A seraphic novel - Book 2
After the devastating loss of their friend Christoph, life for Cecelia, Evie, and the rest of the Elite Wing has been anything but normal. Struggling to find balance between the mundane and the supernatural, they navigate a...
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The entrance to Heaven was a vision of unparalleled beauty and tranquility, a testament to divine craftsmanship. Beyond Saint Peter's pearly gates, the Garden of Eden unfurled like a tapestry of eternal spring. Blossoms in every imaginable hue swayed in a gentle, celestial breeze. Streams of crystal-clear water meandered through the garden, their melodic murmurs blending harmoniously with the songs of angels. The air was perfumed with the fragrance of blooming flowers, and the light was pure and golden, bathing everything in a warm, ethereal glow.
A sudden golden beam of light struck the ground within the garden, and with it, Archangel Uriel appeared, gasping for breath and clutching his throat. The shock of dying still clung to him, his ethereal form trembling. Lesser angels rushed to his side, their faces etched with concern as they helped him to his feet. Uriel looked around, noticing the crowd that had gathered to witness his return. Whispers filled the air, a mixture of pity and disappointment.
In the grand hall of archangels, Michael sat patiently, his golden armor gleaming under the radiant light. He was the epitome of celestial pride, a picture of divine confidence. His blue eyes, cold and piercing, scanned the assembly of angels gathered before him. "Uriel and Gabriel will return victorious," he proclaimed, his voice echoing through the vast hall. "The Arch Dukes will be no match for my best angels."
Suddenly, the doors burst open, and Uriel stumbled in, his face a mask of desperation. "Samael has returned!" he shouted, his voice hoarse with urgency.
Michael's eyes narrowed, and a murmur rippled through the assembly. "What happened?" Michael demanded, rising from his throne.
"We were defeated," Uriel confessed avoiding Michael's piercing glare. "I was killed."
"An archangel being killed hasn't happened in millennia!"
Uriel took a shaky breath, his eyes downcast. "We were overwhelmed," he admitted. "Asmodeus... he bested me." He rubbed his neck in shame, the memory of his defeat still fresh.
Before Michael could respond, Ceruleus stepped forward from the shadows, his presence commanding attention. "Gabriel has been captured," he declared, his voice cutting through the tension. "I watched as you should have, Michael. Your pride has blinded you."
Michael's face twisted in disbelief, and the assembly erupted into chaos. Angels argued, their voices rising in a cacophony of dissent. "Michael is not fit to lead!" one shouted, while another demanded, "We need a new commander!"
Ceruleus raised his hand, silencing the crowd. "We underestimated the power of the Arch Dukes and Samael," he said firmly. "Michael, I request that you send your elite force and allow me to accompany them."
Fury flashed in Michael's eyes. "You dare challenge me again, Ceruleus? Traitor!" He turned to the grand doors of the hall and shouted, "Golden Hand, enter!"
The doors flew open, and Michael's elite force stormed in. The Golden Hand, a group of angels personally trained and mentored by Michael, were a sight to behold. Clad in gleaming golden armor, their expressions were resolute and unyielding. Each member carried a weapon uniquely blessed, their presence a testament to Michael's training and leadership.
"Arrest him and take him to the dungeons," Michael ordered, his voice cold and authoritative. "Ceruleus will learn to think twice before speaking out of turn."
The Golden Hand surrounded Ceruleus, their grips firm and unyielding. Ceruleus did not resist, his calm demeanor contrasting sharply with the chaos around him. As they restrained him, he looked directly at Michael, his gaze unwavering. "Fine, Michael," he said softly, his voice carrying a note of resignation. "Don't listen to me again. Learn the hard way and let history repeat itself."
With those final words, Ceruleus was led away, his head held high. The grand hall of archangels buzzed with the uneasy realization that Heaven's greatest warriors were not invincible. The echoes of Ceruleus's warning lingered, a haunting reminder of the darkness that threatened to engulf them all.
