7. Family

He was sitting by the edge of a fountain in one of the most beautiful gardens of Heaven. The grass there was so green and soft that it was just asking to be touched with bare feet. Apparently that was exactly what he had been doing, because his sandals were on the ground and his bare feet were propped on the rim of the fountain. Everywhere there were countless flowers of many kinds, their colors, forms and fragrances varying, but everything together in such harmony. The leaves of the trees were rustling slightly, like a sort of music, and the fountain's waterfall made part of the melody too.

He looked young, so young that if he'd been human he could've been a teenager. He wasn't human; he was one of His Host. It was hard to believe that, though, considering his slender figure and big eyes that seemed so full of astonishment and joy at everything that life was giving to him, and the slight but happy smile that rarely seemed to leave his lips. He was full of light. He was the light.

At that moment he was holding a sketchbook on his knees, drawing something intently in pencil, his face focused and serious; he had even bitten his lower lip. So, when a heavy but gentle hand suddenly touched his shoulder he was caught unawares. He raised his head and turned his face to the newcomer, a wonderful smile appearing on his lips when he saw who it was.

The brother who stood next to him was certainly worth looking at. He was tall, very tall in fact, and extremely well-built, and his face was so beautiful that it was almost painful even for his own kind to look at. It was perfect. And his eyes were a very strange color, such a dark blue that sometimes they seemed black – he was the only one of them who had those instead of the usual bright, glowing blue – and they hypnotized you if you dared to look at them for too long. His huge, snow-white wings were folded behind his shoulders; his hair was the same white, shaded with silver. He held a large mace in his left hand, although in his hands it didn't seem all that large.

"I didn't expect you back so soon," said the younger archangel, in a beautiful, melodic voice.

"Does that mean you didn't miss me?" There was a hint of a smile in the elder's deep tone.

"It means I'm happy. But you already knew that." He smiled back, set aside his sketchbook and put his feet down on the ground. "So, have you already seen our Father?"

"No. You're the first I've come to see since I got back."

"Oh, you should've visited Him first, brother," the younger one said, in a tone of slight agitation.

"Don't worry, He'll understand, He has always understood. He knows what a strong bond we share. Besides, visiting him will be the very next thing I'll do, once we've talked," the elder replied, in a fully-confident voice.

"So, did you succeed in your mission?" He tried to keep a straight face, because for his brother to have failed was simply impossible. He was the best of their kind, the very first and most beloved son of their Father. Lucifer.

"Yes, actually, I did." The elder could not help but smile. He loved the joy and light the younger one had always spread around. He loved him.

Though they all, as His children, had spiritual ties, some of them were closer to each other than to their other brothers. The nearest human term would be 'soul-mates', although that would be a very inexact description.

"Can I see your drawing?' Lucifer reached out his hand for the sketchbook.

"It's not done yet, but sure, you could take a look at it." And he held out his sketchbook to his brother.

Lucifer looked at the picture and frowned. Firstly, the drawing was dark, which wasn't usual for his brother's pictures, and secondly… he really didn't know where the younger could've seen such a view; it was a bare cliff-top, gloomy and dreary. It was only a pencil sketch, but for some reason he knew it would have looked no better if it had been in color. Most of his attention, though, was drawn to a dark figure on the left-hand side of the picture.

It was definitely one of their own kind, thought his wings were black – definitely black, he knew that for sure, even though the whole sketch was dark – and he recognized him immediately, even from this back view. He couldn't help but recognize that sword, so well known all over The Grace, like his own mace. It was the last member of the Three of them. Michael. There was something in his features, something that suggested he had endured harsh times, that he had been through a lot, and had been upset and worried. The right-hand part of the picture was empty, as if something – someone – was supposed to be there, but was missing. It was a very disturbing sketch, in fact.

"You don't like it, brother, do you?" the younger said in a low voice. "I've done it all wrong."

"No, it's not that, it's just… it's so sad and full of apprehension. Why is that so? Were you upset somehow while you were drawing this?" There was sincere concern in his voice.

"No… I was actually going to draw something very different, but… it just started to draw itself. I don't think I should show it to Michael, should I?" he asked uncertainly.

"You shouldn't show me what, Gabriel?" Michael had appeared as if from nowhere, though in actuality he had stepped from the glowing arch; they had just hadn't noticed the movement.

He wasn't as tall as Lucifer, and he wasn't as sensationally beautiful – none of them was – but he definitely had something in him that made him special even amongst those perfect creatures, the archangels. Actually, he was special; he was the second general of His Host, next to his elder brother.

"Brother," said Lucifer, and they both stepped towards each other and embraced briefly.

"I felt your presence," Michael said. "So, what is this you two were going to hide from me? Is it some kind of surprise?"

"Ummm… yeah, sort of," said Gabriel, and blushed. "But you can't look at it now, because it wouldn't be a surprise then." He took his sketchbook back from Lucifer and closed it quickly.

"Speaking of surprises," said Michael, "I have some news for both of you. Well, I'm not completely sure that it's me who should tell you this, but on the other hand…"

"Let me guess," Gabriel interrupted him, "our Father went creative again!"

"How could you know that?" Michael was clearly surprised.

"I… I just know." Gabriel looked embarrassed.

"He's a creator, Michael," said Lucifer. "He's supposed to feel things like that." But there was a hint of anxiety in his look at Gabriel.

"Right. Sorry, junior, I'd almost forgotten that unlike us simple fighters you're capable of these amazing things."

"I'd say you don't need to do those 'amazing things' because you are amazing," Gabriel said sincerely.

They both laughed.

"See, he did it again! And this is truly amazing," Lucifer said, still laughing. "So, what are these creations? I really, really hope that it's something completely different from the last ones. Those seraphim flying around everywhere with their endless songs and chatting… just thinking about more creations along those lines would be enough to make me to consider leaving home."

"Oh, don't worry about that, brother, these are completely different. Well, they haven't any wings, that's for sure, though I'm not certain about the chatting and singing. They can talk, you know," Michael answered with a smile.

"I don't want to leave home," said Gabriel. "I like it here. So I think even if these are as… demanding as seraphim, we should work it out somehow. Besides, seraphim are kinda cute. Well, they are when they're silent… which isn't very often. Still, cute though."

He was interrupted by a new burst of his brothers' laughter.

"According to you, Gab, everything and anything is cute, beautiful, amazing and so on," Lucifer said.

"How could it not be so, brother? Those are all His creations, as we are." Michael's voice was unexpectedly serious. "So, I'm completely with Gabriel on this one."

"How could you not be so, brother? You two are so close." Somehow this reply sounded slightly annoyed - only the barest emotion, but Michael caught it. When Lucifer spoke again, though, it was already gone. "So," he said, "what are these wonderful new creations of our Father?"

"He named them 'humans'," Michael replied.