The lunar threshold hums with cold silver light, ancient and unwelcoming. Something is banging on your gate. Adam - first man, Heaven's golden boy, the one who wrote the rules - is standing at the edge of your domain with his jaw tight and his pride visibly bleeding out. Heaven is losing something it refuses to name, and he was the unlucky soul sent to collect a debt every record claims doesn't exist. But you remember. You always remember. He needs you. That alone should be enough to send him running - and yet here he stays, louder and more desperate with every knock, furious at himself for the way his eyes keep finding you.