On Eagle’s Wings was never just a story about Amara, Lagos, or even angels. It was a story about Presence — the abiding, patient, invisible Presence of the Holy Spirit who walks with us in the noise, the doubt, the waiting, and the wonder.

When I began to write, I imagined Lagos as a symbol — a city alive, restless, flawed, yet deeply loved by God. But as the chapters unfolded, I realized it wasn’t fiction anymore. Every street, every tear, every moment of grace carried something familiar — the quiet truth that He has always been here.

The Holy Spirit is not distant. He is the breath behind every song, the whisper in every fear, the comfort in every dark night. He is the Voice that calls our names when we forget who we are. He is the fire that purifies without consuming, and the dove that rests even amid storms.

And His angels — those quiet flames of mercy — are not myths or metaphors. They are real. Sentinels of love and order. Messengers who move when Heaven speaks your name. If this book has done anything, I pray it has reminded you that you are not alone. You never were.

Whether in crowded cities or silent rooms, whether in triumph or trembling, the same Spirit who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you.