As per usual for a prophet, he jolted up from a troubled sleep. He immediately dropped to his knees, clasped his hands, and prayed for understanding.
There was so much sin! So much disobedience! And all of it seemed to result in inequality, both past and present, that heavily benefitted the wicked. Why, in God's infinite wisdom and power, was such a thing allowed?
And, as per usual, God did not have the time to sooth every sleep-deprived prophet. This sort of thing was instead forwarded to the correct department. Namely, unfortunately, it was forwarded to Uriel.
She arrived in silence and stood in the shadows of the dark room. She looked over the clothes and takeout containers strewn about, the mountains of pamphlets and books, and once again cursed her designation. It wasn't as if any of them were allowed to choose their positions, of course, but she certainly would have picked anything but this were she allowed.
It didn't matter when they came about, prophets always operated the same way. They thought too much. It led them not to ask for insight, but demand it. They knew nothing of the past, nor the present, yet they felt entitled to know the future. And, due to work requirements, they had her ear around the clock.
This latest one moved from begging to understand sin to demanding God explain why She would allow other nations to disrespect and prosper compared to his homeland? By his view it was clear that the weight of the former's sins thoroughly outweighed the latter. He'd go so far as to say that in comparison to anywhere else in the world. Why should they not reap the most rewards?
Uriel might normally have allowed him to finish his prayer, but she was in absolutely no mood at the moment. She had heard this from every group of humans about every other group of humans for six thousand years, after all. She had so much to do now that they were in the home stretch, and she was dragged down for the same old thing?
"You don't even understand this world," she said, with righteous anger that shook everything in the room. "And you feel you're worthy of knowing the ways of God?"
Uriel had never been a delicate angel. Based on reports from previous prophets, humans could sense that just as well as ethereal beings could When she wanted it to be, her aura could be terrifying.
So it was something, genuinely something, when the prophet completely ignored it to enthusiastically answer, "Yes, I do!"
Uriel glanced upwards to see if the arrogant whinging had reached a level enough to let her leave. When she didn't receive permission, she turned her gaze back.
"Are you willing to prove it?" she asked.
The prophet hesitated. "Prove it?"
"I'll ask you some questions about this world. If you can answer even one of them, I'll answer your questions about God's works and the evils of man."
The aura around her nearly throbbed with annoyance and threat. Any member of the Host, current or otherwise, would have properly backed off by now. This human's lust for knowledge didn't even allow him to try and understand it.
"I accept!" He answered, eagerly.
"Great," she said, with a brief and firmly professional smile. "How do you weigh out a pound of fire? How do you measure a bushel of wind? How do you bring back a day that has passed?"
The prophet examined the floor he kneeled upon. His face was screwed as he tried to detangle the riddles. Finally, he began, "With all due respect…"
There was nowhere near enough respect given, but she let him go on.
"No human could ever answer these questions."
Uriel's expression grew less impressed somehow, "Fine. How many rivers flow below the earth, or above the sky? Where do you leave the world of the dead, and where do you enter Paradise?"
"I have never-"
"You've never been to these places or seen these things," She finished. "But I only asked about fire, wind, and yesterday. You've been experiencing these things since you were a child, and you can't answer because you don't understand them." She clucked her tongue. "How could your mind ever understand the ways of an infallible and incorruptible God?"
With that he prostrated himself on the floor and cursed his existence in such a sinful world. That was clearly why he had such a lack of understanding! Prophets were wont to do that, even though it only took up time.
Uriel looked up again for permission to leave, and again she was denied. She got the distinct feeling that she should be nicer, since this was only a human after all. Plus, if nothing else, the paperwork for a failed vision was far more trouble than a completed one.
"Would you like to try one more time?"
"I beg you to let me!" He cried, in what came quite close to proper deference.
Uriel thought through her repertoire of fables before she settled on one to recite. "I once walked through the forest to hear the trees conspiring to take over the ocean to expand their territory."
Around her, the very air seemed to change, and the prophet could feel them moving through the whispering forest.
"At the same time, the waves plotted to overrun the forest to expand the ocean. In the end it amounted to nothing, as a fire destroyed the trees and the sand held the waves at bay."
He could feel the fresh sea air give way to smoke and heat, and feel the wet sand beneath his feet that refused to give way. And, just as suddenly, it was gone and there were only the two of them in his cramped bedroom.
"If you were the judge who needed to rule between them," she finished, with a voice far too dull considering the show she'd just put on, "Who would have been right?"
He sat back and thought for a moment before he offered, "They were both wrong. The waves belong in the sea, and the trees belong in the forest. They should both have stayed there."
"If you can answer that correctly," she asked, "Then why can't you understand your own problems? Only Heavenly beings can understand Heavenly matters, just as humans should be able to understand the world around them." She placed the slightest bit of emphasis on the 'should', though whether he caught it properly was questionable.
"But I'm not asking about Heavenly things!" The prophet insisted. "I'm only asking about sin, and inequality, and...!"
"And punishment for the wicked?" she asked.
"Exactly!"
"I see." Her brow pulled down, slightly. "And you don't believe these are Heavenly things?"
"No." He might have gotten up, then, were his legs as bold as his mouth. "This is about the Earth, and the lives of the people who live on it."
"You want to make sure that the right people will be rewarded and the right people are punished."
"Exactly!"
"So, ultimately, you're asking me about the apocalypse."
"I…" The prophet froze. "I hoped it wouldn't have to come to that , but…"
"It was always meant to come to that."
She held up her hand, and a golden seed formed to float above her palm.
"When this world was new, a seed of evil was planted in humanity," Uriel explained. The one in her hand slowly grew black. Nonetheless, it sprouted roots, then leaves and stems just as rotten and misshapen. "Just as a plant cannot be harvested until it's ripe, this world cannot be cleansed until it is ready."
He seemed to sense, now, how her aura had filled the room and then some. He braced himself as if he risked being blown away.
The plant in her hand split into two apples, one perfectly red and round and the other shriveled.
"God keeps promises, and the righteous will be rewarded just as the wicked will be locked away from Her grace. They will be decided by God's judgement alone, without any consideration for human perception." A ball of fire consumed the fruit, and a glow and a shadow sunk into the ceiling and floor respectively. "And the Earth will burn and be reborn, just as She has had written by the prophets before you."
She returned her hand to a more professional position. "Demanding punishment and reward on your schedule, is to insist that you understand the universe and human soul more than God. Are you really that arrogant?"
"No never!" He said, desperately. "I just… Will I live to see it?"
"That's not my department," she said.
He faltered at the change in language. "Heaven has… departments?"
"You have the audacity to question how She organizes her divine works, now?," Uriel said in a tone that sent him right back to cowering. "The point is that I'm not at liberty to tell you when the apocalypse will take place. As for whether you'll live long enough to see it, that's a free will issue which again is not my department."
"Is there anything you can tell me?" He nearly begged.
Uriel didn't tend to explain these sorts of things because humans got cagey when they learned anything concrete. It was that overthinking that got to them. But for this gnat of a man, she said plainly, "I wouldn't start any long books if I were you."
He gasped, finally stunned silent. And, likewise, Uriel ascended without another word.
The prophet, as per usual, took to frantically writing down what he had seen and heard. He planned how he would preach this message to people, and how maybe by ritualistic fasting he could get more information.
And, as per usual, Uriel returned to her office to find a mountain of forms. Lead only by direct messages, which required choruses and lighting, prophecies were extremely production-heavy. The records department wanted to know about every idea, every word, every miracle and illusion she'd had to use to make her point. And all of that took reams of paperwork that she resigned herself to do as quickly as possible.
The war was fast approaching and there was still so much to do. She hoped that this would finally be the last time she'd have to take the time to handle all of this.
Unfortunately, knowing prophets, she knew it wouldn't be.
A/N: Based on 2 Esdras 4 which reads so much like GO fic that I had to adapt it.