sunset.

I moved my finger, then my toes, then my head. Only to immediately regret it when I sat up too fast, and the world lurched.

“Ow…” My hand flew to my head.

I landed somewhere in a meadow, surrounded by tall grass. There was an almost impressive crater left in the ground, imprinted in the shape of my body.

I was still alive, that was for sure. Though I couldn’t die as a Messenger Angel in the sanctum, I wondered if those same rules applied to those on sabbatical, or those in another world entirely.

Regardless, I figured I shouldn’t test my luck.

“Hey!” A gravelly voice echoed through the fields, and I instinctively searched for the source.

A bit further away, I saw an old man with short white hair and a beard. He moved with a hobble to his step, waving one hand over his head as the other cupped around his mouth.

“Are you okay, little lady?” He shouted.

I stared at him as he approached.

A mortal.

This was the first time I was conversing with a real mortal.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone right now,” he said. “It’s gettin’ late. Monsters tend to gather ‘round here after nightfall.”

Once he got closer, I noticed the old man had hazel eyes. He was also decently built, with muscular arms but a stomach that had been padded by a life of ease.

“You hearin’ me, young lady?” He raised a scarred brow. “It’s not safe for you here.”

I took in my surroundings one last time. A horizon of mountains that stretched into the distance, and a sun hung almost at eye level to where I was sitting. Another breeze swept past, sending the tall grass rustling and tickling against my thigh.

I definitely wasn’t in Heaven anymore.

I swallowed hard.

“I… I’m an angel. And I think I just got thrown out of Heaven.”

Next Chapter (Coming Soon