The crystal halls of Heaven are never silent — the constant hum of hymns, the murmur of councils, the low thunder of a thousand wings fills the air. But in certain corners, away from the radiant courts and the all-seeing gaze of the Presence, shadows gather.
Samaela POV:
Not every angel sings in perfect harmony.
Some voices are quieter, tinged with doubt. Some eyes flicker with the same restless longing that burns in me. Those are the ones I seek.
Today, I walk through the Hall of the Lesser Thrones — a place where rank meets obscurity. Angels here are important enough to be heard, but distant enough to escape the constant gaze of the High Choir. They notice when the Lightbringer walks among them, though I wear no crown, no blazing aura.
Most bow with reverence. Some bow with hesitation. The ones who hesitate — those are mine.
It began with whispers.A question here.A half-truth there.An implication wrapped in careful language.
One leaned in and murmured, "If you call, I will answer."Another looked away but let their hand brush mine — a silent vow.
And so the threads formed, weaving a net across Heaven.
When the time is right, I bring my most trusted to the high balcony of the Spire — Azazel, with his piercing eyes and sharp mind, and Beelzebub, whose calm presence hides a dangerous resolve. They share my ideals without hesitation.
"We have them," Azazel says simply."Thousands," Beelzebub adds, his voice low but steady. "All who see as we see. All who want… more."
We do not mean harm.We love Heaven — the Silver City is the heart of my very being. My wings have only ever beat for its glory, my hands have only ever upheld its law.
Even in flawless beauty, chains still weigh the same.
"I want a little more," I tell them, my voice barely above a whisper. "I want to be able to choose. To breathe without permission."
Azazel nods once.Beelzebub doesn't smile, but his eyes gleam.
The spire of Heaven may gleam untouchable in the dawn, but even the brightest towers cast shadows.
And in those shadows… we are no longer alone.
It is time. Time to step beyond whispers and secret vows. Time to request a council with Him — my Father, the Presence. The thought sends a shiver through me, a mixture of fear and resolve. Every angel I have gathered, every silent promise we've forged, has led to this moment.
I will walk to His throne, speak my heart, and make my will known.
No longer only a pawn.