Raven’s mind was in a blinding state of tumult. He felt exhausted and insignificant, his amnesia still denying him the right to reclaim his own identity. His feelings at that moment were so foreign to him that he felt as if they belonged to someone else.

  Having just awakened from another one of his disturbing dreams, he still had not opened his eyes, preferring to just lie still a little while longer and pretend to be asleep. He did not yet feel strong enough to confront his new assailants. He needed time to think.

  Nearby he heard the sound of cautious footsteps. Someone entered the room and sat down beside him, moving slowly and deliberately. Raven assumed whoever was there was trying not to wake him. He imagined the person was looking at him right at that moment, so he kept perfectly still in the hopes whoever it was would let him rest a while longer.

  A different set of footsteps, much louder than the first, were now approaching.

  “How is he?” asked a concerned voice.

  “Still sleeping,” came a woman’s voice from beside him.

  “Still? He’s been sleeping for a day and a half. Do you think he’s sick?”

  A day and a half! Raven could not believe it. He’d been thinking he might have managed to get a couple hours of sleep at the most. He should have felt rested, but his muscles along with every other part of his body were communicating quite the opposite sensation.

  “I don’t think he’s sick,” said the woman. “He just seems totally exhausted. He must have gone through something horrible. We’ll let him rest as long as he needs to.”

  Raven was grateful for the woman’s sensitivity. His arm was starting to hurt from the position his body was in but he resisted the urge to move, preferring not to risk them realizing he was awake. He knew they would bombard him with questions, the majority of which he didn’t want to answer—nor could answer, for that matter.

  He had no idea who these people were. The only thing he knew was that he’d wandered aimlessly through the Fog, which shouldn’t even have been possible. And when he’d finally seen a light and stumbled out of the darkness, he was confronted by a man in a military uniform who’d jumped him, brandishing a fiery sword like the ones the angels chasing him had used.

  Raven’s right leg was hurting him. He remembered Vyns striking out at him as he was trying to flee in the subway, which was what had caused him to lose his balance and plunge into the dark, dense Fog.

  As soon as he’d emerged from it, he’d barely had a chance to react when he saw the burning blade of the sword speeding toward him, an orange trail in its wake. He’d managed to raise his left arm over his head, but the force of the impact—which should have split him in two—was most unusual and completely unexpected. He felt the blow all over his body, as if he were being struck rapidly from all directions, yet not forcefully. The flame never touched him. It stopped a few inches from his raised arm and then ricocheted back, hurling the soldier along with it several feet through the air. Another man and a woman watched wide-eyed from the back of the room, not realizing that Raven was as astonished as they were at what had happened. A circular, bluish field surrounded him, gradually losing intensity until it finally disappeared completely. He knew it had been the strange barrier that had repelled the attack of the enraged soldier.

  His first thought, borne more out of habit than reason, was to flee again, recognizing that his destiny was nothing more than to continually escape the angels only for them to find him over and over again. They must really have been enjoying the perpetual hunt in which it was always his turn to be the prey.

  “No, wait!” the woman had called out. “I’m sorry, we’ve made a mistake! I can explain!”

  The man that had previously been beside the woman leaned over the soldier who’d tried to cut him in two, apparently worried about him. Raven looked at the three of them and realized he’d been wrong. They were not angels. He clearly sensed that since the internal alarm which had always warned him of his pursuers was silent. So, Raven reevaluated the situation. The woman was not at all aggressive; remorse was written all over her face and her expression seemed to be begging him for another chance. Being tired of the relentless pursuits, deaths, angels—and longing for a few moments out of the spotlight—Raven had another thought. And this thought, for him, had nothing to do with habit.

  “I need to sleep,” he’d timidly announced. “I’m exhausted.”

  He’d then taken two steps, collapsed on the floor, and hadn’t had to wait long before sleep freed him from his mind’s control.

  In his dreams, Raven had been transported to that surreal world Nilia had referred to as the Nest. She’d said that it was another dimension, the plane from which the angels came. His mind had logically established a connection between his previous knowledge and what Nilia had told him, identifying the Nest as Heaven. Nevertheless, that hadn’t helped him to understand his surroundings, nor had it provided him with a path for figuring out why these visions continued to plague him.

  Once again he’d found himself on what appeared to be a silver balcony. Everything was bathed in a light whose origin was impossible to determine, so absolutely no shadows were formed. Raven turned and looked around him. The laws of physics as he understood them were as absent as darkness in that place. He’d realized that his line of sight did not change as he looked around; he was able to see in all directions at the same time. The images that formed in his mind overwhelmed him with so much information that it was impossible to absorb it all. Though he’d retained isolated fragments of what he’d seen, he was unable to piece it all together to make sense of it.

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  He’d noticed something enormous moving around him. He’d clearly sensed six spherical objects whose immensity his mind could not grasp. He’d somehow known their trajectories were not random; those six spheres contributed in some way to the harmony of everything surrounding him.

  Then the image had disappeared. Barely conscious of his own body, Raven had let himself be carried along by the peaceful sensation that always enraptured him when he had this dream. He floated toward the most magnificent, enigmatic place. Among glimpses of reality suspended in the air, he made out a strange, elongated figure that seemed to be made of solid light. In these dreams he would always gaze at the sight, all of his senses on overload. He’d be swept up in feelings he could not identify as he delved into the golden shape. Much to his surprise, he’d finally been able to distinguish something else this last time. The figure had two spectacular wings of light that joined together behind it.

  It was in that moment that he’d awakened. Just as before, he’d immediately felt a wave of frustration over still not understanding the cause of these recurring dreams.

  He heard more footsteps coming into the room. This time it sounded like several people. Raven slowly opened his eyes, but did not see anyone. He stretched and sat up.

  Four surprised faces were staring at him; he recognized three of them. One was the soldier who’d attacked him, though he was no longer wearing his military uniform. Another was the woman who’d apologized to him. The third was the short man who’d been beside her the first time he’d laid eyes on them and who’d run over to help the soldier after the barrier had repelled him. He’d never before seen the fourth man, whose face was partially obscured by a large cigar. He had meticulously combed hair and was wearing a designer suit.

  “Who are you?” the short one urgently demanded. His face was anxiety-ridden. “Did you see anyone in the Fog? My brother is lost in there.”

  Raven furrowed his eyebrows, surprised by the question. The mention of the Fog reminded him of how he’d gotten here. He looked around, confused. He would have sworn he was in the same place where he’d collapsed and fallen asleep, yet there was no sign of the Fog.

  “Rylan! He just woke up,” admonished the woman. “Give him a little breathing room. How are you?” she asked Raven. “You had us worried. You slept a long time.”

  “I’m feeling better, thank you.”

  “I’d like to apologize on behalf of all of us for what happened. My name is Susan. This is Rylan. The man with the cigar is Jack. And Rick is the one who mistakenly attacked you. We mistook you for someone else. May I ask your name?”

  “My name is Raven.”

  “I lost my head,” Rick interjected apologetically. “I’m glad I was the only one injured. How were you able to block me like that?”

  Raven shook his head and looked directly into Rick’s eyes. “I don’t know,” he said dryly. He saw in Rick’s eyes a measure of distrust, and he couldn’t blame him. He, too, would have liked to know how he’d done it. There were so many things he wanted and needed to understand.

  “I know you,” said Jack, coming closer to him. He took the cigar out of his mouth and blew out a cloud of smoke. “You’re the guy who was in a coma in the hospital and then escaped by melting away the wall. In fact, the sword Rick has is yours, if I’m not mistaken. Or at least, we found it in your hand. You have a lot of explaining to do, my friend.”

  “Is this an interrogation? Because I could also be asking you for some explanations. I’m sorry for barging into your . . . house, or whatever this is, but I haven’t done anything to any of you. I think it’s best if I just leave here and let you go about your business.”

  “Wait just a minute,” Rick cut in. “We just lost someone in that Fog. And almost one hundred soldiers died at the hands of whoever is on the other side. And now you show up, doing some pretty inexplicable things.”

  “This is not an interrogation,” Susan underscored, trying to smooth things over. “We’re just asking for you to help us by answering a few questions. People have died and we need to understand what’s going on before we go into the Fog. But if you truly want to leave, no one will stop you.”

  Her explanation had a calming effect on Raven. His shoulders relaxed and his body felt less tense.

  “Did you see my brother in the Fog?” insisted Rylan.

  Raven shook his head and avoided meeting his eyes, aware that this was not the answer he was hoping for.

  “There isn’t anyone in there. It’s just . . . darkness. I’m sorry.”

  Rylan moved away from the group and sat down on the floor, leaning his back against the wall and staring at the floor. Susan watched him for a few moments, her eyes filled with concern, before turning back toward Raven.

  “But you can move through the Fog. No one has ever come out of there. How is it possible that you can? Did you come from the other side?”

  “I don’t know what ‘other side’ you’re referring to.”

  “When you cross the Fog you end up in another world,” explained Rick. “I know because I’ve been there. It’s a place that’s filled with light, yet there are no shadows, and matter there can hang suspended in midair. Does that sound familiar?”

  The description was unmistakable. Raven had been going to that other world in his dreams but couldn’t possibly explain that to these strangers—especially since it probably was Heaven. They’d think he was out of his mind. And even on the offhand chance they might believe him, that would just bring up a whole new slew of questions for which he had no answers. The mere thought of angels and demons plunged him into an enormous state of confusion. His sketchy memories provided nothing that would indicate he’d gotten any kind of religious training, but from what he knew, people had more or less the same beliefs when it came to Heaven and Hell. But he’d seen angels with his own eyes. And from what they’d told him, he’d even killed one of them. Though his behavior wasn’t exactly what one would expect from someone who is supposed to be serving God, he did feel a heavy burden of guilt. And then there was Nilia. If what his eyes and ears had experienced were true, then he’d been collaborating with a demon. And he’d had feelings for her that even the belief she was evil incarnate had not been able to drive out. The image of her was forever burned in his memory, and not only had it not vanished, but he still wanted to get back to her as soon as he could.

  There was no way he could share that information with these people.

  “No, it doesn’t sound familiar,” he lied. “I haven’t been in the world you’re talking about.”

  “Yet you don’t seem surprised that we’re talking about another world,” Rick pointed out. “Where did you come from if not from there?”

  “I accidentally fell into the Fog. I slipped when I was in the subway. That’s how I got here.”

  “That’s pretty much impossible to believe,” said Jack, puffing his cigar. “Of course, the existence of another world isn’t the easiest thing to accept, either.” He paused a moment, then casually asked, “How is it that you can walk through the Fog?”

  “I don’t know.” Raven closed his eyes tightly. He couldn’t explain how he’d done it but understood it didn’t sound credible. “I just did it. My hands emit a light and I can see in the dark.”

  “Does that have anything to do with the barrier you put up to block the sword?” asked Rick, unconvinced by Raven’s explanation. “Or with the way you healed yourself and escaped from the hospital? Are you one of them? What are you?”

  “I don’t know!” shouted Raven, furious. “I don’t know how I do any of those things. But I know I’m a man just like you. I don’t come from that other world.”

  “I can’t do what you do. No one can. So you’re not like me.”