HEAVEN SAYS

by BeDactyl

Summary:

The secret is out: The Archangel Gabriel yet lives. Heaven tries to bring its wayward son home.
Sequel to DEATH ON YELLOW WINGS

Still updating, just more chaotic scheduling

Notes:

Unbeta'd, Tags will be added as they apply. I am very passionate abt proper tagging, so if you think I should tag this differently, please let me know

Chapter 1: EARTH'S LAST SLEEPWALKER

EARTH'S LAST SLEEPWALKER

 

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It was strange. Gabriel had been dreaming. He couldn’t remember the details, which was rare. He didn’t dream often, and they were more often memories repeated than dreams as humans had described them. He had slept with his helm on, this night, that was strange too. But force of habit was a strong thing, and over a hundred years Gabriel had established a routine.

When he woke, he would survey the gardens. 

There were 81 in total, but most of them were still too young to be anything more than a few shrubs in an otherwise barren field. His home was the largest of them, a small forest of trees he had grown from seeds. 

They had been the treasure of his last adventures with the machine. An ancient human vault made up of a stone corridor carved into the side of a mountain. The machine had hoped to find a replacement part, but all they had found were boxes of seeds and spores. After the machine… left, Gabriel had revisited the place, and begun replanting much of its contents around his home. Over time, he had started gardens all across the wasteland, but none grew quite as successfully as his first. Being the home of an arch-angel had side-effects. 

After surveying the gardens, he would attend to them.

This was a more complicated step. Depending on the season, it could mean anything from picking fruit to watering huge swaths of land. The work had grown longer as he started more gardens, but he still remembered the feeling of seeing one of them bloom for the first time. That satisfaction, that joy– it had been the most alive he’d felt in a long time. 

Once the gardens were attended to, he would patrol.

This was more a habit than anything else. No one else moved the winds or dirt of this burnt corpse. Sometimes he would stop to watch the stars, wings glowing softly. They were his only company. The stars and the sea alone moved without his guidance.

After he was satisfied with his patrolling, he would return to his home to sleep. 

That wasn’t entirely true. Patrolling often led him to a more… sentimental place. It was common that his route around the skies would end not at his little chapel, but at the large hollow stone not far from it. He knew humans had picked flowers when they grieved, but Gabriel did not have an abundance of flowers to casually destroy. Besides, flowers seemed the wrong gesture. 

So instead, he would creep into the darkness where its body lay, and summon light. The council had not killed him, but they had done something . His healing should have been a beacon in the dark, strong enough to bring a soul to tears. As it was, his hands would only emit a gentle glow, as he cleaned the rot and decay from V1’s viscera. If rust had crept onto any of the blue plates, he would clean those as well. It was a horribly intimate gesture, but Gabriel could not bear the alternative. Either way, the machine would not care. It was dead, and Gabriel was alone.

And then, he would sleep, and wake up when the dreams stopped. As an arch-angel, he did not need to sleep, but much preferred it to the terrors of idle thought. The day and night cycle mattered little to a being as old as Gabriel, and so a century passed not unlike a dream.

Upon this waking though, Gabriel already knew he would likely fall asleep in the machine’s tomb again. His dreams had been scattered and strange, and all he could remember was that the machine had figured prominently.

Beams of white light streamed through the sole window of the chapel. Gabriel stretched, letting it reflect through his wings for a moment, before he went to the door. As he opened it, he realized someone was standing beside it.

The machine, shining blue in the early morning light, flicked a coin between its fingers.

Gabriel shrieked, the noise like glass shattering.

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The machine was alive. It was alive again, and was making an utter nuisance of itself.

The business with the angels Gabriel could understand. From what scattered descriptions it got from V1, it had been confused and hungry, and had done what came naturally, brutal as it was.

But it had started messing with his plants! It regularly shot its hook into the trunks and branches of the trees, and he had come across it breaking a few smaller plants, for no reason! That had sparked a fight, and well. Gabriel might have gotten a bit carried away –he might have thrown V1 fully through a tree– but the damned machine had started it! It had also finished it, and then hopped off to go do its inscrutable robot activities.

Gabriel was not sulking. He was aggressively gardening. He had taken care of the body of his friend, he had missed it for years, and in that process he had forgotten just how annoying the damnedable thing was. He pushed the thoughts away, focusing on his work. Spring was coming, so he would have to increase how much water he was bringing back to the plants. It might rain on its own, but he couldn’t rely on that. Sometimes the dust of the humans’ old wars would get kicked up, and the droplets would fall as bits of sludge, giving nothing of value to the plants.

Nothing of value, he mused, like a war-machine with no war to wage. No wonder it had asked him to bring it a fight. Speak of the devil–

Gabriel turned, his swords flashing into his hands, but the machine was already pulling itself away. Where it had been standing a moment before, was a flower.

It was orange, petals standing around each other and going black near the center. One of his nasturtiums, probably from the garden not too far from his chapel. It was still miles away from where he’d last seen the machine. 

Was it… picking flowers? He sheathed his swords. He picked up the blossom, whose petals had been partially crushed on one side. 

First it molested his trees, and now it was destroying his gardens right as they began to bloom, the insolent little – Gabriel stilled himself. His wings had started to go the same orange as the nasturtium. It would be foolish to assume insult before anything else. He had no proof the machine even brought it on purpose. It could have snagged on its… leg-plate. Things.

That was stupid. The thing had fled as soon as he detected it, leaving the flower in a prominent place. This was clearly a message.

But what did it mea–

A beam of light shone in the distance, and Gabriel froze. Someone had teleported to Earth– no, multiple people, by the size of that column. The first time they’d come, it had been a fluke, completely unrelated to him. But this time, there could be no mistake. They had come down with a force, right next to his home. It was only because of his earlier fight with the machine that he was not there to receive them.

Almost without thinking, he placed the nasturtium between the hilts of Justice and Splendor. Then, bringing his wings back to a calm blue, he took to the skies. The machine did not reappear as he made his way to the angelic host, and that was definitely for the best.

He pulled short of the clearing where they stood, floating gently above the trees.

Puriel led this host, but the angels behind him looked much less familiar. All greater angels, interesting. There were not many supreme angels left after the council’s culling, but whoever ruled Heaven now had sent none of them to battle an arch-angel known for his military conquests. That was… startlingly poor judgment. Though given Puriel’s reaction to him when they’d first meant, perhaps they were just here to talk.

“I bid you welcome to Earth.” Gabriel said.

A dozen heads snapped upwards, their wings flashing green with surprise. The murmuring started a moment later, expressions of disbelief and awe. Some of them were even going a bit gold in their wings. No, definitely not here to battle him.

“Gabriel, I thank you for such a welcome.” Puriel said, his voice caught between giddy and reverent. “I worried you might not greet us.”

“As I worried that I might be greeting a war-host. Tell me, why have you all come to this place of death?” Gabriel let himself lower down to the level of the other angels, a couple of whom drew back. He kept his wings that friendly blue, but did not stop his voice from growing serious.

“Peace, Gabriel, we only came to confirm the Power’s word.” Another angel, said, gesturing to Puriel. He didn’t look like a Power himself, likely a Dominion in charge of the group. Of the six classes of angelic beings, Powers and Dominions were the hardest to tell apart. They were humanoid, but one was covered in scales and the other feathers– a distinction made useless by the fact they almost always wore armour or clothing to mimic supreme angels. “And now we have cause to celebrate.”

“I left Heaven with a trial of blood behind me, brother. What, exactly, are you celebrating?” Gabriel said, voice still wary.

The Dominion’s blue wings turned yellow at their edges, and his voice matched their joy, but with a further layer of gentleness. “We celebrate the return of kin we once thought dead. Of an angel who fought for Heaven’s children tirelessly, even when it meant turning the blade on people he had trusted. We celebrate the home-coming of a liberator.” He reached a hand towards Gabriel, and the other angels went completely still in anticipation. “Will you honor us with that, Gabriel?”

Gabriel was taken his back, his wings going a doubtful pale blue for a moment before he returned to his senses. That was uncharacteristically emotional, for a Dominion. 

He had never dared to dream of this. Being welcomed back to Heaven with open arms. It seemed too good to be true but…

His gaze turned to Puriel. He had promised the machine to train the angel to be well enough to fight it. He could not do that from Earth. And if all this was true… perhaps it was worth the risk.

Gabriel took the angel’s hand.

Notes:

WELCOME BACK TO THE BUILDING
This fic is both more well planned and less than DEATH ON YELLOW WINGS. Im not writing it all at 6am, but I am writing it without the full outline finished, which means I have NO IDEA what the release schedule on this will be. I hope I can do monthly or bi-monthly, but that's probably gonna depend a lot on life stuff and motivation (I eat your comments for power).
there is a gonna be a lot of OCs, but there will be more canon characters than you might expect. I have many thoughts abt this fic- its going to be a wild ride.
before ch 3 drops I will probably go back and make another prequel to better establish V1 and Gabriel's dynamic pre-death

Chapter 2: BRIGHT BLUE SKY

Summary:

The V line was meant for a world of war. V1 finds itself in a world of peace.

BRIGHT BLUE SKY

𝌁𝌆𝌝𝌗𝌝𝌆𝌝𝌗𝌝𝌆𝌝𝌗𝌝𝌆𝌝𝌗𝌝𝌆𝌝𝌗𝌝𝌆𝌝𝌗𝌝𝌆𝌝𝌗𝌝𝌆𝌝𝌗𝌝𝌆𝌝𝌗𝌝𝌆𝌝𝌗𝌝𝌆𝌝𝌗𝌝𝌆𝌁

It was strange. V1 could no longer locate Gabriel.

When its visuals had picked up a column of light that matched angelic teleportation, it had started heading towards it, but the touchdown location had been completely empty when it arrived. As was the surrounding area. Other than his possessions, there was no sign of Gabriel at all.

Retracing steps showed he had received the Apology Flower. Did that mean it had worked? 

With its fuel reserves topped up from their fight, it had taken time to analyze the angel’s response to its experiments, and concluded that Gabriel was more upset than was optimal. In the past, gestures of apology had a reasonably high success rate, even if Gabriel did not always seem to realize that’s what they were. The Apology Flower had been a new iteration on a proven pattern that V1 had been trying out. As it understood it, flowers were something of a big deal in human culture. It had previously disregarded that data as worthless, given there were no longer any flowers, but Gabriel had changed that. It was eager to test how effective they were. 

There were a lot of new things to test. Much to its disappointment, plants did not seem to contain any usable blood. They had a similar liquid, but the mineral content was pitifully low and the majority of it was just water, which was useful for cooling but not a lot else. Gabriel had provided the blood after that particular experiment, but well, that didn’t seem to have been on purpose. The angel was really mad about V1 breaking his plants, so the robot decided to put those particular experiments on hold for a while.

Instead, it had taken to expanding its geographical file for this region. It didn’t seem similar to any other geographies on record, but its data was definitely outdated. There was more evidence of life than it had expected, but most of it was contained in what Gabriel had identified as his “gardens.” Their placement had no obvious logic to V1, aside from a distance of at least 4.82 kilometers between locations. Each one hosted a diverse range of species, but there were often many of the same kind of plant in a single garden. Each garden was unique, both in flora and in layout.

V1 took its time exploring a world it was never intended to see.

This particular garden was located on the edge of a large crater; likely an impact site of an ancient bomb or an earthmover lance. Its creator was long gone now, and their destruction had been turned into an unnaturally circular lake. 

And on its edge was a field of grass.  V1 knew what grass was, but previous data was… insufficient. This grass was tall. 

It stretched up to the machine’s chest, and stayed consistently that tall. White and yellow flowers peeked through the sea of green. The wind blew shimmers of sunlight across it. As V1 waded into it, the trampled stalks would pull themselves back up, until there was only a faint trail remaining. It looked up out of the grass, and the blue horizon stretched all around, clouds moving across it slowly.

V1 knew its relative size to many things. It was an important tactical consideration when fighting. Ambiently, it noted that it was smaller than the sky. It flopped down, the canopy of grass surrounding it, and tagged that data as positive. 

As it laid there, it detected movement to its immediate right that did not match with the wind patterns. It turned its head, and locked visuals on the space. It saw a bug. The thing was black, and roughly 25 milimeters. It crawled up the grass slowly, unbothered by the machine’s observation. V1 wondered how much blood it contained. It decided the answer was not worth the effort. The beetle reached its destination, and little wings emerged from its back like origami. With a faint buzz, it vanished into the sky.

The peace was not to last. After some time, V1 hopped back on its feet. It was going to start running low on blood soon. Time to go find Gabriel.

Notes:

and we're off to the races! This fic is going to have a lot more Gabriel POVs than V1, but dont worry, everyone's getting to peep The Horrors. This is, as we might call it, the calm before the storm.
The chapter name comes from TWRP's Bright Blue Sky, a much more chill and funky beat than ULTRAKILL's normal fare, but I think it fits the fact V1 is just kinda vibing.

Chapter 3: THE PRODIGAL SON

Summary:

Gabriel returns, and sees what has grown in the absence of Heaven's Council.

Notes:

The second DOYW prequel is up, if you guys feel hungry after this chapter

THE PRODIGAL SON

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Heaven was as beautiful as he remembered. Pillars of pure quartz holding up ceilings of gold-veined marble. The gentle sound of music. Clouds of different colors filled the horizon, and the smell of old incense filled the air. The nearest cloudbanks acted as support for the austere temples of the cities of Jupiter, the Sixth Layer. 

But it was also different. The more he looked, the more Heaven felt like a warped reflection of his memories. The music was not a overpresent choir praising God’s truth, but a distant singer, whose voice floated like a whisper above them. The gate Gabriel and his escorts arrived at was completely abandoned, save a single servant who smiled at them. Gabriel felt a growing unease at it all. 

The Soul bowed to them, and before walking up to the Dominion, who leaned down to it. Puriel, open book that he was, purposefully looked away from this display. Souls were the lowest order of Heaven, and in the days of the Council, it would’ve been unheard of for one to speak directly to a greater angel. How much had been lost, Gabriel wondered, that mere Souls were filling the roles that would normally be played by virtues? The Soul whispered something, and the Dominion nodded, before addressing Gabriel. 

“The All-Chorus awaits, if you wish to join them, Gabriel. They have been warned of your coming, but most of Heaven still doubts your survival.” He said.

“We’re going straight to the Yelling?” Puriel said, before his wings blushed purple as the rest of the angelic host glared at him.

“I think I may not be familiar with this chorus,” Gabriel loudly said, trying to spare the poor thing, “But it sounds of interest.”

“It is the ruling body of Heaven,” the Dominion said, “made up of all angels who wish to participate. This has given it a reputation for. Well…”

“There is a lot of Yelling.” One of the other Powers said sheepishly.

“Let us go to the other layers first. Let Heaven know it has regained one of its holiest brothers.” Puriel said, his embarrassment at speaking out of turn already forgotten.

How quickly the mask of Heaven’s Angel had fallen back into place, because Gabriel didn’t even flinch.

“I think I can survive a bit of yelling. I wish to see the All-Chorus, if it would be permitted,” He said, keeping his voice light. “I would like to see how it… differs.” 

The silent comparison to the Council of Heaven hung in the air. Gabriel had never counted the years he had acted as the Council’s hound, but they would number no more. He was done, and if a return to Heaven meant a return to that … No. He was done with that.

The Dominion floated beside him, leading the way without implicitly leading him. That spoke of an angel who either cared deeply about the hierarchy of Heaven, or expected Gabriel to.

“Friend, I find myself made a fool, that you have guided me home, and I cannot remember your name.” Gabriel said quietly, “Would you help me in this too?”

“I am called Surufel.” He said, dipping his head, “Watcher of the Fifth Tower, until recently. We have never met before.”

Some part of Gabriel, old and ill-used, sat up. The part that had worked to guide the hearts of the faithful, to make friends out of sinners, said, ‘That was a lie .’ 

He replied, “Then I am glad to meet you.”

Surufel continued, “I’m afraid you will have to memorize many more names, if you are to spend much time with the All-Chorus. Its members number more than just Thrones.”

Thrones, the second-highest of angelic tiers, below arch-angels. That more charismatic part of Gabriel said ‘And that was a test.’

“As I would expect.” Gabriel said, “If all of Heaven is bid speak, then I expect all of Heaven would answer.”

By his reaction, Gabriel had passed. Surufel’s wings never changed, but he began floating a bit quicker, his posture going from subservient to directing in an instant, “Then I suspect you will find it interesting indeed. Let us not keep them waiting.”

 

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To stand before the Council had been a terrible thing. A choir of Heaven’s holiest, staring down at you, rendering judgement. 

To stand before the All-Chorus was a terrible thing, but it was different.

The room had been a greek-style theatre once. The crystalline pews rose in a semi-circle around a central raised stage. But now its seats were full of angels of all shapes and colors. They all sat in serene meditation, their wings and bodies unmoving. Like they had been painted onto the air.

“I bid address the All-Chorus.” Surufel said, and the room awoke. The angels stirred, a thousand eyes flickered to him.

A Throne stood and said, “Then the All-Chorus will hold session. Speak, Dominion Surufel.”

“We have lost much in this era– the flock of Heaven bled again and again. Some died in righteous battle, and we honor their memories. But today, we see a miracle; a great angel of Heaven returned to us, when we thought him lost in battle. Heaven and Earth made safer and more joyous by his presence, we have found the Archangel Gabriel, among the trees of that once-Eden.”

More and more of the room seemed to come alive as Surufel spoke, their wings flashing different colors as they looked down on Gabriel.

The attention stayed on Gabriel as the speech ended, though the All-Chorus stayed damnably silent.

Gabriel was not afraid. A century could not make him forget the eyes of the Council, and this place had nothing on that. But his unease grew. “I am honored, to be invited back. I had not expected to survive Hell, and thought it a just atonement for my sins. When I did survive, I–” He wasn’t sure how to explain this part. His survival had not been a happy accident, but a deliberate act by the Machine that had doomed him. One last thwarting of his will. “I thought Heaven had no need of me, and so I stayed to tend to the Earth.”

There was completely silence for a moment. 

And then chaos, as every angel in the room stood up and began shouting.

A number of them were shouting congratulations at Gabriel. Some shouted accusations, and the congratulatory group began shouting insults and accusations back at them. Much of the din was incomprehensible, but two Dominions to Gabriel’s direct right seemed to be ignoring his presence completely to continue an argument about something called “Project Eden”. 

It was madness. It was nothing at all like the council, and Gabriel almost laughed. He did understand Puriel’s outburst now; “The Yelling” was an apt name for this.

Surufel tapped him, and Gabriel could barely make out the angel say, “You should speak.”

Gabriel nodded, and took a step off the ground. Before he had been the Judge of Hell, Gabriel had been known as the Messenger of God. And when he spoke, Heaven listened.

“ Angels of the All-Chorus ,” Gabriel Spoke, “ Be at peace . I return only to once again see my home, nothing more.”

The silence returned for a moment, before one throne stood up and said, “Then you have chosen Hermitage?”

Another joined interrupted, “Will you join us on the All-Chorus? We are without an archangel!”

“And by whose will has that come to be?”

“By God’s Will!”

“I think Rakul just enjoys the singing.”
“I was talking about Gabriel!”

Surufel floated up beside him, and said quietly, “The firmest hand of God is but a nudge compared to the influence of chaos, hm?”

That was almost sacrilegious. It was a wonderful change of pace. “I take it this happens every time?” Gabriel replied.

“Without fail.” Surufel said, before raising his voice again, “Angels! This meeting was called for a special and direct purpose! If the matter is settled, then let Gabriel go and meet his people reborn!”

A Throne with blood-red ornaments, a rare color in the upper castes, spoke up, “And what purpose is that, Surufel? You have been called upon by the All-Chorus to speak and you rebuked us, but now that has changed so suddenly.”

A couple other Thrones hummed with agreement.

“If the All-Chorus has summoned me by name, Abdiel, I have not heard of it.” Surufel said.

“The leader of Project Eden was summoned, yet you insisted that–” Abdiel, the red Throne, started to say, before another Throne from the far side of the room interrupted.

“Enough talk of Project Eden! The Archangel Gabriel stands before us, alive again!”

A number of Thrones and Dominions hummed in agreement, and Gabriel noted that despite Surufel’s claim that the All-Chorus was for all that wished to join it, no castes below Dominions were present. 

Gabriel bowed, and said, “I am humbled, by your words. Never again did I think I would know Heaven.”

 A Dominion with excited yellow wings said, “Even if you do not join us on the All-Chorus, we must present you to the people.”

“What would we present him as?” said a Throne who towered above their neighbors, “A kin-slayer? We cannot parade him about like he has done nothing wrong. Heaven has laws, and Gabriel has broken them!”

Gabriel almost relaxed at that. It had been a bit more of what he’d been expecting. What the throne said was true– he was a murderer and an oathbreaker. The fact the rest of the All-Chorus seemed to have forgotten that was… uncomfortable.

The Dominion who had spoken before was furious, “He is our liberator! He broke our laws to free us from the tyrants who had usurped them!” 

The yelling soon followed.

“We cannot let what happened go unpunished. What if we are next?”

“Are you mad? What power do we have to punish the Archangel Gabriel?”

“We need Gabriel for the All-Chorus! It is because we do not have a guiding hand that we are mocked!”

“That defeats the point of the ‘All-chorus’ being for all!”

“What purpose is the point if we can never get anything done?!”

The sound was really starting to get to him. Which was an impressive feat given the amount of time he’d spent surrounded by the literal screams of the damned. But he understood their problem. His hands were stained red with the blood of too many to count; could the blood of tyrants really wash that away? He knew the answer to that, and he had known it since the day he walked into Hell, to never again return. He understood that unease now; forgiveness or not, he did not deserve Heaven. He never should have returned.

 He gathered himself again, and Spoke, “Whatever punishments the All-Chorus deems necessary, I will suffer.”

The silence was thoughtful this time, as a hundred angels chewed on his words.

At last, the tall Throne spoke, “We must show the people we are not the Council. We will not decide fates behind closed doors. I suggest a trial.”

Hums of accord, whispers of disagreement.

A trial would mean his sins laid bare. It sounded awful. Without hesitation, Gabriel said, “I accept.”

 

 

 

---

Notes:

I've had people ask for character designs for the angels before, so I went a little nuts. Don't expect this for every character, but I wanted to have some fun with Puriel and Surufel, given how much they'll be showing up in this fic. If you ever want to draw them, feel free to tweak the designs; these are more rough ideas than canon appearances. I didn't bother finishing Gabriel and Dokiel on the linup since y'all know what Gabriel looks like and Dokiel uhhh will not be appearing in this fic lmao. Let me know if the image is embedding correctly!
***
Next chapter might take a while, Im moving all my stuff back across the Atlantic soon
EDIT: I lied lol.
EDIT 2: Changed Surufel's title from Watcher of the Fourth Tower to the Fifth Tower

Chapter 4: Anactoria

Summary:

Heaven knows the Dominion Surufel. He is a veteran of the Wars of Heaven and Hell, well reknown as a battle tactician. He is kind to his underlings, sometimes to the point of weakness. He is quiet but not soft-spoken; his words can cut as sharp as a blade, but he rarely wields them without purpose. He is an angel of worth, but not distinction.

The Moon knows different.

Notes:

woe, suprise OC chapter be upon ye

Anactoria

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The Moon, lowest layer of Heaven, was a complex of blue-grey gardens tended by lesser angels (Virtues and Souls). Shining blue crystals and precious stones grew like plants, and were trimmed and sculpted into neat shapes and mazes. Carved pillars held up a roof filled with mosaics of myth and night. It was a series of six massive caverns, filled with gentle starlight. The central cavern was the most beautiful, and at its center lay the Gate. A circular bronze platform, unusable by most of the Moon’s residents.

Once, Virtues had ruled this place, but with the majority of them lost to their duties in Hell, Souls were all that was left. They had no wings, and very little Heavenly power, so they couldn’t traverse the layers by themselves. After the fall of the Council, the Moon had become isolated from the rest of Heaven, as the native Souls couldn’t leave and greater angels never bothered to visit. With one notable exception.

Surufel landed on the Moon with a great flash of light, and flew straight to her lover. The Souls and Virtues tending the gardens didn’t give the Dominion more than a wave; Surufel was a common appearance here. 

Min’s home was a gazebo-like structure of woven branches, with curtains instead of doors or windows. She had chosen it because of its public nature– she loved conversation with a passion– but it made it rather obvious which greater angels were sneaking in, and how often.

Surufel all but crashed through the door, and sat herself down on the bed in something approaching a heap.

Min was small, even as Souls went. She resembled more a person-shaped cloud than the human she’d been in life. The only real color on her was her clothing, a light blue chiton. She was sitting by one of the windows with a cup of tea. She was remarkably calm for a woman on death row, but philosophers were like that.

She took a sip, before saying, “I’m guessing the plan didn’t work?”

“It was working!” Surufel squawked, “And then they started yelling about punishments, and now they’re going to put him on public trial.”

“Wasn’t the whole point of bringing Gabriel up here to get him in the public eye?”

“Yes, if we could control that perception. We need him to testify that Earth is safe, but that not even going to come up if the All-Chorus starts investigating however many atrocities he’s done.” Surufel said, doing a very unangelic flop into Min’s pillows.

“Shame we never got any skilled lawyers up here.” Min said, and someone who didn’t know her might’ve missed the little smile at her own joke.

Surufel had studied her intricacies for years, and caught it even with her back away from the women. “No, just mouthy philosophers.” 

“What an interesting idea–” Min started, but Surufel stopped her.

“Absolutely not. You have enough negative attention on you without getting involved in the shitshow of the millenia.” The All-Chorus had been reticent to let Project Eden do anything more than look at Earth, and when angels turned up dead, they had wanted someone to blame. A sentence had yet to be pronounced, but the direction was clear. Surufel, as angelic supervisor, would receive a punishment, and Min, as the leader of the project, would be executed. 

Surufel was not going to let that happen, but neither of them were fighters. Min was smart, and Surufel had enough political situational awareness to survive in the All-Chorus, and they were both going to have to hope that was enough.

“Fine, fine, I won’t represent him. They wouldn’t let a mere Soul do that anyway. It would have to be at least a Dominion,” Min said, not subtle at all.

Surufel sighed, and said, “I saw him kill my friends, Min.” 

Heaven, on principle, did not speak about the Disappearance of God, but she could not afford to forget. The Council was not the only group of angels to claim the Divine Mandate, and they proved their holiness by making quick and bloody work of the competition. It was only through luck that Surufel was spared the fate of her brothers in arms.  

“I’m not telling you to love him, just to… point him in the right direction.” Min said, before adding, “And to introduce us.”

Surufel knew her well enough to know Min wouldn’t request this lightly, but it didn’t stop her from replying, “What? No.”

Min took a sip from her tea, and asked, “Do you know why he killed the Council?”

Anytime you let Min start asking you questions, you had already lost the argument. Surufel could guess where she was going with this, “You think you can figure out what’s driving him.”

“We both heard Puriel’s story, and I’ve heard some rumors from Kindness-Of-Strangers about Gabriel’s testimony. Something has changed.”

Kindness-Of-Strangers was one of the Virtue assistants to the All-Chorus, and the only one who called the Moon home. Before Surufel had started frequenting the sessions, it had been the only source of news regarding the rest of Heaven. It was also a total gossip. 

Surufel sighed. “Something has changed. That doesn’t make him safe .” 

Min nodded. “You’re the warrior. Name a time and place that would make it safer, or call it off, and I’ll listen. But a general who doesn’t know his enemy only invites disaster.”

Surufel admitted defeat. “I’ll figure something out.”

Notes:

Happy pride month *hands you t4t lesbian angels*

This chapter title is a reference to The Anactoria Poem
I was originally planning to do something refrencing the book of enoch, since Surufel's name is pulled from there (Sariel, one of 200 angels who "lusted after the daughters of men") but decided to do something that felt more true to the character. Hence: Sappho.

Chapter 5: Beat your plowshares into swords

Summary:

Puriel receives a house-guest.

Beat your plowshares into swords and your pruning hooks into spears.

Let the weakling say, “I am strong!” 

𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺

Puriel felt like he was going to explode with glee. Of all the angels offering Gabriel accommodations, he had picked Puriel!

“Do you sleep, Gabriel?” Puriel said, then felt embarrassed by the question. That was a private matter, he should not have asked it; but Gabriel seemed so accommodating to his curiosity!

“I do, from time to time,” Gabriel replied casually, as they flew to the power’s home in Mars, the fifth layer. He had asked the archangel countless questions, yet he never seemed even a bit perturbed.

“I’m afraid I don’t have much to rest upon, but while you’re here, anything of mine is yours! Ah, here we are!”  Puriel dipped downward, kicking up dust from the red earth, before landing beside a brick building.

It was one of many; part of the barracks where Puriel had originally been posted, when the Wars began, but it was just his home now. And it was a mess– Puriel should’ve thought of this, should’ve cleaned up, but he had not been expecting Gabriel . His hammock hung beside the stone window, the only one of his possessions that wasn’t littering the ground. Puriel tried to shoo the miscellaneous junk to one side, to make space. Gabriel did not step past the threshold. 

“I would not deprive you of your lodgings.” Gabriel said, eyeing the hammock, “Perhaps one of the nearby buildings are unoccupied?”

Puriel looked at where Gabriel’s gaze landed; the room opposite his. “They are, but not... not that one.”

Gabriel cocked his head, clearly catching the break in his voice. “Who lives there, if I may ask?”

No one lived there anymore. “It… it is where Dokiel rests.”

He nodded, and said in a soft tone, “To have them close is a… Comfort. I understand. I will find another place to stay.”

“May I ask,” Puriel asked, once Gabriel had found another room to his liking, “Why you choose to stay with me? I am honored, beyond words, to–”

Gabriel held out a hand, stopping his praise before it could begin. “I had an offer to make you.”

What?

At his silent gawking, Gabriel continued, “You show some promise with the blade; if you wish, I can train–”

“Yes.” He interrupted.

“I… well… Good, then.” Gabriel said, clearly having expected this to be a longer conversation.

“There’s a good plateau for sparring to the east of here, if you’re not too tired from your travels.” Angels didn’t dream, but if Puriel had, a lot of them would have involved getting fighting lessons from Gabriel. Followed by them teaming up to kill the devil or something. 

𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺

The plateau was not much to look at. A flat slab of orange rock with a ravine cutting through the middle.

They had not so much as landed on its surface when Gabriel ordered, “attack me.”

Puriel hesitated.

“I must see how you fight, before I can give instruction.” Gabriel said, gesturing for him to come forward. “Give me your best.”

He nodded, and gathered his power, bringing his greatsword before him. With his left foot, he launched himself forward, using his wings to close the distance. He swung the sword where Gabriel stood and hit nothing. Gabriel hadn’t even blocked it, merely took a step backwards out of his reach.

“Try again.”

As he pulled the sword through its arc, he pivoted and thrust it to Gabriel’s new position. This time Gabriel just leaned a bit to the side, and pushed the blade away with his hands.

“Better. Your first problem is speed.”

“Got to you pretty fast, didn’t I?” Puriel asked.

“No,” Gabriel said, and suddenly he was right behind Puriel, “You didn’t.”

“Oh.” Puriel replied. He hadn’t even seen him move, just a blurred after image where he’d been a moment before. Maybe Puriel had been getting too casual speaking to his superiors. He did his best to look chastised.

“But this a something that can be fixed with practice. The larger problem is your form.”

That stung. When he’d served under Surufel, the Dominion had actually praised him on it directly. “My form was well regarded in my company.”

Gabriel didn’t look impressed. “Am I a crowd of Filth?”

“Of course not! You-”

“Then don’t treat me as one. You are fighting a singular, well armed opponent. Striking wide and slow will only get you killed. Your weapon has range, but it is only useful to you as long as it keeps the enemy from advancing. Attack me again, but this time focus on jabs, not slashes.”

Puriel did as he was told, trying to make the strikes as fast as possible. Most of them didn’t cause Gabriel to do more than take a step this way or that. It was getting frustrating, watching his strikes be avoided with that much ease. He spun the blade, picking up momentum. He stepped forward, striking right at Gabriel’s chest.

His blade hit something! Gabriel had summoned a sword of glowing, yellow light, and used it to deflect Puriel’s attack. 

“That,” Gabriel said, “almost hit me.” 

His blue wings went slightly yellow at their edges, and Puriel perked up as well. “Should I try again?”

“No. You need work on a moving target. Continue attacking me.” And then he was gone. At this point, Puriel knew to check behind him. Sure enough, Gabriel floated behind and above him. 

He swung the sword, and kicked off the ground, launching the jab towards the archangel. Who once again vanished.

He spun immediately, and was rewarded with Gabriel’s new location, back on the ground and crossing his arms. “You have wings, Puriel, use them.”

Puriel flapped his wings, willing the energy in them to shove him forward. He fell onto Gabriel, his sword striking stone.

“Better. Again.” 

And Puriel did. Again, and again, and again. Each time he’d go for the strike, Gabriel would be just out of range, or floating a little ways away. Puriel was starting to get frustrated, the edge of his wings bleeding orange.

Gabriel had been standing on a boulder this time, which Puriel cut in two when he missed. He could hear wingbeats above him. He reoriented, and shot upwards, sending the red dust swirling . He pulled his sword into an arc that would clear the air in front of him. At the last moment of the swing, he redirected the momentum, and swung the blade behind him instead.

A clang ran through the air, followed by the hiss of blades sliding. 

A dagger of golden light in Gabriel’s hand was all that had kept the greatsword from connecting. Puriel bounced back and forth between panic that he had almost hit Gabriel to elation that he had almost hit Gabriel. The panic completely overtook his enthusiasm when Gabriel sunk in the air a bit, his freehand going to his helm.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” Gabriel said unconvincingly, “Just maybe more… tired, than I had expected. I think I will take you up on that offer of a place to rest, now. We will continue our training later.”

Notes:

Title is from Joel 3:10. No hidden meaning, just thought it fit the vibe of the chapter and wanted to keep Puriel's title scheme consistent from DOYW

Despite my love for all my OCs, my favorite reoccuring character in this series is Gabriel's irrational hatred of hammocks.
Going to post the next chapter sooner than normal, since its something of a part two to this one.

Chapter 6: qn7 m3vkj11

Gabriel’s dreams were fitful, hellish, and horrible clear .

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An aching back, and the knowledge that no matter how long he climbed, he would never reach the top of the pyramid. It stretched endlessly ahead of him, more horizon than the actual sky. 

He felt something snap in his back, but the surprise was stronger than the pain. He had been holding this rock for an eternity, he didn’t think he had anything else to break. He laid it down for a moment, and pawed at his spine. Something liquid and warm ran down his back. His hand, already red and burnt by that god damn sun, came back redder. 

He didn’t have time to ponder this though: a Virtue had spotted him. In a beam of light, the pain returned, and a voice like a hammer to the skull commanded:
RETURN TO YOUR SUFFERING

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He had never thought he’d make it this far. When he’d heard that Lust had been remade, he had never imagined this… paradise. The lights were calm purples and blues, not the horrible brightness of Limbo. People walked about chatting and laughing. They held each other, as lovers, as friends, as family. There were houses, parks! People were free to run! To… scream?

Someone grabbed him, pulling him with them, telling him to run. 

“Minos is dead! The angels are coming!” They half-screamed, half sobbed. He looked up, to where the locals had told him was the throne of King Minos. There was a flash of great light, and he felt his eyes being seared shut.

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There was nothing to existence but the claw and grasp. The river styx did not drown him– he was the river styx, drowning in himself and his neighbors. But he was strong, and he was lucky, and he was getting higher . He could make out the light now. Only a few bodies stood between him and that light. He scrapped, and clawed, and screamed, and tore and he was getting closer. He pulled himself over the last unlucky soul, and gasped the free air. He could feel a warm light, could even hear words.

“–lest you squander one of the Lord’s creations. Here, take a moment.”

There was an angel, and he fought desperately to be closer to it. It- He shined like nothing else. He was holding a filth, no, the Ferryman! If only he could get a bit closer. He began to claw and grasp with renewed vigor, fighting through the other sinners, toward the angel. He was strong and he was lucky, and he managed to reach the bit of rocky shore where he touched down, cradling the Ferryman. 

He crawled closer to that warm light; how heavenly it felt, on his cold body! He reached a hand out, towards it, desperate to be closer in any way. And the angel turned to him! He was beautiful, shining. He raised his foot, and kicked him in the head. He screamed as he fell, sucked into the claw and grasp once more. The light was gone.

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Gabriel woke up covered in blood. It had leaked from his helm as he slept, leaving marks like tearstains and pooling in his armor. When Gabriel dreamed in the past, it was of his memories, not… not this. 

What the fuck was that?

Chapter 7: ONE FOOT IN THE GRAVE

Summary:

V1 goes looking for Gabriel.

ONE FOOT IN THE GRAVE

𝌅𝌅𝌆𝌗𝍄𝍃𝍉𝍊𝌆𝍓𝌏𝌆𝌗𝍄𝍃𝍉𝍊𝌆𝍓𝌏𝌆𝌗𝍄𝍃𝍉𝍊𝌆𝍓𝌏𝌆𝌗𝍄𝍃𝍉𝍊𝌆𝍓𝌏𝌆𝌗𝍄𝍃𝍉𝍊𝌆𝌅𝌅

 

DATA ANALYSIS:

LIGHT INDICATING HEAVEN-FUELED TELEPORTATION APROX.15.4 DAYS AGO

LAST SIGHTING                 15.5 DAYS AGO

ALL KNOWN GARDENS SURVEYED

ALL KNOWN POINTS OF INTEREST SURVEYED

 

CONCLUSION:

MANKIND IS DEAD

HELL IS GONE

GABRIEL IS GONE

I AM ALONE.

 

Long term strategy had always been something of a janky system. V1 thought anything beyond the immediate objective was irrelevant most of the time. Which meant it hadn’t considered what it was going to do if its only source of fuel ditched it. 

Even in retrospect, it was not a likely outcome. He had killed their leaders and moved on from the place. It had taken an embarrassingly long time for V1 to connect their request for Gabriel to train Puriel to his disappearance. But even that seemed like incomplete data; if Gabriel had gone to Heaven for V1’s benefit, he would have returned more frequently. Not even Gabriel’s gardens showed signs of upkeep. As far as V1 could tell, he had left with no intention to return.

And day by day, its blood count was getting lower. 

It was still a markedly better fuel efficiency usage than before Godpiercer, but the conclusion was clear. 

Eventually, it would run out of blood. Its systems would be taken over by a fuel priority override, using all available energy to seek out possible fuel sources. It completely neutralized any system that wasn’t direct fuel retrieval; which made V1 into a violent shell, unable to form tactics or situational awareness. It was an emergency feature, meant as a last resort right before death. 

And then it wouldn’t die . 

It would just keep living as the hunger drove it mad. Possibly forever, if Godpiercer didn’t experience normal decay.

It couldn’t even scream.

It was a fate that would make Hell proud; its last emissary of eternal suffering, eternally suffering.

V1 picked up speed. It had been running for 41 hours now, no destination. There had to be something , someone . 

Somewhere along the line, it had picked up a new priority: live. It had to live. And it had to figure that out right now, before eternity caught up.

𝌅𝌅𝌅𝌺𝍐𝌚𝌏𝌼𝌆𝌼𝌏𝌚𝍐𝌺𝌺𝌺𝌺𝌺𝍔𝍔𝍔𝍔𝍔𝍔𝍔𝍔𝍔𝍔𝍔𝌺𝌺𝌺𝌺𝌺𝍐𝌚𝌏𝌼𝌆𝌼𝌏𝌚𝍐𝌺𝌅𝌅𝌅

 

PRIORITY OVERRIDE

REASON: FUEL RESERVES AT 0%

OBJECTIVE: FIND FUEL

The fuel override was making it hard to run unassociated systems, like pattern recognition. It was starting to overheat a bit with the effort, but it was worth it. Everytime it found a building that wasn’t completely destroyed, or a garden that looked cared for, it was a chance for salvation . Right now, it was INFO IRRELEVANT.

Pattern recognition alerted to something, and it stopped its half walk, half crawl forcefully. It wasn’t an angel. It was just a large, circular door, half buried in rubble.

V1 pulled out the rocket launcher and fired. The door cracked, but didn’t break. It didn’t have the processing space to decide what that meant.

It told itself there could be fuel behind that door. There had not been fuel behind the last 36 doors, but INFO IRRELEVANT.

PRIORITY OVERRIDE

REASON: FUEL RESERVES AT 0%

OBJECTIVE: FIND FUEL

It attacked the door like an animal, clawing at it with Godpeircer. It’s internal clock didn’t measure how long it took, to tear through the stone and rebar. All it knew was that eventually, it had made enough of a gap to wedge an explosive into, and then it had made enough to a gap to wedge itself into.

It tore tubbing near vital systems as it clawed through the hole but it was worth it. Pattern recognition went haywire. This hallway was INFO IRRELEVANT. It ran, noting that INFO IRRELEVANT. Another door, this one easier to destroy. Wires sparked, hydraulics hissing. Lights flickered on in the long hallway, a dozen glass coffins illuminated on each side. This was INFO IRRELEVANT. TARGET SPOTTED.

It smashed through the glass. Its fist landed in the chest cavity of the human inside, and the cryostasis chamber was filled with gore. It pawed at skin and muscle, tearing and pulling, as fresh blood flowed into its systems.

The fuel override turned off, and V1 could think again. It reassessed its surroundings immediately. This was a cryostasis vault, likely dating to the middle of the final war, by the age of the technology. It looked to be about fifty humans, of varying sizes. Some of the chambers had failed, meaning only about thirty eight would be viable for refueling purposes. A temporary solution, but it could be made to last a long time, if V1 was careful. 

It returned to the corpse of the person it had eviscerated. Very little was recognizable, the head reduced to pulp. Each chamber was labelled, and V1 bent down, curious to know the name of its savior. The name had been rusted off. V1 dubbed him Frank.

Memory brought up another headless corpse. A journal begging for salvation. The sinners in Limbo, waiting for Gabriel to save them. 

It decided it had made a tactical error, in spending as much time looking for Gabriel as it had. Gabriel never saved anyone.

Notes:

EVIL DIVORCE CLIFFHANGER

Im taking a little hiatus while I deal with real life stuff. As a treat before I leave, here's a v1 chapter
title is a refrence to Shayfer James' One Foot in the Grave. It has some lyrics that are a fun fit for V1

Chapter 8: THE CONFESSOR

Summary:

Gabriel tells the truth, for all that it damns him. But who is even left to listen? The fire, after all, is Gone.

THE CONFESSOR

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Gabriel knew Heaven to be something of a slow system, and was thus surprised when Surufel appeared only a few days later, asking about the trial.

“I will admit, I had not given it much thought.” Gabriel said, which was sort of true. Most of his time had been spent coaching Puriel, and what times he took to rest were… not restful. He had thought about the trial a lot, but not about its logistics.

“There isn’t precedent, but I believe having someone to defend you would be reasonable.” Surufel said.

Gabriel nodded.

Surufel continued, “I’m sure others will approach you, but I ask you consider our offer. Should you wish to speak more, meet us by the main Gate to the Primum Mobile in two days time.”

The Primum Mobile? An odd choice for meeting, but perhaps not. It had been where the Council held their chambers; it seemed likely it would hold his trial, as well.

“You are the only one so far, though perhaps that will change when Puriel learns of the opportunity.” Gabriel said, trying to keep his tone light.

Surufel chuckled, and replied, “He does think highly of you.”

Gabriel felt that sudden, body-consuming weight that had been creeping into more and more of his days. He was well practiced at the courtly manners of Heaven, but fuck practice. With the honesty of a sharp blade, he replied, “He shouldn’t.”

The air went still.

Gabriel dimly noted that he had been right about Surufel. Despite Gabriel’s tearing of the conversational script, the Dominion didn’t so much as flinch. A perfect mask of Heavenly courtesy. He said, “I suppose that what the trial is for. Will we see you, then?”

Gabriel gathered his false cheer back and replied, “Yes, I will come by. I look forward to meeting your ‘legal counsel,’ as you call them.”

 

⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱

 

The Primum Mobile was as majestic as it was massive. Great gears and bevels the size of planets filled the sky. Ever sliding platforms made up the ground, clicking and turning in tune with the universe. Nestled between the glowing machinery of God was the Auditorium, which was large enough to house almost all of Heaven at its height. 

Surufel wasn’t waiting for him at the Gate. Instead, there was a Virtue and a Soul.

The Virtue gave him a flickering acknowledgment, and then ignored him. The Soul looked directly at him for a long moment, its eyes appraising. Gabriel didn’t recognize it, and couldn’t tell if it recognized him, for all that staring.

“I am here to meet with Surufel.” He tried.

It said, “Do you know who I am?”

Gabriel was startled into crude honesty, “Uh, no?”

“Ah, shame. Neither do I, but everyone needs a project.” The Soul said, unperturbed. Its hair was long and cloudy, kicked up into its face by the winds of the Primum Mobile. It continued, “I’ve figured out the Minimum: I am myself. It’s something of a mouthful however, so most just call me Min. I’ve figured out I’m a philosopher and a woman as well, though that came later. Who are you?”

“I am Gabriel.” He was starting to really wonder where Surufel was. The Virtue was watching him now, but was otherwise unbothered.

“Oh, I know your name. I was wondering who you are.” Min said with a small smile. 

Did she want a title? A half dozen came to mind, and Gabriel went to give her one and… stopped. He was not the Messenger of Heaven, nor the Right Hand of the Father, not anymore. The less said of Judge of Hell the better. In fact, all the titles he’d been granted in Hell were more… violent, than he currently was. It had been a century since then, and he hadn’t managed to be anything more than a gardening shadow. 

He tried not to let the silence stretch further. “The archangel Gabriel. Are you Surufel’s legal counsel?”

“Ah, did Surufel tell you that? She has an good sense of humor. Of course, we can’t be certain if I’m actually a lawyer.” She replied. 

‘She’? Most angels that were given a gender were male, and some of the Thrones who spoke to the Dominion used male pronouns as well. The more Gabriel learned of Surufel, the more oddity she seemed. 

Before he had time to gather his thoughts, Min asked, “Why do you only call yourself ‘archangel’?”

Gabriel tried not to feel relief when Surufel arrived at that moment, halting the woman’s questioning. 

“Gabriel, I apologize for my tardiness. I see you have met Min.” Surufel said, landing on the platform with the clink of metal on metal. 

Gabriel doubted the tardiness was accidental. This felt like another test. “Easily forgiven, Surufel. What did you wish to speak on?”

Surufel nodded to the Virtue, and in a beam of light it vanished. A test succeeded, hopefully.

“I don’t mean to be rude in asking, but we were curious how you are alive.” Min answered for them. Surufel had landed behind her, a united front.

It was a reasonable question. As far as Heaven knew, he had returned to Hell just before the entire realm imploded. Beyond that, the removal of the Father’s light should have killed him. The Council had assured it, singing hymns as they tore the very life-force from his being.

The Auditorium loomed in the distance. The Council were silent now. 

He said, quieter than he’d meant to, “It is a long story, better told in a place of comfort. Perhaps another place than… this.”

 

⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱

 

Gabriel felt more wound than man. He had told them. Every question the quiet little Soul had asked, he had answered. He meant to keep the details sparse, but when he started he just couldn’t stop. 

They had found a secluded garden in the Eighth layer. The Fixed Stars had been his home, before he became Hell’s warden. They were mostly freefloating island gardens, shining with plants both terrestrial and divine. But the spot where they now sat was walled in one three sides, giving them some privacy. Min had suggested the Eighth Layer, and Surufel had spotted the place with almost suspicious speed. Surufel had kept her eye on the exit throughout his whole tale, but she was clearly listening.

Gabriel knew when he was being manevoured, but he couldn't find it in himself to care.

Min had asked questions, urged him forward. She barely needed to. It felt like an old wound being scrapped, puss and blood flowing out of him as he described the shame and the anger. The injustice of it all. The horrible doubt, and the final relief of failure. 

 And for all that, he ended his tale not being able to answer their question.

“The Machine said that Hell ‘owed it a favor.’ I assumed it used that to heal me, though I never got the details.” He finished quietly.

Min answered just as quietly, “We should know enough to craft your defense now, thank you. Do you have any questions for us?”

Gabriel did not feel any better, for having told his story. It didn’t have a happy ending. He looked down at Min, and said, “Do you still believe in God?”

Min looked surprised at the question. Surufel finally turned to look at him. The Dominion and Soul glanced at each other, a quick, wordless exchange.

“Yes.” Surufel said.

“Yes. He has more evidence for his existence than I do.” Min said.

They did not understand. He had told them everything, and they still didn’t understand. He was not going to come back. God was dead, His words twisted and warped as they slowly lost their light. The fire was gone, it had been for years. They were alone.

Gabriel felt as heavy as sin. For their kindness in listening, he said, “I will see you at the trial,” before he vanished into a beam of light.

Notes:

Hiatus was a bit longer than intended, but unfortunately life does have a tendency to get in the way of that highest of callings: Writing Fanfic
No promises on a future schedule, but Im hoping I might be able to do weekly uploads for a bit before I am roughly dragged back into the busyhood of living.

See you next week, when we get to find out what the lesbians think of all this!

Chapter 9: In the Spring Twilight

Summary:

Heaven does not know what Surufel knows now. But should it?

In the Spring Twilight

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The gardens were quiet, after Gabriel’s exit.

The two women sat in silence for a long time, digesting what the Archangel had confessed.

Min was first the break the stillness, “I should’ve kept notes.”

“There was enough heresy in that they might have just caught fire.” Surufel replied, trying for a joke. It felt slightly too real to be funny. 

“So. What do we know?” Min said aloud.

Surufel knew she was mostly asking herself, but supplied, “The archangel Gabriel is insane.” 

Surufel could understand his feelings on the council. They had given him tortuous task after task, and when he finally failed in his duty, he was damned for it. But Gabriel had become obsessed with the last straw to break the camel’s back. He spoke of the old human weapon like it was responsible for everything. For God’s sake, he thought it talked to him.

Min’s head was tilted back, her eyes closed as she massaged the bridge of her nose. “We know that if the archangel Gabriel speaks for himself at that trial, he will ask Heaven to destroy him.”

“And Heaven will listen.” Surufel said, feeling the bitterness in her words. “They might be right to do so.”

“Let Gabriel be judged by the Father he denies.” Min said, voice perilously soft, “We have people to tend to.”

“People who will not be helped by that… Mess. Let him craft his own Damnation without dragging any of us with him.” Surufel hissed. 

Min genuinely considered it, before she said, “No. It is too late. We have already tied the rediscovery of Gabriel to Project Eden’s success. If Gabriel is proved a monster, then Heaven will only see us as responsible for ruining its hero.”

“Is it not a human saying, ‘The road to Hell is paved with good intentions?’” Surufel demanded.

For the first time since Gabriel had left, Min’s face held that hint of a smile, “We are trying to escape Heaven, love. The road to Hell is the fastest route. The trick is to take the earlier exit.”

They both had a bad habit of getting caught up in semantics. Surufel tried to make her point clearer, “To defend Gabriel, to call him innocent, is lying to Heaven. We are better than that!”

Min stood up from her seat, and stretched her arms upward, looking out into the Stars. “An old mortal dilemma: is violating your principles excusable if the alternative is death?”

Questions were never entirely rhetorical, with Min. “It depends on the principles.”

The Soul sighed, “That is the trouble with absolutes, they’re not always useful in day to day practice. I suppose the question should be: right now, with all this, can we stay good people and live?”

That forced Surufel to stop and consider. If they did nothing, left Gabriel to his fate, the All-Chorus would just come for them next, maybe even angrier.  If they renounced Project Eden and tried to hide out of Heaven’s sight, there was no certainty of safety. And they would be betraying the organization, the dream, they had helped build. And if they defended Gabriel, they would be risking their lives in order to save a man who didn’t deserve it. Surufel knew at least one things to be true with certainty, “I don’t like this.”

Min said, “Neither do I. But let’s do what we can do, and hope the scales balance, in the end.”

“What then? We try to cover up that ,” Surufel gestured to the space Gabriel had been standing, “and hope Heaven doesn’t notice the blood? He was not subtle about the Council, Min. I doubt he will be subtle about his heresy, even with all of Heaven watching.” It was hard to imagine someone being that stupid, but she was not going to underestimate Gabriel again.  

Min sighed, and said, “I have an idea, but we’ll have to convince him not to speak.”

Surufel replied. “How? I want to be wrong, but nowhere in that story was there any hint of something we could leverage, something Gabriel cares about.”

“No,” Min agreed, and she seemed sad, “I doubt he even cares about his survival. But he is still an archangel.”

She, of all people, should know better than to measure someone by their caste. “What does that mean?” The Dominion said.

“He thinks in absolutes. By instinct, he sections the world off into good and evil, holy and heretical. And he thinks of Heaven as holy.”

“Heaven is holy.” Surufel said, not sure where she was going with this.

“Is the All-Chorus holy? Is it good?” Min said, in that unjudgmental tone that signalled philosophy was about to happen to you.

“The All-Chorus is not Heaven, as the Council was not Heaven.” Surufel replied, aware she was dodging the question.

“It is made up of Heaven. Pillars of Heaven hold up its roof, angels of Heaven hold its sessions. At what point does the holiness recede? What defines the barrier between Heaven and its speakers?” Min said, walking to stand at the edge of the garden.

Surufel took her place beside her. “Numbers. Space. Heaven is more than a few hundred shouting voices.”

“If great numbers of people lead to holiness, would humanity not have been more holy that angels, with their billions?”

Surufel started, “Angels were made by The Father–”

This argument was familiar ground, and Min jumped to the end of it, “As was humanity. The difference was always a matter of choice. Free will. The difference between Heaven and the All-Chorus is in action, but what action of theirs has stripped them of their holy status?”

“They plan to kill you.” Surufel hissed. 

“They have not yet tried.” Min replied nonchalantly, “Are rumors and threats enough for a choir of angels to be deemed heretical?”

“We are getting distracted.” 

Min made an amused huff, “Maybe so. My point is, Gabriel doesn’t know the All-Chorus. If we are lucky, he will not realize their bias until it is too late for him to sway them.”

“Are we certain you were a philosopher?” Surufel said, looping an arm around her. No one was watching, she was all but certain. “Perhaps you were a scheming politician who snuck their way into Heaven, before getting caught and dispersed.”

Min cheeks dimpled, and she gave her a humored side-eye. “Did that happen frequently, Watcher Surufel?”

“No.” She admitted. And that was probably good, given the orders for the Watchers of the Eight Towers were to shoot intruders on sight. Surufel had earned his reputation and pronouns through exactly that. She much preferred the person she was now, to the person he had been then.

Min seemed to sense her mood. She leaned into her side, putting her own arm around her. “It's been a long day. Let’s go home.”

Surufel nodded, and in a beam of light, they were gone. 

Notes:

The title is another one of sappho's poems. tho I had some trouble sourcing it past Mary Barnard's Sappho: A New Translation. Dont cite this fanfic in a Sappho research paper kids, I am Skimming This Shit.
Its a short one, so I'll just paste it:
In the spring twilight
the full moon is shining:
Girls take their places
as though around an altar

See you next week, when we go back into Gabriel's head (yikes)

Chapter 10: THE BLADE OF HEAVEN

Summary:

Gabriel and Puriel continue their training.

Notes:

okay look I know I said this was coming out on friday but I had a Night and decided fuck it. two updates this week

THE BLADE OF HEAVEN

⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱

Gabriel wondered if this how the demons of Hell had felt: viscera and pain encased in carved stone. He had tried to keep the fallout of his confession quiet, but Puriel seemed to have picked up on his poor mood.

“– if you need rest, of course.”

They were standing in Gabriel’s place. It was almost completely empty. A bare cot and a window. On the ledge sat the nasturtium, wilted and forgotten in Gabriel’s stress.

“I am fine, Puriel.” Gabriel said, “Let us test how you’ve been progressing. We’ll have a proper spar today, after your drills.”

Puriel dropped his suspicions instantly, his wings lighting up. He sped ahead of him, now eager to begin. For his impatience, Gabriel had to correct his strikes multiple times. But Puriel’s excitement hadn’t diminished in the least.

“A test of speed and skill alone. Summon no Heavenly energy, and I will do the same.” Gabriel ordered. As a Power, Puriel was limited somewhat in how much energy he could summon; allowing Gabriel to use the proper powers of an archangel would tip the scale too much in his favor, even with his dimmed light. “Draw. Guard.”

Puriel brought his greatsword to a rest before him, and Gabriel drew Justice. 

“Go.”

Puriel had improved, and the two fighters met halfway. The dust flew back as the two blades struck, one blue, one white, before Gabriel and Puriel both bounced backwards.

Puriel leapt towards him. This time, Gabriel just flew out of reach, letting the greatsword slash through a cloud of dust. Puriel laughed as he gained altitude to match. His joy was infectious, and Gabriel found himself chuckling.

“I feel I haven’t thanked you enough!” Puriel said, arcing his sword around him and successfully keeping Gabriel from getting in close. He was getting better.

Gabriel felt a bit of pride at that. He decided to fall back– with only Justice, he had no real ranged weapons, but neither did Puriel. If Puriel chased, he might open himself up for Gabriel to go on the aggressive without undue risk. He called back, “You have given me a place to stay, that’s sufficient thanks for a few lessons.”

Puriel followed Gabriel slowly. He hadn’t leapt at the bait, but he also wasn’t letting Gabriel get far enough away to be able to surprise him on the angle of attack. He replied, “Its more than the lessons, Gabriel! Your wisdom, you– you understand us!” 

“Us?” Gabriel started gaining height.

Puriel followed him. His already yellow wings went a reverential green at their tips. “We are warriors! The blades of Heaven!”

Gabriel looked down at the blade in his hand. It shined in the Martian sun, but not everything glowing was holy. “I am not so certain.”

Gabriel kept pulling away, but Puriel had stopped. He said, “How can you say that!? You are amazing! You have slain every foe put before you! You are The Righteous Hand of the Father!” He was still keeping his guard up, but his attention was clearly starting to drift.

As was Gabriel’s. “Not anymore.”

“Don’t say that! You're still– A couple years, a few defeats, they don’t change who you are!” Puriel said, his tone pleading.

One part of Gabriel wondered if he was right. He had tried to change, to see truth, but what did that matter? It brought no one back. Nothing he had broken could be fixed. All he had done was dull the blade and pretend that made him something other than a sword. 

Another part of Gabriel said, ‘Now.’ 

The archangel dismissed his wings, and fell. He held his arms close, gravity pulling him downwards as the air rushed around his thinner form. He heard Puriel make a noise of surprise, and mentally marked that location. He recognized when he hit terminal velocity, and flared his wings. The momentum caused a small pain, but this was not a new manevour– with exact precision, Gabriel pulled himself out of the death dive and used its inertia to shoot upwards.

Puriel’s wings went white, and his greatsword moved. It was too slow. Gabriel hit him like a bullet to the chest. He had reversed the grip on Justice to avoid spearing him, but blood still flew. He pushed Puriel backwards until the momentum started to run out. Gabriel put a foot on the smaller angel’s chest, using it to leap back out of his range before he had a chance to recover.

Puriel’s wings shattered, probably more from surprise than damage. He fell for a moment before regaining himself, barely managing to catch Justice with his sword as Gabriel fell upon him.

“See?!” Puriel said, his wings quickly flashing back to blue and gold, “You are everything you’ve always been!!

Gabriel kept the fury from his wings, but he started hitting harder. Sparks flew as Justice clawed at Puriel’s defenses. The Power stopped talking, his own wings losing their hue as he focused on keeping Gabriel away.

Puriel was a warrior, and he’d seen many battles. But they were nothing to what Gabriel had done, had been doing, for hundreds of years . It only took one mistake.

He struck, and Justice bit into Puriel’s shoulder. He pumped his wings, forcing them both downwards. They hit the rock with the sound of thunder, Puriel’s body taking the brunt of the inertia as Gabriel stood above him.

Puriel’s wings shattered, his body haloed by fresh cracks in the red stone. Gabriel pulled Justice free, automatically reaching up to wipe the blood from it. He stopped, and stared at his gauntleted hand, the crimson liquid dripping from his fingers. 

He didn’t feel remorseful. He didn’t even feel winded.

“Puriel.” Gabriel said, and he could not summon an ounce of emotion into his voice. “Are you alive?”

Puriel groaned, and sat up slowly. 

“I need to rest.” Gabriel lied. He could’ve done this for days without rest. He had before. What he needed was to be anywhere but right here, right now. “Will you be alright by yourself?”

With a voice clearly shaking with pain, Puriel said, “Don’t worry about me, I’ll heal.” He was struggling to get to his feet. Gabriel leaned down to offer a hand, which he took. “Go rest. That was… You’re incredible!”

Ironic, that Puriel’s praise always seemed to draw more blood than his sword. Gabriel summoned his power, desperate to be away from the adoring angel. 

For a moment, he turned it towards Earth. Towards his gardens, his little chapel. Towards the Machine. He could go to it, goad it into a fight. It would run circles around him. He could put every ounce of his skill, his power, into fighting it. 

And it would destroy him anyway.

But it wouldn’t kill him. It always stopped right before that final, climactic blow. It would hop away, and leave him bleeding in the sun. 

A blade dulled and chipped was still a blade. Just a useless one.

He could not bear the image. 

He flashed into existence in the gardens of the Fixed Stars. He tried to breath in the floral air, tried to slow his pumping blood. For once, he begged for sleep, desperate to escape.

He controlled his breathing, forcing it to slow. After ten long breaths, he felt his blood starting to follow suit. As the energy bled from him, the exhaustion crept into his place. Gabriel took a few steps towards a bench, before giving up. He welcomed sleep, and collapsed into the soft grass.

Notes:

Me when I started drafting Heaven Says: Yeah this fic is a lot more focused on gabriel and his relationship with heaven so there probably wont be any action sequences like DOYW had
Me now: okay but its Gabriel Ultrakill hes gotta ultrakill SOMEONE

Chapter 11: px qxvn

Under the light of the Fixed Stars, Gabriel dreamed of home. 

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V1 had returned, and he knew where it was .

Joy and fear and everything else lent speed to his wings, as he shot up the side of the dead Earthmover. 

He pulled himself to a stop midair, as he caught that buzzing yellow glow. Puriel hadn’t stood a chance, he could see now. He had tried to claw away from it when his wings failed, leaving a trail of blood. But the lesser angel’s fate was nothing, compared to the vision standing over him.

Blue and gold, like a heavenly blade made flesh. Its feet and hands stained dark red, the blood shining with the light of the rising sun and its own wings. It would shine all over, Gabriel knew. He had polished it himself. But the thing before him seemed a world apart from that cold metal corpse. Would the chest be warm to the touch, with the blood flowing beneath it again? Would it hum with hidden wires? Gabriel could not remember. He ached to find out.

 With a smooth, almost lazy motion, it pulled a new gun from its wings. It was nearly the size of V1, electricity humming down its barrel, but the Machine held it effortlessly. 

He had sat there gawking long enough. He Spoke, sending his voice to overwhelm it. To grab every inch of its attention away from Puriel.

When that that lidless yellow eye finally landed on him, he let the feeling fill him. He donned his helm, letting V1 know who exactly it was dealing with.

He could already taste metal. He unsheathed Justice and Splendor, and said, “Come and get me.”

⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱

The Machine was fucking insane.

They were thousands of feet in the air. He hadn’t expected it to chase him all the way up the skyscraper. He definitely hadn’t expected it to use its OWN ROCKET’S EXPLOSION to shoot itself towards him. 

He been easy prey, paralyzed by laughter once he realized what it’d had done. 

The red fist connected with Gabriel’s helm, and he felt himself crack .

His cheek splintered, the metal easing open under the pressure. Bits of metal fell away. His wings shattered. He began to fall.

The Machine stared at him, where the Light leaked out, and it fell with him.

A thousand thoughts assailed him, as the air roared past his ears. The Machine had done what no one had before. Again. It had broken his helm. It was looking past it. It was looking at him .

They were picking up speed. Soon they would hit the Earth’s embrace, and it would hurt like Hell, but Gabriel could not look away. His veins pulsed rapidly, and he felt a strange floating sensation that had nothing to do with falling.

The Machine had cracked the helm of an archangel. That wasn’t supposed to be possible. He had done it– sword biting through armor of all types when he culled the Council, but he was an archangel. The Machine had just struck him. While he laughed.

The strange sensation was replaced by an old and familiar beast: anger. He reached out, grabbing that red arm and pulling the Machine to him as they fell.

It still didn’t move.

He twisted himself around it, pulling Splendor from its sheath and holding it with two hands above the machine’s core.

“I’m going to fucking kill you!” He laughed, and drove the sword in just as they hit the ground.

His legs burned, his whole body ached. The dust obscured everything, but he could feel the earth settle around them, could feel the machine’s little body, pinned between his knees. Could feel his hands in its ribcage, the sword buried to the hilt. The warm blood pooling around his knuckles.

“I win.” Gabriel whispered.

Then he heard the sound of a gun cocking, and felt the barrel push into the crack in his helm.

Gabriel made something between a wheeze and laugh and said, “If you shoot that, you’ll kill me. I can’t heal wounds that deep.” 

The air began to clear of dust, and they sat there for a moment, weapons buried in each other. 

⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱

When Gabriel walked out of his chapel that day, he was struck speechless.

He had worked for weeks, carefully pollinating and seeding the fields around his little chapel, and had not expected to see much come of it.

But like a miracle, there was a field of flowers outside his home. He had only planted those seeds a few days before; the pansies and cornflowers seemed to have bloomed almost overnight. The earth was still mostly brown here, the grass struggling to cover it, but now blue, purple, and orange blossoms wove patterns through the soil.

He stepped out cautiously, as if walking too loud might scare away the scene.

A cloud passed overhead, and when it was gone, the sun shined even brighter. Gabriel had seen all the wonders of Heaven. Halls the size of cities and constelations like paintings. But he had only passed by them. He had made this one, one dirty and bucket of water at a time. 

Gabriel sunk to his knees, and watched the flowers dance in the wind.

(In the years to come, the trees would shade this grove, and a field of flowers would turn into nothing more than a patch of grass. But he would never forget it.)

He had seen beauty before, but here he had grown it. And for that, the flowers shined fairer than all of Heaven. 

⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱

Gabriel woke up nauseous and bloody. How dare he dream this. There was something truly wrong with him. His nightmares had a logic to them, even if they had grown... creative, lately. To have dreamed of that , of all things… there was something wrong. He was so disgusted at himself, at his dreams, that he took a moment to realize he wasn’t on Mars. His bedding wasn’t a martial cot but short grass that was warm to the touch. The quiet skies of the Fixed Stars shined above him, and it took Gabriel a moment to remember how he’d gotten here. He had left Puriel wounded, to collapse into sinful dreams three layers above. He almost laughed, his disgrace so outrageous. 

But he couldn’t go back, not even to reassure the Power. He would be better off alone until Gabriel could figure out what was wrong with him .

He knew what he had to do. He found a fountain and cleaned as much of the blood off as he could, before vanishing in a beam of light.

He needed someone who might have experience in the internal workings of archangels, and there was only one other left in creation. 

His wings brought him to the highest layer, as he returned to the empty throne of God. 

Notes:

this one took so many rewrites, woof
eagle eyed readers of DOYW and the prequels may recognize a couple of these scenes, tho we've never seen them from Gabriel's perspective directly

wonder who hes going to see.... find out next week!

Chapter 12: Seek, and you will find

Summary:

Even Puriel is starting to worry about Gabriel's well-being. When in doubt, report to your commanding officer.

Notes:

Sorry about the late upload folks! I realized I was behind on some vaccinations, and decided to get them all in one day. Suffice to say, my immune system got hands

Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you.

𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺

When he and Gabriel were just trying to practice drills, there always seemed to be a crowd of angels trying to barge in. Sometimes they were there to offer Gabriel help with the trial, but most of the time it was just greater and lesser angels there to meet him. 

But now that he was bleeding out onto the red dirt, it was like there was no one else on Mars. 

Puriel sighed, and tried to summon enough energy to heal. It sputtered out, and all he got was a headache. Again. 

At least his shoulder wasn’t hurting anymore. It was almost completely numb instead, which, maybe, wasn’t a good thing.

Clearly healing himself wasn’t working, so what he could he do instead? Normally he’d just wait for his internal light to heal him, but he hadn’t ever been this injured before without being healed right after.

He could still stand, but it was a shaky thing. The light had gone to his wings first, so he could fly without too much trouble, but he couldn’t do much else.

He considered flying to the larger barracks and coliseum on the far side of Mars, but winced at the thought. This injury probably wasn’t life threatening, and he really should’ve been able to heal it himself. Surufel had always more kind about these sorts of things than the other Dominions, and her Powers tended to follow her lead. 

Besides, it was more than his welfare he was worried about, and Gabriel had never even talked to the other martian warriors.

Wait, wasn’t Surufel on the Moon these days? He might be able to make the flight, if he was careful. It was generally easier to traverse down layers then up them. And the Moon was just Souls and the occasional Virtue, nobody Puriel had to worry about offending or disappointing. 

Puriel stretched his wings, and resisted a wince. This was still going to take a while .

𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺

The Moon was just… so weird. Years ago, if a wounded Power had come down here, the Virtues would have flocked to him, eager to help. 

But now it was like a ghost town– and the angels he did see, mostly Souls, gave him odd looks. Like he was the oddity! He was a greater angel! They should be lining up to talk to him!!

A wispy one (though they were all kind of wispy) walked up beside him, and Puriel tried to smooth the irritation out of his wings. Treat this indignity like Gabriel would, all politeness and calm blues. 

“Are you uh… alright?” The Soul said, its face suspiciously pitying.

That was a step over the line. Puriel snapped, “Where is the Dominion Surufel?” 

The Soul took a step back. Puriel got some satisfaction from having wiped that dumb look off its face, until it said, “There are no Dominions on the Moon.”

“I know she’s here.” He said, throwing his arms up, “She told me to find her here! Just go tell her that I– that Puriel needs to talk to her!”

“The Dominion Surufel is not–” 

Puriel drew his sword, and winced. It was a lot harder to carry with just one arm, but it worked. The Soul shut up and scrambled away– hopefully to Surufel.

Puriel collapsed back to the ground, and prepared to wait. The numbness was not getting better, and his headache had decided to stick around this time. Was he still losing blood? He didn’t think he had that much to loose, honestly.

Surufel arrived at the gate with a loud clang, and a small crowd of souls behind her.

“Puriel, what in God’s name where you doing waving a sword ar– what happened to your arm?” His commander’s voice faltered as soon as she spotted the wound.

“Sorry to bother you, Surufel, I just, uh, I can’t heal it.” Puriel said, “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“Sure.” Surufel sounded unconvinced. She was grabbed his arm, her hands glowing.

The numbness was starting to recede, so Puriel explained, “Me and Gabriel had a duel, and I–” 

“You were what?” Surufel interrupted, as a ripple of murmurs spread through the crowd of Souls behind her.

Puriel tried to glare them away, but had to settle with lowering his voice instead. “I don’t think he’s feeling well, Surufel. He’s been all quiet recently and, and... tired. But the fight seemed to help! I mean I really thought he was going to cut my arm off for a bit there, heh! But as soon as we were done he went quiet again, and just took off. He’s not on Mars anymore. I don’t think he was injured but–”

“Puriel.” Surufel said, and the Power resisted the urge to stand at attention. “You are to stay here and guard the Souls of the Moon, understood? I will deal with this.”

She took a step back from him, then hesitated. “Your arm–”

Puriel saluted with his bad arm, and the Dominion nodded. She was gone in a flash.

A Soul had stepped up to where she’d been, and it turned its gaze onto Puriel. With a start, Puriel realized he recognized her. 

“Puriel,” Min said, crossing her arms. “What did you tell her?”

Min might be high ranking amond the Souls, but he was still a Power. “Nothing of you need–” He started, but didn’t get far.

“It was about Gabriel, wasn’t it?”

Puriel said nothing, but the Soul seemed to guess his thoughts and facepalmed. 

She spun to address the crowd behind her, her voice carrying, “Alright everyone, we’ve got a archangel on the loose, any guesses on how we find him before our righteous protector does?”

“I’ll go get Kindness-of-Strangers,” One Soul said, “See if it’s heard anything from the Sixth.”

“Where’d he start from?” Another Soul called out.

Min turned back to him, and gestured that he should answer the question.

“I don’t care who you are, I will not help you hunt down Gabriel like some, some fugitive .” Puriel said, not bothering to hide his disdain.

“You’ve been living with him for weeks now, Puriel,” Min said, her voice gaining a gentle edge, “Does he seem like he should be left to fend by himself?”

“He is more than capable of handling himself.” Puriel growled.

“Then why did Surufel go after him?” Min replied. “I spoken with him too, Puriel. He's... not all well.”

Puriel considered not saying anything again, but that tactic clearly didn’t work on this one. And besides… what threat could a handful of Souls really be, to Gabriel?

“He was with me on Mars. I think he might’ve been heading up.” Puriel admitted.

Whip-fast, Min spun back to the crowd and started shouting orders, “Isidore, go get Humility-In-Victory and Temperance-In-Fortune. There’s a good chance he’s in the Fixed Stars. Bea, go see if Diligence-To-Truth is still talking to its throne friend, incase he’s heading higher up.”

The named Souls ran from the crowd in a number of different directions, fetching what sounded like Virtues. Another Soul, that looked a lot like that very disrespectful researcher Puriel had guarded, raised its hand.

Min nodded to her. “Constance, what are you thinking?” 

“Has Gabriel gone to speak with Rakul, since his return? He might seek the company of equals.”

Min replied, “Its possible. Does anyone know how we can get someone to the Empyrean to check?”

Everytime he thought he’d heard the most outrageous thing from the Lunar Souls, he was proved wrong. The Empyrean was the highest level of Heaven, the Throne of God , no matter if it was empty now. Rakul lived there because he was the last, er, an archangel, eternally keeping vigil. And these Souls were– well he wasn’t sure what they were doing, but all this organization felt a bit sacrilegious. It was times like this that he missed Dokiel like a limb; the other angel always had a better head for these types of things. But that just meant he had to step up instead. Better a Power than a Virtue, or a Soul , bothering the God’s Last Attendant.

 “I’ll go.”

Min looked at his arm and said, “Are you sure?”

He nodded. It took a moment to gather his strength, and then he flew higher then he ever had before. 

𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺𒀹𒀺

A half hour later, he appeared back at the Gate, half-slamming into the ground in his haste.

“Where’s Surufel?!” Puriel said, trying not to show any panic.

“Calm down, she’s still out.” Min said, having apparently not moved since he left. She was still surrounded by her strange little crowd of Souls, though some Virtues had now joined him. “Did you find him?”

“Yeah, yeah uh, yeah he was, uh he got into a–” Surely Puriel’s eyes had deceived him, surely the archangels Gabriel and Rakul had not gotten into an argument . “He left the Empyrean just now. Where’s Surufel?”

The Soul's face had a strange, determined air. "Let's go find out."

Notes:

Surufel: Puriel what happened
Puriel: So Gabriel beat my ass and-
Surufel: BRB I need to go kill an archangel

title is quoting matthew 7:7, out of context, as always

Fun Fact: The Souls' names are easter eggs, if anyone here has read paradiso. I did a lot of scanning when I was worldbuilding for the 10 layers of Heaven, and though Mr Dante doesnt really give anyone any fun physical descriptions, he does namedrop a bunch of Real People lol

Chapter 13: THE GRIEVING APOSTATE

Summary:

Gabriel needs answers, so he goes to his only peer in Heaven (that he hasn't murdered.)

THE GRIEVING APOSTATE

⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱

The Empyrean almost looked like a rose. Layers of starlight and gold curling around like petals. The center sunken in, where the spiraling pattern grew tight enough to walk on. 

When He was here, it had been His throne, the platform from where His heart looked down on his creation. Angels would sing in the circles around Him, their light joining His in a beautiful circling dance. Even now, without its king or attendants, the court of the universe was as elegant as it was massive. 

Gabriel had always felt small, beside it, but the thought used to be comforting.

It was not anymore.

He flew straight to the top, not bothering to humor the two thrones guarding it or the small crowd of observers. The Throne of God was now an empty caldera, the edges still packed with seats meant for His attendants. They were empty too, save for three angels.

The first two were irrelevant; just a couple of Dominions, come to see the same man Gabriel was seeking.

Floating in the seat between them was the last archangel: Rakul. He was gently, almost sorrowfully, singing God’s praises.

He saw Gabriel land, and his voice faded. The two dominions looked scandalized; Perhaps more from the silence than Gabriel’s presence. Rakul had refused the Council’s call in favor of his duty as God’s chorus. When Gabriel and the Council damned themselves by their actions in Hell and Heaven, Rakul never strayed from his place by God’s side.

Rakul said something to them, and their startled wings returned to a peaceful blue, as they began to sing in his stead.

The music drifted with him, as he floated over.

“Gabriel. I had heard you lived, but I had not thought…” Rakul said, his voice trailing off as he looked down on Gabriel. He had always been tall, even from an archangel. In every other layer, he would tower over the souls and virtues, and had to be carefully about not disturbing the architecture. But here he seemed perfectly at place, a giant made diminutive by the massive curling walls beside them.

“It is… good to see you well.” Gabriel replied lamely. They had never been great friends, before he murdered all their comrades. 

Rakul gave him a long look, and his voice took a slightly amused hint. “As I was glad to hear you survived. To be honest, I had hoped to speak with you, but didn’t know how to ask. You’re a more enigmatic man then you used to be.”

“And you haven’t changed at all, as far as I can tell.” Gabriel said, trading truth for truth.

“Someone must sing.” Rakul said, his wings shrugging. “Tell me, brother, why have you come so suddenly?”

“I… I need help. Something is wrong with me.” Gabriel said, trying to hide the crack in his voice.

“If it is help I can offer, it is yours.” Rakul said, his head dipping, “Tell me, what’s wrong?”

He went to speak, but nothing seemed to come. How could he even describe it? “I'm… I am broken .” But he could still fight. It was a breaking of the mind, he thought. “Exhaustion plagues me at all hours. Strange nightmares haunt my dreams. My joy bleeds out of me, inky nothingness filling its place. Heaven itself feels… hollow.”

“I understand.” Rakul said, and he was genuine. “You are an archangel, made to be God’s Might and Glory given form. But without that might and glory, you only feel the…  emptiness. The silence.”

Maybe he did understand. Gabriel’s voice grew unsteady with honesty, “I– I sometimes wonder why I’m even here .”

“So did I.” Rakul said softly. His head turned, looking out into the empty expanse. “It all feels meaningless now, doesn’t it? The trivialities we mocked humanity for, growing and filling Heaven like a disease.” 

Gabriel gave a short, rueful laugh and said, “Angels squabbling. Yelling.”

“Indeed. You are in luck, Gabriel.” Rakul said, returning his gaze to the shorter archangel. “I learned the remedy for this ailment from my own trials. Come, join us in song.”

Hope grew in Gabriel’s chest. “If you know the cure, Rakul, then tell me.”

“I have told you it. Though in truth, I suspected you had discovered it yourself." Rakul’s voice grew softer, as he leaned down to Gabriel’s level. "The reason you finally saw through the Council’s lies.” 

The reason he had seen through the council’s lies? Rakul could not mean the Machine, and Gabriel doubted he meant Hell and its horrors, if the same answer was meant to be a cure. No, it was about that source of the Council’s lies, Heaven’s first and most terrible of questions: Where is God? 

Gabriel breathed in deeply, and said, “God is dead.”

That hadn't been the expectd answer. Rakul moved back, his wings turning white at the edges. “God is not dead .”

Which hadn’t been what Gabriel was expecting. “Are you blind? He is gone. Silent. Not making or unmaking, or even being . He is dead.”

“The Father cannot die , Gabriel, that’s preposterous. The universe is still here, we are still talking.” 

“ Preposterous? How else can you explain this!?” He said, throwing an arm outward. “How else can you explain–”

“ The Father is with us, brother . He is in every Soul, every Angel, every speck of dust. It is by his making that we move and with his love that we live.” Rakul’s wings were back to that serene blue, but his voice betrayed him. “You will not find yourself healed until you let Him back into your heart.”

Rakul had never left the Empyrean since the Father left. And that ignorance was showing.

Only a dead thing could ignore all of Heaven’s cries for guidance and justice. No one who had seen humanity’s grim works, or their dark mirrors in Hell, could say such sweet things about God’s love without choking on them. Gabriel had loved the Father, which is why he knew he was dead. He could feel his wings starting to go orange from anger. “You said you had a remedy, not empty hymns.”

“Faith is the remedy, Gabriel!” Rakul insisted, “You are an arch angel , we are beings of faith! The moment you doubt God is the moment you break yourself!” He put his hands together, as if praying. He continued, in a dismissively calm voice, “Come, brother. Let us sing, and be healed.”

“I’m not going to fucking sing!” Gabriel screamed, his armor glowing red.

Rakul’s body language and voice stayed calm, but his wingtips burned orange and gold. “Then leave us, and remain broken.”

Gabriel left before his restraint snapped and he stabbed the bastard. 

 

Notes:

Was originally gonna name this chapter "The FAithful" cause "the apostate" felt a little on the nose but then I was life fuck it its one of his coolest titles anyway we're in fanfic land baby lets RUN WITH IT
Edit: changed to Grieving Apostate cause it didnt feel Extra enough

Fun fact: We actually first hear Rakul in chapter 3 :3

Less fun fact: we will probably be taking a hiatus here folks. The motivation has drained out of me recently, and Im gonna let this project rest for a bit until its fun again. Im not planning on abandoning this story (I really like it) but I promised myself when I started this much longer project that I wouldnt let this thing I do for fun become a chore, and I like to keep my promises.
I wanted to quickly thank everyone thats been posting comments. I wouldve never made it this far without the absolute joy of seeing everyones different reactions. From amazing paragraphs of analysis longer than a chapter, to the simple "hrrf haugh ougj." Just knowing I have that to look forward to always gives me a writing boost, and I'm looking forward to my Ultrakill phase returning and getting to jump back into this.
See you guys next time! (and dont forget to Live ❤️)

Chapter 14: Death is an Evil

Summary:

Surufel is like a great bow, ever taut. The tension snaps, and the shot is loosed. She finds the Archangel Gabriel.

Notes:

Been a little while, huh? I dont think I'll be able to go back to weekly uploads, but Im taking a Religious Studies class and its been making me think about Ultrakill. Between that and the period induced writing mania, the inspiration recently has been very On Theme, lmao.

Death is an Evil

⦅⦅⦆⦆⦅⦅⦆⦆⦅⦅⦆⦆⦅⦅⦆⦆⦅⦅⦆⦆⦅⦅⦆⦆⦅⦅⦆⦆⦅⦅⦆⦆⦅⦅⦆⦆⦅⦅⦆⦆⦅⦅⦆⦆⦅⦅⦆⦆⦅⦅⦆⦆⦅⦅⦆⦆⦅⦅⦆⦆⦅⦅⦆⦆⦅⦅⦆⦆⦅⦅⦆⦆⦅⦅⦆⦆⦅⦅⦆⦆⦅⦅⦆⦆⦅⦅⦆⦆⦅⦅⦆⦆⦅⦅⦆⦆

Surufel was made a Watcher, and so she watched. All the Heavens she watched, straining her eyes to see each layer above her.

It felt like an eternity before her gaze caught the familiar wingshapes and armour of the archangel. Her eyes burnt from the effort, but she knew where he was going now. And what must come up, most come down.
She flew to the Primum Mobile, and scanned her battlefield. Each nook that could be crawled in, each bevel that could be used as cover.

A part of her (that sounded suspiciously like Min) told her this wasn’t a good idea. She was meant to be Gabriel’s defense, not hunting him like a loose animal.

That wisdom was overridden by the fact that he had attacked someone. If there was to be anything to defend, she had to make sure he didn’t attack anyone else.

Min had once described her as a coiled spring. She kept all her tension silent, right until the moment of action. Then she would keep sailing forward until she hit something. Min had meant it as a compliment at the time, but Surufel knew better. 

Surufel had left the moon with the target of making Gabriel feel the consequences of his actions, and she was not going to be talked out of it. She was going to keep going forward until she hit something .

Gabriel appeared on the Gate of the Primum Mobile, his wings glowing orange and Surufel shot into action.

Once, the Watcher of the Eight Towers had carried longbows. They had been beautiful things, golden and taller then their archers. But Surufel had always been better at keeping an eye on Earth than her peers. (An impressive trick, given time moved faster on Earth than in Heaven) So when humanity moved past bows, she moved with them.

Her hands glowed, as she shaped Heavenly energy into a sniper rifle.

She let her wings vanish, hanging onto the underside of a massive gear-tooth with her clawed feet. The gun had no sight; She would be able to count the holes on Gabriel’s helm even if she was half a layer away. She took as much time as she needed to aim; the first shot was always the most important. But as she positioned her gun to take Gabriel’s helm off, his whole body language changed.

Both of his hands came up to cover his face as his wings drooped, that dangerous orange bleeding out of them. He didn’t look like wrathful angel, just… tired.

She hesitated before she pulled the trigger, and it cost her the shot.

She didn’t stay still to watch as he tore the javelin from his shoulder, or the Heavenly energy gather in his wings. As soon as as she knew it wasn’t a disabling blow, she fled.

A sound like thunder filled the air, and the gear-tooth she’d been hiding behind cracked as Gabriel hit it at super-sonic speed.

“Show yourself!” The archangel roared. 

She knew better than to try and play swords with the Judge of Hell . She wedged herself between another, much smaller set of gears, counting quietly. Two beats before the teeth were due to turn, she released another shot. This one hit Gabriel in the leg, and she squeezed out the other side, a moment before the gears clicked together fully. She heard another boom as Gabriel slammed into the metal, but they didn’t budge.

Gabriel swore loudly.

He couldn’t get to her in here, but she still needed to get out. Eventually, the gears would turn and angel or not, she wouldn’t survive the devices of the Primum Mobile itself. If she used her energy to teleport, even short distances, Gabriel would be on her in an instant. No, she needed– ah, that would do. She climbed between the many metal layers and grabbed a spinning rod. She began to climb down it slowly, to the much bigger gear at its base. It spun quickly, but it also had gaps large enough for her to fit. She had shot Gabriel from one of the “ceilings” of the Primum Mobile, and if she followed gravity, she could probably get a shot off before slipping into the “floor” below, even without her wings. She’d have to time it carefully, but it was possible.

“Stop this foolishness, before the Mobile crushes you whole!” Gabriel called out, his voice shaky.

Surufel dropped through the teeth, and out into open sky. She had her gun already aimed in the direction of Gabriel’s voice. She managed to clip his side with a shot before gravity pulled her down faster than she could adjust her aim for. She hit the floor with a loud clang, and immediately began searching for her next hiding spot.

She jumped down onto a less elevated gear, a moment before a golden spear hit her landing spot. She finally saw another hole to duck into, but as soon as she ran towards it, she realized her mistake. She’d taken her eyes off Gabriel.

A spinning pair of axes hit her legs, and she crumpled forward. She got back on her feet in moments, but by then it was too late.

Gabriel was in front of her, a golden katana pointing at her face. His wings were back to orange and gold, his body steaming with heat and energy.

She looked at the shining blade, not made of anything more than hard light, and knew it could take off her head with ease. This had been monumentally stupid. She hoped she would get the chance to apologize to Min for it.

“Surufel? What is the meaning of this?” Gabriel said, and he sounded more confused than angry.

She’d told Min once, that no matter the opponent, you should always have an exit plan. Boy, did she look like a hypocrite now. She had no idea what to say, so she said the truth. “You attacked Puriel.”

The last of the rage seemed to bleed out of Gabriel's wings, and “We were training. He gave no sign that–”

Gabriel dismissed the sword pointing at her heart. Something like relief well up in Surufel’s chest. Her mistake had been trying to have this fight with swords and guns, where Gabriel was undefeatable. But words? Words were a familiar battleground. The field of engagement she should’ve picked from the start. “Of course he said he was fine. He thinks you’re the sun in the sky, Gabriel, he wasn’t about to show weakness !”

Gabriel took a step backwards, and Surufel felt a vindictive glee about that, until he said, “And what would you have me do about that?”

“Not attack him,” She said. You fucking asshole , she thought.

“At his request, I’m preparing him–”

“For what? What war are you training him for, Gabriel?!” She said, throwing her arms up. 

“He wants revenge on the Machine, which he won’t survive if he attempts it again.” Gabriel hissed. 

The Machine? What did that have to do with this? It was on Earth, out of sight and mind. If all the Souls who had lost friends and family didn't need to swear vengeance, neither did Puriel. Surufel suspected it wouldn’t have even occurred to Puriel if Gabriel wasn’t so obsessed with the thing. Surprised turned to fury, and Surufel lost track of the target. She spat, “Enough of your excuses Gabriel, you almost killed him.”

“Vengeance–” He started to say, but Surufel was done.

“If God gave two shits about vengeance you would be dead .”

Notes:

Yeah so uh. time is moving faster for V1 than Gabriel, quite literally. Surpriiise

Title comes from a Sappho fragment:
Death is an evil.
That’s what the gods think.
Or they would die.
(as translated by Julia Dubnoff https://www.uh.edu/~cldue/texts/sappho.html)

I have most of the next chapter written up, so expect the second half of this conversation soon, from Gabriel's perspective. And then after that, The Trial (dun dun dunnnn)

Chapter 15: THE CONDEMNED CHAMPION

Summary:

Min and Puriel catch up to Gabriel and Surufel. The past is revealed.

THE CONDEMNED CHAMPION

 

⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱

The Dominion was still recovering from her injuries, Gabriel could see it. But there was no shake or hesitance in her voice, only a cold fury. “If God gave two shits about vengeance you would be dead .”

Gabriel could guess who would do the avenging. Surufel’s fingers twitched, as if preparing to summon her gun. With an ache in his chest Gabriel prepared to resummon his sword. 

But providence interceded. A flash of light on the Gate beside them drew their eyes, revealing two familiar figures. Min all but ran towards them, Puriel flying beside her.

Despite the run, she didn’t sound at all winded. “Domion Surufel. Archangel Gabriel. I hope we aren’t interrupting.” 

Gabriel looked back to Surufel, and saw that she had relaxed, a fraction of an inch. Perhaps this could be solved without bloodshed. “Only that Surufel had something to speak to me about.” 

Surufel turned to Min and said, “I attacked him.”

Min replied, “Surufel,” her voice carrying a warning tone. She was spoken over by Puriel, who shouted, “You what ?!”

The last thing they needed was for Puriel to start throwing punches. Gabriel hurriedly said, “Puriel, I am fine.”

Min picked up the conversation like Puriel hadn’t said anything. “We are glad. And we understand if you wish to have someone else defend you at the trial.” Gabriel was beginning to suspect where Surufel had learned her courtly demeanor. 

Right on cue, Surufel gave a small bow and said, “My apologies. We’ll take our lea-”

Gabriel didn’t wish for someone else to defend him. But more than that, he didn't want to lose the only people in Heaven who’d tried to understand him. “Enough. Tell me why you tried to kill me for striking Puriel.” Her promise of vengeance went unspoken.

Puriel’s wings shuffled uncomfortably, but no one paid him mind.

At this point, Gabriel was not surprised when Surufel turned to Min first. The Dominion seemed to draw wisdom and stability from Min that went beyond the comfort of an assistant. Whatever wordless exchange passed between them ended with Min giving a small nod, her face as sad as it was thoughtful. 

Surufel turned back to him, and as she spoke, the orange began to return to her wings. “I have always been a solider of Heaven. In the Council’s wars for Hell I have lost friends. Angels I commanded took the plunge, and died for a cause I never cared for. I fought the Council, when it was first birthed. Two hundred of us realized their tyranny and fought against them. And for our creed we were labelled rogues, and slaughtered by the Council’s minions. Slaughtered by You, Gabriel. Year by year, conflict by conflict, holy war by holy war, my comrades have been whittled down to almost nothing. You ask why I tried to kill you? Because Puriel is the only man under my command still living. And you almost killed him .”

The silence was broken by Puriel, his wings gone pale. “I’m.. I’m not a rogue–”

“Hush,” Min said, her voice kind. She laid a hand on his shoulder.

He didn’t pretend to be sad or disappointed. It was almost a relief, to have someone show the wrath he deserved. He said, “So you show me your hatred at last.” More out of curiosity than anything else, he added, “But the past never changed. Your promise to defend me, was it a lie? Some twisted revenge?”

Surufel made a wry huff. “No. I’m not like you. I had more important things to consider.”

Min frowned. Then she turned to him, and said, “Gabriel, may I ask a personal question?”

His attention had not left Surufel, but he nodded. The orange had faded in her wings, but it was not completely gone.

“Was killing the Council revenge for you?”

Min truly had a talent for surprising questions. Perhaps he should’ve been angry, but the sincerity in her voice made it feel disarming. He replied with honesty. “In a small way, it was retribution. But fury only ever drove me to Hell. Clarity and purpose guided my blade, not blind anger.”

Min nodded, and said, “What was your clarity?”

They had spoken of this before, but Gabriel humored her. He wondered if this line of questioning was more for Surufel’s benefit than his. “They were tyrants, using the name of the Father to justify a rule through fear. This was my clarity.” 

Min asked, “And the All-Chorus?”

Gabriel decided he should give up trying to anticipate Min’s questions. “The All-Chorus? They are fair, if disorganized.”

When Surufel spoke, it was not an interruption but an addition, as if stepping into a dance just as Min stepped out. All the fury was gone from her voice, replaced by a observant calm. “Are they safe from your retribution, then?”

Did they really think he would strike down the All-Chorus, just for the barest similarity to the Council? He couldn’t disguise the annoyance in his voice. “I bear them no ill will, regardless of what their verdict–”

Min recession from the conversation had been a trap. She spoke from his side, her voice patient and damning. “It doesn’t matter if you like them, Gabriel. It matters if you will kill those you dislike.”

Caught off-guard, he said, “I wouldn’t– I never kill without greater purpose.” and wished immediately he could swallow his words. 

Fortunately he did not need to self-flagellate, as Surufel did the work for him. Her voice was still calm as she said, “Your greater purposes have seen my oldest friends dead.”

“I take.. I take your point.” Gabriel said, trying to keep his voice steady. They were asking him not to kill, not to maim. It should have felt trivial to agree, but his mind kept going back to the feeling of warm liquid seeping through his hands. Of the way his swords felt more like extensions of himself than tools of war. “I will keep my blades in their sheath, but… But I won’t walk without them.”

Min looked at him, her eyes crinkling at their corners. In pity, Gabriel sharply realized.. A horribly observant pity; Sympathy for the purposeless sword, the warrior without a war. He wondered if Surufel shooting his head off wouldn’t have been preferable.

“So long as they stay there then… then we will have no issues.” Surufel’s voice sounded suspicious, but that didn’t stop her from stepping away from him and back to Min’s side. “Farewell, Gabriel.”

Gabriel could not let them leave, not like this. “You said you had greater things to consider. That it was for those that you offered to defend me. Knowing what I have done, would you still defend me now?” He meant the question for Surufel, but he found his gaze on Min instead.

At some point during the exchange, Puriel had drifted to stand at his side. He mirrored Surufel now, standing beside Gabriel as the Dominion stood beside Min. At this question, he went from trying to look offended on Gabriel’s behalf to sputtering a confused “What” at him.

Min replied, “I would, but I would not be allowed to.”

A long silence passed, and Surufel turned to Min once more before she responded, “Yes.”

For all that Min and Surufel moved as a unit, that was still not the response he’d been expecting. He was quick to say, “I would be honored–”

Surufel interrupted “On one condition,” and gestured to Min to continue.

Min continued, “You must say nothing during the trial. Nothing that could turn the All-Chorus against you. You remain a giant among men here, Gabriel. Your words have as much weight as your blade, and you have already seen the damage it can do.” She spoke it all like well-practiced lines.

Gabriel knew when he had fallen into a trap. But he still was not sure when it had been set, or what its purpose was. He bowed his head and said, “Then you will have my silence.”

Notes:

Hey, Gabriel was directly/indirectly responable for all your comrades dying! V1 killed Dokiel completely of its own accord!
Will probably edit this later, just wanted to get it out before the end of the day so I didn't leave you guys on tooo rough a cliffhanger hehe
I hope to have the trial done and out by thursday, right before I am swallowed by the hyperfixation abyss that is SilkSong

Chapter 16: THE ACCUSED

Summary:

A hundred and one years from the fall of the Council, Gabriel is tried for their murder. Heaven itself seems to hang in the balance.

THE ACCUSED

 

⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱

Doubt laid heavy on his shoulders, dragging his feed to the ground. He walked into the heart of the Auditorium, and a thousand voices went silent.

“Rise, oh Gabriel, and hear the charges.” A Throne with blood-red ornaments said. It was Abdiel, and had been named the prosecutor for this trial. Surufel had named herself defense, to a wave of muttering. All of Heaven would be judge.

Gabriel fought back the weight on his shoulders and beat his wings, joining the little circle of angels in the center of the Auditorium.

“By order of the All-Chorus of Heaven’s Angels, you are accused of,” Abdiel’s voice rang out at a thunderous volume. It was impressive, but Gabriel knew Abdiel needed to adjust the angle if it wanted the angels in the back to be able to hear it properly. “Violence and Treachery.”

Another wave of murmurs stirred the crowd. Angels weren’t supposed to be capable of sinning at all. Not that that had ever stopped him. With gallows humor, Gabriel mentally made his way down the list. 

Treachery? He’d heard the Councilors and King Minos both begging for mercy, and he’d killed them all. Minos at least had had the decency to beg for his people rather than for his life. 

Fraud? He had been a hypocrite for longer than he could remember– declaring some to be worth saving over others, while claiming that such judgements were only God’s to make. 

Violence? Ha. 

Heresy? He’s certainly made a habit of taking the Lord’s name in vain during his long years in Hell. He’d felt such anger and doubt after the Council’s sentence that he’d chosen that place to ambush the Machine. It still felt more than fitting.

Wrath? Oh, he had felt wrath. He had turned it into a thin blade, and after he dulled it on the Machine, it had carried him through the bodies of the Council. 

Greed? That was harder to pinpoint. But he had hoarded time, had he not? Let Heaven flounder on its own while he pillaged and grew flowers on Humanity’s grave. Time flowed slower in Heaven than it did on Earth, but that was no excuse. He had never thought to return.
Lust? His mind went to blue metal stained red. Did blood-lust count?

His musing was interrupted by Surufel reciting her lines, “As his defense, we declare Gabriel innocent of all charges.”

And here, Abdiel surprised them both, “If he is so innocent, why does he need a defense?”

“Whether he needs one is irrelevant. He has shown his innocence to us, and so we feel compelled to defend him from these claims. Is comparing beliefs of Gabriel’s innocence not the whole point of this trial?” Surufel’s reply was cold fire. Gabriel wondered how painful this process was for her, to defend someone she knew the was guilty. He still didn’t know why she and Min had chosen to do this but it felt… he felt he didn’t deserve to know.

“Fine.” Abdiel said, annoyance creeping into its tone. “Then let us be reminded why we accuse Gabriel of these sins. Not long ago, we were ruled not by a Chorus, but a Council. Gabriel was one of this Council’s figureheads, and was known throughout Heaven as a just and glorious warrior. One day, he came from his wardenship in Hell claiming defeat at the hands of a human-made machine. He returned to Hell to fix this mistake, but seemed to..."The Throne's voice took a slightly skeptical tone." have a change of heart."  "

Gabriel wanted to laugh at the irony of it. Of course it was confused.  He'd not exactly explained himself had he? And now, the place where he could explain himself, let all of Heaven know the truth, he'd taken a vow to stay silent. 

Abdiel continued, "He arrived in Heaven not to show his victory over the Hellish machines, but to slay the Council who had sent him there. He betrayed the trust of his fellow supreme angels, and killed every councilor, from the highest Archangel to the lowest Throne. Heaven has never recovered from this act, in its Violence and Treachery.”

"An interesting word to use, 'recovered.'" Surufel said, not hesitating even a second. "I agree, that Heaven has not yet recovered. Our disagreement lies in what it is healing from. Are we healing from a thousand years of tyrannical rule, of constant wars in Heaven and Hell? Or are we 'recovering' from the sole act of justice that freed us from that tyranny? When the limb is rotten and poisoned, you don't jail the one who cuts it before the rot can spread. Fault lies not on him, but the poisoner."

Gabriel had been watching the crowd. Colors danced as the two angels spoke, but he could see that Surufel was making an impression. Warm yellows and thoughtful blues swept through the crowd, as conversation began to buzz.

Abdiel did not let the thoughtful silence lie for long. "The Council's guilt is not at fault. They can never be brought before us in judgement, because the man we are judging took action into his own hands. His final act was to display the bodies of his victims, before returning to Hell itself! Do you deny that is is violence? Do you deny that turning his blade against his equals, against his betters, was anything but treachery? You do deny this, because you deny truth!"

The crowd lost its blue calm, and a crashing wave of murmurs filled the air. 

Only loud enough for Gabriel and Abdiel to hear, Surufel snorted. 

"You assume much, Abdiel. Let us take this one accusation at a time, since you have lumped them together in a way that obscures the greater picture." With this, she turned to the crowd, throwing her arms wide, "Tell me, Angels of Heaven! When a sinner is cast down into Hell, is the angel who casts them guilty of Violence?"

The crowd spoke No , a thousand voices raised in both hesitance and confidence.

Surufel continued. "When we fought the warlord of Greed? When we threw down the false king of lust? Blood stained our blades, angels of Heaven! Are we guilty of Violence?"

Gabriel stared at Surufel, but he didn’t see her. Instead, all he could see was a face without eyes, begging for love to be recognized as more important than sin. 

“No!” Roared the crowd.

Yes, Thought Gabriel.

Min was right, to have forced him to keep his silence. He was more broken than he had realized, to accuse the kingdom of Heaven itself of sin. But he couldn’t stop the horrible feeling that he was right .

Surufel turned her speech back to Abdiel. "Then we know the truth you claim I deny: Violence is not the mere existence of bloody action, but to turn it against the innocent, those who should be kept safe. You say the Council's guilt is irrelevant, but if the target is what matters, then the Council's guilt is defining. 

The silence stretched long, as Abdiel chose its words. 

Gabriel himself wondered; if Heaven had been given this kind of choice, would they have kept the Council? Should he have asked? He didn’t think they’d have answered. For all the faults of the All-Chorus, it had begun to teach Heaven how to be more than just listeners. 

Abdiel turned to the crowd himself this time, "Angels of Heaven, hear my truth. The Father made us to live in purposed and layered harmony. He made a hundred dominions to each Throne, and a thousand powers to each dominion, so that we might understand how leadership itself pours down from Him! Surufel is right, that the target matters, for something to be true Violence. But angels are not sinners, and it is not for striking sinners that Gabriel is accused! He struck at what is by nature holy! He struck at those that had been closest to the Father, and robbed us forever of their wisdom! The guilt of the Council is irrelevant, because guilty or not, the Council were our brothers, the highest of the holy, and they were killed like common Souls. He cut down our brightest- should he not suffer, for this?!"

Gabriel regarded Abdiel closer, after that little speech. He wondered, rather uncharitably, if Abdiel had joined the All-Chorus because he supported the idea, or because he had first been denied from joining the Council. Gabriel then realized he should've been watching Surufel, when the silence stretched. Her frame betrayed a barely suppressed rage.

"I wonder what you think the punishment should be, for an angel killing another. Is it death? If so, the Council earned their fate a hundred times over. Unless, good Throne, you have forgotten ," Surufel's voice broke its calmness for a moment, vicious in its casual tone, "how the Council came to call themselves the sole rulers of Heaven. Or-"

Abdiel interrupted, "I would not bring Your history into this, Surufel, unless you plan to stand trial yourself."

That, Gabriel noted with dry humor, had been a mistake.

"My history? Tell me, Abdiel, no, tell Heaven, which killings were those? The Judgement of the 200? The Smiting of the Moon? The execution of the Hellion Deserters, and all that swore their innocence? Or perhaps something more recent! The half-finished inquisition of Jupiter? Or maybe you mean the Council's last attempted murder, that of Gabriel himself?"

Gabriel was faintly reminded of the All-Chorus, the way dead silence turned into thundering shouts.

It got so bad that Abdiel and Surufel were forced to join their voices as one, urging the crowd to silence. It was having very little effect.

He wondered if Speaking to calm the crowd would be a violation of his oath to Min. He suspected it might, given it would call attention to his silence. He wondered if he should do it anyway. Break his oath, treacherous killer that he was, and scream to all of Heaven exactly what had happened. He wanted to, God but he wanted to speak. 

He remembered the condemnation in Surufel's voice and Puriel's blood on his blade. Leaving him bleeding in the red sand, and sinking into grass to dream of sweeter things. He had left the Power to die, and so he atoned through silence.

Eventually the crowd settled enough that Surufel and Abdiel could be heard again, and the Throne gathered itself to retort.

Despite its regal bearing, Abdiel sounded a bit shaken. "Since you have demanded the Council be on trial despite their deaths, do you really believe they struck at him first? That the bloodshed of the council's chambers was some how in self defense ?"

"No, I do not claim that they drew swords on him. They didn't need to. When Gabriel first retuned home from Hell, weary from his thousand deeds, they branded him a failure, and stole the light itself from his veins. Ask those on Jupiter that day, and they will tell you they heard the council's voices raised in hymns and song. Loud enough to drown out even an Archangel's screams. Yes, once the council was Gabriel's friends and comrades, but was he who committed Treachery? Or was it the council, that threatened a slow and painful death over a single mistake?"

Murmurs and hushed conversations filled the air. Gabriel was reminded of the sound of the wind through his trees. His chest ached. 

"I think we have heard enough," Abdiel said, "Constantly, you have cushioned Gabriel with the follies of other's- but it is not Heaven on trial. Regardless of his reasonings, he turned his blade on his rulers. Regardless of context, he killed the holy, the Children of the Father. Whether what you say is true or not, Gabriel has still sinned. Of this there can be no mistake. Unless you have more 'context' to throw at us, I say we bring this trial to its conclusion. Let Heaven decide Gabriel's fate.

"Heaven knows its own. I have nothing more to say." Surufel said.

Abdiel bowed, and Surufel returned the gesture. Then in a fluid motion, one turned towards the left side of the auditorium, while the other turned to the right.

"Angels of Heaven-" Abdiel said,

"-Have you heard the charges?" Surufel finished.

"Yes," the crowd sang.

"Angels of Heaven-" Surufel spoke,

"Have you heard the accusation? The pleas?" Abdiel finished.

"Yes," the crowd sang.

"Angels of Heaven," the two spoke in unison, "What is your verdict?"

"Innocent!" the crowd roared.

It was eerie how much cheering could sound like screaming, when you had enough people doing it.

Notes:

Happy Silksong Eve! Here's uh *glances down* a political treatise on the nature of sin?

In order to prep for writing this chapter, I made sure to do as much research into the legal process that the All-Chorus did. That is, not doing any research and just kind of guessing how a trial works. These angels man

Chapter 17: RAISE HELL INSTEAD

Summary:

Having delayed the terrible fate of blood-loss induced madness, V1 is faced with another obstacle: boredom.

Notes:

posting this shorter chapeter to cope with silksong beating my ass, rip

RAISE HELL INSTEAD

 

𝌅𝌅𝌎𝌎𝌎𝌎𝌨𝌨𝌨𝌨𝍑𝍑𝍑𝍑𝌼𝌼𝌼𝌼𝌆𝌆𝌆𝌆𝌧𝌧𝌧𝌆𝌆𝌆𝌆𝌼𝌼𝌼𝌼𝍑𝍑𝍑𝍑𝌨𝌨𝌨𝌨𝌎𝌎𝌎𝌎𝌅𝌅

It was supremely difficult to fill the days in ways that were both fulfilling and did not require large amounts of fuel use. Its first idea had been to see if Heaven was accessible via rocket or tall building, however cursory scans and analysis proved it unlikely.  Its second idea was to see if any other parts of Hell had survived. This was also unlikely, but V1 still made the trip. At an agonizingly slow pace in order to conserve blood. 

When it finally arrived at the edge of the crater, it was disappointed: Hell’s corpse was unchanged. 

The site where V1 had first entered the strange dimension had imploded. The hole at the bottom of the crater was completely covered by a small mountain of charred bones and machine corpses, vomited out in Hell’s death-spasms.

V1 climbed up, metal crunching on bone. When it reached the top, it looked up, then down. Nothing but the rustle of settling bones.

It had never thought it’d miss Hell so much, but this was… not enough. The slow wandering, the constant conservation, the empty landscapes. It was all so horribly boring.

It plopped down onto the boney summit, resting its back against a large and mishappen femur. This called for desperate measures.

When the little angel had attached Godpiercer to it, it hadn’t bothered to label anything. V1 had managed to figure out the arm’s mimic ability and its dash mostly through trial and error. But the third function remained illusive. When it had tried to activate it before, the arm had produced a huge amount of energy, and then requested a memory file. V1 couldn't tell what kind of memory file it wanted, so the energy had ended up fizzling out, and V1 had black-listed the function after it realized how much blood it burned through.

But now? Experimentation  was something to do, no matter how wasteful it was.

V1 activated the third function, and pointed it at the nearest skull. It was half-buried in dust, but it still had enough teeth to grin back at the machine.

SPECIFY FORM:

 

V1 began spamming every time of memory file it had, the arm constantly responding with error messages. And then it hit one that prompted a further selection, rather than an error: the TARGET list

Maybe it was a very poorly designed homing system?

SPECIFY FORM:                 HUSK

ERROR

DISTANCE EXCEEDS LIMIT

 

V1 got closer.

ERROR

DISTANCE EXCEEDS LIMIT

 

V1 was not sure about the efficiency of a ranged weapon that required it to be within punching distance of the target, but it complied.

ERROR

DISTANCE EXCEEDS LIMIT

 

V1 touched the skull, and all the accumulated power and blood vanished instantly.

It tried to stop the power drain by leaping backwards, but the damage was already done. The skull was faintly glowing, and covered in blood. 

CONNECTION                OK

 

And then the skull started moving. Shaking and jerking, as a glowing body pulled itself free of the base. The body was thin and armless, and the glow receded after a moment to show it was a faint grey. The same grey flesh started to grow over the skull, until only the teeth were showing.

The resurrected Husk turned towards V1, and was promptly shot in the face. 

CONNECTION                 FAILURE

 

V1 then dashed forward, trying to catch as much of the spray of blood as it could. It had shot the husk more out of habit than a solid plan, and so hadn’t been able to regain more than 0.5% of the fuel lost in the process. 

It sat down in the new pool of blood and faintly glowing viscera. This was unexpected. Both of the arms other functions had had direct combat applications, but this one was… going to require further testing. Unfortunate, given how much fuel it took up. 

It would have to be careful, and slow. But learning how to raise the dead sounded a lot more fun than just sitting around.

It dug around a bit, until it found another skull that looked mostly intact. Then, just for good measure, it picked up a drone casing. With its new cargo it began to hop back down the mountain of corpses. Back to the cryostasis vault to get some more fuel. 

Notes:

Title comes from the lyrics of the song Enchanté by the Dirt Poor Robins. Lotta stuff about religion and angels in that one

This V1 had done the secret levels, so fishing was gonna be the next thing they tried, but fortunately the situation didnt get that serious.
I actually had this function planned way back into DOYW's development, but it just like. never came up.

Chapter 18: THE EXILE

Summary:

Humans used to say that only the one who first summoned the demon has the power to dismiss it.

Notes:

We have a Beta reader now :DDDD Thanks Kris!!

THE EXILE

⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱

Emotions, Gabriel noted with a distant disdain, were annoyingly hypocritical little things. One could be both happy and sad, relieved and disappointed, with barely any friction. Angry and calm.

No, it wasn't that he was without friction. It was just that there were too many little shapes and thoughts, there was nowhere for them to move. He felt like a carefully stacked tower of stones, each staying still because of the ones above and below them. 

Disgust wedged between relief and duty. Anger balancing on top of sympathy and respect. 

And with all of that, he was still expected to speak, after the trial.

“If we must celebrate, let it be in another place, not so stained with blood,” Gabriel’s voice said.

He was pulled free of the towering walls of the Auditorium. The crowd surged beside him, angels tripping over each other to offer congratulations.

Wings filled the air with dancing lights, voices raised in a hubbub that filled his whole vision no matter how fast he walked. Couldn’t he fly? Why couldn’t he fly?

He stopped walking. Why was he even trying to leave? The verdict was done, the trial over. He could stay here forever, and nothing would change. 

A broadsword carved through the air in a loose arc, scattering the closest angels. The glint of steel seemed to jog Gabriel to consciousness. 

“I said! You’re crowding him!” Puriel’s voice rang out.

Gabriel held his hand up, and the crowd finally, finally quieted. “I am fine, Puriel, just winded. Thank you all for your well-wishes, but I must… I mean to say I should go deliver thanks to my defense.”

The hum of the crowd changed tune, but Gabriel was not paying enough attention to decipher it past that. Instead, he flared his wings, and flew straight to the Moon.

A moment after he arrived on the gate, another flash signalled Puriel’s arrival.

“Gabriel?”

“Hm?”

“Are you truly…” Puriel shook his head, dismissing his own question. “I am glad the trial went so well. I had my doubt that Surufel would… She was a great speaker, a good choice for your defense.”

Dimly, Gabriel noted that that was the first time Puriel had said the Dominion’s name since she had attacked Gabriel. They had not spoken much at all, since then. 

He couldn’t train Puriel anymore, but he could, should guide him. Get him to understand that Surufel’s checkered past was not some great sin, as he feared.  Gabriel made to speak, but he had nothing to say.

They passed by a small pool with a grove of crystal trees around it. The crystals had been shaped like weeping willows, with long blue leaves dipping into the water.

“What will you do now, without the trial hanging over your head?” Puriel said, trying to sound casual.

“I… don’t know.” Gabriel answered honestly. He had no god to worship, no war to fight. He couldn’t even unsheathe his blades. 

Puriel didn’t look pleased with that answer, his wings turning a sickly white at their edges. “You’re welcome to keep staying with me, if you wish… or you could, uh, return to the Fixed Stars? That was your home, before… uh, that was your home, wasn’t it?”

Gabriel was not sure he’d ever seen Puriel this nervous to speak to him. “What is this about, Puriel?”

Puriel stopped moving forward, and Gabriel paused to look back at him. 

“I don’t mean to pressure you, Gabriel. I just… I would wish to know if you were… if you’re… dying.” The Power looked on the verge of losing his wings, their tips gone completely pale.

The answer was so unexpected it actually startled a laugh out. “What makes you think I’m dying?”

“You grow… tired, so frequently, and when you wake it’s… I’ve seen the blood, Gabriel,” Puriel said, and Gabriel stiffened.

The power continued, “You hardly talk anymore, and hardly move unless someone calls for you. You went to Rakul for help, and he couldn’t help you, I know that. But someone can, I’m sure! Heaven has not lost all its sages! There are many wise angels in the Sun, and Saturn still carries the knowledge of all the Lord’s works! Maybe the Thrones–”

“Stop.” He couldn’t explain this problem to Puriel, and he grew sick at the thought of laying it all bare to some fawning Throne. Explaining the weakness, the senseless anger, the dreams. No, no, he’d much rather stab himself in the face than tell another of those dreams. The more miserable his waking life seemed to get, the sweeter the dreams were. He’d tried to just go without sleeping. After the first time he’d collapsed and woken up to a crowd of random angels worrying over him, he’d never done that again.  “This isn’t a malady like humans had, solved with a clever trick of herbs. I… I won’t be getting better, Puriel. But no, I’m not dying.”

“You cant just… You cant just give up, you’re better than that!” Puriel’s voice grew stronger, more demanding, and his wings spread out as he declared, “You are the archangel Gabriel!”

One last rock laid atop the pile. And then it all came crashing down. 

Gabriel’s sigh turned into a hiss, “What do you think that means, Puriel?”

Puriel, for some reason, took that as an invitation to keep going, “You are the right hand of the Father, the–”

“The Father is gone! I was the bloody hand of the Council! The Blade of Heaven as it killed a thousand souls who deserved better. All I ever did was kill, and just because the last people I killed deserved it does not wash away the blood of the rest!”

“The trial–”

“The trial? You want to talk about the fucking trial?” Gabriel let out a mirthless bark. “Laughable, in its nativity. I am violent, and treacherous, and every other sin they didn’t dare accuse me of. Do you know the first thing King Minos did, the day I killed him? He greeted me as a friend.”

Puriel had shut up now.

“Do you know how many tortured souls I slew? How many people begging for mercy I turned my blade on? Or do you—like all of Heaven!—only care about how many angels I’ve killed? It’s all the same blood! Tell me Puriel, who is this saintly archangel you worship so devoutly? Because I’d love to meet him someday.”

“You are… just– just tired. You don’t know what you’re saying.” Puriel’s voice was shaking, and his wings had gone completely white. He took a step back.

Gabriel took a step forward. He had to understand, he had to make him understand, “Do you know why I didn’t kill you, the day we sparred? Because it would’ve been too easy.”

Puriel’s wings had finally began to grow orange at their edges, as he took another step back. This time, Gabriel noted with satisfaction, it was to fall into a better fighting stance. Puriel unsheathed his sword.

“It won’t be as easy as you think,” he spat, still shaking.

Gabriel would not break his oath. His swords would never leave their scabbards. Puriel might even have a chance to kill him that way.

“PURIEL,” came a horribly familiar voice.

Gabriel resisted the urge to growl, as Surufel landed between them.

“What is the meaning of this? Sheath your weapon!” she barked.

“He– He said–” Puriel stuttered, but then put away his broadsword. He turned wholly to her and said, “He’s not well, Surufel. He’s speaking madness.”

Vile little–! “Madness? You think this is madness?” Something about the tone of his voice seemed to tip her off, as she spun around to him, her stance guarded. “Ask your superior officer if this is madness—She knows the truth of me. She’s seen the blood on my hands. She knows exactly what I’m capable of.”

“Leave,” Surufel said. “Now.”

The Moon was her domain, and she was Dominion over it. Gabriel’s wings formed a crescent behind him, and he obeyed.

By instinct, he flew upwards, towards the Fixed Stars. But then he stopped, and looked down. In that airless place between layers he floated, staring at the little blue dot.

Puriel’s words came to him unbidden: That was your home, before…

 

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Gabriel had forgotten how strong the Earth’s gravity was. He landed in the heart of his forest with a crash. 

He laid in the crater for a moment, watching the clouds react to his plummet in slow motion. They parted and flowed like ripples around a thrown stone.

Despite having just thrown himself hundreds of thousands of miles into solid rock, Gabriel felt oddly light. Like a weight he’d been carrying had been placed aside, his body allowed to rest. All the rage and disappointment seemed to leak out of him. Absorbed by the fertile soil he’d tended.

After all the clouds moved by his passing had dispersed, and the sky had gone orange, he got up.

Some part of him had wondered if the Machine would be waiting for him. He had to concede that it was a stupid thought; V1 had infinite energy and a whole world to explore, it had little use for him aside from providing the occasional fight. That feelings of uselessness burned, and on any other day it might have roused him to anger, but now he was just tired.

He walked to his chapel. His boots crunched on the grass, which seemed to have done well enough without him. The forest looked almost exactly as he’d left it. Trees were green, with mushrooms peaking out of the undergrowth. He even recognized a couple of his cornflowers, still eking out a living in the sunny chapel grove. The rough hewn stones were still covered in grey lichen. The steps were still dirty. The only difference were a few more weeds and, ah…

There was an old oak, one of the first Gabriel had planted. Given its proximity to the chapel, V1 had taken up a habit of using its low-hanging branches as seating, to the point where Gabriel had just called it ‘V1’s Tree’ in his head.

It was riddled with significantly more bulletholes than the last time he was here. He placed a hand on the dented bark and sighed. Couldn’t the Machine have found anything better to use for target practice? He supposed it was too much to expect favoritism from it, even for trees.

He walked into his chapel, and sighed again. The Machine had also trashed his house, because of course it did. He began to pick up the few items that marked his time on Earth, placing them back in their designated spots.

He wouldn’t stay here, he told himself. Heaven wanted him, needed him. He wouldn’t just ignore it like… 

His hand crunched into a fist around a gardening spade. It snapped apart.

God hadn’t… No one had done any ignoring. You couldn’t ignore something if you were dead. He looked out the glassless window of the chapel, and did not feel any better for the fact. 

No, he wouldn’t stay here forever. But time moved slower in Heaven, and perhaps he could stay here long enough to get his bearings.

Perhaps say hello to an old friend. 

Notes:

Because I am pure evil, I am releasing this right before ao3 has a shutdown. Muahaha
Also would you beleive that the trial was never a part of the original outline of this fic? Then some mouthy throne started talking abt "Justice" and I was like shit I guess we're doing this now

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 4 of V1, Gabriel, and what remains