- third person POV -

The day at the beach had been bright and hot, with a late-summer calm. Smells of saltwater and sunscreen tickled people's noses. Children across the beach built castles along the tide line, their laughter rising above the voices of the crowds. Then the horizon darkened.

—It happened so fast. 

Wild wind rose out of nowhere, sending umbrellas flattening, lifting tables, and churning the waves that grew. The air clanged to an electric hum as a storm was fastly approaching. 

Kaysi's mother turned to shake the kicked-up sand off her blanket—in a heartbeat—she turned back, and her six-year-old child was gone.

"Kaysi—KAYSI!?" 

She screamed, her voice breaking against the wind, silencing her echoes as she tried to cry out. She turned, looking around for her child and others who could help.  People had already started running for their cars, shielding their heads. No one answered. What if they didn't hear her or refused to acknowledge that the child was likely swallowed by the unforgiving sea, never to be seen again?

The sea drowned out everything but the mother's own panic. A woman places a hand on the mother's shoulder. 

Rosa, a nursemaid from farther down the beach. "You're missing a child?" she said in a warm, calm, and comforting voice. "My little boy is missing; maybe the children ran off together to play somewhere. I've called his father—he's on his way, though he won't be happy I did." 

Together, they walked the shoreline, calling out their names and searching for the children.

Far beyond them, at the other end of the beach, a seven-year-old boy, Evan, sat ankle deep in the rising surf. He should have been frightened by the storm, but something beneath the waters bubbled. Above the crashing waves, a violet light called out from underneath. Evan strained to see it through the raindrops hitting his face and clouding his vision. 

He saw that it looked like a shadow underneath, someone, maybe?

Without a thought, he dove in. The cold, icy water hit his chest like shattered glass. He kicked downwards, plummeting deeper into the waters' depths, lungs burning, eyes stinging from the salts and minerals.

Just then, he caught glimpses of precisely what he had hoped for. A girl floats with her eyes closed, in a peaceful sleep, her hair drifting in the underwater waves like seaweed.

Two bolts of blue and purple lightning struck the oceans above them. The children's hearts stopped; their minds joined by the electrical current that breathed something ancient and alive.

They saw the stars ignite, creating the universe. Angels fall after a battle raging in the heavens. A voice introduced things we could not understand. God saw a rebellion rising, so He decided to stop creating angels and instead created humans. A war broke out when Morning Star, the son of the dawn, God’s archangel and closest follower, betrayed Him and took two-thirds of the angels with him to Earth, into the space known as the third heaven.

While humans on Earth had to face their trials to enter heaven as the new angels, some humans lived their lives as usual, while others were chosen as Waymakers. These individuals were endowed with divine powers to protect humanity from the spiritual realm and guide them along the path of righteousness.

Then the world went dark.

When the storm cleared, what tiny group of people remained on the beach screamed at the image they saw in the waters. 

"OH MY GOD, THERE ARE BODIES IN THE WATER!" 

One bystander screamed out. Both mothers turned in horror as a man in a black suit and tie, with dulled silver-gray hair, ripped off his tie and leapt into the water.

Evan's father dragged both children onto the shoreline. Kaysi was barely breathing, gasping for what little air she had. Evan was possibly dead, limp in his arms.

He placed the girl down and, with a not so chalant posture, dropped Evans' body on the ground. No one noticed but Kaysi.

"I think he's not breathing the little girl said."

Rosa quickly dropped to her knees and started chest compressions. 

"Come on, kid—breath," Kaysi whispered as she reached out to grab his hand.

A blue spark from her fingertips zapped the boy alive. Evans' eyes opened wide, and he weakly coughed, barely able to keep his eyes open.

Evan's father, dripping with water, began to walk away, heading towards his black sports car. 

Rosa looked up in confusion. "Where...She whispered. Questioning why the father was walking away.

"Evan is breathing," She shouted to him, desperate to make the cold-hearted man think twice. "But he needs further medical care and treatment at a hospital."

"You should have let him die." He said coldly.

Rosa's voice cracked with anger. "What did you just say?"

"I had not seen the boy since birth. You have taken your sister's place, and you're new. So maybe she didn't give you the full story, but I told her to get rid of that trash. She took him in. I have no obligations or care for that boy whatsoever."

"Then why come in the first place!?" She fired back. 

He paused in his steps for a moment. 

"He was born weak then, and he is weak now." He growled. "Appearances matter for my sake, and if word got out, I would be ruined. If that day comes, both you and the boy will be one less burden on me." 

The father hated his son and threatened the nursemaid who took him in.

The thunder rolled once more, low and distant, on the sand-soaked shore as the two children lay side by side, their hands touching, alive and silent. Lightning had not struck them both, but it had chosen them twice.