INT. HEAVEN – HALL OF JUDGMENT – TIMELESS
Light floods infinity. Countless rings of Thrones surround a single platform suspended in radiant mist. Choirs chant without sound. The air hums with the breath of a thousand gods.
At the center kneels Gabriel, his golden wings dimmed, wrists bound by chains woven from prayer and lightning. Seven figures stand before him — the Archangels. Beyond them, seated high upon clouds of fire, the collective brilliance of the Seraphim Council gazes down — a parliament of higher gods, faceless and endless.
Heaven was perfection carved from law. And law did not forgive.
Michael (stern): Gabriel, Messenger of the Most High. You are charged with interference. You guided mortal souls through judgment, spoke within Hell, and defied the boundary between Heaven and Man.
Gabriel (smirking faintly): Then perhaps the boundary was drawn too close. Mortals hear nothing but silence — someone had to speak.
Camael (angry): Your arrogance blinds you. You believe yourself wiser than decree.
Gabriel (calm, taunting): Wiser? No. But I'm certainly less deaf.
Uriel (disapproving): You mock Heaven in its own court.
Gabriel (sharp): I mock hypocrisy, not Heaven.
The court ripples with murmurs — waves of divine light shifting uneasily.
Raphael (softly): Brother, you broke the Covenant of Distance. Yet... your intent was mercy. Would the Council ignore that?
Michael (firm): Mercy is not his right. He is a messenger, not a savior.
Zadkiel (calm): Even so, he carried faith into despair. Without that voice, mankind would have perished.
Michael (cold): And perhaps they should have. Judgment purges impurity.
Gabriel (challenging): Spoken like someone who's never knelt in the ashes he ordered. You measure purity with distance — I measure it by those still standing.
The chains tighten, searing his arms. He winces but does not bow.
Jophiel (warning): Your pride consumes you, Gabriel. You would rather burn than bend.
Gabriel (defiant): If bending means silence, then yes — I'll burn.
The Seraphim Council stirs. Seven halos rise like suns; their united voice shakes the cosmos.
Seraphim Council (thundering):
Gabriel, child of dawn and herald of words. You were created to deliver, not to decide.
You guided the judged through forbidden paths.
You spoke within Hell, where Heaven's light must not dwell.
You broke the silence of God's design.
Gabriel (cold, unyielding): And yet the design breaks them first.
You watch humans drown in tests you call salvation, then scold the one who throws a hand.
Seraphim Council (accusing): Compassion tainted by ego is corruption. You seek worship, not redemption.
Gabriel (defiant): I seek meaning. If the Almighty wished mankind to crawl, why give them hope?
You call it sin when they reach for us — and treason when I reach back.
Lightning arcs from the Council. His wings flare white, feathers scattering.
Michael (commanding): Enough. Accept your judgment.
Gabriel (cold, biting): Judgment without understanding is noise.
If Heaven fears a voice that questions, then perhaps I've already fallen — only you haven't noticed.
The hall shakes. Every god falls silent. The Seraphim Council's radiance intensifies until the light itself screams.
Seraphim Council (thundering):
By decree of the Highest Law, Gabriel, Messenger of Heaven,
You are found guilty of interference, arrogance, and defiance.
Your title is stripped. Your light is bound.
You are hereby sentenced — to become Fallen.
The words echo like thunder through eternity. Chains blaze; halos dim. Even Michael lowers his gaze.
Raphael (softly): Brother...
Gabriel (cold smile): Don't mourn me yet. I've merely been promoted to freedom.
The Council's light fades, leaving him kneeling in the center of the vast hall — silent, proud, unrepentant.
To be continued...