Author's Note: So it's been a while since I last posted. In the time between then and now. I was promoted, and now oversee an entire state, and have opened up 12 new sites. This has been written for a bit now, could use a beta/someone to bounce ideas off. PM me if you're willing to just talk and know going into it I keep some really weird hours, where its not uncommon for me to work 30 hours straight and then collapse and be dead to the world for the rest of the day. As for the later part of the chapter I was inspired to write Lily the way I did was because I was looping One-Winged Angel in preparation of the remastered Final Fantasy VII, and Cruel Angel Thesis from Evangelion sung by the ever amazing Amalee on youtube. Go check her out for some amazing covers!

With a sound like breaking glass she appeared on the steps to the Seventh Heaven, ignoring the looks of shock and awe at the sight of her wings. The shock from her appearance soon turned to anger, there were very few Seraphim and many quickly recognized her distinctive silver wings. Several of her siblings tried to rush her, to stop her from profaning the holy atmosphere of Heaven, but she simply brushed them off. Spears of Light capable of driving off the strongest of devils and reducing some to ash failed to penetrate the divinely wrought armor she wore. Might that once reduced the Sodom and Gomorrah to little more than tiny chunks of rubble was nothing compared to her. But still she carried her son with her, her most precious child, and she would allow no harm to come to him. With an outward flaring of her prodigious power she flung every attacker back, throwing them from the Sixth Heaven, to plummet down. Standing before the steps of her Father's Palace she hesitated briefly, doubts creeping across her mind before being banished. Steeling her resolve she stepped foot on the gilded marble stairs.

The soles of her sandals had barely touched the steps before the entirety of Heaven lit up, alarms ringing across every level. In the First Heaven, the angels who stood sentinel at the unbreeched gates turned in shock. Never before had an enemy step foot past the Golden Gates, and yet now one had managed to bypass all their defenses and now threatened to desecrate the very seat of their Father. For the first time in countless millennia the forces of Heaven mobilized intent on stopping their foe before they could get any farther. At the sound of the alarm the Seraphim, protectors of the Throne of God sallied forth, descending on resplendent wings to smite whatever being war stupid enough to try and enter the domain of God.

As the entirety of Heaven's might converged on her, another warmer presence wrapped around her, bolstering her feelings. She had no worries after all, "The Lord is my shepherd." She muttered shifting her son in her arms as she climbed up the stairs, a golden barrier erecting behind her preventing anyone from following.

To think it had started off as just another quiet, boring day. He thought to himself as wings of gold beat, propelling him through the air. Getting out of bed, taking an extra hour to sleep in as a treat for finishing all his paperwork last night, he had barely managed to put on his robes when the alarms began ringing throughout the entirety of Heaven. Dumbstruck was the best way to describe his expression when he heard the call to muster at the stairs of the Seventh Heaven. Pushing aside the disbelief that surged within him, his mind reeling at the possible consequences of having an enemy posed to strike at the literal heart of Heaven, he jumped out the window. With a speed that he didn't know he still possessed he flew through the skies, golden light encasing him as he donned his armor, wincing as he felt how snug it felt in some places. From Heaven's mightiest warrior to the mightiest pencil pusher. When's the last time I even swung a sword? "Who would be brazen enough to attack us?" He muttered before dismissing the thought. There were plenty of people more than willing to take a shot at them, the Church and Angels having made no small amount of enemies over the years. "The better question is who was the ability and the knowledge to bypass all our defenses."

Before he could think on that, he was joined by his sister, her 12-wings a downy snow white. "Gabriel." He greeted hastily, noticing the ease in which she moved in her armor. Should've joined her and Sariel in those training sessions. He thought glumly.

"Michael." She answered, her voice devoid of its usual cheer. The rest of the short trip was in tense silence before they landed at the steps to the Seventh Heaven. Gathered there were dozens of Powers, the warrior caste of angels, flinging their spears into a glimmering golden barrier.

"Cease fire!" He yelled, his voice easily carrying over the din of Holy Light exploding. "Status report." He demanded seizing the nearest Power, one he noted had not been futilely trying to over a barrier designed as the last obstacle preventing someone from entering their Father's Palace.

"Lord Michael, Lady Gabriel." The Power started only for Michael to clasp him on the shoulder.

"No need for the formalities soldier, what's going on here?"

"Milord witnesses say that a 12-winged angel appeared minutes ago and proceeded up the stairs to our Father's Palace."

He was confused something he rarely was. Sure a 12-winged angel was incredibly rare, most of them choosing to reside in the Seventh Heaven close to Father's Throne, and one of them coming down was even rarer, but it should not have been cause for any alarm.

"What's the issue then?" Gabriel asked. "Surely seeing one of the Seraphim should not be enough to raise the alarm."

"Milady, none of us raised the alarm. It activated as soon as she stepped foot on the stairs."

Now that was worrying, none of the Seraphim should have set off the alarms which meant. "We have a rogue angel." Michael said grimly. The powers of an angel rose dramatically with every pair of wings they earned. A 12-winged angel could command prodigious powers, though they were still limited by the caste and sphere that they were originally created to serve in. Any angel through sufficient training and dedication would be able to achieve 12 wings and claim the title of Seraph.

"Gabriel." He commanded, turning to his sister. "Go…gather our brethren and follow after me." She nodded knowing exactly who it was she was gather. "Step back." The Powers that gathered in front of the shield moved away as he flared his prodigious powers for the first time in millennia, summoning spears of light. Thousands of golden spears blotted out the horizon, each baring the magnificent radiance and holiness of God. This was the power of a Seraph, the strongest of God's Soldiers and the mightiest of Heaven's children. To those that had fought in the war they were death incarnate, their sheer power enough to completely erase any mid-class devil that dared look upon their celestial forms. In the wake of the first Armistice, their powers had been forgotten, written off as myth stories that were used to cling to honors long past.

The World may have forgotten them, but Michael reminded them.

In a moment he reminded those gathered exactly why it was that He led the Armies of God, that he was God's treasured General and the only Angel that Lucifer never faced alone. Why only God himself could command him and entire civilizations trembled at his decrees. As his hand rose the light of a thousand thousand stars descended smashing into the barrier, shattering it into pieces.

Yet even as his power broke the barrier countless times, countless times it reformed, and he was barely able to slip through the cracks before they closed in on him.

Running up the steps, taking them three at a time he could only wonder at the soundness of his Father's mind when he decided that a literal Stairway to Heaven was needed when just about every denizen of that could reach this far had the ability to fly. It didn't help that the divine miracle his Father had brought into existence also prevented anyone from flying across this section lest they wanted to meet a swift and untimely end via Heaven's version of a flak cannon. And to top it all off he hadn't realized how out of shape he was, once upon a time he could run up these steps and not even be winded, yet now he was only a third of the way up them and he felt like his lungs and legs were on fire. Even in his haste to reach the Throne room, even as his body complained about the sudden bout of exercise he still couldn't help but notice the silence that surrounded him upon entering the barrier.

He had expected sounds of battle as the angels stationed in the Seventh Heaven moved to intercept the intruder but he heard nothing.

It was...ominous.

A feeling that he had never before felt, and one that should not have existed in the Heart of the Most Holy's Home. With grim determination he sped up hoping that his brothers and sisters would be okay, that Gabriel and the other Seraphim would soon follow in his wake. When at last he cleared the steps, he spread his wings to their full glory and kicked off the ground hard, soaring with the utmost speed as he navigated the twisting turns and eddies that surrounded his Father's seat. The Seventh Heaven had been his Father's personal refuge, his bastion, and should all of Heaven fall it was meant to be an unbreakable citadel in which the angels could counterattack from, and as such it was separated from the other levels of Heaven and consisted solely of a large fortress whose grandeur was only fitting as the seat of the Most Holy. Steel Sentinels stood silent vigil along the ramparts, divinely forged lances held in hand as they watched ever vigilant. Several turned towards him, the Holy Light contained within burning with barely controlled fury, before his own light reacted and flagged him as friendly.

Frowning at the lack of action on the sentinels part, they should've already apprehended or eliminate the intruder, he dove down and landed on the roof.

Even Azazel, the Leader of the Fallen Angels, the Grigori, only had 10-wings and when the 6th pair was gained an angel's powers were nothing short of terrifying. With the merest thoughts they could bend reality around them, their minds linked to the System, giving them partial omniscience, and the ability to perceive possible paths into the future. Not only could they work to divine the future but using the System it was possible for an angel to travel through time and control it to a certain degree. Not to mention the increase potency of their Holy Light as well as they damage they could do with nature itself. Raising storms with but a whisper they could even fight minor gods to a standstill and major ones in sufficient numbers.

There had only been one 12-winged angel cast from Heaven, the Morningstar himself, Lucifer.

Azazel was an anomaly in that he gained his 6th pair of wings outside of the influence of Heaven, and as such the specifics of his power weren't known.

Approaching the massive portcullis he frowned when he saw it wide open and Angels going about their business without a care in the world. It was as if they didn't realize that Heaven itself had been infiltrated and that the perpetrator was even now somewhere within their midst.

As he got closer he noticed that the other Seraphim, those 12-winged angels whose sphere was the closest to Father and were charged with his protection, had formed two neat rows, their backs against the walls as they held ceremonial and highly decorative spears in their right hand and pristine shields of golden light in their left. As one their visored barbute helms turned towards him, causing a shiver to go down his spine. When he was a child those faceless helms had frightened him, as he clutched at his Father's robes for protection. These silent sentinels had been with his Father ever since he could remember. These silent sentinels had been with his Father ever since he could remember, a remnant from an age past, his Father would answer when questioned about them.

He had never seen one without its helm, its gender a complete mystery, he didn't even know if there was a living, breathing being under the armor, but he now millenia later their silence was an eerie thing that put him on edge.

One of them stepped forward blocking his path, and if one were to glance at it they would be unable to distinguish it from any other Sentinel. Only those who had been in their presence long enough would be able to tell the subtle differences based on the armor they wore. A slight flourish here, a slightly different litany there, each of the Sentinels could only be distinguished by their armor, as he had yet to find any behavioral cues capable of differentiating them. This one he remembered simply as the "Captain" as all the other sentinels seemed to defer to it and it had at one point been his Father's silent shadow.

It stared hard at him for several moments, his body unable to move under its heavy gaze, until at last it turned around, the smallest of movements from its shoulder indicating that he should follow it. As the Captain moved the other Sentinels respectfully stepped out of its path, their backs against the wall as their helms continued to track him until they were physically no longer able to turn.

Corridor after corridor, each with immobile Sentinels, after a while he began to lose track of everything. The very air seeming to mess with his mind confounding him, his eyes could not be trusted as they seemingly walked upside down or up a wall at random intervals. Truly should any invader make it to the 7th Heaven they would find themselves hopelessly lost and disoriented.

After what seemed like an eternity, his nerves growing more and more frayed as he had yet to hear anything about the intruder, the Captain simply led him to a pair of wooden doors that while massive in size were simply slabs.

His guide stepped to the side as he felt its gaze burrowing into him, telling him to step forward and open the doors. Nervously he reached out and pushed his palm against it, the doors slowly grinding open with a rumble.

What he stepped into was not what he expected.

A seemingly endless hallway or whtie marble and golden decor, torches and braziers on either side of a long red carpet. At the farside he could see a raised dais, with a throne of silver.

The sheer Holiness of this place almost drove him, one of the first angels to have been created to his knees, tears spilling from the corners of his eyes as he did his best not to weep. Memories of happier times, of times when there was no distinction between them, when the Angels were still united. Playing in the Gardens as his Father watched on, tussling with his siblings, and learning at Father's side. Unlike the later generations of angels that were brought into existence fully grown and formed, they the first generation had all had a childhood.

Lucifer

Michael

Gabriel

Penemue

Azazel

Sahariel

Shemhazai

Uriel

Amaros

Baraquiel

Kokabiel

Raphael

Tamiel

… and Raguel

Of them only Gabriel, Raphael, Uriel and himself remained with Father, the rest Fallen or cast out of Heaven by his own hand.

His gaze drifted to his hand, and for a moment he could see it dyed red, stained with blood as he killed his younger siblings, those Fallen who had rebelled against Father. He could see their faces, memories of their lives flowing through him with each life he took.

He was broken.

If Father was still here then maybe things would've been different. Maybe he could've been saved...but Father was no longer here.

He, a broken shell of an Angel, found meaning in the suffering, working to carry out his Father's last Will, an atonement for failing to be with him in his last moments.

Heedless of the tears that spilt from his eyes, he approached the dais, no longer able to hide the cries of anguish as he saw the state that the Seat of Heaven was in.

Once brightly shining and glowing with a luster of holiness, it was now a decrepit thing, tarnished and frail, looking like the slightest touch would break it.

However a sound, one that he had not heard in millenia echoing through the Halls of Heaven drew his attention. Looking over he couldn't help but wonder how he missed it, how his eyes which were able to see across all the realms and into the hearts of man was able to miss the silver cradle that sat next to the throne.

The cries of a babe, drew him to the cradle, a smile pulling at the edges of his mouth as he gazed upon the new life. In that moment he saw potential, he saw the ability to do amazing, wondrous things, and the vilest and most horrific deeds. Just by looking at him he could tell, that somehow the infinite potential of man, and the very power of the Heavens unshackled by the power of Free Will, had come together to form this child.

For a moment he was afraid, his thoughts drifting to other such beings that had once existed millenia ago, sired by the Grigori upon mortal women, those nephilim had been abominable.

But looking now upon the fruits of a deed so similar he couldn't help but reach out to the child. Swaddled in white blankets, the child's eyes lay close, at least until his finger got closer.

Eyes of burning emerald fire stared back at him, and he couldn't help the cold sensation that went down his back as he stared into those jewel-like eyes.

The child stared up at him, and then giggled.

The last thing he thought he would ever hear was the holder of those eyes ever giggling. Mocking him, cruel threats and horrific punishments were the norm but never giggling.

The sound immediately put him on edge, and it was then that he noticed that he could see his breath.

The quiet eerieness from before, was not the solemn sound of remembrance, the Sentinels not silent out of respect for their Lord, but at the thought of what had come.

They did not worry about the intruder, because it wasn't just an intruder, it was a force of nature that had returned, it was the will of their Father and their Lord.

Afterall how could they stop that which was created to be the Companion of God, his friend and confidante.

His Punisher and Vengeance made manifest.

Another giggle from the child, his breath hitching as a silver pinion descended to land on the child's crib.

Numbly he reached out and picked it up, recognizing the power of one of the True Seraphim, his own resonating with it, and all but confirming his thoughts.

Looking up he saw her descending on 12 resplendent argent wings. Wisps of smoke emanating from her wings as her mere presence plunged the temperature to near freezing.

Clad in robes of cream and armored in the ways of old, when the Seraphim had pushed back the Darkness. Greaves and vambraces inscribed with litanies of hate and fury, or warning and woe to any who ignored them. A silver breastplate trimmed in gold with a raised cross. She wore no helm, her ruby hair aflame with cold fire emanating from Cocytus itself, and like him her armor held a shard of Divinity, their Father's very essence protecting them and bolstering their already prodigious might.

Devil and demon trembled at the sight of her, the proud humbled, the defiant brought to their knees and the unbroken shattered before the cleansing light of Heaven's Seraphim. At her voice storms were raised, the morale of the faithful hardened and turned to fanaticism, her wings beat with the sound of thunder, as she soared over the battlefield.

She gazed down at him, her eyes holding none of the innocence of the child in front of him, but all so similar.

He couldn't help it, his body unconsciously taking a step back away from the crib, as he stared up into the malicious eyes of his sister.

The one who had sent bears to maul 42 children to Death for their insults to Eliseus.

The Destroyer of Sodom and Gomorrah, she who turned Lot's wife to a pillar of salt.

The Tester of Job.

The Angel of Disaster and Disease.

The Angel of Genocide.

"Hello Michael." Her voice sultry, and smoky, like a lover's caress. Mortal's would instantly fall for her with but a whisper, her every whim catered to her by them, just for a chance at a second glance, at something more than the merest moment in her presence. It was a dichotomy that he was unable to figure out, the two sides of Cruelty and Seductiveness.

Seeing her here, it was the final piece, the last confirmation he needed. All his fears, everything that he thought might happen today. Nothing could have prepared him for this, and all he wanted to do at the moment was go back to his office and do some more paperwork.

Seeing the smirk on her lips, the sense of superiority she radiated in his presence, he whispered, "Raguel."

The Lord's Cruelest Angel had returned.