Jeremy sat alone in the old hangar on the outskirts of town, in a place that didn't exist on any map.
A former train repair station — abandoned, rusting, covered in layers of rubble and dust. This was where he came when he felt like he was about to explode.
But today felt different.
There was something strange in the air — as if electricity vibrated under his skin. His breathing was shallow, his heart pounded like crazy. His thoughts were blurring, images colliding. Rosalie. Julie. Jack's burning eyes. Alison's scream, telling him to run…
He clenched his fists.
The ground beneath him trembled slightly.
Jeremy looked down at his hands — his skin had darkened slightly, as if cracks had formed, and from them seeped red light. Like lava. Like rage with no outlet.
He closed his eyes. Tried to suppress it. To control it.
But then he heard a voice.
A whisper, echoing like Lucifer himself. Deep, cold:
"Don't suppress what is yours. It won't destroy you. It will build you."
And suddenly, everything exploded.
The old hangar windows shattered with a crash. Rusted beams shook, dust rose in the air, forming a swirling vortex around the boy. Jeremy screamed — not from fear, but from relief. For the first time, he felt what it was like to have power and not be its victim.
Darkness spread from his feet like a shadow given life. Everything within several meters was hurled away. And he… he stood calmly, hands open, breathing heavily.
He now knew one thing:
He wasn't human. Furthermore, he wasn't just the son of demons. He was a weapon — one that hadn't yet chosen a side.
*
Jeremy was still standing in the center of the hangar, panting, when a rustle echoed from behind a dark pillar.
He turned instantly. The aura of power still pulsed in his veins, ready to erupt again. But then he heard a familiar voice — not ominous, not seductive.
"Easy, boy. I'm not here to fight you."
A man stepped out from the shadows. Worn down, with gray strands in his hair that hadn't been there before. Once, his wings had shone like dawn — now they were dimmed, stripped of their glow.
"Henry?"
Jeremy narrowed his eyes. That name brought back childhood memories. Warmth. Safety. The scent of incense. A whisper soothing him in nightmares.
"I thought you… left."
Henry stepped closer, carefully avoiding the smoldering traces of power still burning the ground.
"I thought they wouldn't let me return," he said with a sad smile. "But it seems no one watches over fallen angels. Especially those who've failed."
"You left me." Jeremy's voice was sharp. "You did nothing when Rosalie started getting close. When my mother…"
Henry nodded.
"I know. And it cost me everything. Jack and Alison… they made sure I was stripped of my rank. The archangels ruled I wasn't fit to be a guardian." He paused, eyes resting on Jeremy's hands, where the last wisps of power were fading. "But I never stopped protecting you. I was… in the shadows. Too weak to show myself. Too ashamed to meet your eyes."
Jeremy looked at him — not like he used to. He was no longer a boy needing protection. Now, he was… different. Stronger. More dangerous.
"Why are you back now?"
"Because I felt your power. So strong it shook the spiritual plane itself. Jeremy, you're not just the son of demons. You're the key to something much bigger. And if Rosalie gets to you, the world — not just this city — will be changed forever."
Jeremy was silent.
Eventually, he turned slightly away from Henry, staring at the shadows crawling across the ground again.
"I don't know if I want to be someone who needs protection anymore," he said quietly. "But if you're willing to help… maybe I can find a way not to become what she wants me to be."
Henry nodded.
"I can't promise I'll be strong enough. But I promise I won't leave you. Not again."
Jeremy only sighed.
*
The hangar was left behind, filled only with the echo of long-faded power. Jeremy walked ahead, but it was Henry who led the way. The angel's hands were damaged, still bearing the marks of battles never won. But his voice was steady as they stopped in front of an old building on the city's edge — an abandoned monastery where angelic guardians once held secret meetings.
"This is it. Your father never knew about this place. Alison never told him. But I… I kept something here for her. For both of you." Henry knelt down and slid aside a stone slab in the floor.
From the hidden compartment, he pulled out a leather-bound book. Thick, old, cracked, smelling of dust and incense.
Jeremy looked at it uncertainly.
"What is it?"
"Your mother's journal. She wrote it when she still didn't know who you truly were. Before she knew the whole truth about herself, about Jack, about you… and what was to come."
Jeremy took the book with trembling hands. The moment he touched it, he felt a familiar warmth — the memory of a voice singing to him as a child. An echo of protection. Of love. Of fear.
"Why are you showing me this only now?"
"Because now you're ready. Truly. Physically. Spiritually. You have to follow her path. And learn what she was afraid of."
Jeremy sat down on a ruined bench and opened the first page. The entries were chaotic, full of emotion, but pulsing with feeling.
"Sometimes, when I look into my son's eyes, I see the reflection of hell. But I'm not afraid of it. Because I know there is light in him too. The only question is… which will win."
Jeremy couldn't look away.
Henry stood beside him in silence. He knew that from this moment on, the boy would no longer be just the heir of darkness.
But also of memory.
And maybe… of hope.