Clara looked at Silver, the goddess of the moon and crossroads. She too was young and perfect, her skin ever aglow in silver light. While she was used to dealing with the goddess, she rarely did so face to face.
“How long?” Clara asked.
“For letting me stretch out my legs?” Silver asked. “They will be in that state until the sun rises.”
Angels got their power primarily from the light of God. The sun would grant them what they needed to break free. Until then, they were slowed down to levels Clara could not fathom. Every second in our time means a year for them…
“Thank you,” Clara said. “You’re the bee’s knees tonight…”

Disclaimer: This novel is an work in progress and readers may encounter grammatical errors and inconsistencies. Please view this a draft and not a published work.
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