Raphael was the first to appear within the confines of Heaven, materializing as quietly as possible. The glowing air beside him seemed to vibrate out of control, and he stepped aside instinctively. Gabriel nearly exploded into sight, so great was his wrath that he was unable to contain the outpouring of energies within him. All about them, angels and souls alike took notice of their entrance, pausing in their various affairs to stare, wide-eyed and curious, at them.
“Brothers!” Gabriel’s voice rang through the peaceful air with power and authority. “We return with the gravest of news. Collect in the Hall of Cosmos and bear witness to our failure and to the folly of one of our own!”
Almost immediately, a clamor rose up at the pronouncement, every being in Heaven seeming to speak at once. The song that normally echoed from one end to the other was lost in a torrent of curiosity and confusion. There had not been such an announcement made in eons, and now all of Heaven was abuzz with talk of it.
Raphael would have preferred the song to this. It had been too long for him, being away from this place, and now they would return with news that would shake the Host to its core. To have denied himself the comfort of Heaven to attend to his duty was one thing, but for Azrael to willingly throw everything away for a single mortal, he did not understand.
As he followed Gabriel, their wings unfurling and carrying them upward, he wondered if he was the only one who was truly questioning. Gabriel had been inconsolable from the moment they had left their brother behind on Earth. He had been furious enough just knowing what Azrael was doing, but his refusal to submit to his judgement had driven Gabriel over the edge of reason. The very essence of Heaven seemed to pull back from Gabriel as he led the path to the Hall.
The clamor followed them up to the sacred Halls of Cosmos. Raphael had not seen the interior of the place since the fall of the Nephilim. There was a ceiling that arched overhead, but it was impossible to see, so masterfully crafted was the sight of an entire universe etched upon it. The sparkling stars and whirling planets spiraled down in pillars that circled the large, open room. Stairs as dark and deep as black holes rose up near the center, leading to a platform for the chosen speaker. Here laid the perfect re-creation of the realm they had watched from its inception and helped to shape themselves, the very thing they devoted their entire existence to guarding.
Unlike true space, sound carried with such a strength that the growing choir of angels was forced to speak in whispers. Gabriel’s footsteps sounded heavy and ominous, Raphael's a quiet shadow behind them that was almost lost in the echo.
Raphael stood beside Gabriel and faced the crowd of their siblings, which continued to grow with each passing second. There were faces he had not seen in centuries. His work brought him to the mortal realms frequently, and he was not able to see many of his brothers very often. Now, those same faces were gazing up at him and Gabriel, pinched in thought or worry, waiting for one of them to speak and explain themselves.
To no one’s surprise, it was Gabriel who raised his voice to the crowd. “My brothers! We come bearing news of the worst kind, news of one of our own. I speak, of course, of Azrael!”
Conversation rippled through the crowd, the trail of whispers echoing up into the cavernous dome of the Hall. Raphael closed his eyes against the din, wishing only for the security of his anointed task once more. The original Fall had been enough for him, and he was disappointed in Azrael for his lack of wisdom. Yet, Raphael ached in response to the pain he had felt resonate in the former Angel of Death. It had been so pure, unable to be dismissed or ignored.
“What could Azrael have done, brother?”
Gabriel turned to the voice, though he did not seem to know who had spoken from the sea of upturned faces. “Azrael made it known that he wished to return home, to Heaven. It was deemed that if he were to return to us, he must complete a sacred task. He was to take on human form, and then guide a wayward soul back into the light. In this, his access to Heaven would be returned, and his life with us here in Heaven would resume as it had been in the beginning.”
The angels from the collective nodded, giving the illusion of rippling waves.
“But he did not stay true to his duty. Rather than being the guide he agreed to become, he has, instead, chosen to be with this human. He has taken it upon himself to take his love for this mortal into forbidden territories. With this, he has begun an intimate relationship with this mortal, even lain with him.”
“With his charge? Has he forgotten so easily?”
Gabriel shook his head. “Nay, he did not forget. Perhaps in the first moments of being human, his memory slipped him. Yet, when we first confronted him about the matter, we thought perhaps it had been dealt with and he should have corrected himself. Instead, reminded of his true task, and of the danger of the path he had chosen to tread, he fled from our sight. Indeed, he fled from us altogether, actively attempting to elude our gaze, all the more to conceal the fact that he was continuing to break our sacred laws, the very will of the Almighty!”
Again, conversation rippled through the choir of angels, rising higher as more voices joined the throng. Anger was common. Confusion rivaled it. Azrael had never been an angel to show any signs of rebellion or a refusal to obey even the smallest of edicts. Perhaps more individual than some of the others—if only because he was the only angel to have first chosen his duty, rather than it being designated to him—he had never disobeyed.
Uriel stepped forward, drawing all attention to him and silencing the talk with a ruffling of his wings. “You are not here with him. Why?”
“Our brother’s movements were erratic. We thought to find him through tracing the resonance of his charge. When we returned to the mortal’s original residence, we found the resonance tampered with, altered. I have managed it, but it may be difficult to find them again if we do not act soon.”
“What was the interference?”
“I…cannot say for certain. Whoever did it was skilled enough to cover their tracks. And so, it could happen once more.”
Now the anger and confusion turned to worry, for that information left very few beings who could manage such a feat. All knew what a skilled human was capable of, yet they all knew exactly what one of their fallen brothers could accomplish of as well.
Uriel’s wings stiffened, arching steadily higher over his head. “What would they gain from this?”
Raphael spoke, amazed that the quiet of his voice carried over the noise, “You yourself, Uriel, came to us and reported the happenings across the world, of the rips and tears that were forming through the realms. The Fallen’s rebellion brought about the same, as did their children, the Nephilim. Perhaps that was what they wanted all along, or perhaps they have seen what happened before, and that is their aim now. Who can say? But we can no longer believe that what is happening with Azrael and the world are not connected.”
“If you knew about this, why did you not come to us sooner?”
Gabriel sighed, his anger wilting under the stares of their siblings. “We had hoped to settle this matter and bring it nearer to its close without involving all of the Host. Even when you brought us your news, Uriel, we hoped to bring Azrael with us so that he would face his judgement, and we could deal with the matter in one fell swoop. It was our attempt to redeem our own failings, in being ineffective watchers over our brother.”
“So, you did not find him?”
“We did, but there was a complication we had not foreseen.”
“Being?”
“Tobias,” Raphael answered.
Uriel turned his accusing gaze upon him. “Who?”
“The mortal.”
“What about the mortal?”
“He realized something that we did not. Though Azrael is still written in the very foundation of Creation as one of ours, he is currently, for all intents and purposes, a mortal. As such, we could not exude the will of Heaven upon him to obey, nor would we be able to directly influence him. Without the will to use, or being able to simply grab him and bring him back with us, we were forced to return.”
“He has…become that much of a mortal? How? In the few times one of our own has sheathed himself in mortal flesh, he has never been anything less than an angel.”
“We…do not know.”
“Allow me to answer, then.”
As a whole, every angel in the room turned to the voice that came from almost immediately behind Gabriel and Raphael. Not one of them had noticed the arrival of the angel on the podium. Cloaked in black hooded robes that cascaded in a tidy pool of fabric to the floor, the angel stepped forward. Even his hands were covered in black gloves, concealed as surely as the raised hood concealed his face. Wings of crystalline glass folded neatly upon his back. The ancient tome he bore was tucked under a covered arm.
“Metatron,” Gabriel breathed, stepping away enough that he was forced to descend the stairs.
Even Raphael backed away, giving the Scribe more than enough room to move before the assembled Host. It was a time for rare events, for the Scribe of God had not been seen making a public appearance since the declaration of war upon the Nephilim. They received word from him when he saw fit, or were pulled to his library when deemed necessary, but he had not come before the collected Host in millennia.
“Yes,” the Scribe stated simply. “And I bear the answer that you seek, for none of those angels that you know of have ever sheathed themselves in humanity as much as Azrael has. Nothing save He could ever change what Azrael is, as far as Creation is concerned, but Azrael can and he has dug himself deeper into Humanity. The Fundament knows what he is, but every aspect of Creation perceives him as a mortal, because he has behaved so much as a mortal does.”
There were few angels who knew humanity in the way that Raphael did, yet Azrael could be counted among that small group. He knew the horrors that they could visit upon one another, but he had seen the noblest of deeds performed by them as well. There was great potential for cruelty and love that beat within the chest and soul of every human being who walks, had walked, or would ever walk the face of the earth. They were a wonder to Raphael, even after all of these many long years, yet he would never truly understand them. Was Azrael understanding what it meant to be human, that he was becoming almost like one in just a few short months?
As every angel in the crowd came to their own conclusion about this concept, Raphael thought of the true mortal, Tobias, how ferociously he had defended what he and Azrael shared. For a man that they had been led to believe was broken inside, he had found the purity of faith in something that had fueled his actions. Even with the full force of Gabriel’s wrath and will upon him, Tobias had still spoken his piece and refused to back down. Gabriel would not have noticed it, but Raphael had felt the alternating waves of pain and love that poured from Tobias in a tumult. There was no denying the purity of Tobias’s feelings or his willingness to fight for them.
Could the same be said of Azrael? Had his love for Tobias brought him closer to humanity in so short a time, in a way that millennia spent with the souls of so many had never done before? Perhaps, it was the love of the mortal that had done it; Tobias’s human emotion bringing Azrael down to his level of existence, and solidifying his mortal conversion There were too many variables and possibilities, and even an angel of the Lord could not claim to know them all, and Raphael would not try. The questions bothered him however, and what bothered him more was how he could not easily dismiss them.
“Metatron,” Gabriel began, straightening his shoulders, “just as Azrael failed in his task, so too did Raphael and I fail in ours. We ask for your forgiveness, and that you grant us the chance to make it right. If we cannot bring him back as he is, we ask that you give us his essence. With that, we can make him again the angel he truly is and bring him back to us all for judgement.”
“Are you so eager to see the number of our fallen brothers rise once more, Gabriel?”
Gabriel looked startled. “I wish only to do what is right. The laws were laid down for a reason, it was decreed by Him for a reason, for His reasons. Do we need any more proof than what is happening across the realms? Azrael’s sins are eating away at the very foundation of Creation, are they not?”
“They are connected, yes. It is as you suspected and feared, Gabriel.”
“All the more reason to let us correct his mistake and ours. Let us bring him back here, so that you may pass judgement upon him.”
It was hard to tell where Metatron’s gaze was, beneath the shadow of his hood. Yet, he managed to give the impression of his eyes boring into one quite easily. His gaze shifted to Raphael, finding what he sought there before turning it upon Gabriel. His brother shifted subtly, and Raphael could sense the messenger’s discomfort.
“Azrael is to be brought back here, but he will face all of us. That is our way.”
Gabriel frowned. “Metatron, that has not always been the way. And for good reason, you know what we risk if we attempt that once more.”
Now the noise of the crowded angels picked up for the first time since Metatron had appeared. Questions passed through the Host, each one phrased differently but all of them wondering the same thing. Raphael shared their question, wondering what it was that they knew, something unshared to the rest of the angels. He caught sight of Michael, near the back of the hall, wearing such a look of grim determination that he began to wonder just how all of this was connected. There were few things that only these three angels would know.
Gabriel’s eyes met his across the stretch of the podium, and Raphael saw understanding there. Only the smallest shake of his head was what Gabriel was willing to give him as a sign. The shake meant silence, but Raphael hoped it also meant answers. Now, more than ever, he feared that this had something to do with their fallen siblings.
By all that is sacred Azrael, what have you done?
“You must have faith, Gabriel, and not only in what I say, but in your siblings. Fair judgement will be accorded to Azrael, befitting of what he has done. Now, here. You will need this.”
A hush passed through the room once more as Metatron reached into the fold of his robes and pulled forth what appeared to be a small statue carved of gray gemstone. It was fashioned in the likeness of a human, curled up within the close embrace of cupped hands. It was so detailed that Raphael could see tears streaming down the cheeks of the human and the soft lack of tension in the long-fingered hands that held it. There was a soft radiance from the stone, singing with a song so gentle that it was lost in the chaos of the room.
“Is this…?” Gabriel asked, a note of faint awe in his voice.
“Azrael’s essence.”
It was Raphael who reached forward to take the figurine, feeling a comforting coolness spread across his skin at its touch. It was just shy of cold, the sensation of soothing water sliding over labor-heated skin on a summer’s day. Raphael couldn’t quite hear the song, but he could certainly feel it. It was a somber, gentle tune, speaking of gentler days and peaceful nights, a tune one would hum to oneself in a quiet moment on the way home after a long day.
“It is the closest you will get to what is our soul, brother,” Metatron told him gently. “Bear it with great responsibility. Use it to bring Azrael back to us, but treat it with care.”
Raphael wanted to cup his ear to the figurine. The essence to angels was what souls were to humanity, and he held between his fingers the very thing that resonated with every piece of Azrael’s being. He sensed the soothing calm of his brother’s nature, mingled with a melancholic compassion. There was such a depth of love for humanity that the healing angel’s own being responded immediately. To think that such a potent fount of power existed within their quiet brother, and how quickly it was slated to be silenced once they returned him to Heaven for judgement.
“Allow me, Raphael,” Gabriel said, reaching out to take the statuette from him.
Raphael pulled it closer, cradling it against his chest. “I will bear this with us, brother. Your talent for seeking will be unnecessary. I know exactly how and where to find him.”
Gabriel’s extended hands retreated slowly, a confused expression on his face as he stepped away from Raphael. The rest of their siblings all gazed up at him with the same expression, all of them wondering what it was that Raphael was feeling. If any other angel had ever had their angelic essence removed for safekeeping before, no other save Metatron had ever held it within their grasp. Raphael, in his moment of seeking understanding, had made a milestone in their collective history. Yet, even that was nothing, compared to the low song of being that sang from the deceptively strong crystal in his hands.
Metatron turned to the crowd of angels. “My brothers! As I assigned Raphael and Gabriel the task of watching over Azrael in his appointed task, so do I assign them the solemn duty of bringing him back to us. He will be brought to us here, and he will stand trial for his disobedience. Leave us now, and when the time has come for Azrael’s judgement, you will be called upon again. May you all walk forever in His light and blessing!”
There was a murmur of returned blessing and the shuffle of wings, and they were gone. Only Raphael, Gabriel, and Metatron remained standing on the podium. Gabriel brimmed with anxiety, eager to move on to their duty now that they had what they needed.
Metatron’s head was bowed, his gaze apparently on the floor before him. When he roused himself, it was Raphael he spoke to. “I see much in my duties, as is expected of me, but I cannot see all. So tell me brother, is Azrael truly guilty?”
Raphael’s fingers held tighter to the statuette, covering it further from view. “He is guilty of loving the human, more intimately and passionately than we can say an angel has ever loved a human. His growing humanity originates within that growing love.”
Gabriel frowned at him but kept his silence as Metatron spoke again, “Azrael was meant to reconnect with the world beyond the one of the dead. He has been away from us for so long, and the world of the dead is not the same as that of the living. In this, he has fallen to the temptation of the world of Man. In trying to remind him of his duty to humanity and Creation overall, he has instead given himself to the world, denying his angelic nature, and duty.
“This is Azrael’s doing, brother, not yours,” Gabriel refuted, voice tight with his anger.
“We have all played a part in this, Gabriel. I know from where your anger springs, and it bears reminding that this is not history repeating itself just as before, not if what you have discovered is true.”
Raphael opened his mouth, finally finding the courage to speak now that they were alone, but Metatron raised a gloved hand.
“You have wandered in ignorance of the full implication of these events, Raphael, and have been most patient. I ask that you hold onto that patience a little longer. You will have your explanation. You have earned that much. For now, however, you will, with Gabriel, return to the earthly realm and bring Azrael back to us.”
“Yes, of course,” Gabriel replied eagerly.
“Bring him back here. Use his essence if you must. Perhaps being reminded of where he comes from will be enough. Do not mistreat him. Do not mistreat this mortal, Tobias. Our brother has been wandering in the dark with only the dusty tears of the dead to keep him company for millennia. Crimes he may have committed, but they are understandable ones. Bear him back here with the compassion and understanding that he deserves.”
Gabriel’s mouth fell open, though Raphael wondered if it was in question or in outrage. It didn’t matter. Metatron was gone, his disappearance as sudden and silent as his arrival. It left the two of them staring across the vacant space at one another. Gabriel’s mouth closed, a crease lining his forehead as he gazed at the statuette clasped in Raphael’s grip.
“You feel for him.” Gabriel said it as a statement, not a question.
“I am…beginning to understand.”
“I hope for your sake, brother, that you do not come to understand too well. Metatron has the right of it. We should bear him back with the dignity and kindness that he deserves, but he will come back all the same.”
“You never asked if the tears across Creation were because of this.”
Gabriel shook his head. “It escaped my mind for the time. I did not expect Metatron to make so sudden an appearance. He seemed…calmer than I expected.”
“Our brother has always been calm, for he watches and records. He does not react easily.”
“True, but he was quite passionate when it came to The Fall, and he was just as passionate when we eradicated the Nephilim as well. I cannot claim to know as much as he, and perhaps he expected this more than he said. I can say this: we have our duty and we have Azrael’s essence. Are you prepared to do what we must?”
An unexpected sadness crept into Raphael’s chest as he gazed down at the crystal. “Yes, we must do this. If only for the sake of all.”
“Then let us hurry.”