"Wine And Snow"
Part 6
by Beryll
I see your face in every flame
with no answers I have only myself to blame
of all the men I've known
they are not you
I'd rather be alone
---Type O' Negative
Michael's wings beat the air mercilessly as he climbed the sky. He was not sure what he was seeking but he needed to get away from earth. Away from this dangerous confusion that a demon had inflicted on him. Needed to find cooler air, needed to regain his balance.
Asmodeus words had hurt him deeply. Deep in his heart he knew they were true, that the demon believed what he had said. And maybe there was even truth in his accusation. But already Michael was pushing that truth far from his heart and mind, reaching for the anger that always burned bright inside him. To accept his own failure would have been too painful.
Instead he raged at the insult of having run from a demon. How had Asmodeus managed to confuse him so much with his useless prattle? How dare he even hint at failure on Michael's part? Had it not been Asmodeus and Belial who had betrayed him? Had it not been his two most trusted friends and comrades who had abandoned him without consideration to throw their lot with Lucifer when he had been banished from heaven?
His anger boiled in Michael and he shouted his rage to the clouds. How dare they?
As if it had been only a day ago he remembered how they had turned their backs on him, who had only done his duty.
He - like the other archangels - had been called to the antechamber of God's inner sanctum. Only Metatron was allowed to enter there. Metatron and Lucifer. Lucifer, who had been the first angel created by God. Lucifer, who was loved and adored by all angels and by the creator. Lucifer, who fought with God endlessly. Lucifer, who would never submit without arguing, who would always fight for what he believed to be right. Even against his own creator.
Even from outside had they heard the Lightbringer shout at the unseen entity that was God. And then the portal had opened and Lucifer had emerged only to stop dead in his tracks when he saw the other archangels assembled with their grim expressions that did not bode well.
The portal had closed behind him soundlessly and Metatron had told him what he had told the others before. That God was done with listening to his rebellious angel, that Lucifer had taken his game one step too far. That he was to be punished and expelled from heaven forever.
The expression on Lucifer's face in that first moment had been nameless. To this day Michael could not have said, if it was pain or anger or sadness. But he had decided rather quickly, raging against God in the most horrible words that had ever burned Michael's ears. In that moment he had been sure that the verdict of God was right and true, even if he had doubted it for a short second when he had first heard it.
But Metatron's voice had been even louder and harsher: "For all to see you shall be punished. You shall lose your wings and never again sore high. You shall be cast from the heavens and exist in endless darkness, forever banished from the divine light."
It had been Gabriel and Uriel who had taken hold of Lucifer and the Lightbringer had suddenly fallen silent, staring at the other archangels in defiant hatred. The light in his eyes had been unholy, burning with a wrath unmatched. "Dare none of you stand up against this injustice?" he had asked, rooted so deeply in his sin against the creator that he did not even ask forgiveness then.
None had answered. Gabriel and Uriel had forced him to his knees, exposing his back, his pure white wings to Michael's sword.
"Thus is the command of the Lord." Metratron had finished and then Michael had done as he was commanded hacking off the wings of the Lightbringer, causing him untold pain. He had not even cried out. His face had been stark white when Uriel and Gabriel pulled him to his feet again and his eyes clouded, but he had not made a sound when they dragged him outside. Not even then did he ask for the mercy of God.
All the hosts of the heavens had waited for them to witness the fall of the most beautiful of them all, to watch as their shining morning star was extinguished.
What none of the archangels had anticipated was the murmur of disagreement that went up when they saw the blood run down from the stumps where Lucifer's wings had been, the barely suppressed anger from some quarters, when Metatron again announced the verdict of God. But they had paid them no heed. They had cast Lucifer from the heavens as God had decreed and he had plummeted towards earth to shatter and suffer.
And then Belial and Asmodeus had done the unthinkable. Without hesitation they had jumped after him, catching him and breaking his fall, carrying him down safely, their own wings shiny against the morning sun.
Michael's heart constricted painfully when he remembered it. How they had held Lucifer close, defying the will of God, abandoning the grace of heaven for this wretched traitor. And they had not remained the only ones. It had been more than a hundred angels who had immediately followed them and several more had slunk away in the next hours.
Most of the archangels had been beside themselves with rage. Only Uriel had kept a semblance of reason, cautioning them against striking against the traitors, telling them to wait for the voice of their maker. It had not taken God long to respond to this incredible betrayal. His command had been swift and clear.
All the rebellious angels were to be banished from heaven and driven from earth as well. They were to be confined to the underworld to live forever without light or happiness. Their heavenly beauty was to be stripped from them and they should forever exist in terror of the heavenly host.
The following war had raged for a long time. They had stripped them of their divine beauty, exposing their evil for all the world to see. They had driven them from the sky and even from earth. But even Michael's hosts had not been able to confine them to the underworld. Demons they were called now. Not brethren anymore but vile creatures to be despised and hunted and exterminated.
And now one of them tried to tell Michael that it was all his fault? That he had made a mistake? That he was to blame? No. That was preposterous.
And still. The pain and sadness in Asmodeus' eyes had been true.
Soaring high on the wind Michael past the gates of heaven and as always the clear air and pristine white of heavens architecture helped him regain his composure and calm his raging heart. His was called the archangel of passion by his hosts – firestarter by the other archangels – and sometimes he wondered why God had burdened him with such a flaring temper. But usually the storm passed quickly and left a tired contentedness. Not this time, though.
Michael still felt wary and unhappy when he touched down in one of the well-kept gardens. Searching for some sort of comfort he had spied the one angel who might be able to help him bring some order back into his confused mind.
The dark figure sitting on a white bench could only be one angel – Uriel, archangel of death and sleep, third angel created by God and regarded most highly by all other angels for his wisdom and gentleness. He was the only angel who did not wear white. His wings were as shiny as all the others, but he had always preferred black for his clothing, signifying his somber duties. Black robes had changed to a dark suit over the millennia, but still he was the only thing dark in the light of heaven.
When Michael landed some paces away from him he looked up, cocking his head curiously. The expression of his dark eyes was unreadable and his posture only told of calm interest, but when Michael came closer one of his eyebrows rose in amusement.
"And for whom have you been crying bloody tears?" he asked, his voice mellow and soothing to the ear.
Michael touched his cheek in surprise, only now remembering the cut Asmodeus had scored on him. The wound had long healed but a small trickle of blood had dried on his cheek like bloody tears.
Frowning Michael sat down next to Uriel, rubbing the marring blood from his face. "No tears, just the marks of battle." he explained, but there was a tell-tale waver in his words that left Uriel's expression doubtful.
For a while they sat quietly, Michael collecting his thoughts and Uriel waiting patiently for the younger archangel to ask his advise.
"I have met Belial and Asmodeus today." Michael said at last. "One I have beaten, one I have left crying. Shouldn't I be proud of myself?"
Uriel's face showed no change of expression. "Should you?" he asked back.
"I should." Michael answered truthfully. "But I'm not."
Again silence lasted between them while Michael tried again to come to terms with his conflicting emotions. Strangely enough Uriel's presence was sufficient to calm him so he could think.
"Asmodeus says they loved me." he explained softly. "But if they loved me, how could they betray me? Should not their first love be to God? How can they love anything before God? How can they place anyone above God?" He fell silent for a moment, shuddering. "How can they exist outside the light of God?"
"Maybe they confuse love with lust." Uriel answered. "Maybe they are just better actors them you can see through. Maybe they love each other more then they will ever love you. Or maybe the light of the Lightbringer shines as soothing as it ever did, warming them as surely as God's love warms us..."
The last words were spoken softly and Michael felt an icy unease creep up his back. Such words should not be spoken by an angel, his reason cried out. And still – maybe it was true, his heart whispered.
"So what shall I do now?" Michael asked the one question he could not answer.
"God has given you a heart to feel and a mind to think. What to do when they tell you different things? I can not tell you. Every action has a consequence. Existence is an ever-turning wheel. It will place us where it wills. In the end, all paths lead to the same goal. You will find your way. Sooner or later."
Uriel's answer was a cryptic as if God himself had given it and Michael again felt rage rise in his heart. But before he could complain Uriel got up.
"My duties call." he said, gifting Michael with a gentle smile that made his anger evaporate like mist in the morning sun. "And I think you have places to go, too." Uriel leaned down to him, brushing a last bit of dried blood from his cheek. "They are waiting for you, you know." he whispered so softly that not even God could have heard him. "Have been for a long time now."
Then he walked away, leaving a thoroughly startled Michael behind.
If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to: Beryll
go to PART 7