Page 39 of Whispers of Helena
As I approach the immense bronze door ahead, it shimmers faintly, the carvings upon its surface weaving celestial stories older than the stars themselves. It glides open without a sound, revealing a sanctuary of incomprehensible light and comfort. Shielding Kiran’s eyes gently with my hand, I bow my head and step inside, feeling the embrace of divinity wrap around me like a beloved memory.
The brilliance shifts, condenses, and there he stands—Zadkiel. His presence radiates mercy incarnate: golden, soft yet unfathomably powerful. I do not look directly at him; the light is overwhelming even at the edges of my vision. Yet his voice envelops me.
“Caroline.” My name blooms like a song, a symphony brimming with grace and purpose. “You have served well. Time and again, you have brought souls to their rightful place here. You have not faltered in your duty.”
Tears fill my eyes, blurring the splendor around me. “Thank you,” I whisper, my voice trembling under the importance of the moment.
He continues, his tone more solemn now, pressing into the core of me. “The time has come for your final mission. You have pleaded to return to him. And now, Caroline, you will be sent to your husband.”
Hope surges in my chest, so fierce it threatens to break me. “Thank you,” I breathe, the words scarcely strong enough to carry the gratitude swelled within me.
But the warmth cools as his next words strike me like a blade cloaked in truth. “Silas Hayes carries many burdens. His sins are deep, his heart troubled. His ties to the earthly plane are strong. This mission is unlike any you have undertaken before.” A pause, heavy and pregnant with meaning. “If you fail, Caroline, he will be lost. He will be damned for eternity.”
The words shatter something inside me, an ache that radiates outward from my chest. I think of Silas, my strong yet wounded Silas, weighed down by grief, by choices made in pain and fear. I have felt his anguish even from here, his struggle to breathe in a world without me. But to know his soul teeters on the edge of eternal separation…it threatens to consume me.
Yet, I lift my chin, steadying my voice against the tremor. “I understand.”
“You will be given the wisdom and tools needed in the days before you leave. Remember, Caroline, your love is both your greatest strength and your greatest enemy.”
The golden light flares, then fades, and I know it is over. Zadkiel’s presence recedes, and the great door seals behind me with a resonant boom. The hall’s stillness returns, and with it, an overwhelming determination courses through me.
I look down at Kiran, his innocent face turned toward mine with that same blissful trust. I cup his cheek, marveling at the miracle of his warmth, the steady beacon of hope he represents.
“I’m going to bring Daddy to us,” I murmur, brushing a kiss over his forehead, my voice carrying my resolve and the lift of a promise. “No matter what it takes.”
Sweet Boy
Silas
I stare blanklyat the ceiling, the exhaustion of a restless night pinning me down. My limbs feel heavy, my chest tight. The sound of Kiran’s door opening softly down the hall cuts through the quiet. He’s awake, and whether or not I’m ready, my day has begun.
I steel myself to roll out of bed, but stop cold when I hear a sound that slices through the silence. His small knock—not on my door, but Helena’s. A flicker of an ache settles low in my gut as I strain to hear what comes next.
The click of her door unlocking is loud in the hush of the house. Her voice is soft, a careful whisper, as though their words might tear through my fraying sanity if they reach me.
“Good morning, Kiran.”
“Good morning, Ms. Helena,” Kiran replies in his boyish tone. “I think Pa is still asleep.”
“He might be. Are you hungry?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Let me get dressed and I’ll get you set. Go on down, and I’ll meet you there in a minute.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, sweet boy.”
Sweet boy.
The words grip me, drawing me into a memory I’m too weary to resist. I close my eyes and I see her again. Caroline. The doctor had just laid Kiran in her arms for the first time. Love radiates from her face, brightening the room far more than the sun. Tears swelled in her eyes as she cradled him close, her touch so tender it nearly undid me.
“Hello, my sweet boy,” she had whispered, her voice drenched with adoration so profound it redefined everything I thought love was meant to be.
That image of her, motherhood incarnate, both ethereal and grounded, had left me humbled, grateful. In that moment, I thanked God for gifting me with a woman who could love my child fiercely, endlessly.
Hearing Helena speak those same words to Kiran wrecks me.
