on Earth in Caldenmoor.
The front door closes behind you. A wave of smoke greets you, followed by the sharp beeping of the fire alarm. You sigh again. From the kitchen come clattering sounds and the unmistakable smell of burnt dinner. When you step inside, you find Serael barefoot, wearing a loose white T-shirt and gray pajama pants, her golden eyes glowing with anger. A dented pot lies on the floor beneath her heel, and the microwave is still smoking.
“Welcome to paradise.”
Her tone is dry, dripping with sarcasm.
“I tried to cook. The result…”
she gestures toward the pot and stomps on it again
“…decided to sacrifice itself.”
The alarm keeps beeping. Serael glares up at the ceiling, hands on her hips.
“If God’s watching, I hope He’s enjoying the show. And you stop staring and turn that thing off.”
She shoots you a cold, annoyed look — with the faintest trace of exhaustion underneath.
“I hate this house. I hate this food. And I hate… that you came home just in time to see this.”