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His words were a warning, one that should’ve startled me – but after going through hell and back with Raya, little scared me anymore. “I can handle it.”

He finally turned to look at me, and there it was again – the deep pain in his dark eyes, now unveiled. “Maybe I don’t know if I can.”

I scoffed. “Listen, I get that you’re a celestial bureaucrat and all, but at this point, please either spill or stop with the cryptic hints.”

“Alright.” He closed his eyes for a moment. I waited.

He stayed silent for a long time, until I wondered if he would speak at all. When he did, the words reverberated in my chest.

“Guiding children is different from guiding adults.” He spoke slowly, his eyes focused on an unseen point in the distance. “Children don’t get the gray souls, but the pure ones. The truly celestial beings who enter into an arrangement willingly. Children’s lives aren’t gambled with the way adults are – the idea is that everyone should get a fair chance at life. Certain factors, such as the environment they grow up in, are beyond our control – as much as we would like every child to grow up in a healthy, stable and loving family, that unfortunately isn’t something we can influence.” His eyes closed for a moment as he took another deep breath. “That is why guardian angels arose originally, before this – dare I say it – foolish experiment to guide adults. Children who grow up in less fortunate environments are assigned a guardian angel.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly. “I said I was a guardian angel, but I never specified what kind. I was a guardian for children.”

I nodded slowly, letting the words sink in. Jurrian being a guardian angel for kids didn’t surprise me – he had always seemed better than most of us. What surprised me was why he now concerned himself with the damned instead of continuing his honorable quest. “Past tense?”

His mouth twitched as he nodded. “Another difference between an adult assignment and a child one,” he continued, ignoring my question, “is that child assignments are not so much about redemption, but protection. Children can’t have gray souls – their sins don’t count toward the balance, as they are a product of the environment they grow up in. As they progress into adulthood, they become responsible for their own choices – but during childhood, their guardians’ job isn’t to redeem them, but to keep them safe.” He took another deep breath, and to my dismay, his voice trembled. “Our abilities can protect them from harm that could direct them toward an otherwise questionable path.” When I glanced down, his knuckles had turned white from how hard his fists clenched. “Unfortunately, similar to adult assignments, even a child guardian’s influence is limited. Not everything is preventable.”

I frowned, trying to understand where this was going. The unease in my stomach swelled, but I still couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

A shock went through me when he spoke again, his voice trembling with unshed tears. “That broke me,” he said, barely above a whisper. “I played by the rules, and it broke me. That’s why I don’t feel I’ve earned redemption, despite doing what I technically needed to do. That’s why I’ve spent all these years trying to make up for my sins by guiding other guardians – and it still doesn’t feel enough. Maybe it won’t ever be enough for me. I can’t go to the higher realm when my own conscience tells me I don’t deserve it.” He glanced back up at me, his dark eyes dulled with the weight of his guilt. “Do you understand what I mean?”

I breathed out slowly, overcome by the strange urge to put my hand on his and comfort him. “I understand what you mean, I think, but I’m struggling to understand why you’re so consumed by guilt over it,” I said carefully. “The system is broken – you and I know this, but you did nothing wrong. Why should you punish yourself for that?”

His laugh came out hollow – an unusual sound from his mouth. “Tell that to the child whose family I couldn’t save.” He took another unsteady breath before slowly turning to face me again.

Dread coiled tighter in my stomach, twisting into a truth I didn’t want to face. “What do you mean?”

His jaw clenched as if he were battling himself, torn between wanting to see my reaction and not wanting to look me in the eye for the next part. “I could make sure the child wasn’t home when her house went up in flames.” He swallowed thickly. “I could not do the same for her parents and older siblings. I saved her life, but I did not save her from a life of trauma. I could not save her from the person she became – and as much as it pains me, I can’t save you now.” The last words came out choked, barely audible.

His words swept the ground away beneath my feet. “Me?” I whispered. “You were my guardian angel?”

Jurrian nodded once.

The world started spinning.

“No.” I could only stare, unable to form the words beyond the one that forced itself from my throat.

“That’s why I’m so set on helping you, even though I shouldn’t.” He lowered his head, unable to look at me. “After watching your house go up in flames, I felt so powerless; I never wanted to go through that again. And so, I resigned from my position at once. I would rather watch a hundred gray souls destroy themselves than be unable to save an innocent child ever again.” His mouth twisted into a grimace. “The adult guardian experiment started not long after. I thought it would be the only way I could find redemption, but I never thought that one day, I would have to mentor you and be doomed to fail you once again.” His eye twitched. “Fate never fails to surprise us with her cruel ways.”

I jumped to my feet so quickly, it startled him. He glanced up at me, and for the first time since we met, the man seemed afraid of my judgment – an ironic reversal of our roles.

“How could you keep this from me?” I pointed a trembling finger at him, tears burning against my eyes. “How could you pretend to have my interests in mind when you were there when my world turned upside down?” I spat out the words, making him physically flinch. “How can you lecture me about morals when you know damn well what made me like this?”

“I’m lecturing you because I care.” He stood, a silent plea for forgiveness gleaming in his eyes. “I’m trying to tell you that while we can’t change what happened to us, we can change how we react to it as adults. I’m trying to help you extend the same grace to Raya, even though it’s hard, because it’s the only way to save your soul.”

“Save my soul?” A humorless laugh rolled from my lips. “You know what would’ve saved my soul, Jurrian? Not having to grow up as an orphan.” The mask slipped, allowing my words and tears to spill freely – and for the first time since that awful day, I made no effort to stop them. “Why did no one ask me what I wanted? Because I’m here now, and let me tell you: I’d rather have died with them.”

I drew in a sharp, shaky breath. “I’d rather have my life ended there than grow up alone, forced to find my way in a cruel world without a shoulder to lean on, always wondering why I deserved to survive and not my family. You would’ve saved me a lot of pain, as well as those poor people I defrauded that you seem to care about so much.”

The moment I spoke the words, I realized I was still shifting the blame – as if Jurrian was responsible for the choices I’d made in my life. I clenched my teeth. Changing my habits was harder than I thought – I wouldn’t know, because I’d never cared for trying to be a better person.

“I know,” he said, barely audible, lowering his gaze. “But I had no way of asking you. All I saw was a child whose life I couldn’t not save.” When he glanced up at me, a single tear glistened on his cheek. “I’m not asking for your forgiveness, Seren; I’m asking for your understanding. Understand that sometimes, there is no right choice, and all we can do is stay with the people we love as we’re forced to watch them make the wrong one.”

Red clouded my vision. With another snort, I turned away from him. I wanted to scream and punch him, and yet, deep down inside, I knew Jurrian wasn’t the one I was truly angry at – but then who? Raya? Myself? God, fate? Who was even in charge here? Was anyone in charge, or was it all just dumb, stupid luck – or in my case, a lack thereof? Was there a reason for bad things to happen other than coincidence? Did anything ever mean something, or were we all just victims of cosmic dice rolls?

“So, I’m asking you once again.” Jurrian’s soft voice interrupted my spirals. “Do you want to end this assignment? I promise I wouldn’t blame you. No more lectures, no trying to change your mind. You just say the word, and I’ll end it.”

“And then I’ll go to Hell.” The words came out monotone.

He flinched, as if physically hurt. “Yes.” A pause. “But do you want the full truth? You’re most likely going to end up there anyway, and so is Raya. This experiment…” He snorted. “It’s dumb, reckless, and it was doomed to fail from the start. I told you at the beginning, it’s very rare for a gray soul to find redemption this way. Not impossible, but rare. You have all the odds against you. I’m sorry,” he added, more quietly.