The Last Book of the Kind Part III The Unraveling

It reached her at exactly nine o’clock.

Without warning.

He had woken her just before dawn with a gentle kiss.

Everything had felt unchanged.

It wasn’t.

“I’ll be back before noon. Then we’ll be alone. Lil will take your mother to your apartment. Now sleep, my love. It’s still early.”

She fell asleep almost instantly.

Just as he had foretold, only a few hours later Julia and Lilith left the estate, heading toward the city, and Amelia remained alone in the empty house.

And then, at exactly nine o’clock, it happened.

Without warning.

Amelia woke with a wild, piercing scream.

Her eyes, her skin, her lungs burned as if engulfed in living fire. As if the pain had found her—

not her body.

Blind with pain, her eyes flooded with tears, while a hoarse, almost agonal cry tore from her throat.

At first, she writhed in the sheets, instinctively tensing her muscles because the pain felt marginally less unbearable that way. Soon, however, she went completely still, and the scream faded into a soundless whimper.

With every movement—no matter how small—she felt as though her skin—no, not the epidermis, but the deeper layers, down to muscle and bone—were being peeled from her body, torn away. Her tongue swelled inside her mouth, erupting with countless ulcers that blocked the flow of air. She would have suffocated, beyond any doubt, if Gabriel had not appeared beside her.

Almost immediately, she felt some relief—though the suffering remained unspeakable.

“What’s happening?! What’s happening?!” the terrified archangel repeated.

At first glance, Amelia looked perfectly healthy, but Gabriel knew it was an illusion. He could see where her suffering originated, yet despite all his knowledge, he could not comprehend how such a thing was possible. His touch eased her pain, so he gently stroked her entire body, desperate to bring her relief. Despite his efforts, he could not end her agony.

His thoughts raced. One solution forced itself upon him with relentless urgency.

Only Raphael could determine what was truly happening—and how to help Amelia.

He resisted the idea. Summoning Raphael would reveal Gabriel’s presence in a place where he was not supposed to be. If Metatron discovered this, he would be imprisoned—and everything would collapse. He could not allow that.

But with every passing minute, it became painfully clear: without the Divine Physician, he would achieve nothing.

He closed his eyes and sent a plea for help across billions of light-years, through interstellar gates and spacetime tunnels, straight into the awareness of the one he needed most. He named Amelia, voiced his fears, and begged for utmost caution and discretion.

The archangel arrived far sooner than Gabriel had expected.

Startled, he leapt away from Amelia, slamming into the wall.

“Gabriel,” Raphael said, bowing deeply to his former friend, and immediately moved toward the woman writhing in agony.

“Careful!” Gabriel warned.

“Of course,” the physician replied calmly.

That composure often irritated others—but they usually had no choice but to trust his knowledge and skill. This time was no different. Raphael moved his hands gently above Amelia’s motionless body.

“Hm…” he murmured now and then. “Fascinating.”

“What is it?” Gabriel snapped, growing impatient. The examination dragged on, and every second increased the risk of discovery. Seth could return at any moment. A confrontation with him would destroy them both—combined strength or not.

“I am seeing something I have never encountered before,” Raphael said at last, shaking his head in disbelief. “Her nervous system does not merely connect to this planet… she is one with it.

She is the system.”

Gabriel stared at him.

“How is that possible? How is it possible that you are seeing this for the first time?”

“I have never examined anything like this before. Perhaps there was simply no need.”

“Where does the pain come from?” Gabriel demanded.

“That, I can determine.”

Raphael placed his hand on Amelia’s forehead, closed his eyes, and whispered words unintelligible even to Gabriel. When he opened his eyes, he exhaled sharply.

“The border of three warring brothers. Chemical weapons. Thousands suffering. More dying with every second.”

His gaze slowly returned to Amelia’s face.

“Gabriel—she is suffering because of what is happening there.”

“But to this extent?”

“She suffers with the thousands who will soon draw their final breath.”

Raphael scanned the floor as if searching for something—an anchor, a solution. Then he found it.

“I will go to the place of slaughter. I will save those who can be saved, and I will shorten the suffering of those beyond rescue. By ending their agony, I should ease hers.”

“Then go. And quickly.”

Raphael vanished without another word.

Almost instantly, Gabriel knelt beside Amelia, clutching her hand, trying to help her in any way he could. He was taking a grave risk. He clearly remembered Seth’s promise to return before noon—and noon was approaching fast.

Suddenly, Amelia stirred. After nearly two hours of catatonia, she took a deep breath and opened her eyes. Seeing Gabriel kneeling beside her bed startled her.

“What are you doing here?” she whispered. She was too exhausted to speak louder.

“I heard your scream. I knew there was no one with you who could help. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more myself. I called the Royal Physician. Even he has never encountered a being like you—but he found the source of your agony and neutralized it.”

“And what was the source…?” She paused, reaching for the glass of water on the nightstand. “Sorry. I need to drink.”

“A chemical attack in Kurdistan.”

Amelia fell silent, her mind racing.

“That’s impossible,” she whispered. “I have to see something like that—or at least hear about it—to feel it. And nothing like that happened.”

“And yet it did,” Gabriel said softly. “Something is happening to you. Until I know what you are, I won’t know how to help you. But it was not good that you accepted him.”

For a moment she didn’t understand—then she remembered the bath.

“Were you listening?” she asked, not angry, but wounded.

“The entire Kingdom already knows. Your life—and Seth’s—is not a private matter. I don’t yet know your role, but Seth is like a father to many of us. His exile divided the Kingdom deeply—just as earlier events he caused did.”

“Who is he?” she asked. “What Kingdom are you talking about?”

“The Kingdom of Heaven, my dearest. Where the Radiance once reigned unbroken. Now it is only an empty shell—beings drifting without purpose.”

He straightened suddenly.

“He’s coming. Goodbye.”

And he vanished.

Amelia rose and went to the bathroom. Her reflection betrayed what she had endured that morning, though she felt almost well now. She washed, dressed, applied light makeup, and went downstairs. She turned on the television to keep her company during breakfast.

The program was interrupted by breaking news.

Thousands of Kurds, Iraqis, and Syrians had died in agony during a morning chemical attack. No one had yet claimed responsibility. The world had already condemned the act of genocide.

Amelia laughed out loud—the sound didn’t feel like hers.

“As if that would change anything,” she muttered.

Then she realized something else.

The crushing fear that had plagued her all of yesterday afternoon was gone.

She understood that the world had sent her a warning—a sign that something terrible was approaching.

But what was she supposed to do with that knowledge?

She needed air.

She needed her mind to clear.

So she made chamomile tea and stepped outside with a large mug wrapped between her hands. Across the terrace. Through the garden. Past the immaculate lawn. Down to the lake.

She stood there for nearly an hour.

Thinking of nothing.

Just watching the surface of the water shimmer in the light.

Watching ducklings chase one another in sudden bursts of energy.

Watching fish flash beneath the surface, vanishing as quickly as they appeared.

Live.

The contrast was staggering.

But Amelia did not let it pull her under.

The echo of pain still lingered in her body — a distant tremor beneath the skin — yet the quiet around her soothed something deeper.

She needed this.

This silence.

This suspension between breaths.

She felt, with a clarity that surprised her, that this balance was not separate from her.

It was not something she was seeking.

It was something she was.

The stillness.

The water.

The fragile harmony between movement and calm.

That was her.

And for the first time since the vision, she could breathe without fear.

Even though it wasn’t gone.

And somewhere deep inside her, she knew—this was only the beginning.