The first light of dawn bled into the sky as Marianna's eyes fluttered open. The faint glow beneath her skin returned in soft pulses, like the dying embers of a once-blazing fire. She blinked slowly, adjusting to the world around her. For a brief, terrifying moment, Hannah Beaumont thought she might never see that golden light again.
"Mama…" Marianna's voice was weak, a mere whisper against the chaos they had endured.
Relief crashed over Hannah like a wave, her breath catching painfully as tears welled in her eyes. "I'm here, baby," she whispered, clutching Marianna tightly. "You're safe now."
But even as she spoke those comforting words, Hannah knew it wasn't entirely true.
A Mother's Awakening
The air in the room remained heavy, thick with the residue of celestial power and fear. The events of the past days—the unfurling of Marianna's golden wings, the ominous shadows, the cryptic warnings—were more than any mother could bear without demanding answers.
She turned to Raziel, her eyes burning with determination, exhaustion crackling beneath every word. "No more silence. I need to understand what's happening. Why is my daughter an angel? Why was she born with powers like this?"
Raziel's ethereal glow remained steady, his gaze calm and ancient. "Because she is not just any child. She is the Child of Light, born to bring balance to a world teetering on the edge of darkness."
"That doesn't answer my question!" Hannah's voice rose, jagged with frustration. "Why me? Why her? Why was I chosen to be her mother?"
Raziel stepped closer, his presence both soothing and suffocating, like standing on the edge of an ocean of infinite depth. "You and Phillips Grayson were chosen because of your strength, intelligence, and resilience. You are two of the most capable beings on Earth—humans who have shaped their worlds through sheer will and determination."
Hannah let out a bitter, hollow laugh. "You're joking. Phillips? The man who refuses to even acknowledge his own daughter? That's your idea of resilience?"
Raziel's gaze darkened, the light around him dimming as if absorbing the weight of Hannah's accusation. "You judge him too harshly. His time will come. Every soul has a path to walk, and his is far from over."
"Spare me the cryptic prophecy," Hannah snapped. "I've carried this burden alone while he hides behind his wealth and reputation, too scared to face what we've created."
Raziel's voice became heavy with inevitability, the air itself vibrating with unseen power. "He will face his reckoning, Hannah. The universe has plans for him, whether he's ready or not."
A Fortress of Light
Without another word, the angels spread through the mansion with silent urgency. They carved intricate sigils of protection onto every entrance, every window, even beneath the floors and above the ceilings. The glow of their magic shimmered like molten silver, weaving an unbreakable web of celestial energy around the estate.
In the basement, the air turned thick with energy, each breath Hannah drew feeling like it passed through liquid fire. Raziel, Sariel, and Elara gathered in the center of the wide, empty space—an area that had once stored old wine and forgotten antiques.
"This space will serve as both sanctuary and battlefield," Raziel explained, tracing runes into the marble floor with shimmering silver dust. Every symbol pulsed in rhythm with Marianna's heartbeat, an ethereal connection between the child's power and the defenses being laid in place.
Sariel knelt at the circle's edge, drawing lines of ancient magic that stretched outward like the roots of an old, sentient tree. "If anything feels wrong, if shadows creep in places they shouldn't, you must bring Marianna here immediately. This circle will shield her until the darkness recedes—or until we arrive."
At the heart of the sigil, Elara opened a shimmering portal that resembled liquid glass, hovering inches above the ground. "This is your last resort, Hannah. A direct gateway to the Realm of Angels. Use it only if every defense falls."
The sight chilled Hannah's blood, the weight of her daughter's fate pressing on her shoulders like an iron shroud.
The World Watches
While the angels fortified the mansion, the outside world descended into chaos.
The media frenzy around Hannah Beaumont's disappearance had reached an unbearable fever pitch. Global news outlets speculated wildly about the mysterious turbulence that had rattled the private plane carrying Hannah, Marianna, and their nannies. Reports from panicked passengers described flashes of gold light, the sensation of time slowing, and an overwhelming feeling of dread.
But the most chilling detail remained unexplained: when the turbulence stopped, Hannah, Marianna, and their nannies had vanished without a trace.
More inexplicable still were the reports from Tokyo, where hotel records confirmed their arrival—but no staff remembered seeing them. No cameras recorded their check-in or departure. To the outside world, it was as if they had simply blinked into existence and then disappeared again.
Now, fresh rumours spread like wildfire across social media:
"Beaumont's Secret: Government Experiment or Hidden Power?"
"Did Hannah Beaumont Unlock Forbidden Technology?"
"Vanishing Act: The Truth Behind the Tokyo Disappearance"
The Conspiracy Machine
Inside dark corners of the internet, forums buzzed with theories—each one more outrageous than the last. Some claimed Hannah had discovered an advanced form of teleportation. Others insisted she had made contact with extraterrestrial forces, trading humanity's secrets for power.
But beneath the noise, certain voices whispered darker possibilities:
"This isn't technology—it's something older. Something ancient. A power humans were never meant to control."
Every headline, every rumour chipped away at Hannah's fortress of privacy, drawing unwanted attention toward Marianna.
The Pressure Builds
Inside the mansion, the tension was suffocating. Hannah worked tirelessly with the angels, absorbing every lesson they offered—how to sense the flicker of a shadow's approach, how to feel the shift of celestial energy in the air.
Each night, she watched as her daughter slept, the gentle pulse of Marianna's glow providing fleeting comfort. But the weight of the media frenzy, the conspiracies, and the growing power within Marianna gnawed at Hannah's resolve.
"I can't hide forever," Hannah muttered, pacing the living room as news anchors speculated on her whereabouts.
"You don't need to," Elara replied softly, her wings casting faint light across the walls. "When the time comes, the truth will reveal itself."
"But until then, they'll tear us apart with their theories. They'll never stop watching us," Hannah whispered, exhaustion lacing every syllable.
The Calm Before the Storm
As the sun set behind Miami's skyline, casting long shadows across the fortified mansion, Hannah found herself standing in the basement's circle of light. The portal shimmered before her, a gateway to salvation—or surrender.
"This is our only way out if they break through, isn't it?" she asked, voice low and steady.
Raziel nodded, the weight of countless centuries reflected in his eyes. "Yes. But I believe you'll be ready when that time comes."
Above them, Marianna's breath remained steady, her tiny body unaware of the chaos preparing to consume them.
And outside the mansion's walls, the darkness gathered—an endless sea of shadows hungering for the light within.
The war for Marianna's soul had not yet begun.
But the storm was closer than anyone realized.
And this time, even Hannah Beaumont's formidable will might not be enough to hold back the night.