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GABRIEL surged high into the clouds as his breath came in short gasps. Physical fatigue was not an issue. He had long ago become accustomed to the strenuous flight between Manor Saffron and Celestia. He was burdened by fear.
In a few short moments he would be face-to-face with the Council. This was no simple update on Azrael’s condition. This was her reckoning.
Upon reaching the glimmer in the clouds, the massive golden gates of Celestia came into view. The gates opened upon sensing his immortal soul. Passing the invisible barrier, the golden city of Celestia sprang into view.
Gabriel had far outlived the grandeur and beauty of the city. To him it was nothing but an overly decorated ball of light that hoped to blot out any glimpse to its core of corruption.
He didn’t pause to greet the guards at the entrance. Against protocol, he didn’t even land. But his ice blue eyes were hard to miss. The outcast had returned.
Without a second glance, they ordered the gates closed once again.
Gabriel thrust his wings and soared past the spearing spikes of the Celestial towers. Other angels were further down and beat their wings with leisurely grace. What hurry could an immortal truly have? But Gabriel worried not for the endless days of Celestia, but for the short nights of the Aedium and humans. If the color of his eyes didn’t betray the difference of his heart, his mannerisms would.
Reaching the core of Celestia, the Cathedral came into view. It had long ago been renamed: Principat. One of the many blasphemies the Council forced Gabriel to endure. A low growl rumbled in his throat as he landed. How he wished he could overthrow their power. But he needed their help. Countless demons had begun their raid onto Manor Saffron. Surely the Council would step in now?
His bare feet slapped against the golden streets as he strode into Principat. Its grand arches towered over him and spanned out with golden wings of their own. The old Cathedral hadn’t had such narcissistic adornments.
Two warrior angels stood in his way. Metal horns spiked on each arch of their wings. It was a weapon Gabriel found barbaric and gruesome. They stiffened as he approached, but as soon as the color of his eyes became visible, they relaxed. He was expected. The massive doors opened.
Gabriel spanned through the multitude of doors and guards to the final sanctum that would house the Council. As he reached the last door he clenched his fists in determination. His choice of words could be the difference between life or death for Azrael.
He was never good with words.
When the final doors opened, he stepped into the dim chambers with what he hoped was confidence and poise. But he was distracted by the fact that the room was lit only by Divine Material that lined the floor and the walls. Its glory had dimmed, constantly fed upon by the Council, and soon would need to be replaced.
Gabriel sighed.
Replacement would require a culling of a portion of the Birthing Forests to harvest the Divine Material to reconstruct this chamber. Why did the Council need so much power? What was the purpose?
As his eyes adjusted, he saw a singular figure atop a curved throne. The Seraphim.
“Gabriel.” The Seraphim’s voice boomed throughout the chamber and Gabriel’s wings instinctually shrank against his back. Angered, he snapped them out again. He would not be intimidated by the Seraphim.
“Where are the others of the Council, Seraphim?” he demanded.
The Seraphim laughed. “Others? They don’t need to be here for this.”
Gabriel frowned. Already the meeting was not going in his favor. The Seraphim was impossible to negotiate with, especially without the others to tone him down.
“Do you have news on the Princess? Has she survived?” His voice was insufferably indifferent, not revealing if he would be disappointed or pleased if Azrael had perished.
Gabriel shifted his weight. “Yes. However, she has...” Could he tell the truth? If the Seraphim knew that she battled against an archdemon, or worse, for dominance over her soul...
“She has...what?” the Seraphim persisted.
“She has taken ill. The session has proved to be too soon. She will need extended time to recover.”
“Hmm. You come all this way just to tell me it will be more time?” The edge on the Seraphim’s voice was sharp and dangerous.
“No, sire. I come to request a legion to exterminate the Fallen that continue to breach the border in attempts to interfere with Azrael’s Acceptance. Uriel’s Legion suffered great casualties—”
“You cannot handle a few demons?”
“Of course, Seraphim. However, this is more than a few. And they are led by an unknown commander. We may have an archdemon who has breached truce. Uriel was badly wounded and I fear he won’t survive.”
The Seraphim sank in his seat and the room grew dark. Waves of heat and rage slammed through Gabriel. Gabriel wiped sweat from his brow.
“Are you certain? How do you know this is an archdemon?”
Gabriel stiffened. “How often have you seen demons band together long enough to penetrate the Divine Material of the Manor? Especially the largest Manor. We should protect our...investments.”
The Seraphim stilled and the room brightened a shade. For once, Gabriel said what the Seraphim wanted to hear.
“You have been sole ambassador to Manor Saffron since your banishment, Gabriel. This was not a punishment, but a chance to redeem your station. We have taken note of your battles against the demons who have besieged Manor Saffron.” He folded his hands and regarded Gabriel with a pensive stare. “If you truly believe an archdemon has crossed the border, then I approve your request for aid.”
Gabriel bowed deeply with genuine gratitude. “Thank you, your Grace—”
“After Azrael has recovered.”
Gabriel froze in his bow. After? What would be the point in that?
But the decision had been made. “Of course, your Grace.”
Gabriel turned his back to the Seraphim before he’d completely left the room. The entire negotiation could have been negated by that action of disrespect. But the Seraphim was amused by Gabriel’s temper, and instead of rage he roiled with laughter.
It was worse than denying his request.