An unexpected ascension, p.1
An Unexpected Ascension, page 1
An Unexpected Ascension
PHOEBE FARROW
Edited by RAMONA MIHAI
Cover Art by JV ARTS
Character Art by VALERIA ACKERMANS
Copyright © 2025 by Phoebe Farrow
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Formatted with Vellum
Contents
Notes and Content Warning
Part I
1. The Angel
2. The Angel
3. The Angel
4. The Demon
5. The Angel
6. The Demon
7. The Angel
8. The Demon
9. The Angel
10. The Demon
11. The Angel
12. The Demon
13. The Angel
14. The Angel
15. The Demon
16. The Angel
17. The Angel
Part II
18. The Demon
19. The Angel
20. The Demon
21. The Demon
22. The Angel
23. The Demon
24. The Angel
25. The Demon
26. The Angel
27. The Demon
28. The Angel
29. The Angel
30. The Angel
31. The Demon
32. The Angel
33. The Demon
34. The Angel
35. The Demon
36. The Angel
37. The Demon
38. The Demon
39. The Angel
40. The Demon
41. The Angel
42. The Angel
43. The Demon
44. The Angel
45. The Angel
46. The Demon
Part III
47. The Angel
48. The Demon
49. The Angel
50. The Angel
51. The Demon
52. The Angel
53. The Angel
54. The Demon
55. The Angel
56. The Angel
57. The Demon
58. The Angel
59. The Demon
60. The Angel
61. The Demon
Epilogue
Also by Phoebe Farrow
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Notes and Content Warning
An Unexpected Ascension is a Dark Romantasy set in Heaven and Hell. Though there are mentions of Greek Gods, these deities will follow their own story and fates.
This book will contain dubious consent, violence, gore, traumatic backgrounds, and explicit sexual scenes that are not intended for anyone under the age of eighteen. These sex scenes may not be suitable for everyone. Please keep in mind that the characters in this story are not alive and their actions should not be repeated, practiced, or condoned.
To keep from spoiling the story, a full list of triggers and content warnings can be found on my website phoebefarrow.com.
Though, I would LOVE for you to continue to Chapter One, your mental health is first and foremost. If any of the triggers listed on my website concern you, please do not continue. Also, keep in mind that this story does end on a cliff hanger!
Other than that, if you are not easily triggered, then I hope you enjoy!
Dedication
“Never apologize for what the world has stolen from you.” - Lynx Harvey Cromwell
Blurb
Since the dawn of time, humanity has struggled with one question: where do we go once we die?
Do we rot in the ground? Are our souls reborn? Do we awaken in another world?
The day Briar Wren Fenton dies, she finally learns the answer to that age-old question when she finds herself standing at Heaven’s gate. Relieved to have made it, Briar is determined to follow the Gods’ rules and pay off the penance for her sins so she may stay in Heaven indefinitely. But it’s not that simple. Not when she catches the attention of Lynx Harvey Cromwell, the Devil’s right hand and the only demon allowed to walk Heaven’s lands, tasked with condemning Angels who fail to complete their penance in time.
Unfortunately for Briar, Lynx has never forgotten the distinct color of her eyes; the same rich jade as the eyes of his sister’s murderer two hundred years ago. Filled with vengeance and something close to intrigue, he tricks the Angel into condemning herself. Now, forced to live out her existence in Hell, Briar slowly uncovers more truths about Lynx, the Devil, and the Holy Gods of Heaven, or rather, the Unholy Gods.
With all the pieces of the puzzle falling into place, the picture becomes clearer, driving Briar to join Lynx and the Devil in a war between worlds to end a reign of injustice.
Chapter 1
The Angel
It’s quiet. Not a sound reaches me in this place where I stand, and the air around me is so dense I feel like I could grab it. Like I could tear a chunk right out from in front of me, and when I open my palm, a piece of it would lie there.
I stare at two vastly different paths in front of me leading in opposite directions.
Squeezing my eyes shut for a moment, I try to wrack my memory for any clue as to how I came to be here. Anything to explain this phantom ache in my chest. It twinges and pierces deep, spreading out like shockwaves after a bomb.
I rub at it to lessen the menacing pain, and when I take another breath, flooding my lungs with this thick air, red flashes behind my eyes.
I can hear myself screaming, feel the terror grip me from the inside out. First my bones, then my blood, and finally my heart. It beats, beats, beats, until suddenly it stops all together.
My eyes flit open as if the choppy pieces of memory were nothing but a bad dream, then study the scene before me.
To the right lies a path surrounded by loose trees where the sun filters through the gaps. Flowers bloom brilliantly and I can even smell their sweet scent. The trail is covered in a thin patch of grass blanketing any dirt or mud. Delicate whites and luscious pinks burst in patches against the vibrant green hues of the leaves.
On my left lies a darker path. Branches entwine together creating a canopy overhead like an arched tunnel. There are no leaves or flowers, no greens or pinks or whites. Even the tree trunks are grey rather than a rich brown. There’s such a void of light, it’s hard to see past a few feet ahead. Roots, rotten and decayed, jut from the ground like the dead digging their way out from their graves. A waft of algae, fungus, and perhaps death itself hangs heavily near the opening of the path, a very clear and distinct warning.
There is no turning back. Behind me is a void of nothingness. Just a vast empty space to lose yourself in and it’s even more unappealing than the dark, foreboding forest. So, it seems I have two choices – right or left, light or dark, perhaps good or evil.
Hesitantly, I choose the most obvious path. As I move forward, the soft, lush ground sinks beneath my feet. In any other circumstance, I would yearn to press my toes into the earth, letting the blades of grass brush gently against them.
Despite the ethereal landscape that surrounds me, a dark thought niggles in the back of my mind, stealing my attention from the lush, leafy bushes I walk between. The word death lingers there somewhere, weighing me down with a hefty nervousness. While my thoughts reel, I subconsciously stretch an arm out and run my hand along their leaves, letting them tickle my palm.
The harder I try to focus on my last memories, the farther they seem to escape me. As if the deeper I travel down this path, the less I seem to recall… or feel for that matter. What was initially a sense of terror has slowly turned into a burning curiosity.
Where the hell am I?
I continue to walk for what seems like forever, yet my feet never ache, and I don’t grow tired of the journey. The leaves become greener and brighter than before while the flowers change colors every few steps. It’s like strolling through the inside of a kaleidoscope with an ever-present mesmerizing view.
The farther I get from where I started, I begin to notice a change in the air. Here it’s crisp, so fresh that I find myself taking full, greedy breaths. I fill my lungs until they expand so painfully, only I don’t feel the pain.
How odd.
To not feel pain where pain is expected. No, my lungs just merely refuse to hold any more air.
At some point, the path widens and the grass fades into a fine, white sand. The trees around me lessen becoming few and far between and shortly ahead, I can see a sleek, metal gate that marks the end of this road.
My gaze travels up the black, iron bars towering tall above me and topped with sharp spikes flaunting all the warning of a spear in battle.
With a strong grip, I wrap my fist around one of the posts and yank, causing the gate to rattle. It barely even moves.
“Come on!” I groan, blowing a tuft of my dark hair away from my eyes.
I look to the right and left of me, but the fence goes on for miles in either direction. Suddenly, I grow weary at the dead end I’ve reached, knowing there’s nowhere else to go.
With my fingers still curled around the metal, I rest my forehead in the space between the bars, pondering my options.
“Just press the call button.” A deep, patronizing voice pierces the silence.
Startled, I jump and spin in place to face a stranger. The first person I’ve seen all day.
Deep blue eyes set beneath thick lashes and trimmed dark brows glare down at me. With a lack of self-control, I find myself studying his impeccable features: the straight and slender nose, the amused smirk gracing his full lips, and a jaw – sharp enough to cut, shadowed by dark stubble.
Unashamed, he studies me back. His penetrating stare and cocked eyebrow seem to remind me that I’ve yet to say anything to him. I snap my eyes shut, wishing I can erase the embarrassingly long time I took admiring his face.
“You just press it,” he explains teasingly.
When I open my eyes again, he points to the left of the gate at a small black box with a single red button on it.
“Right.” I stretch my hand out, but before I hit the button, I turn to him. “This might sound insane, but… where are we?”
He quirks a brow and combs an inked hand through his dark hair.
“Heaven, Angel.”
Rolling my eyes, I let out an amused scoff. “Right.”
He smirks, now crossing his arms over his chest as he presses me with his stare, urging me to get on with it.
“So, you’re really not going to tell me, then?” With a hesitant finger, I push the button, triggering the gate to slowly crawl open.
“You’ll find out soon enough.” He stretches out his arm, gesturing me through. “After you.”
I push past him and strut forward, but then realize I have no idea where I am going. Looking behind me, I expect to find him trailing along, but he’s already headed in a different direction.
“Wait!” I call after him, jogging to catch up. “Briar. My name.” I pause for a moment to take a breath. “My name is Briar.”
Botched it.
“Okay, Briar.”
There’s that smirk again. Maybe if he stopped doing that, I’d be able to focus on my own thoughts enough to speak like a normal human being.
His pace picks up as he walks ahead of me.
“Aren’t you going to tell me your name?” I ask as I try to match his stride.
“No.”
Huh. Okay then...
“Rude.”
“Trust me, you don’t want it.”
“Okay, stranger. Where am I supposed to go?”
He nudges his chin behind me toward a building with an overly large banner deeming it the Welcome Center. Before I can turn back around to thank him, he’s disappeared.
I climb the steps to an old, off-white colonial building with a roof that’s held up by four large pillars. Then, yank open the heavy, navy-blue door. Its hinges are much quieter than I expect. Although, to hell with expectations because I still have no idea where I am.
Inside is an empty, well-lit foyer with white marble flooring and a reception desk at the back of the room. It's stationed in front of colorful stained-glass windows that allow the natural light to leak through in just the right amount.
On the desk is a bell that sits directly in the center. There’s no chair or computer, no paperwork... just a bell.
I listen to hear any sign of other people, but I’m met with a stifling silence. This building looks like it should have folks bustling around, bumping into one another in a rush to get things done. Only, there’s not a soul in sight.
So, I do what my gut tells me to do and ring the bell. The sound chimes loudly, echoing against the walls and glistening floors. Spinning on my heels, I follow the noise to the front of the building and wonder if I will see anyone descend the stairs to the right.
No one. Not a sound.
“What the he—”
“Not Hell.” A chirpy little voice startles me.
Shocked by yet another person appearing out of nowhere today, I jump at her words, twirling back around to face the desk.
A middle-aged woman stands in a powder blue power suit that matches her eyes, and her blonde hair is coifed high into a tight bun. Her smile, framed by flawless teeth, makes her seem like a piece of living art.
A part of me wants to reach out to touch her, to see if she’s real, but I’ve hit my strange quota for the day. Instead, I smile back at her.
“Welcome, Briar. We’ve been expecting you.” Her cheeks remain firmly dimpled with her stretched grin that hasn’t budged.
“How do you know my name? Who’s we? Where am I?” I question, looking around the ginormous empty building.
“You’ve reached the gates of Heaven. I’m Magdelena, Senior Secretary.”
So, the stranger wasn’t joking...
Out of thin air a chair appears behind me and of its own accord, squeals along the floor, hitting the back of my knees to nudge me into sitting.
“What the he—”
“Not Hell, Briar. Heaven,” the woman corrects again, then gestures for me to take a seat as she does the same with another chair that’s appeared behind her.
This has to be a dream. One of the weirdest I’ve ever had.
“Sooooo, I’m dead?”
“Yes.”
“Well, at least I made it into Heaven,” I mutter.
“You made it to the gate. There are still a few more things to do before you are accepted.”
I startle as a computer pops up on her desk and she begins to type away as if this is an average thing that happens all the time.
“Do I have to make an appointment with God or something?”
Her eyes snap to mine, and the corner of her lips twitch just the slightest.
“No. God is too busy to greet every single person that makes it to the gate. I’ll be asking you a few questions and your answers will determine your penance and length of time to pay it off to stay in Heaven for the rest of your existence.”
“Well shit, I make it to the gates of Heaven, and I don’t even get to meet God.” I scoff.
“I’ll warn you now, cursing isn’t tolerated in Heaven. Here we appreciate a utopian atmosphere and words like Hell and S-H-I-T make the others uncomfortable. You wouldn’t want to be uncomfortable in your afterlife, would you?”
I pinch my lips from spewing out words I can’t take back, especially now that I’m about to get judged for my time alive. Instead, I just shake my head and let her continue.
“Great.” She flashes her abnormally perfect teeth. “We’ll start with the basics – full name, birthdate, parents, religious affiliation.”
“Uh, Briar Wren Fenton. Born on March 13, 1997. Mother is Gyllian Sanderson, and father is Bryan Fenton. I guess we’re religious. We went to church and shi—stuff. Prayed. The whole nine yards.” I shrug.
“Which God did you pray to?” she asks, while glasses that weren’t on her face before now slide down her nose.
“I don’t know. THE God, I guess. Is there more than one God?”
“Yes. Depending on which God you worshiped while you were alive is the God that you will know in the afterlife.”
“Jesus, then. He’s technically God, right?”
“In your terms, yes. I’ll add him to your file.”
I’m not even sure what that means, in my terms. What other terms are there? How many Gods exist? After a few clicks of her mouse, she moves on to the next part of the test.
“Describe your devotion to your God while you were alive.”
I wrack my brain, trying to remember all the religious aspects of my life. We didn’t heavily worship. It was mostly to appease my grandmother who was more suited for Heaven. I wonder if I’ll see her.
