"HELLOOOOOOO!!!!!"
Ceres's voice echoed endlessly down the vast hallway.
She had no idea how long she had been walking, minutes, hours, or even days. There were no windows to tell if it was night or day. The entire corridor was bathed in a soft, glowing light, yet she couldn't see a single source of illumination.
More importantly, she had no idea how she got here.
The last thing she remembered was saving a little girl. She had watched her escape to safety, and then, darkness. A cold, suffocating void had swallowed her whole. And when she opened her eyes again, she was standing in the middle of this never-ending hallway.
Doors lined both sides of the passage, stretching endlessly in either direction. She had tried them all, twisting handles, pounding on the wood, even calling out, but none would open. No one answered.
"Is anyone here?" she called again, her voice carrying through the emptiness.
Silence.
Ceres glanced down at herself. She was barefoot, clad in a flowing white satin dress that draped over her slender frame. The fabric felt unnaturally smooth as if it wasn't made of any material she had ever worn before.
She sighed and resumed walking, her delicate steps echoing softly against the polished marble floor. Every few moments, she would reach for another door, hoping, praying, that one would finally open.
"Helloooooo!" she tried again, but the silence remained unbroken.
Her lips pursed in frustration. She turned her head left, then right, searching for an end to the corridor, but there was none. Just the same intricate patterns on the walls, the same golden pillars, and the same endless row of doors. It was as if she was walking in circles.
A feeling of unease curled in her chest, but more than that, she felt annoyance.
"Am I dead?" she muttered to herself, her throat tightening.
Tears welled in her eyes before she could stop them. She blinked rapidly, trying to push them back, but one slid down her cheek.
She thought, no, she knew, she was dead.
This must be Limbo.
She vaguely recalled a lesson from her childhood religious classes, how souls were judged upon death. The good were welcomed into heaven, the wicked condemned to hell. And then there were those who belonged nowhere, trapped in the in-between.
Forever.
Her breath shuddered as the thought settled deep into her bones. Was she neither good nor bad? Was she doomed to wander this endless hallway alone?
Then, a sound shattered the silence.
A click. A slow, creaking noise.
Her heart leaped. A door was opening.
Without hesitation, she ran toward it, her feet barely making a sound against the smooth floor. As she reached the doorway, she came to a halt, her eyes wide with anticipation.
And then, the door swung open fully, revealing a man.
Ceres beamed. "Hi!" she greeted excitedly.
"AH!" The man jolted back, his startled cry filling the space.
She laughed lightly. "Oops, sorry! I didn't mean to scare you. It's just, " she gestured around them, "I've been walking here for so long, and I haven't seen a single soul. So I'm really happy to see someone else."
She gave him a warm, radiant smile.
Now that she got a better look at him, she could only describe him with one word.
Beautiful.
Not handsome. Not ruggedly charming. Beautiful.
His features were flawless, smooth skin, high cheekbones, and ethereal elegance that made him look almost unreal. If someone asked her to describe an angel, this man would be the perfect image.
His pristine white suit, lined with delicate gold embroidery, only added to the celestial aura surrounding him.
For a moment, he simply stared at her, wide-eyed, as if he wasn't expecting her presence. His golden eyes flickered with something unreadable, curiosity, confusion, or perhaps disbelief.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"Ceres Evadne Monteverde," Ceres answered without hesitation, her warm smile never faltering.
"What?" the man asked in disbelief.
Ceres arched an eyebrow. She hated repeating herself, especially when she knew she had spoken clearly the first time. But she held back her irritation. If she wasn't careful, he might just leave her here.
"I'm Ceres Evadne Monteverde," she repeated, this time slower.
"I know. I heard you the first time," he replied.
Ceres's eyebrow twitched higher. 'Then why the hell did you ask again?' Her expression said it all.
The man cleared his throat as if he had read her mind. "What I meant was… why are you here?"
Ceres blinked. "I don't know," she admitted. "I just found myself here." Then, tilting her head slightly, she asked, "And you? Can I at least know your name?"
"I'm Azrael," he said simply.
Ceres's lips parted slightly as recognition dawned on her. So he really is an angel. She remembered bits and pieces from her religious studies, Azrael, the archangel of death, the one who guides souls to the afterlife.
Well, that definitely confirmed it.
She was dead.
"So… what do I do now?" she asked, crossing her arms. Meeting the Angel of Death meant there was no doubt about it, her life was over.
Azrael frowned. "What do you mean?"
Ceres let out a sharp breath, forcing her smile to stay in place, but her patience was running dangerously thin. Wasn't he supposed to know the answer to that question better than she did?
"I mean," she started slowly as if explaining something obvious, "I am dead, and you are the Archangel Azrael, whose job is to help souls cross over, right? So?" She gestured around them. "Aren't you supposed to be doing your job?"
Azrael sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose as if he were already exhausted from dealing with her. "It's not your time yet," he said, his tone now firm and certain. "You are not supposed to be dead. You are meant to live your life until you are one hundred and one."
With that, he turned on his heel, shutting the door behind him, and walking down the endless corridor without another word.
Ceres stared at him, then at the now-closed door.
She tried the handle. Locked.
Her frustration spiked, and with a huff, she spun on her heels and hurried after him. "Wait a minute! What do you mean I'm not supposed to be dead?" she demanded, keeping pace with him.
Then another thought hit her.
"And, excuse me?! One hundred and one years old?!" Ceres exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. "Look, I want to live long, but not that long! Do you want me to become a burden to my great-great-grandchildren? No, thanks! That's way too much responsibility. I refuse to be that old and still nagging people from my rocking chair!"
Azrael didn't slow down, nor did he acknowledge her dramatic outburst, aside from the slight twitch at the corner of his lips.
He just knew, without an ounce of doubt, that this woman… was going to be a handful.
"When people die, they wake up immediately in the Judgment Room, where they are assessed and sent to their rightful place," Azrael explained as he walked, his tone as casual as if he were reporting the weather. "After judgment, I guide them to their designated destination and provide any necessary information about where they're going and what to expect."
Ceres frowned, crossing her arms. "So why did I wake up here? Does that mean I belong in Limbo?" she asked, pouting slightly.
"This is not Limbo," Azrael replied without even looking at her.
"This is the Hallway of Celestial Beings. The doors you see around you lead to different worlds," he continued, his voice as calm and composed as ever.
Ceres blinked, her steps faltering for a moment. "Different worlds?" she echoed, her voice indicating disbelief.
"Yes. The world you grew up in is just one of millions that exist," Azrael said, finally glancing at her. "And you are not supposed to be here."
Ceres scowled. "Then why am I here if I'm not supposed to be? And why am I dead if I wasn't supposed to die yet?" she snapped, frustration mounting.
Azrael exhaled sharply, clearly running low on patience. "What exactly did you do that got you killed?" he asked, irritation creeping into his voice.
Ceres hesitated, her lips pressing together before she answered softly, "I… saved a little girl. A truck lost its brakes and was about to hit her." She looked down, remembering the moment vividly, the rush of fear, the desperate push, the impact…
Then, suddenly, her head snapped up, and she arched an eyebrow. "Wait a second. Why do you sound so annoyed? Aren't you an angel? You're not supposed to get angry."
Azrael rolled his eyes. "Who told you that?" he said, clearly exasperated. "We can get angry, we just choose not to. Because if we did, it would cause a catastrophe." His golden eyes narrowed slightly. "But you're making it very difficult for me not to raise my voice."
He grunted in frustration and kept walking.
Ceres scoffed and crossed her arms. "So, what? Are you saying I'm unbearable?"
Azrael didn't even hesitate. "Has no one ever told you that before?"
Ceres stopped in her tracks, speechless.
Then, under her breath, she muttered, "Son of a bitch."
Azrael immediately turned to glare at her. "Cursing is not allowed in the Celestial Hallway."
Ceres rolled her eyes but wisely kept her mouth shut.
After what felt like an eternity of walking, Azrael finally came to a stop in front of a large door. Without a word, he pushed it open.
"Get inside," he ordered, his tone clipped, making it obvious that he was not thrilled about this situation.
Ceres huffed dramatically. "Hmmmpppp," she grumbled, stomping inside just to be petty.
As she stepped through, she found herself inside what looked like a grand courtroom. At the front, a long, imposing table stood, where three figures sat with unreadable expressions. Before them stretched an endless line of people, all waiting for judgment.
Ceres gulped.