Chapter 9 The visitor

Thaddeus stood before the private elevator on the 42nd floor, heart thudding against his ribs. The alarm had stopped as abruptly as it began, but the red light still pulsed on the wall panel. REFUGE AGENCY – INTRUDER ALERT. Three days of silence in this place—no staff, no deliveries, no maintenance—and now someone had reached the top.

Malachi stood to his right, calm but coiled, suit jacket unbuttoned, ready to summon wings if needed. Uriel flanked the left, fists clenched, tie already loosened as though he expected to tear it off along with the mortal disguise. Both angels radiated quiet fury, their golden skin faintly luminous beneath the tailored fabric.

Thaddeus swallowed. “If it’s Echo…”

“Then we fight,” Uriel growled, voice low. “And you stay behind us, master.”

Malachi’s tone was softer but no less firm. “We protect what is ours. Stand ready.”

The elevator pinged. The doors slid open.

A man stepped out.

Plain white uniform, slim build, nervous eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. A leather satchel hung from his shoulder; in his right hand he held a rolled scroll bound with silver cord that shimmered faintly. He looked like a courier who had taken the wrong turn into hell.

Thaddeus took receding steps.

Malachi exhaled. “Azriel.”

Thaddeus paused at Malachi's voice. At least, the stranger had a name that one of his guards knew .

Uriel’s shoulders dropped a fraction. “Still running errands, little messenger?”

Azriel blinked at them, then bowed awkwardly to Thaddeus. “My lord. I am Azriel, courier of the archives. I bring a sealed message from the council.”

Thaddeus stared. “Council?”

“Yes, my lord.” Azriel’s voice trembled slightly. “I am of heaven."

“How did you find me?" Thaddeus wanted to be sure if his location was safe.

“Barely. Supernatural entities can find each other—always. But they do not attack unless the other is unprotected. Your guardians shielded you. So, your enemies know where you are.“

"That's true, master," Uriel confimed.

“Fuck!" Thaddeus felt the air leave his lungs. He had thought the penthouse was safe. Now he understood: he was in a fiercer battle than he had imagined. He could not simply sit around as his fallen had warned.

They moved to the office. Azriel stood in the center of the room, scroll still clutched like a lifeline. Malachi closed the door. Uriel leaned against the wall, arms folded, watching.

Thaddeus sat behind the desk. “What’s the message?”

Azriel unrolled the scroll. The parchment glowed softly as it opened. “The council has observed your awakening, my lord. They see the Ledger’s toll on you. You are cultivating it—using it—and I'm here with the fatal information, that I with every use your organs fail faster. Your body is dying.”

Thaddeus’s throat tightened. He had felt it: the shortness of breath, the dull ache behind his ribs, the way his hands trembled after each harvest. “I know.”

Azriel’s eyes were wide with something like pity.

“The council sent me to warn you. Many things escaped containment when the Ledger broke free. Not just the ledger. Mini entities slipped through first—small curses, fragments of forgotten rites, tiny demons no bigger than whispers. They scattered like sparks from a fire. Then came the larger ones: rogue reapers, leaking hell portals, ancient curses waking in small towns, forgotten gods stirring under cities. And many more yet to be spoken about—things the council themselves fear naming aloud. The world is full of supernatural episodes now. You are one of them—an anchor holding the balance. But the problem now is, hell wants the Ledger back. They want you back.”

Uriel flashed forward, anger boiling over. “The Ledger leaves, we die too. You don’t do that, messenger. You don’t threaten our master.”

Azriel flinched but held his ground. “I do not threaten. I warn. The council does not command you, my lord. They only ask that you understand the cost.”

Malachi stepped close to where Thaddeus sat, voice calm. “My lord, there is a way. If the entities really escaped, then the Ageless Balm must have escaped too. It can heal anything—angel, demon, mortal. It stops the decay. Reverses it. You can be healed.”

Thaddeus looked at him. "What are you suggesting?"

"You have the ledger, hell will soon sent hellites after you. Do want to lessen your chances of survival by taking one more oddities to yourself?" Azriel asked.

They ignored.

“It is real,” Malachi said. “Hidden, guarded, but real. Get it, master. You will be healed. You will be strong enough to carry this burden.”

Azriel rolled the scroll closed. “I have delivered the message. The council watches, but they will not interfere. The choice is yours.” He bowed once more, turned, and walked toward the elevator. The doors opened for him without a button pressed. He stepped inside and was gone.

Silence filled the room.

Uriel broke it first. “We need the Balm. Before anyone else gets it.”

Thaddeus rubbed his face. “More enemies on my trail?”

Malachi nodded. “That is why you must use the Ledger. Save the innocent to bind more of us. Orchestrate the end of the wicked to weaken Echo. Build the army. The more fallens you gather, the harder it becomes for Echo to reach you, even the hellites when they come. The stronger you become.”

Thaddeus looked out at the city again. The lights still hid thousands of the oppressed. Thousands of villains. He felt the Ledger hum in his veins—quiet, patient, waiting.

“It’s getting complicated,” he muttered. “Fuck.”

Uriel’s voice was gruff but steady. “It was always complicated, master. You just stopped pretending it wasn’t.”

Thaddeus exhaled slowly. He thought of the world as easy as he had always seen it. He never knew it was that much spiritual.

There were many spiritual episodes happening. But because he was mere mortal, he never knew they were. But now he was right there in the middle.

The Ledger, Echo, Fallen Angels, The Courier, and now Hellites. Fuck.

He stood.

“Then we go get the Balm.”

Malachi bowed. “As you command, my lord.”

Uriel cracked his knuckles. “Finally.”

Thaddeus turned toward the window one last time. Somewhere out there, the world was breaking open. And he was one of the cracks.

But he wasn’t alone anymore.