My feet are moving before I make the conscious decision, carrying me down the hallway, through the heavy doors, out into the courtyard. The gray sky stretches overhead, empty and indifferent. No wings. No angels. Nothing.
I stare up anyway, like I can will them into existence through sheer force of wanting.
Where are you?
Being out here won’t make them come back faster. I know that. Logically, I know that standing in this courtyard staring at the sky like a wishful idiot won’t change anything.
But my whole life, I’ve been the girl who waited. Who stayed inside. Who did what she was told and hoped things would get better.
Maybe being out here, under the open sky, is my way of finally doing something instead of just enduring.
I close my eyes.
Please.
I don’t even know who I’m praying to anymore. God? The universe? Remus and Romulus themselves, if they can somehow hear me across whatever impossible distance separates us?
Please, bring them home. Please let them be safe.
My throat tightens. My hands ball into fists at my sides.
I never deserved them the first time—I know that. I’m just some random human with nothing special about her except a history of making catastrophically bad decisions. But please. Please bring them back to me, and I swear I’ll never take another moment for granted. I swear I’ll be worthy of this. Of them.
I open my eyes and look up at that empty gray sky.
And I wait.
Because what else can I do?
I’m not a warrior. I can’t fly. I can’t fight space monsters or save the world. I’m just Lauren—mediocre, ordinary Lauren—who can’t even keep a job or escape her mother’s house without divine intervention.
The wind picks up, cold against my face. I wrap my arms around myself.
Please.
I don’t know how long I stand there. Minutes? Hours? Time feels weird and stretched out, like taffy pulled too thin.
My knees start to ache. My neck is cramping from staring up so long. But I don’t move. Can’t move. Because the second I go back inside is the second I admit defeat, and I’m not ready for that yet.
Not when it comes to them.
For once in my useless, passive life, I’m going to stand here and hope. I’m going to demand something from the universe instead of just accepting whatever scraps I’m given.
I’m going to?—
“My mortal beloved, behold!”
The voice booms across the courtyard like thunder, and I nearly fall over from how fast I spin around.
“Your god is here among you!”
Him.
I swing my head up so fast my neck cracks audibly, but I don’t care because it’shim, it’sthem, they’re?—
My vision blurs with sudden tears. I blink them away frantically because I need to see, need to confirm this is real and not just my desperate imagination conjuring what I want most.
But no. He’s real. He’s here.
