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A shift in the wind blew the dust into the woods and I turned, my heart lurching at the sight before me. Ty stood on the ice surrounded by a host of angels. I stared at the assembly and my gaze locked on one pair in particular.
Michael stood, revived in his youthful form but without wings. Beside him stood a similar wingless angel with a face I barely remembered, but one that made my arms drop to my side.
“μπαμπάς?” I asked in my native tongue. “Papa, is that really you?” My throat closed around a lump that formed. I hadn’t seen my father since I was little and the fact he stood ready to do battle at my side pulled at my heartstrings.
The emotions that flew through my body left me numb. All the wrongs I had done flushed me with shame, and all the heroic actions counteracted, and I dropped my gaze to the ground, not knowing how to react.
“Damian,” he whispered and just his voice triggered fond memories of fishing on the banks of the Mediterranean. “My son,” he added and I met his gaze.
Gabriel crossed the distance and pulled me into a hug. I didn’t return it right away, aware that we didn’t have time for family reunions, but the warmth of the arms encircling me brought the burn of tears to my eyes and I met Michael’s gaze. He gave me a tight nod.
“How,” I asked scanning the white-winged beings in our midst, two of which were supposed to be trapped behind the gates of heaven.
Two who had sacrificed their grace, for me.
Steve cleared his throat and I pulled away from my father.
“I promised you an army,” Steve said and waved his hand at the heavenly host, grinning like he knew a particularly intriguing secret.