Bound by Stars , Torn by Fate

Chapter 1

Heaven was a place of indescribable beauty, where light danced in symphonies, and time flowed like a gentle river. The air was imbued with an essence of purity. Colors I cannot now name shimmered across boundless skies, and beneath them, angelic beings moved in perfect harmony.

We were not bound by hunger or weariness; our forms were radiant and incorruptible, a reflection of the Creator's design. Our duties were clear: to safeguard creation, to carry out divine will, and to praise without question.

The hierarchy of angels was structured as perfectly as the heavens themselves. Each of us had our roles to play. The Messengers carried the Creator's word to mankind, their voices resonating like thunder. The Protectors guarded humanity from the forces of darkness. The Watchers, like myself, stood between the two, observing and reporting.

And yet, I was unlike my brethren. Even as a warrior, I was quieter, more introspective. Where others saw only the Creator's plan, I saw questions. Where others found certainty, I found doubt.

Among my kind, there was no room for error. Angels did not hesitate; they did not falter but it was our inability to stray from perfection that gnawed at me. Humanity, for all its faults, was granted forgiveness. Time and time again, they stumbled, and yet they were offered grace. To err was their nature, and still, the Creator loved them. But for us? One mistake, one misstep, and we were cast out.
I could not understand it.

In those eternal days, I was not alone in my duties. Among the Watchers, I had companions—Elyon, a vibrant angel whose laughter could brighten even the somber halls of the Celestial Choir, and Seraphiel, a stern and disciplined warrior whose loyalty to the Creator was unshakable.

Elyon often teased me for my brooding nature.
    ⁃    "Aziel," he would say, his voice light as a breeze, "why do you frown so often? The Creator's work is perfect. You need only trust in it."

Seraphiel, on the other hand, had no patience for my questions.
    ⁃    "Doubt is the first step toward rebellion," he warned me once. "Do not tread that path, Aziel, or you will find yourself among the Fallen."

Their words lingered in my mind, but they did little to quell the storm within me.

The Vault of Records was my sanctuary, a place where I could witness humanity's struggles and triumphs. But it was also where my doubts began to take shape.

One day, I watched as a mortal man, broken and sinful, cried out to the heavens for forgiveness. He had stolen, lied, and hurt those he loved, yet his pleas were answered. The Creator's love washed over him, and his sins were absolved.

I turned to Elyon.
    ⁃    "Why?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

    ⁃    "Why what?"

    ⁃    "Why does He forgive them? They destroy, they sin, they betray Him, and yet He loves them. Why are they worthy of forgiveness when we are not?"

Elyon's smile faltered, but he did not answer.

Later, I brought the same question to Seraphiel. His response was harsher.
    ⁃    "It is not our place to question the Creator's will. Our role is to serve, not to understand."

But I wanted to understand. I needed to.

The doubt grew quietly, like a shadow creeping across the horizon. It did not come in the form of anger or malice but as a quiet discontent, a yearning for answers. I began to question not only humanity's worthiness but my own place among the angels.

If we were truly perfect, why were we denied the grace extended to mortals? If the Creator's love was eternal, why were we cast aside for a single failure?

I never voiced these thoughts aloud again, but they lingered in my heart. And in the heavens, even a whisper of rebellion cannot go unnoticed.

It was only a matter of time before my fall.