Chapter 1

"We called them angels not necessarily because we believed them to be merciful but because back then we had decided they came from either Heaven or Hell, and devils at least bore some resemblance to humans.

These beings did not.

They say there's a city at the end of the world. This, of course, is inaccurate, as the world has no set start and finish. It is circular, spherical, unbroken. The city at the end of the world theory would be plausible only in terms of the flat earth theory, which—granted, that doesn't even make sense, seeing as in even the most inane theories the earth is round. But. Anyways.

They say there's a city at the end of the world. That is inaccurate. What would be more accurate is to say that there's a city unmoving in the universe, even as the earth spins. This city slips along the surface of the world the same way carbon slides across paper in graphite form, sheets of matter slipping past each other, and though this shouldn't be possible and really goes against most—if not every—known law of physics, it happens. Do you know how I know it happens?" Gray frowned when they realized the kid was thoroughly disinterested, but pressed on regardless. "It's because we are in that city."

"That's... cool." The kid—what had his name been? Something with an L. Lewis. Len. Lazarus. "Um. Look, this is neat, and all, but really, my parents will definitely be coming to pick me up soon, so I think I'm just gonna focus on that for now..."

"Right. Um. Of course." Gray leaned against the cool, hard wall and peered out the bars. Someone would be coming for them, too. Surely. "But! But. The most important part—just... listen to this part. Please. In this city at the end of the world. On the dark days. The angels—the things that are probably angels—they come and visit. No one knows why. We only know they do. And the next dark day is approaching, so just listen, and know, and realize, and be prepared—"

"GUARD!"

Gray's eyes widened. They flinched. The kid looked sheepish, maybe a bit regretful as an officer threw the door open and grabbed Gray's arm roughly, dragging them out of lockup.

"Smith! Hey, man, it's been awhile—"

"Shut up," the officer growled, pulling Gray through the precinct. Gray didn't resist. "You need to stop doing that. One of these days we're gonna have to throw you in jail for real, you know. And why try talking to that kid?"

Gray shrugged, stumbling slightly. "I tried to talk to everyone else first. No one would listen. The children need to know. It's important they know. They are, after all, the future—"

"Right." Smith sighed and stopped at his desk, then pulled out a pair of handcuffs. "You're stuck with me now."

They grinned as the officer fasted the handcuffs around their left wrist, metal clinking against stone beads, then cuffed them to the desk.

"I really am flattered, officer, but you know, I am married."

Smith's chiseled features flushed a delicate pink. "I didn't—I wasn't—this is the job, you know, plus you, married? I still call bullshit."

"Mm. Don't see anyone else here getting special treatment."

He scowled. "Do you see anyone else here spreading weird scientific Doomsday propaganda?"

"Touché. Do I get a chair?"

"Not anymore." Smith sat down in his own chair and looked up at them, dragging a hand down his face. "Why do you keep doing this? Don't you have, like, hobbies?"

"Yarn's really expensive these days. Plus, I mean, end of the world maybe, potential death of countless innocents, also, we can't trust the angels... I figured I'd try to do my part. Anyone with an ounce of common sense will be out of town next dark day. I'm just trying to get the word out before I book it." Gray shifted their weight from foot to foot. "You sure I don't get a chair?"

"Yes. The world's not going to end, and it's about time you start acting like it."

"Not happening." Gray stretched their arm leisurely against the handcuffs.

"Your funeral, then. You know, you should really..." Smith's words died on the tip of his tongue when a strikingly beautiful woman strode into the police station. "Excuse me."

Gray suppressed a laugh. "Of course."

They watched with a smug grin as Smith approached the woman. She was tall and slender, makeup sharp and curls bouncing. Though normally she looked like the sort of woman who lived unbothered by the world around her, her features were twisted in concern. The woman spoke fervently, voice low, hands gesticulating wildly. Smith's eyes widened in horror and awe. He glanced at Gray disbelievingly, then stuck his hands in the pockets as he and the woman walked towards them.

"So this is. Um." Smith's Adam's apple bobbed up and down. "This is..."

"My wife!" Gray beamed, reaching towards her and frowning when the handcuffs held them back. "Ceelie, you gotta help—"

"Ceelie?" Smith asked.

She sighed. "Celia James Carson. So sorry for the trouble, officer, but surely there's some way we can work around—"

"Hey," Gray cut in, holding out their wrists as much as they could against the handcuffs. "So when am I getting out of here? And out of—" they shook their hands around, metal clinging dully. "—these?"

Celia's lips twisted into a frown. "So. Um. Funny thing..."

"You're not getting out." There was no mistaking the triumph in Smith's voice, and it made Gray's blood boil. "Not this time. You'll be staying here overnight, and in the morning we're transferring you to jail. Few months at least, if I had to guess. Best lawyer up. We don't take too kindly to fear mongering, as you well know."

"No. No. Nononononono." Gray sucked in a breath as Celia squeezed their hand. "I can't be—the local jail? The small one, here? When? We need to go—we had those flights—we can't be here, Smith, not during the Dark Days! They're coming for us, and they're dangerous—"

"They really believe this stuff?" Smith asked incredulously, glancing up at Celia. "It's not just an act?"

"I believe it too," Celia snapped.

"Of course she does. Because she's smart. Call the lawyer—we have a lawyer, don't we, love? Oh, good." They relaxed slightly when Celia nodded. "We can't stay here. I... can't stay here. Not for tomorrow."

Smith laughed. "You really should've thought about that before running your stupid little protests again. What did you think was going to happen?"

"I had to warn people, before it was too late," Gray mumbled numbly. "Everyone deserves a chance to get out. People are going to die, and you don't care. None of you care—"

"Too bad, so sad." Smith uncuffed Gray from the desk and started to pull them back towards the lockup, which had emptied somewhat. Celia trailed behind, pained expression on her face. "If it makes you feel better, nothing bad's happened during a Dark Day yet, and if anything bad was going to happen, you'd be in the safest place you could be. Police precinct, and all."

Gray rolled their eyes. "You guys are shit protectors and you know it. I don't—hey, gentle—I don't trust you."

Smith swung the door open and shoved them towards the lockup. "Nothing I can do about that, I suppose. Have fun. Try to get a good night's sleep. It's always worse at night."

"No—hey, you can't just—" Gray's face scrunched up and they grabbed onto the lockup's barred walls. "I shouldn't be here!"

"Not my problem anymore! Shout when your lawyer gets here." Smith started to walk away, and though Gray could only see the back of his head, oh, they just knew he was grinning.

Celia cast a wary glance towards the other inmates—a slender man fast asleep, a dazed-looking older woman, and a group of older teenagers huddled together in the corner. A kid no older than thirteen or fourteen had his back to the wall, arms wrapped around his knees, hood pulled over his head.

None of them looked immediately threatening, so she leaned against the bars. "So this went well."

"I'm sorry," Gray said with a sigh. "We've still got the hotel room, though. Or. You do. You should leave tonight. If only one of us can leave—oh, God, Ceelie, I'm going to die."

"Hey. Hey. Look at me." Celia smiled weakly at Gray. "I'm not going anywhere, and if anyone can get us through this thing, it's you." She reached through the bars and pushed Gray's round glasses up their nose. "One day. We can do it, right?"

"What? No, no, you have to go—" Gray's attention caught on the kid from earlier, the one with the hood who'd gotten them dragged away in the first place, as he stood up and walked towards them. "Oh. You."

"Sorry," the kid said, surprisingly bashful. "I. Um. What's going to happen tomorrow, exactly?"

Gray raised an eyebrow. "What happened to being picked up?"

"They haven't showed up yet," he said quietly. "My—my parents. I'm waiting. So I figured... maybe I'll listen."

Celia tilted her head. "When were they supposed to show up?" She asked softly.

"Who're you?" The boy snapped. The ire drained from his voice a moment later, though. "I—before... they showed up." He glanced at Gray.

"Hours ago, then," Gray said in a singsong voice. "That's awful. Terribly sorry. If you'd like to know about the angels..."

"Don't," Celia warned them, affixing her attention to the boy. "Are you okay? What's your name?"

"Leo." Not Lewis or Len or Lazarus, then. "I'm fine. Just... waiting."

"Exactly, he's fine, so the angels—"

"Gray." Celia sighed. "This okay?"

"Yeah," Leo replied, hands stuffed into his pockets.

Gray's eyes lit up with excitement. "Wonderful! Like I was saying. The angels, they—they're coming. Tomorrow, since, as all the forecasts predict, it's going to be a—"

A shrill alarm cut through the precinct, high-pitched and wailing, causing everyone to startle—everyone except Gray, who rocked back on their heels and stared up at the ceiling until the alarm died out.

"Just the dark day warning, guys, settle down!" Smith's voice echoed through the precinct as the slender man jolted awake and Leo flinched.

"Dark day tomorrow," Gray repeated. "No big deal, right? We've faced those before. We've all seen the angels. We know. Except that—listen, something is different. All the warnings. All the readings. All the signs? That earthquake, a few weeks ago? The storms? That weird patch of hail, plus the crow incident, and I still think that football game had something to do with it—I can't explain without my notes. But. This time will be bad. This time will be worse. If you're smart, you'll leave. That's what you should be doing. That's what most people are doing, since even without the impending doom dark days are miserable. The angels are not good beings, Leo." The more they talked, the louder their voice grew. Celia eyed Smith nervously. Gray paid no mind to any onlookers as they proclaimed, "The end is upon us!"

A beat of silence.

Leo stared at the ground. "Oh."

Celia sighed.

Gray tapped their fingers together. "Look, believe me or not—just... leave. It'll be safer either way. We should all be leaving. In fact—" Gray was shouting at this point. "It should be illegal to detain unprocessed inmates on dark days!"

"Above my pay grade!" Smith called.

"Inaction doesn't make you neutral, it only means you're an enabler!" Gray called back, then refocused on the kid. Leo. "Get out of here if you can. Get as many people as you can to leave. I've been studying this phenomenon for years, and I will not tolerate being told I'm wrong."

"You're scaring him," Celia chided.

Leo did, in fact, look rather scared.

"He should be scared," Gray countered. "It's fine. Everything will be... fine. I'll get out—I always do, and we'll be safe."

"We'll be safe," Celia echoed with a weak smile.

They all went quiet, and all that could be heard in the precinct was the hustle and bustle of usual activity.

High up in the heavens, if one were to really strain their ears, a faint rustling could perhaps be heard. A trained expert could have identified the sound as metallic, feathery wings stretching out, maybe a few tin eyelids clacking open. But no such expert was around to pick out the warning signs.

And so, the first ripples of the stirring went unnoticed.