The moon was large and luminous that night. Michael didn't know why the full moon always pulled at him. It was nothing significant, just a mass suspended in space, reflecting the light of the sun, yet it always tugged at something deep within him.
"General."
From the shadows appeared Azryon, one of his warrior angels. "Your human, she is spending the night at the Drilon ancestral home."
Michael had commanded Azryon to watch Hailey without fail. She was, after all, the future bearer of his seed. She had to be kept safe at all times.
Michael gave a single nod.
"Continue keeping an eye on her."
Azryon bowed his head once and vanished.
Michael's gaze returned to the moon.
Eons ago, he remembered, the moon did not reflect light at all.
I always wondered why Father made you reflect the star's light, he thought, speaking silently to it.
He didn't realize how long he had been staring. Even in his human vessel, time was irrelevant to him.
"I am back, General."
Eryxiel appeared, his tone sharp with duty. "The Herald is in New York. He is working as a weather news anchor at the Crowne Broadcasting Company. He goes by the name Gabriel Dawnbringer."
Michael's lips pressed into a line. Archangel Gabriel, the Herald of God's Word, reduced to delivering forecasts on live television. He shook his head faintly. His siblings often chose the most obvious human disguises.
"And regarding Seraphadneel," Eryxiel continued, "no Lightbearers have heard the name. But there are rumors… some Blackhearts may know of her."
Michael exhaled, the weight of frustration clear in the sound. It seemed Calyndris had told the truth. Samael likely knew who Seraphadneel was.
But Samael would be the last of his siblings Michael would turn to for answers.
"Very well," Michael said. "That's all for now."
Eryxiel bowed low, then disappeared.
Michael cast one last look at the glowing moon before retreating into his chamber. He pressed the intercom on his desk.
"François. I need to go to New York tomorrow. Arrange it. And schedule a meeting with the news anchor, Gabriel Dawnbringer. I need to speak with him."
He didn't wait for the butler's reply. Instead, he went straight to bed.
The instant his head touched the pillow, he slipped into a dream, a memory.
Michael strode swiftly through the endless corridor of the Hall of the Celestials. His heart pounded with urgency. He needed to speak to her. He needed to make her understand. He needed her to choose, to stay with him, on their Father's side.
He stopped before the grand white-and-gold doors of her chamber. Before his hand could knock, the doors opened.
"Remiel?" Michael's voice was sharp. "What are you doing here?" He stepped inside, scanning the room. "Where is Seraphadneel?"
"She isn't here," Remiel said softly. "Today marks the sixth day, Mikail. She went to see Samael. She said she wanted to say goodbye to him…"
Before Remiel could finish, Michael vanished in a burst of light, reappearing at the gates of the underworld, Samael's future kingdom.
There was only one reason he came.
Michael's steps echoed against the vast, shadowed hall as he made his way to the throne room. But before he reached it, Samael's voice thundered through the darkness.
And then he saw them.
Seraphadneel stood before Samael, holding out a small box.
"What is this, Seraphadneel?" Samael asked, his eyes narrowing at his sister.
"A prophecy," she answered, smiling faintly. "This is my farewell to you, brother. Inside is the key to bringing Lilith back from the veil."
Samael's hands trembled as he looked at Seraphadneel.
"If Father finds out about this, he will punish you," Samael warned.
"It's a good thing I am already being punished for not choosing a side," Seraphadneel replied with a faint smile. She stepped closer to him, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder. "This will not be easy, and it will not happen soon. It may take forever. But your waiting will be worth it."
"What do you think you are doing?" Michael's voice thundered down the dark hall, disbelief laced with fury. His gaze, however, never left Seraphadneel. "Father banished Lilith to the veil for a reason! And you would have her return?"
Michael's steps were heavy as he closed the distance. He seized Seraphadneel by both shoulders, his grip unyielding. "Are you truly going to take his side?" he demanded, his voice raw. He meant Samael. "There is still time! Come with me. Let us go see Father. Tell Him you choose to be a lightbearer."
Seraphadneel's sad smile deepened. She lifted her hands and held Michael's face tenderly, their foreheads meeting in a gesture that pierced him to his core.
"I am sorry, brother," she whispered. "But I will not be seeing Father. I have already made my choice, and I will stand by it. It is good that you are here… I was going to see you to say my goodbye."
She kissed his cheek softly, then released him.
"Goodbye, brothers."
Turning away, Seraphadneel began to walk down the dark corridor.
"You can't do this to me," Michael growled, surging forward to catch her by the arm. He gripped her tightly, his voice shaking with desperation. "Come with me now. Let us go see Father!"
But Seraphadneel only looked at him, sorrow shimmering in her eyes.
"If you will not come with me… if you will not choose to be a lightbearer… I swear, I will do everything in my power to make sure your prophecy never comes to pass," Michael swore.
"Mikail! You have gone too far!" Samael's furious voice roared across the throne hall.
"I do not care!" Michael snapped back. "That prophecy must never be fulfilled! Lilith was cast into the veil because Father foresaw that you would rebel for her sake. And it has happened!" His golden eyes blazed with wrath as he glared at Samael, then turned back to Seraphadneel. "But if you come with me now, if you swear to bear the light, I will look the other way. I will allow your prophecy to be fulfilled."
"You are the most obedient among us, Mikail. But Father does not need blind obedience." Gently, Seraphadneel pried his fingers from her arm. "He created us with purpose, yes, but not blind, unquestioning purpose. When eons have passed, when someday we meet again, I hope you will truly understand Father, Mikail."
Michael's voice broke, softer this time. "My purpose is to protect His creation. And you are one of His creation. You're only confused now, you still have time…"
But Seraphadneel lifted her chin proudly. "My purpose is to walk the path I chose, brother."
She turned and walked away, her footsteps echoing like a death knell in Michael's chest.
"This prophecy of yours will never happen!" Michael's roar chased after her, his voice cracking with rage and anguish. "Do you hear me, Seraphadneel? Never!"
His shout ripped him out of the dream.
Michael jolted awake, drenched in sweat.
"Young Master!" François burst into the room, carrying a glass of water. He hurried to Michael's side. "It has been a month since you've been waking from nightmares. Shouldn't you see a doctor?"
Michael took the glass and drank, his breaths still uneven.
"Doctors cannot help me," he muttered, his tone edged with bitterness. His eyes drifted toward the window where the first light of dawn spilled in. Morning had come again. And once again, the memory of his dream slipped from his grasp, leaving only the hollow ache of something lost.
Michael pressed a hand against his chest. His heart was racing, faster than normal, faster than necessary.
"Did you do what I instructed last night?" he asked, his voice low but commanding.
"Yes, Young Master," François replied. "The chopper is already on standby. The meeting is scheduled during dinner." He paused briefly, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. "But… he insisted that you meet at Club Olympus in Aurivale."
"Okay. Anywhere he wants," Michael answered flatly as he rose from the bed.
The day passed in a blur.
Before long, Michael was already in New York with François at his side.
"Young Master, this is the exclusive village where the properties of the Monteverdes, Falcons, and Sinclairs are located," François explained as their limousine rolled past pristine streets lined with towering gates. "On the way, we can pass by the mausoleum property. Would you like to see it? You still have time before your meeting with the weather anchor." He checked his watch.
"Okay," Michael said indifferently. He had nothing else to do.
"The property once belonged to the late eldest son of the Falcon family, Zeus Falcon," François continued. "It was originally meant to be a villa, where he and his fiancée, Ceres Evadne Monteverde, would live after their marriage. But tragedy struck. Ceres died, and a year later, Zeus followed. The two families then decided to transform the property into the couple's mausoleum. It remains open to the public during the day, since Ceres had helped many people while she was alive, and even after nearly twenty years, they still come here to pay their respects."
Michael usually had no interest in human stories or tragedies, but this time he let François speak. That changed the moment he stepped out of the car and onto the grounds.
Something felt… different.
"Stay here in the car," Michael ordered François. "I'll check the property alone."
He didn't wait for a response. François stopped the bodyguards when they moved to follow. When Michael said he wanted to be alone, it meant alone, without shadows.
The property was quiet, eerily so, perhaps because it was a weekday. There were few visitors, only a handful of staff tending to the grounds.
"Eryxiel," Michael called softly, knowing the angel was never far.
The warrior angel appeared instantly at his side.
"Can you feel it?" Michael asked.
"Yes, General. A Celestial blessing," Eryxiel replied, his voice certain.
Angels always left a trace of their aura on Earth, like perfume lingering in the air. That trace, called Angelic Blessing, could last for a year, especially if the angel had been in their full celestial form. It purified the surroundings, and other angels could detect it easily.
But this was different. Michael, in his human vessel, could not sense Angelic Blessings. Yet even so, he could feel this.
Celestial Blessing.
Unlike angelic traces, this blessing did not come from angels at all, but from the universe itself, and by extension, from the Great Creator. Only a very few of the Creator's children carried such a mark. The Archangels.
"But I don't recognize it," Eryxiel admitted, his brow furrowing. "This blessing is not familiar to me."
"Can you see where it's coming from?" Michael asked.
"Yes. From the back of the villa," Eryxiel said. "Do you want me to check ahead, General. The blessing is too strong. Whoever it belongs to may still have been in the area," Eryxiel said cautiously.
"It's fine," Michael replied. They had time. And so, Michael did not rush.
He walked slowly, unhurried, letting his senses absorb the pull of the energy as he moved toward the source. The air here was fresher, crisper, as though the wind itself had been purified. The plants glowed with a vitality not found elsewhere, radiance in every leaf and blossom.
This was not the lingering trace of a passing Archangel. No, whoever carried this blessing had resided here.
"There, General."
Eryxiel pointed ahead.
Michael followed his line of sight. He could not see it with his human eyes, but he knew, the white marble mausoleum was glowing with celestial gold.
The gates stood open.
Inside, the chamber was quiet, undisturbed. No one was there.
"How is this possible?" Eryxiel's voice trembled. "The blessing, it's coming from that tomb." He gestured toward one of the two marble sarcophagi. The one belonging to Ceres Evadne Monteverde.
Michael's golden eyes lifted to the large framed portrait between the two tombs. It looked like a prenuptial photo, the couple immortalized in their youth. His gaze fixed on the woman. Her face was delicate, but her eyes, clear, piercing, felt strikingly familiar.
"A Celestial soul," Michael murmured. Though the photograph was old, the clarity in her eyes shone through, calling to him in a way that unsettled him.
"How can a human vessel possess such a blessing, General? None of your human vessels emit your Celestial aura," Eryxiel asked in disbelief.
Michael frowned. "Father ceased creating angels after the Great Divide. But sometimes, the universe itself blesses a human soul. Some become saints, others rise as newly-forged angels. But this woman, she carried a Celestial Blessing. Why… why would Father create another Archangel?"
His brows knitted deeper. "Return to the Halls of the Celestials. Find out what happened to this woman's soul. When she died and transcended, her blessing should have departed with her spirit. And yet… it lingers here, in her body."
Eryxiel bowed and vanished.
Unaware of his own movement, Michael stepped closer to Ceres's tomb. His hand brushed against the cold marble.
A burst of light erupted from within him. His eyes turned pure white.
And then, he saw.
Steel clashed against steel. Sword against glaive.
Two Archangels. A man and a woman.
The man was already on one knee, his sword angled upward in defiance. The woman stood over him, smirking, the blade of her glaive pressed lightly against his neck.
"Surrender, brother. There is no shame in an honest defeat," the woman teased.
The man smiled, genuine, unyielding.
"Never."
White wings burst from his back, luminous and sharp, both armor and blade. With a surge of power, he lunged at her.
Laughing, she too revealed her silver-blue wings.
Strike after strike, they attacked and defended, blades flashing as their laughter echoed with every clash. They mocked one another, voices bright with exhilaration even as their weapons sought weakness.
Finally, in a powerful exchange, both sword and glaive were flung far across the battlefield.
They locked eyes, challenging, burning, before both darted toward the same direction. The man flew to reclaim his blade, but the woman, instead of pursuing her glaive, veered after him, their paths converging.
Before he could grasp the sword, her voice rang out.
"Calvareth!"
Instantly, the glaive appeared in her hand once more. Its blade was at his neck again.
"Surrender?" she asked, eyebrow arched, lips curved in a triumphant smile.
The man exhaled heavily, shoulders dropping.
"Fine. I surrender… for now. But only because this is unfair. Your weapon comes when you call it. Mine doesn't."
He scowled, his complaint edged with playful bitterness.
The glaive vanished from her hand.
Then she slipped her arm through his, her expression both teasing and knowing.
"How will your sword answer your call if it doesn't even know the name it should respond to?" she asked archly, her brow raised.
The man lifted his sword.
"I know that," he admitted, his voice low and honest. "It's just… I don't know what name to give it."
"Shall I help you?" the woman asked, smiling brightly, her golden eyes twinkling with mischief.
She studied the blade for a moment, then turned her gaze back to her brother. She thought quietly, then her lips curved into a smile.
"I know. I have the perfect name," she declared. "It suits your sword very well. Since you are Father's fiercest warrior, then it is only right to call your sword Heavensblade."
Her smile widened. "The sharpest blade of all, sharp enough to slice through darkness itself. Heavensblade." She laughed lightly, even miming the swing of a weapon before tilting her head up at him. "What do you think?"
He looked at her with warmth in his eyes, his heart stirred, and then raised his sword once again.
"Then I shall name it Heavensblade," he said with intent.
A light flared from his palm, running along the sword until the weapon pulsed in response, its first heartbeat.
Both of their faces lit up, radiant with shared joy.
"Now your sword will answer your call anytime, anywhere," she told him. Then, with an easy grace, she turned and began walking away.
"Seraphadneel!" he called after her, making her glance back over her shoulder. "Another match?"
"Maybe later," she answered with a small smile. "We'll be late if we linger. Did you forget? Father is creating His first human. We must all be present."
Seraphadneel's words rang like music, her golden eyes glimmering before she walked on. The man only smiled, falling into step behind her, watching her back with something unspoken in his gaze. Slowly, almost reverently, he followed her down the radiant halls toward the Chamber of Creation, where their Father and the other Archangels waited.
Michael gasped sharply and bolted upright.
"Young Master! Thank God you're awake," François exclaimed in relief, rising quickly from his chair and rushing to his side to steady him.
Michael frowned deeply as he realized where he was. He was in a hospital bed, a dextrose line hooked into his arm.
Immediately, he tore the IV from his vein. François tried to protest, but as always, he had no power to stop him.
"An employee from the mausoleum found you unconscious beside the tomb of Ceres Evadne," François reported. "We could not wake you, so I brought you here to the hospital. The doctor said you were fine, only that over-fatigue may have caused you to collapse. You've been unconscious for six hours."
Michael's eyes snapped to him.
"How about my meeting with Gabriel? Are we late?"
"I called his assistant," François explained quickly. "I informed him of the emergency, that you might not make it, and asked for another schedule. But they said tonight is the only time he's available, and they cannot confirm when he'll be free again. However… he is willing to wait at Club Olympus until midnight."
"Then let's go," Michael said, rising from the hospital bed without hesitation.
"Young Master, please," François urged, worry clear in his voice. "I think you really need to rest. This is the first time you've ever collapsed like this. I believe you need more tests."
"No." Michael's tone was final, his golden eyes burning with quiet determination. "More than ever, I must speak to Gabriel, now."
He strode into the bathroom of the VIP suite, already stripping the hospital gown from his body.
François could only sigh in resignation, waiting outside until his young master emerged dressed and ready. With no other choice, he prepared to accompany him to Aurivale, still unable to fathom why a mere weather anchor was so important that Michael would risk his health just to see him.